Over the past couple years, giant Buddha statues have become a must-see in our travels. The Great Buddha of Kamakura, the massive Reclining Buddha in Bangkok, and now the Tian Tan Buddha of Lantau Island.
I have to admit, I felt a little cheated when I learned that it was built in the 1990s, but the impressive size made up for it. At 112 feet tall, it can be seen from Macau on the Chinese mainland, about 25 miles away.
More Photo of the Day posts from Taiwan, China, Hong Kong and Vietnam
I started thinking about “The Christmas Post” a few weeks ago, somewhere around the writing of Thanksgiving in Japan.
I’ve even been kicking around a parody of “The Night Before Christmas” in my head, maybe poking fun at some of the unique ways Japanese folks celebrate the American holiday (December 25 isn’t an official holiday in Japan). In a country where about 1 percent of the population identifies as Christian, Christmas is much more about the secular celebration—more Valentine’s Day than what Americans think of as Christmas.
In the 1970s, an American visiting a Tokyo branch of Kentucky Fried Chicken commented that, in a country where turkey is hard to come by, a bucket of KFC is the next best thing. The enterprising store manager overheard the comment and launched an advertising campaign touting “Kentucky For Christmas!” Today, people order their buckets of chicken weeks in advance, waiting in long lines on Christmas Eve to pick up their now-traditional chicken dinner.
There’s also a lot of preordering and long-line-waiting for extravagant and expensive Christmas Cakes. The origins of the cake come from the post-World War II recovery of the country. NPR recently did an excellent story about what Christmas Cake really means in Japan.
All that said, my take on this post changed today while watching a toddler shoving a cookie in his face at the checkout line. I caught his eye and he smiled big and waved. That got me to thinking about the spirit of the people we encounter every day, which made me feel bad about my “Night Before Christmas” parody.
To me, Christmas is all about traditions. And the great thing about traditions is that they can change as we change. Our families grow and contract and grow again as the years go by and our traditions update accordingly.
As a kid, I’d wake up early and start coffee on Christmas morning to make sure my folks would be awake enough that we could open presents—although I suspect my dad was awake before I was. I always made sure our dog, Sampson, had something to open as well. We’d have bear claws or butterhorns for breakfast.
In recent years, we’d spend a day in Leavenworth, WA, taking in the famous holiday celebration in the small Bavarian-style town, stopping for Starbucks Peppermint Lattes both on the way up and on the way back. We’d then host the whole family for dinner on Christmas Eve. This year, we’ll start a new tradition.
KFC for Christmas dinner might seem odd. There are no “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” signs in our neighborhood. Yet, Japan has created its own set of traditions. Christmas isn’t a national holiday, but it’s still a time when people show a little more kindness and a little more cheer.
This week, I’ve seen a hairdresser and a pizza delivery guy dressed in Santa suits and a dog wearing a Christmas sweater. “Illuminations” are popular and bountiful. Twinkling lights and guys in Santa suits yield the same joyful reaction here as they do in the U.S.
The Christmas season is one of the few times we Americans set aside our differences. We smile more, give more and spend a little more time together in community. Seeing the season from another perspective, in a society where the community is always the priority over the individual, shows that it’s possible to make that sense of community the norm instead of a seasonal exception.
So, whatever your flavor of the winter holidays may be, I sincerely wish you the happiest season. May that joy continue through the year to come. Happy Holidays!
Thanksgiving is the first big family holiday to roll around since we’ve been in Japan. For the past few years, we’d hosted family at our house. We’d make too much food and everyone would bring their favorite treats. We’d squeeze ourselves around the dinner table and share what we were thankful for during the year. I figured this would be the first time I’d really miss home.
Fortunately, there weren’t a lot of in-your-face reminders that Thanksgiving was coming. The day sort of snuck up on us and, since we’re a day ahead of Cascadia, social media hadn’t quite lit up with family photos and sweet potato casserole selfies yet.
Japan celebrates Labor Thanksgiving Day (勤労感謝の日 / Kinrō Kansha no Hi) a few days before American Thanksgiving, but it’s a different beast. In the 5th century, it was a way to celebrate the hard work leading to the harvest of grains. After World War II ended, the current holiday was established to mark changes in the post-war constitution related to workers rights.
Still, Thanksgiving Day is an important American tradition and we celebrated as best we could. On the day of, Viktoria invited me to visit her classroom for their Thanksgiving party. The first half of the period was a regular class and it was cool to see her in action. The students were engaged and really connected with her. They didn’t know much about American Thanksgiving, but I didn’t know much about Japan’s Thanksgiving until I Wikipedia’d it five minutes ago.
The second half of the period was dedicated to partying! The class sizes are fairly small and groups of students move between teachers, so two of the classes shared by Viktoria and another teacher, Ramon, joined together for the party. Behind the group, you can see a sneak peek of the spread. It was very non-traditional Thanksgiving food, for sure! A lot of Japanese convenience treats mixed with the items brought by the Americans (apple cobbler, cheese, dinner rolls, macaroni salad…).
The students really seemed to enjoy themselves though. We brought a can of whipped cream for the cobbler, which ended up in nostrils, on the floor, in a dinner roll….
That evening, we had a slightly more traditional Thanksgiving. Vegetarian Thanksgiving doesn’t include turkey. In the past, we’d ask family to bring turkey or ham for everyone else and we’d slice into a Tofurky loaf. It’d become our own little tradition. Alas, those frozen vegetarian comfort foods aren’t readily available in Japan, but I think a new tradition may have been established this year.
The above photo is why I can’t be a food blogger. Staging be darned! It’s time to eat! I made the famous seitan roast from Post Punk Kitchen’s recipe blog. It’s texture comes from vital wheat gluten (the protein from wheat) and a shiitake mushroom and leek stuffing is a little surprise waiting inside. It turned out awesome and was even better the second day.
This year’s dinner was a far more scaled down version than years past, but still included Thanksgiving staples like mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie, all made mostly from scratch. A little taste of home for the holidays.
Before leaving the U.S., we’d started to get into hiking. With the beautiful natural areas in Oregon, it’s not hard to find a hiking trail to fit your mood. Japan offers many hiking opportunities, but our area is so citified that greenspace is mostly limited to parks with walking paths.
However, just a short train ride to the west lies the Okuchichibu Mountainous Region (奥秩父山地). The area is full of wooded hiking trails and reminiscent of the Cascade and Coast ranges back home. Hidaka City is the gateway to the Okuchichibu region, with three great peaks and just a 15 minute train ride from our station. We headed for Hidaka, choosing to brave the 90-plus degree temperatures following a few days of Typhoon Neoguri leftovers. Luckily, although just a few miles west, the temperatures were pleasant and a light breeze made for a comfortable day.
We’d been to Hidaka recently for lunch, so we knew that we needed to plan slightly better for the bus ride. In reading the few reviews I could find for the hike, I also knew we wouldn’t see much rōmaji, so I carefully wrote out the kanji for each mountain we’d be hiking and the bus stop we’d need. Since the bus only stops when people need to get on or off, we played some Bus Stop Bingo trying to match my scribbles to the reader board on the bus.
After successfully departing the bus at Kinchakuda, we headed up the road to the Mt. Hiwada (日和田山) trail head. The trail had a couple options. You could walk the gentle slope of the switchbacks up to the start of the main trail or follow the makeshift stairs straight up the side of the mountain. We opted for the challenge of the stairs and worked our way up to the trail’s first torii.
At the top of the initial climb, the trail splits into two paths to Hiwada’s summit. The politically-incorrect options: to the left, the “Men’s Course” (男坂経由) and to the right, the “Women’s Course” (女坂経由). In true Cascadian fashion, we opted for the more difficult Men’s Course, a rocky and hilly climb to the peak.
The trees opened up along the way to offer views of Tokyo to the east and the Okuchichibu region to the west. Eventually, the summit comes into view as a large torii frames Kotahira Shrine.
From the shrine, it’s a short, rocky climb to the peak. From the trail head to the summit, it was about 1,000 ft of elevation gain over a half-mile distance. The straight-up climb plugged our ears, but the benches at the summit offered a chance to adjust to the elevation.
From here, it was about a one-third mile walk to the Mt. Takasasu (高指山) summit. The short path felt like exploring the jungle in Lost. Oddly-placed, dilapidated structures rose from the trees around every corner. The summit itself was marked by a radio tower surrounded by a rusted, broken-down building. We quickly moved on before the Smoke Monster decided to make an appearance.
The last peak was Mt. Monomi (物見山). Along the way, a beautiful view emerged with a house perched over a valley with views of nothing but trees and mountains. A small rest house offered respite from the sun as well as vending machines and restrooms. We stopped briefly to refill the water bottle and buy a couple sports drinks before moving on.
The Monomi trail was some of the day’s more challenging terrain. The recent rain left some muddy spots and steep, rocky trails interrupted the smoother paths up to the summit. At the top, any potential view was blocked by pesky trees, but some comfy benches allowed for another short rest and a snack.
A large hiking group came in from another trail and stopped to take a picture. In a funny moment of cross-culturalism, the photographer urges the group to “Say Chīzu!” While the shape of the word “cheese” naturally creates a smile, the Japanese equivalent of “chīzu” creates more of a, um, dumb face! After saying “chīzu,” they adjust their mouths into smiles and the photo is snapped.
We briefly followed the group down the hill, but took the first opportunity to pass the slow-moving herd (on the muddiest part of the trail, of course) to head back down Monomi. The path down winds through some interesting terrain. At times, the path is rocky and muddy, while in other places, you find yourself walking through someone’s orange orchard. Eventually you reach a road and follow it down for about a mile where you end up at Musashi Yokote Station (武蔵横手駅).
By the end of the day, we’d hiked roughly five miles and ascended/descended 1,200 feet over three-plus hours. The hike itself was very convenient with well-placed facilities that don’t interrupt the natural experience. The views were unbelievable in places and the trails were challenging, but doable with any level of fitness. I’m sure we’ll venture further into the Okuchichibu region for our next hike, but with the proximity and access of the Hiwada-Takasasu-Monomi trail, we’ll be back here sooner rather than later.
A few odds and ends from the last week.
Old-timey bicycle sighting
I was running through nearby Wakaba today when a man on an old-timey bicycle rode by. One of those with the big front wheel and the tiny back wheel. Sadly, he was wearing a t-shirt and khaki pants, not sporting a ditto suit and bowler hat.
Rice fields forever
Paul McCartney could have modified the Beatles’ classic “Strawberry Fields Forever” if he’d been able to play his Tokyo shows last month. The rice fields are fully flooded all over Saitama as the growing season begins. It’s a throwback scene as farmers in straw hats tend to the fields from sun-up to sundown.
Letting nature take its course
Another neat scene on the main drag in our little part of Kawagoe last week. A bird set up its nest full of eggs in the awning over the middle of the sidewalk running in front of the shops. Instead of moving the nest or knocking it down, the shopkeeper taped some newspaper to the sidewalk under the nest to catch the droppings. The mama bird sat perched on the edge of the nest while person after person stopped to see what was up.
Weekend trip to Ōmiya
We popped over to Ōmiya, one of the busiest cities in Saitama Prefecture, over the weekend. The plan was to visit the city’s famous bonsai nurseries and hit up the Keyaki Hiroba Spring Beer Festival.
After a quick train ride, we walked the path to Hakawa Shrine. Statues and banners with squirrels are all over town. We quickly discovered the city’s love affair with the Ōmiya Ardija (Spanish for “squirrel”) soccer team, Ōmiya’s entry into the Japanese Professional Football League.
The shrine was originally established in 473 B.C. It was impressive as usual, but the surrounding grounds were the highlight. A pond is home to dozens of turtles, which swam and sunned alongside the pond, seemingly ignorant to the handful of gawking tourists.
We had lunch from a stand in adjacent Ōmiya Koen, a large park with a soccer stadium (home to the Ardija), baseball stadium, velodrome and zoo. We ordered some veggie yakisoba and french fries and impressed the vendor enough that she complimented my Japanese! She was clearly lying, but it was a great confidence boost.
We only found one bonsai nursery, which was cool, but fell into one of Japan’s numerous dichotomies. The nursery didn’t allow photographs and charged 200 yen for admission to the main nursery. Now, if I could take photos, I’d pay 200 yen. But, if I can’t get in for photos, I’m fine with glancing at the free stuff.
The trees themselves are amazing. One looked like a 100-year-old maple tree, but only stood about 18 inches tall. The art and care that goes into creating the trees is something else.
Along the way, we stumbled on the Cartoon Art Museum. The small museum featured the cartoon art of Kitazawa Rakuten. Impressive, but with displays only in Japanese, it lent itself to a quick tour.
Finally, we headed to the Saitama Super Arena for the Keyaki Hiroba Spring Beer Festival. Approximately 60 breweries from all over Japan, and a couple American breweries (including Oregon’s Rogue Ales) tapped their kegs for the weekend festival. It reminded me of the Oregon Brewers Festival on Portland’s waterfront, but in about a tenth of the space and with as many tents and people. Beer enthusiasts lined up shoulder to shoulder to partake in the best of Japan’s burgeoning craft brewing industry.
We tried Hokkaido Brewing’s Melon Wheat and Raspberry White ales as well as Market Brewing’s Mango Orange Ale and Hop Seduction Session IPA. All were great, especially on a day where temperatures entered the 90s for the first time this year.
Most of the breweries get their exposure at these types of festivals or in local supermarkets. The beer aisle at most grocery stores is still dominated by the “Big 3″—Kirin, Asahi and Sapporo. It’s great to see artisan brewing get some well-deserved attention.
Oregonians pride ourselves on being on the fringe. “Keep Portland Weird” is the unofficial city slogan. Darth Vader riding a unicycle while playing flaming bagpipes near a major downtown street? No biggie. We have 171 different brewing companies operating in the state and a new one probably opened while I typed this sentence.
It makes it all that much more odd to see our “brand” as part of daily life in Japan. Granted, our city of Kawagoe is Salem, Oregon’s sister city, but products pop up all over Tokyo. Three varieties from Airlie Winery in little old Monmouth, Oregon is sold in a supermarket under the shadow of the Tokyo Dome.
I try to snap pictures when I see these snippets of home. Here’s a few…
Last weekend, we headed west for the first time, taking the Tobu Tojo train to Shinrin Koen (Forest Park). There’s a pretty awesome Forest Park back home too and times like these feel like we’re back in the great, green Pacific Northwest.
We rented bikes and rode most of the 17 kilometer (about 10.5 miles) path around the park. The paths wind through the trees, and around ponds, fountains, arboretums, playgrounds and art installations. A great day trip and definitely on the list of places to return again and again.
Bulk purchasing isn’t really part of our day-to-day life in Japan. Our 550 square foot apartment, which actually has quite a bit of storage, doesn’t really necessitate things like the Gorilla Metropolis Playset, a swingset that is almost twice the size of our apartment. Or even two-dozen rolls of toilet paper for that matter.
Still, visiting a Japanese Costco was on our list of things to do. In the U.S., a trip to Costco every couple weeks was part of our shopping routine. A case of black beans here, a giant bag of tortilla chips there… things that would keep for awhile. Of course, we had a big pantry and a garage to keep all these things in.
The closest Costco in Iruma was actually not the most convenient, requiring two train transfers and a bus ride, so we chose the other Saitama location in Shinmisato.
The train let us off right outside LaLaport, an expansive indoor/outdoor shopping mall with Forever 21, H&M, Columbia, Adidas; the best fashion stores America Japan has to offer. Ikea anchors the mall on one end and Costco holds down the other.
As we approached Costco, it wasn’t any different from the ones we frequented at home. People packed the outdoor seating, attacking their ¼ pound all-beef sausage with all the toppings.
Just outside the main door, the giant Costco weekly deals billboard greeted us with similar bargains as we’d find in the U.S. Frying pans, reading glasses, tires and tents alongside party-sized platters of sweet rolls and sushi.
Inside, it was bumper to bumper. The bakery section had giant carrot cake cupcakes and “Very Berry Mousse Cake” that seemed to be popular. The specialty cake section was there too, although with a more Japanese-friendly whipped cream frosting option. It was starting to feel like the end of Wizard of Oz… “And you were there…”
If sweet treats aren’t your thing, maybe the giant liquor section is? I’m sure it’s not that much of a novelty outside of Oregon where liquor sales are tightly controlled, but it was odd to us to see sake, tequila and whiskey for sale alongside the beer and wine.
All of the product signs were in both Japanese and English, so we were able to put names to items we’d seen other places, but couldn’t identify. In the end, our cart ended up very similar to what we’d buy at home. Sea Salt Kettle Chips (from Salem, OR), Tillamook Pepper Jack Cheese (from Tillamook, OR), strawberry jam, bread, pickled Jalapenos, baby kale and a bottle of Kirkland-brand Malbec. We did buy one distinctly-Japanese item: edamame tofu. The little squares had whole edamame beans (soybeans) inside.
Epilogue
No trip to Costco is complete without swinging through the snack bar. The famous ¼-pound hot dog—which has a better ring to it than the “0.11339809 kilogram hot dog”, even in metric system Japan—was a crowd favorite. Pizza, coffee, churros and ice cream were paired with some new-to-us items, including clam chowder, pineapple smoothie and bulgogi (Korean barbequed meat) bake.
We ordered a slice of cheese pizza and a Hokkaido soft-cream sundae with raspberries and chocolate and sat down amongst the masses, relishing our first Japanese Costco experience.
Tokyo provides a lot of opportunity for tourism, shopping… your typical big-city stuff. But, the gems of a city are in the alleyways and parks. We found an abundance of both as our Tokyo adventures continued last weekend in Harajuku.
Our primary purpose for the visit was Tokyo’s Earth Day festival in Yoyogi Park, another of Tokyo’s fantastic public park spaces. Hundreds of vendors sold food and goods and non-profit organizations used the opportunity to reach thousands with their messages.
One booth demonstrated how you could pop corn with a reflector and sunlight.
Others reminded us of our need for the ethical treatment of animals, our food and ourselves. Not being able to read food labels is actually one of the few real downers of being in Japan. We do the best we can.
A live band filled the air with covers of American classics. A spot-on rendition of Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” was followed by a rockabilly take on Elvis Presley’s classic “Hound Dog.”
The biggest draw to these things is usually the food, and Earth Day 2014 provided some great eats! Veggie “meat” on a stick, steamed “pork” buns and…
Then there’s the innovative, weird and just plain Tokyo. A dog in a backpack, a truck that turns plastic into oil and whatever that thing is.
After the festival, we explored Harajuku. Shopping is abundant, of course, but there are little pockets of awesome all over the district. We grabbed some amazing raw milk ice cream in coffee at Shiroichi.
We walked up Takeshita Street, which is the crammed-with-tourists home of Harajuku’s fashion movement. The video screen captures visitors in their last seconds of freedom before crowd-induced claustrophobia takes over.
We finished our big day out at Baird Brewing. At some point I’ll write a post about the beer “scene” in Japan, but on this day, we found a good one. Bryan Baird, a brewer with Pacific Northwest connections, has brought true craft brewing to Tokyo.
The pub food was fantastic—we had grilled tofu, shitake mushrooms and edamame—but someone should tell the Japanese that you need to serve some carbs with beer approaching 10% ABV.
Reminders of home surrounded us in the corner of the bar. A postcard from Portland sat on the shelf to our left. Oregon breweries were well represented in the swiped coasters that lined the top of the bar.
Before we left, the bartender asked where we were from. I told him Oregon and he got very excited. He says “hold on…” and heads into the keg cooler. He comes back out with a 22-ounce bottle of Portland’s own Upright Brewing “Seven” and a big smile on his face. Apparently he’d just returned from his own craft beer pilgrimage to the Rose City.
I look forward to the opportunity to explore those alleyways again soon.
In Oregon, the ringing of our doorbell usually yielded a predictable result. On the other side of the front door, we’d find a local schoolkid selling overpriced candy for a fundraiser or a pressure-washing/bug-killing/home security salesman reminding me that I needed to pressure-wash, bug-kill and secure our house.
It’s been a mixed bag when the doorbell rings here. Since we’re still getting settled, a lot of times the doorbell means added convenience. Gas service for hot water and cooking! Water pressure!
A couple times it’s been a salesman. I let one guy do his pitch for a few minutes before I finally got across that I didn’t have a clue what he was saying and that I probably wouldn’t be interested in buying it even if I did.
Sometimes, it’s just disappointment. Is it the overdue delivery of our foam mattress? Setup of the internet service? No… only the mailman with a pile of junk mail.
A couple nights ago, the doorbell rang after dark. Our hearts raced—probably more because we were in the middle of an episode of The Walking Dead than the actual tolling of the bell itself.
One of our neighbors, an older lady, stood at our door. She spoke softly in Japanese with a few English words mixed in when it was clear we weren’t following. Dining table, chairs… is she asking to borrow a chair?
We pushed one of our dining room chairs to the door, happy to help. No, no… follow me she says. I slip on my sandals before stepping into our entryway, a big-time no-no in Japan, but my transgression is either ignored or forgiven.
I walk down the street making very small talk with my limited Japanese. She’s noticed that we’ve just moved in and has a few nice pieces of furniture that she’s giving away. A dining room table with four chairs. A coffee table. She’d put the items on the porch of the apartment complex next door, but she’s giving us first dibs.
Since we’d already purchased a table and two chairs, we take a couple of the chairs for company and the coffee table. She sets each of the chairs on the porch, compares the fabric and makes sure the legs don’t wobble, selecting the two best chairs for us.
We use our combined vocabulary to complete the deal, introduce ourselves and talk about why the heck these Americans are living in her neighborhood (most of the locals have cut us some slack when they discover a sensei is living in their midst).
It was good timing. I’d been thinking a lot that day about being an outsider. In Kawagoe-proper, we’re not that big a deal. There are a lot of tourists in and out of the station. But we live in the ‘burbs. We’re in a neighborhood where I can’t say that I’ve seen another non-Japanese person. We get stares… we are different.
But, every time it feels like we just don’t fit in, something like this happens and the world doesn’t feel quite so big. Random acts of kindness… a universal language.