Miyajima

We started our day before the day itself got underway, arriving at the Miyajimaguchi Pier ferry terminal just as the sun began to rise over Itsukushima Island. The ferry set sail right on schedule, carrying us through the morning mist hovering atop Hiroshima Bay.

01_miyajima_sunrise
Sunrise over Hiroshima Bay and Miyajima

As we approach, the inspiration for the island’s popular nickname—Miyajima (Shrine Island)—emerges through the mist. First, the Great Torii, glowing in orange lacquer, appears just beyond the water’s edge. Then, the sprawling complex of Itsukushima Shrine and the five-tiered pagoda comes into view. It’s picture perfect.

The Great Torii of Miyajima appears in the morning mist
The Great Torii of Miyajima appears in the morning mist

The Great Torii and Itsukushima Shrine are both listed among UNESCO’s World Heritage properties, and for good reason. The Great Torii is in its eighth iteration, this one standing since 1875. Built from 500 year old camphor tree, the 16-ton gate rises nearly 55-feet into the air. Perhaps most impressively, it stands directly atop stones on the seabed instead of being buried into the ground. The weight of the wood and seven tons of fist-sized rocks hand-set in the roof keep the torii planted in place.

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We arrived early enough to be able to spend an hour or so walking around the torii with only a thin crowd joining us. At low tide, you can walk all the way through the gate, the seabed just firm enough from the dried mud and seaweed. We snapped photos from every angle imaginable. We offered to take photos for strangers who offered the same in kind. A quiet and peaceful morning in a tranquil place.

In fact, we arrived so early that none of the shops on Miyajima’s shopping street had opened yet. Around 9 a.m., we finally spotted a cafe propping its doors and stopped in for coffee. Continuing down the street, we tried some of Miyajima’s famous maple leaf cakes and spotted one of the island’s novelties: the world’s largest rice scoop. A Korean dance group set up near the ferry terminal, the rhythmic beat of their drums audible all over the island.

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As the crowd thickened, swarming in every 20 minutes via the ferry, we sought higher ground. The Uguisuhodo Nature Walk trail climbs steadily into the heart of the island, finally meeting up with the Miyajima Ropeway station. The cable cars graze the treetops on their way to the top of Mt. Misen.

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Mt. Misen’s Observatory offers panoramic views of Hiroshima Bay and the surrounding islands. Temples and shrines dating back to the 9th century sit just below the mountain’s summit, full with tales of miracles circulating around Daisho-in Temple’s founding monk, Kobo Daishi.

One of the most popular attractions is Kiezu-no-hi or The Eternal Flame. It is said to have been lit by Daishi himself in 806 AD and continues to burn to this day. Water boiled in a tea kettle over the flame is thought to hold magical healing powers. The flame itself was used as the pilot light for the Peace Flame that burns in Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Park.

While the torii and the shrines are the main draw, Miyajima might be just as famous for its wild deer. After living with generations of tourists, the deer are mostly docile and don’t really care about the thousands of people walking through their home. However, when feeding time comes, they turn into quite a nuisance, digging into bags or just swiping things out of people’s hands. As we watched the sunset, a deer with a cataract came up and snagged our map of the island out of our bag. He chewed it and swallowed it down, his creepy cloudy-white eye staring at us the whole time.

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Miyajima Firewalking Ceremony

In a moment of travel serendipity, we happened to land on Miyajima on the day of Daigan-ji Temple’s Hiwatari-shiki or Firewalking Ceremony. The ceremony is only held twice a year, once in April and once in November.

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The temple’s monks go through an hour-long ceremony, building a towering bonfire fueled by thousands of wooden stakes—offerings left throughout the year by worshippers. They smooth the coals several times over with long bamboo poles as the flames rise and fall. Purifying salt is thrown over the flames and pine branches laid at either end of the inferno. There’s chanting, a conch-shell horn and a lot of theatrics.

As they near the end, one of the monks begins an intricate final dedication, writing Japanese characters in the air with his arm. Suddenly, as the fire returns to its peak, the monks run through one by one. With the drawn out ceremony, the haste of the climax is almost shocking.

Once the flames die down and only the hot coal remains, visitors are invited to partake in the ceremony. The line wrapped around the temple as tourists passed over the coals one by one.

Video: Miyajima’s Firewalking Ceremony

Atomic Bomb Dome

Hiroshima's Atomic Bomb Dome at night

Hiroshima residents woke up to clear skies on the morning of August 6, 1945. The Monday morning commute began in earnest after a night interrupted by periodic air raid sirens, a long series of false alarms.

Around 7 a.m., three small American planes were spotted on radar, but by 8 a.m., yet another air raid warning had been lifted. Military personnel determined the planes were running reconnaissance missions and posed no threat.

One of those planes was the Enola Gay. Fifteen minutes later, time stopped and the world changed forever.


The Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall
The Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall

Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall

The European-styled Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall opened on August 5, 1915. Designed by Czech architect Jan Letzel, the building bore a striking resemblance to Vienna’s famed Church of St. Leopold, in particular the hall’s distinguishing dome.

Located just feet from the banks of the Ota River in Hiroshima’s central business district, the hall hosted art and educational events, often showcasing Hiroshima Prefecture’s most famous products.

In 1919, the National Confectionery Exhibition was held at the hall. A ringed German cake called baumkuchen was introduced to Japan for the first time. Today, baumkuchen is one of Japan’s most popular desserts.


The Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall as it looks in 2015, now known as the Atomic Bomb Dome. The east side of the building was facing the hypocenter of the bomb.
The Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall as it looks in 2015, now known as the Atomic Bomb Dome. The east side of the building was facing the hypocenter of the bomb.

8:15 a.m.

The Enola Gay approached Aioi Bridge, its unique T-shape providing the perfect crosshair target for the B-29’s payload. At 8:15 a.m., the bomber’s bay doors opened and “Little Boy”—the bomb’s innocent-sounding codename—began its decent toward the city center.

The T-shaped Aioi Bridge as it looks today. The original bridge was damaged heavily by the bomb, but after repairs, it remained in use for another 50 years. In 1983, the current bridge was built as a replica to the original.
The T-shaped Aioi Bridge as it looks today. The original bridge was damaged heavily by the bomb, but after repairs, it remained in use for another 50 years. In 1983, the current bridge was built as a replica to the original.

Crosswinds pushed the bomb 800 feet to the east of the bridge—it would have drifted directly over Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall. Forty-five seconds later, “Little Boy” detonated around 1,900 feet above the city, directly over Shima Hospital.

The hell unleashed by the atomic bomb is unparalleled in human history. In an instant, one square mile of Hiroshima disappeared. Fire engulfed another four and a half mile radius. Between 70,000-80,000 people were killed instantly—approximately 30 percent of Hiroshima’s population. Another 70,000 were injured.

The world had never seen a weapon like this and had no idea about the bomb’s residual effects. In the hours and days that followed, family members, friends and rescue workers entered the city, immediately exposed to the bomb’s radiation.

Within three weeks, the death toll had nearly doubled to 130,000. Estimates indicate around 67,000 people entered the city during the period of active radiation. Those who survived still deal with radiation-related illnesses today, including leukemia, cataracts and chromosomal changes.

On August 9, just three days later, the horror would be repeated when a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, 300 km to the west. On August 15, Japan’s Emperor Hirohito announced the surrender of Japan, effectively ending World War II.


Today, the Atomic Bomb Dome stands as a symbol of peace and a reminder of the horrors of war.
Today, the Atomic Bomb Dome stands as a symbol of peace and a reminder of the horrors of war.

A reminder of war or a symbol of peace?

Despite being only 520 feet from the bomb’s hypocenter, the Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall was the only structure in the blast radius that wasn’t completely destroyed. Ironically, it’s proximity is the likely reason the structure didn’t collapse completely. The building’s columns were able to withstand the downward force of the blast, leaving the dome and many exterior walls standing.

In the years that followed, the fate of the hall—now referered to as the Atomic Bomb Dome—was up in the air. The structure was growing more and more unstable. While some wanted to preserve the building, others wanted the reminder of the horrors of the bomb destroyed forever.

As Hiroshima started to rebuild in the 1950s, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park began to take shape in the area surrounding the Dome. In 1966, Hiroshima’s City Council announced that it would permanently preserve the building as a monument to those who lost their lives in the bombing. The first preservation was completed in 1967 followed by two more in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

In 1996, UNESCO added the Atomic Bomb Dome to its World Heritage List. Today, the Dome anchors the north end of the Peace Memorial Park, a beautiful and thoughtful tribute to not only the victims of the bomb, but more importantly to everlasting peace.

Photo Gallery

Our first visit to the Atomic Bomb Dome was during the day, but we returned at night a couple of days later. The flood lights created an eerie yet serene feeling in the area around the ruins.

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Things We Eat: Hiroshima Edition

Vegetarian okonomiyaki at Nagata-ya in Hiroshima. Nagata-ya is one of the most popular shops in town and offers several vegetarian-friendly options—a rarity in Japan. The highlight was slivers of fried garlic sprinkled on top.

“I’m not sure I can eat any more okonomiyaki.”

If you spend more than a few days visiting Hiroshima, this phrase might come out of your mouth as well. Every street has at least one shop featuring the city’s popular version of this quintessential Japanese food.

In case you’re not familiar, okonomiyaki is a savory pancake, made with a combination of batter, eggs, cabbage and other fillings, then topped with a sweet and salty sauce. Every region does it a little differently. In Osaka, all of the ingredients are mixed together, creating a solid slab of tastiness. In Tokyo, monjayaki is king, combining the ingredients with a runny, cheesy batter that is fried directly onto the griddle, then peeled off with a spatula.

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In Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki, the batter is poured into a thin crepe, then the filling is placed on top. An egg is cracked onto the griddle, its yolk broken and cooked thin to create another “crepe” that goes on top. It’s more like a big sandwich than the Osaka version.

The kicker is the soba or udon noodles that are added to the filling, creating a carb-loaded meal that will keep you going for hours. While the original version was more of a snack, the modern version evolved in the post-World War II era as a way to combine cheap ingredients into a nutritionally-dense meal.

Momiji-manju

While the maple leaf-shaped cake known as momiji-manju can be found all over Japan, its origins are in Hiroshima, specifically the southern island of Miyajima. The cakes were created in the early-1900s in honor of the island’s famous maple leaf viewing festivals.

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We hadn’t even left Hiroshima Station when we came across our first momiji-manju. A shop inside the station sold a breaded, deep-fried version that was sinful and delicious. While they were originally made by hand, they’re now abundant throughout the city thanks to the complex automated baking and wrapping machines, many of which are on display in the Miyajama shops.

Hiroshima Sweets, Treats and Eats

There’s more to Hiroshima’s food scene than just okonomiyaki and momiji. Check out the gallery below for some of the other awesome sweets, treats and eats from the week.

Beer For Kids

Sangaria's Kodomo no Nomimono

This is not your father’s beer. It’s for your kids.

We were walking through the grocery store today when a stack of glass bottles caught my eye. It wasn’t because of the beer bottle shape and the frothy beer mugs on the label though. It was the text on the bottle: kodomo no nomimono or “children’s drink.”

With the growing popularity of non-alcholic beer in Japan during the last decade, a couple of beverage makers decided to get kids in on the action. The beer style marketing is no accident. Neither is the golden color of the beverage with it’s foamy white head—exactly like a freshly-draughted Asahi or Kirin that their parents might drink after a long day at work.

These kids will be in for a surprise when they try their first real beer in regards to flavor. The sparkling beverage tastes like a sweet apple juice, but the first two ingredients are sugar and guarana. The seeds from the guarana fruit contain twice as much caffeine as a coffee bean. All that caffeine and sugar should have them bouncing off the walls like a drunken college student.

When I was a kid, I remember getting candy cigarettes from the grocery store. Some were like eating sweet chalk. Others were packed with bubble gum and when you blew on one end, a cloud of sugar smoke would come out the other end.

If only we had fake beer too!

Hiking in Hanno: Ancient Temples

Ema at Chichibu Mitake Shrine in Hannō City, Saitama

Our latest Wednesday afternoon hike (check out our recent jaunts in Ogawa and Tokorozawa’s Totoro Forest) took us into the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains and nearby Hannō City. Back in May, we met a couple Japanese ladies on our way to another hike in Hannō who suggested we try the trail to Neno-Gongen Temple.

The city’s website provided a basic outline of the hike advertised as the Ancient Temples of Oku-Musashi. I mapped it out in detail to ensure we wouldn’t get ourselves lost in the woods (in literary circles, this sentence is called “foreshadowing”).

The tree-covered hills of the Okuchichibu Mountains are home to a decent-sized population of Asiatic black bears. Most hikers wear a bell like this one to keep from sneaking up on a bear in the woods.
The tree-covered hills of the Okuchichibu Mountains are home to a decent-sized population of Asiatic black bears. Most hikers wear a bell like this one to keep from sneaking up on a bear in the woods.

We arrived at Agano Station, the starting point for our hike, around 2 p.m. The train station was selling bear bells, which we’d been meaning to buy for awhile. The hilly forests host a good-sized population of Asiatic black bears. The ringing of the small bells is a common sound on many of the region’s hiking trails. Knowing we’d be on our own for much of the day, it seemed like a good time to pick one up.

The bell from Tōzen-ji temple in Miyagi Prefecture is now on display at Hoko-ji temple, just outside Agano Station.
The bell from Tōzen-ji temple in Miyagi Prefecture is now on display at Hoko-ji temple, just outside Agano Station.

Just down the street from the station, we made our first stop at Hoko-ji, a Buddhist temple established in 1386. For a small-town temple, it had several impressive pieces, although its most impressive didn’t even belong to the temple.

Large bronze bells (ō-bonshō) are a fixture at Buddhist temples. This particular one was part of Tōzen-ji temple, located in Miyagi Prefecture on the northeast coast of Japan. The temple was destroyed in the 2011 tsunami and the bell washed into the ocean. Hoko-ji will continue to be the bell’s caretaker until the temple in Miyagi is rebuilt.

An American of average height, I'm constantly ducking under things in this country!
An American of average height, I’m constantly ducking under things in this country!

After ringing the bell a couple times, we passed through the low-ceiling tunnel under the train tracks and followed the path to Togo Park. The park is named for Heihachirō Tōgō, an admiral in the Imperial Japanese Navy during the 1800s who grew up in the area. The steep-hilled park is popular for viewing the changing autumn leaves.

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At the top, reached by climbing nearly 400 steps, we were rewarded by an outdoor “museum” to the Russo-Japanese War. A piece of artillery-shelled deck from the battleship Mikasa and a Russian-made cannon with artillery shells are among the items on public display. Higher up, a small bamboo grove surrounds Chichibu Mitake Shrine. The shrine is the only one in Hannō that has a Shinto priest living on site.

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We climbed back down the steps to the park’s entrance and started up the road to Neno-Gongen Temple. Along the way, we passed Asamichaya, a teahouse and udon noodle shop that has been tucked away in the mountains since 1855. It was already closed for the day, but it’s still operating as a resthouse for weary travelers looking to fuel up or just grab a quick snack on the trail.

As we approached the gates of Neno-Gongen Temple, the road opened up into an amazing view. Thanks to the clear weather, we could see all the way to Tokyo Skytree and the Yokohama Landmark Tower, more than 40 miles to the east.

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Neno-Gongen is all about extremes. A pair of giant Kongōrikishi statues wait at the gate in their permanent intimidating poses. Inside, an oversized pair of straw sandals hang near the main temple with two more metal versions sitting nearby. Opposite the giant sandals, miniature sandals serve as ema (prayer offerings) left by worshippers. Down the hill, a pair of giant hands rest in a traditional Buddhist mudra position.

The sunset at Neno-Gongen Temple
The sunset at Neno-Gongen Temple

Neno-Gongen was roughly the halfway point of our hike. It was exactly 5 p.m. when the sun started to disappear. We were literally in the middle of the mountains; too far to turn back, so we powered forward.

Note to our mothers: You should probably stop reading now and just assume that everything continued according to plan! 🙂

We had about two miles remaining to reach the town where we’d catch the bus. In hindsight, we might have chosen to follow the road from the temple in hopes to find a passing car, but—to paraphrase Jung—wholly unprepared, we embarked down the path into the forest.

The last photo of the day, tree trunks illuminated by the camera flash as only darkness awaited us.
The last photo of the day, tree trunks illuminated by the camera flash as only darkness awaited us.

The trees quickly blocked out what remained of the sunlight. Soon, the narrowing trail was pitch-black. To the left, the slope of the forest. To the right, a drop-off into the trees. All we had for light was the display screen from the camera.

Things quickly turned into an amateur remake of the Blair Witch Project. Weird screeching sounds echoed through the forest. Rustling sounds—real or imagined—stopped us in our tracks. The journey slowed to a crawl as the path devolved into a steep slope entangled in a snarl of exposed tree roots.

We arrived at Takedera Temple as the camera battery drained toward end of life. We used what was left of our light to find the nearest road. While it headed away from our bus stop, it would at least get us out of the forest. As we walked through the temple’s front gates, a motion-sensing security flood light flashed on, sending a rush of adrenaline surging through us that would last well into the night.

Once we found the paved road, we followed it down in a half-run until civilization finally re-emerged. We saw a bus stop, but we’d missed the final bus of the day by 30 minutes. Certain that we were still some distance from a train station, we flagged down the first car that passed. A young woman named Yū stopped.

Me: Do you know where the nearest station is?
Yū: Hannō.
Me: Is it far?

She gave me that look of pity that has become all too familiar over the last year and a half and invited us into her car. We were immediately comforted, both by the ride and the Of Monsters and Men song “From Finner” playing on her radio. The lyrics fit the moment perfectly:

And we are far from home, but we’re so happy
Far from home, all alone, but we’re so happy

We drove… and drove… and drove. She told us she was going to Hannō to visit friends, so it wasn’t out of her way. But with the Japanese penchant for friendliness, she could have been a minute from home when she picked us up. We’ll never know.

She dropped us at Higashi-Hanno Station. We offered gas money, but of course she declined. I removed the Totoro Fund button that we bought on our last hike from my backpack and gave it to her as a token of appreciation.

If this is our last hike of the season, it certainly will be a memorable one!

Nikkō

Thanks to the university choosing to celebrate the 50th anniversary of its founding by canceling Friday classes, we were gifted an extra-long weekend and made a trip to Nikkō. Located in Tochigi Prefecture, about three hours north of Kawagoe via local trains, Nikkō is a popular destination for viewing koyo, or “fall colors” thanks to its high elevations around picturesque Lake Chūzenji.

Day 1: Kanmangafuchi Abyss

We arrived Thursday afternoon amidst a light but steady drizzle. We caught a local bus to our ryokan, the Turtle Inn, alongside the Daiya River. After dropping our bags, we took a short walk to Kanmangafuchi Abyss, an ancient gorge formed by the eruption of Mount Nantai.

Along the way, we saw the beginnings of fall in Stone Park before arriving to a line of 70 stone Jizo statues. Known as “Bake Jizo” or “Ghost Jizo”, the Buddhist statue is believed to be the protector of children, especially those who pass away before their parents. The statues are a common sight in Japan, usually clad in knitted hats and bibs that are often provided by the grieving parents.

After our short hike, we went to Bell, a small, family-run cafe that features yuba—Nikkō’s local speciality—in a large set meal. Yuba is the skin that forms on the top of boiled soy milk and takes on the flavors of the surrounding ingredients much like tofu. Their delicious “Monk’s Diet” set featured six different vegetarian preparations of yuba.

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Day 2: Senjogahara Hike

We were met with a misty rain on the morning of our second day as well. We boarded the bus for the hour-plus ride out past the north end of Lake Chūzenji. As we wound through the curvy mountain roads, the sky began to clear up, turning into a cool but pleasant day.

English-language maps are located all over town featuring useful guides to get the most out of a Nikkō visit. We chose the 6.3km hiking course from Yutaki Falls through the Senjogahara Marshlands ending at Ryuzu Falls. The course begins at the massive Yutaki Falls where those traveling by car stop before continuing on to the Yumoto Hot Springs.

After snapping a few pictures, we ventured out onto the trail, which mostly consists of newly-built boardwalks that keep your feet out of the muck while protecting the natural habitat from the thousands of daily visitors. The crowds thinned considerably as we moved away from the falls. The scenery is beautiful as it evolves from dense forest to the open plains of Senjogahara Marshlands. The scenery is framed by the nearby mountain range, anchored by Mt. Nantai, Nikkō’s answer to Mt. Fuji. We ended at Shobugahama Beach on the north shore of Lake Chūzenji before catching a bus back to the city.

That night, we headed toward the city center to find dinner. Although it was a Friday night, many of the restaurants were closed despite the streets crawling with tourists. While looking at cheap Ukiyo-e prints, we bumped into a couple from San Francisco who were looking for a nearby vegetarian restaurant (among those already closed for the night). We chatted for awhile and gave them directions to the place we ate the night before.

As we popped in and out of the other restaurants trying to find a vegetarian-friendly meal, we ran into them again. They’d been doing the same, showing their vegetarian travel card to every shop owner before being turned away due to the fish broth, or fish chunks or fish fish. This time they stuck with us and together we tried to find a place to eat. Thanks to TripAdvisor, we finally arrived at Maruhide Shokudo.

The hostess invited us into the small restaurant and started going through the menu with us in Japanese with a little bit of English. With a few modifications, we came up with a pretty good selection of food, including a teriyaki yuba burger—sort of like shredded roast beef—and yuba-filled potato and soy croquettes. We shared travel stories (they’d lived in Hong Kong and Sydney for short periods) and enjoyed the great meal with new friends.

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Day 3: World Heritage Shrines and Temples

For our last day, we stayed in town to visit the UNESCO World Heritage-designated Shrines and Temples of Nikkō. Two Shinto shrines (Futarasan Shrine and Tōshō-gū) and one Buddhist temple (Rinnō-ji) make up the complex along with the large cedar forest surrounding the area.

Not unlike the shrines and temples in Kyoto, the Nikkō complex requires a ticket to get in. For 1,300 yen, you get a ticket to Tōshō-gū and entrance to the tomb of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Ieyasu was the founder of the Tokugawa Shogunate which ruled Japan for more than 200 years while laying the groundwork for the Japanese imperialism era of the late 1800s and early 1900s.

Unfortunately, both Tōshō-gū and Futarasan are undergoing major restoration work. Coupled with the large Saturday crowd, the shrines were a little disappointing, but it was still easy to see why they’re an important part of Japan’s history.

The most complete artifact of the complex had to be the Five-Storied Pagoda, originally built in 1650, destroyed by fire and then rebuilt in 1818. It uses a unique center pillar called a shinbashira for support which has long been thought to be the reason pagodas perform well in earthquakes. Over the past 1,400 years, only two pagodas have collapsed in earthquakes.

After a self-guided tour and a short coffee stop, we set out for another walking tour. The Takino’o Path heads up into the cedar forest, visiting some unique shrines and natural sights. It was a great way to escape the crowds at the shrines and enjoy one last bit of peace and quiet before heading back into the city.

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Visiting Nikkō

Nikkō is a popular day trip for tourists as it’s less than two hours from Tokyo by Shinkansen. The All-Nikkō Pass can be reserved online and provide a great discount on train and bus fare.

We stayed near the shrine area and while we enjoyed our ryokan, we probably would choose something in the Lake Chūzenji area next time. If the natural sights and hiking are your thing, I’d recommend the same. If you’re more into shopping, eating and the shrines, staying closer to the station is a better option. The bus between the areas takes about an hour and costs anywhere from 1,000-1,500 yen each way.

Kawagoe Festival 2015

One of the floats at Kawagoe Festival

Last fall, we enjoyed a day at the Kawagoe Festival, the largest and oldest festival in our little slice of Japan. Check out last year’s post for the festival’s history and a video of the floats.

Otto-san and KenKen watching the parade. Three generations of two different families hosted me for this year's Kawagoe Festival.
Otto-san and KenKen watching the parade. Three generations of two different families hosted me for this year’s Kawagoe Festival.

This year’s festival was a different experience. We’ve tried our best to stay in touch with our old neighbors—Tomoko and her two young girls—who moved to another part of town. This past spring, we were invited to a hanami (cherry blossom viewing) party with them. Japanese families are multigenerational, tight-knit units, so we got to know some of their extended family as well.

One of the large floats (or dashi) makes its way through a narrow side street in central Kawagoe
One of the large floats (or dashi) makes its way through a narrow side street in central Kawagoe

We missed out on an invite to Obon in August due to our travels through Asia, but Tomoko reached out last week to extend an invite to Kawagoe Festival. To see the festival through the eyes of locals was truly an honor.

I met the family near the train station at 7 p.m. It wasn’t more than five minutes in before the father-in-law was buying beers for the group.

As we walked through the city, Tomoko pointed out Kawagoe Kindergarten, then pointed to her sister-in-law, herself, her mother and her children. All three generations had attended the ivy-covered school. Pretty cool!

Two of the massive floats meet in the middle of the road, stopping to "battle" each other with music and dance. The float on the right won this particular battle.
Two of the massive floats meet in the middle of the road, stopping to “battle” each other with music and dance. The float on the right won this particular battle.

We watched the dashi—massive, multi-decked festival floats—as they traveled toward each other down the streets of central Kawagoe. They stopped when they met, “battling” each other with live music and dancing. Tomoko’s sister-in-law indicated which float had “won” the battle.

The kids buy their second bag of cotton candy of the night. Festival time is a time for letting loose.
The kids buy their second bag of cotton candy of the night. Festival time is a time for letting loose.

We wandered through the festival, which fills three square miles of Kawagoe’s shopping streets, for about an hour. The kids loaded up on candy from the various vendors before stopping to take a photo with a police car. Around 8:30 p.m., it appeared we were on our way out.

The kids stop to pose for a photo with the local police
The kids stop to pose for a photo with the local police

Tomoko said she’d give me a ride home. But first, we stopped at one of the stands where they bought steamed buns—nikuman in Japanese—for all of us.

The family takes a trip down the reflexology foot path leading into Kumano Shrine
The family takes a trip down the reflexology foot path leading into Kumano Shrine

The whole group walked and walked until I wasn’t even sure where we were anymore. After about 25 minutes, we arrived at the sister-in-law’s house. They invited me in and everyone started getting comfortable.

It was the first time I’ve ever been in a proper Japanese home. While we’re a little loose with the no-shoes-in-the-house rule, they were not. Shoes were removed in the entry way. No socks on the entryway floor; no shoes in the house. We all washed our hands upon entering. Other than that, it was just like any other home. Comfy couch, television front and center. A piano sat against the wall, serving more as a shelf than a musical instrument.

The father-in-law turned on the TV and brought out a couple more beers—one for me, one for him. The kids started getting out their toys. The mother-in-law headed into the kitchen. It was clear we weren’t going anywhere for awhile.

Hasumi holds her bag of candy, which would be doled out a piece at a time for the rest of the evening
Hasumi holds her bag of candy, which would be doled out a piece at a time for the rest of the evening

Out came the steamed buns. Then some homemade cheesecake. And some tea. And some mikan oranges. One by one like a four-course dessert set. Hasumi, Tomoko’s youngest girl, brought me pieces of her konpeitō (rock candy), two at a time. Everyone asked questions: What Japanese foods do you like? How do you say __________ in English? Is it OK to say __________?

Around 10 p.m., Tomoko’s mother started looking at her watch. Around 10:30 p.m., we started packing up the kids and made the short walk down the street to Tomoko’s car and headed home.

I thanked them profusely for all of their kindness and went inside… an authentic Japanese festival experience in the books.

Searching for Totoro

The Totoro display at Kurosuke House in Tokorozawa, Saitama, Japan

The sound of the rustling leaves told us something was lurking nearby. We wandered deeper into the camphor trees, acorns cracking under our feet. We knew he was nearby… any minute now, we’d find Totoro.

Totoro, of course, is a large cat-like spirit who stars in My Neighbor Totoro (となりのトトロ), one of writer/director Hayao Miyazaki‘s famous animated films. Totoro gained some fame among fans of Japanese animation in the U.S. when Disney dubbed the film into English in 2005, but the movie and its characters are deeply engrained in Japanese pop culture.

I’d never heard of Totoro or Miyazaki before coming to Japan. I’d kind of heard of another Miyazaki film, Spirited Away, but only because of its 2002 Academy Award win for Best Animated Feature. Turns out they’re just two of many wildly popular and successful films in the Studio Ghibli catalog.

Last week accidentally turned into a Totoro pilgrimage. We’d been trying to visit the Studio Ghibli Museum for a few months. Tickets are limited to a certain number per day and usually sell out weeks in advance. We finally managed to score a pair for the last entry on a Sunday afternoon.

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We caught our first glimpse of Totoro as we entered the gates of the museum. While photos are not allowed inside, the museum’s exterior grounds offered plenty of fun photo opportunities. Inside, kids of all ages geeked out over a mix of exhibits showing different animation techniques, Miyazaki’s workspace and interactive opportunities for everyone. There’s even a film made specifically for the museum called The Whale Hunt (くじらとり).

Our Totoro adventures didn’t end at the museum though. We’ve been trying to milk the end of summer by heading out for some local hikes. While looking for something new this week, we stumbled on something called Totoro’s Forest. About 10 miles to the south of us is 8,650 acres of woodlands known as Sayama Hills.

More famously, it’s the inspiration for the lush, magical forest scenes from My Neighbor Totoro. The Totoro no Furusato Foundation has been working to preserve the area’s natural beauty over the past 25 years. If we were going to find Totoro, it seem like this was the place to do it.

Our first stop was the Kurosuke House. The 100-year-old home is a perfectly-preserved example of early 20th-century Japanese homes and also served as inspiration for some of the home scenes in Totoro. The foundation runs a small gift shop inside and offers maps of the local area.

A basket on the outside porch contained several acorns. One of Totoro’s plot devices is how one of the girls in the movie finds a trail of acorns, which eventually lead them deep into the forest and to Totoro.

We left Kurosuke House and headed down the road to the Tokorozawa campus for Waseda University. Just off its camphor tree-lined path was the trailhead for the first two Totoro Forest sections. We headed up the narrow mosquito- and spider-ridden path, seeing the irony of this hike taking place within spitting distance of the university’s paved bike path.

We started to see more acorns on the ground, seemingly laid on the trail as if they wanted to be followed. We stayed with the trail, crossing a mudbog that seemed to be the source of all of Japan’s mosquitos before  arriving at a fork in the path. Straight ahead was a sightseeing spot. To the left, a scenic wooden footbridge leading deeper into the forest. Not wanting to get too far off the trail, we followed the footbridge.

Turned out that was the wrong decision. The sightseeing path would have taken us along the path indicated on our cartoonish map of the area. Instead, we wandered into knee-deep grass. Giant spiders weaved traps between every tree. Too far to turn back, we headed for a fence in the distance. We finally found a gate and exited back to the road. A sign on the outside of the fence read “トトロの森でわありません” or “This is not Totoro’s Forest.”

We wandered around the edge, walking in circles for the next hour before finally finding our route again. Covered in fresh mosquito bites, broken spider webs (and, it turns out, an actual spider!), I was ready to cash in this “hike,” but we trekked on. Totoro was still out there…

Things started looking up as we headed up into the hillside. Scenes familiar from the movie started to pop up. A lone camphor tree in a meadow recalled the gateway to Totoro’s forest home. A small shrine in the woods was reproduced in the film. From the top of the hill, we could see over Tokorozawa City. Rumor has it that Totoro’s name came from Miyazaki’s niece mispronouncing the city’s name as “Totorozawa.”

Kotiya-san, an artist with an eccentric style, came out to greet us along the path. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles.
Kotiya-san, an artist with an eccentric style, came out to greet us along the path. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles.

As the sun began to set, we knew we had better pick up the pace if we wanted to find Totoro. The houses were few and far apart in this area, but as we approached the stretch run, we came to a home with several eccentric pieces of art decorating the fence. The owner, Kotiya-san, came out to greet us. He gave us one of his pinwheels made from old water bottles and sent us on our way.

Is it Totoro?
Is it Totoro?

It was just down the street from Kotiya-san’s house when we saw it. The fur. The big eyes. The ears… is it Totoro? Close, but no cigar! Likely a creation of Kotiya-san himself, a life-size version of Totoro known as Tokoro-chan made mostly from old fir branches.

We headed back into the forest one last time. The dark path was carved out of the ground with trees rising high above on both sides. There’s a scene in the movie when the family comes out of the woods that was clearly inspired by this stretch of forest.

Entering the world of Totoro
Entering the world of Totoro

We emerged on the other side without an actual Totoro sighting, but we definitely stepped into Totoro’s world for a day. What a beautiful world it is!

Walking Guides

Walking guides of the area are available via the Totoro Fund website. The maps are only available in Japanese and lack some of the detail you’d want from a hiking map.

We followed map #3 from Kurosuke House to the Saitama Green Forest Museum. (For a custom Google Map, click here.) If you go during the summer or early fall, I’d suggest long pants and long sleeves to keep the mosquito bites to a minimum.

A Fruitful Day in Ogawa

A sure sign of fall; persimmons growing in Ogawa, Saitama

The Japanese word satoyama describes the border between farm land and the foothills of the mountains. We’re lucky to live in a satoyama region, full of plants, animals and geography unique to our little area.

The diversity of the geography makes for some truly amazing hikes. We’ve done some great ones in the last year and a half, but we’re still finding beautiful new land to conquer.

This past week we were fortunate to find a hike in nearby Ogawa that took us through the farms, mountains and shopping streets of this little town in the foothills of the Okuchichibu Mountains. Special thanks to a detailed post at Chaobang’s Travels for providing excellent directions on the five-mile trek.

We were amazed by some of the fruits we came across on the hike. Persimmons are a popular fruit tree in our area. Many homes in our neighborhood have them growing in their yards and it is definitely persimmon season right now. But we also came across some unexpected fruit (pineapples and kiwi!?) as well as some mystery fruits, including akebe—a pod-like fruit that only has a two-week growing season.

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It was a quiet day on the trail despite the perfect weather. We’ve reached the time of year where it’s hot in the sun, but the chill of autumn greets you in the shade. We had plenty of both along the way.

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Kinchakuda Festival

Kinchakuda Festival in Hidaka City, Saitama

The changing of the seasons in Cascadia are marked by important events. We know springtime is right around the corner when you spy someone in a t-shirt, shorts and flip flops on a sunny day even though it’s only 42 degrees outside. The beginning of fall is accompanied by talk of Ducks and Beavers while waiting in line for a Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte.

In Japan, each new season is marked by the blooming of flowers. Cherry blossoms and wisteria in the spring, irises and hydrangea in the summer and now red spider lilies are popping up in gardens all over town.

Red spider lilies at Kinchakuda-Manjushage Park in Hidaka City
Red spider lilies at Kinchakuda-Manjushage Park in Hidaka City

In nearby Hidaka City, an annual festival is held at Kinchakuda-Manjushage Park along the Koma River to celebrate the blooming of the lilies. The vibrant red flowers are in strong contrast to both their spring-green stems and the green canopy of the meadow in which they grow.

Click any photo below to view as a slideshow. Scroll down for festival details and video from the day.

The Kinchakuda Festival (website in Japanese) runs every weekend from now through October 4, 2015. They have lots of great local food vendors, live music and the nearby farm offers horse rides and a petting zoo.

Video: Kinchakuda Festival in Hidaka City