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Heritage and Tourism follow-up

December 14, 2019

Culture and tourism has become a big topic worldwide, and two months after WiK’s Heritage and Tourism symposium, Unesco and Unwto came to town for the 4th UNWTO/UNESCO World Conference on Tourism and Culture, which was followed by a two-hour Kyoto City symposium on promoting sustainable culture and tourism. I found the former more stimulating than the latter because of the practical measures put forward. (UNWTO is the United Nations World Tourist Organisation.)

A representative from Barcelona speaks of the city’s measures for dispersal

There were 600 delegates from over 50 countries. As is usual at such gatherings, there was a lot of fine rhetoric using feel-good generalisations. Buzzwords included community-centred, sustainable development, responsible tourism, dispersal, mutual respect, destination management, forging partnerships, intercultural benefit, human resources, citizen initiative. Of those sustainable was the most used, and there seemed universal acceptance that despite worries about climate change tourism was bound to increase even more dramatically than heretofore. “Travel, enjoy, respect,’ is the favoured Unesco slogan.

One of the most interesting talks I heard concerned an initiative in S. America to train local businesses and craftspeople in digital skills in order to advertise themselves to tourists. The project had trained an impressive total of 120,000 people. (Related to this was an online campaign in Barcelona to draw people away from tourist hotspots by advertising new festivals, concerts and shopping suggestions away from the city centre.)

Another talk that caught my attention was a speaker from the Council of Europe who spoke of 38 transnational Culture Routes that have been set up with passports for stamping (in the manner of Japanese pilgrimages). The routes include not only famous tourist spots but villages along the way with a special restaurant or craft and art centre. The routes were based on thematic clusters, such as religious heritage / art and culture / early Europeans / landscape and handicraft etc. Walking and cycling was encouraged. It struck me as something Japan could do on a cross-prefectural basis, because the division between prefectural tourist boards can often be more rigid than between nation states in Europe.

Participants in the Kyoto City seminar, with mayor Kadokawa in characteristic kimono on the right

Following the main conference, there was a symposium for promoting sustainable culture and tourism put on by the Kyoto City Tourism Association. The head of Ninna-ji spoke of restoring the temple following typhoon damage, which had led to greater involvement by local citizenry and the temple welcoming photography as opposed to its previous policy. A spokesman from Shimogamo Shrine spoke of how the shrine had exploited its rugby connection to increase tourists.

Kyoto city mayor Kadokawa noted that Kyoto had come no. 1 in a STG survey (Sustainable Tourism Growth) and how highly valued ‘the Kyoto model’ was by Unesco and Unwto. In 2018 Kyoto received 15.8 million overnight visitors, representing a 60% increase since 2000. In the light of this, the city has worked to decrease waste, energy consumption and road congestion.

In response to overtourism, Kyoto has taken various measures, one of which is addressing the seasonal imbalance by running such campaigns as Visit Kyoto in Winter. As a result the seasonal gap had lessened from 3.6 to 1.4 over the past few years. There had been an increase of 10% in stayers because of the increase in accommodation, while at the same time the city was working on shutting down unsuitable accommodation that caused nuisance to the citizenry. And there was also effort being put into redistribution as opportunities arise for practical participation rather than just sightseeing. There was publicity too to teach tourists Kyoto manners, and this was contributing to other countries learning good values from the Japanese (something incidentally that was very much evident during the rugby World Cup. A commentator on the BBC World Service suggested that his experience in Japan had made him a better person).

Other points of interest raised by Kadokawa were that 80% of visitors to the city are Japanese, that 38,000 buildings had to alter or dispose of signboards because of a city ordinance restricting their use, that there are 50 policies in place to unite visitors and tourists, and that revenue from the recently introduced accommodation tax would be spent on education to pass on Kyoto culture to future generations (third grade students will be introduced to tea ceremony and ikebana). He also said, interestingly, that the city has 2000 temples and shrines (contradicting the figure of 3000, as is often stated), and that of that number only 1% were overcrowded. That would mean 20 temples and shrines. I tried to work out what they might be: Kiyomizu, Fushimi Inari, Kinkakuji, Ginkakuji, Ryoanji….. then if one includes cherry blossom and maple season several more could be easily added.

Disappointingly there was no question period, so some of the most pressing issues didn’t get discussed at all. There was a self-congratulatory tone to the symposium which those travelling on overcrowded buses in the city centre might take issue with, but one thing the conference as a whole did impress on me was that the matter of overtourism is being seriously addressed by authorities worldwide even if some of the more severe problems are far from being solved.

Kyoto city mayor and Kyoto prefectural governor receive copies of the Kyoto Declaration produced by participants, subtitled Investing in Future Generations

WiK Bonenkai 2019

December 11, 2019

Report by Iris Reinbacher…

On the evening of December 8, WiK held its bonenkai, a yearly tradition under the theme of “Words and Music” (for last year’s account, see here). We celebrated the old year, which not only brought a new era to Japan as a whole, but also proved to be a very successful one for our members: several new books published and a wonderful third Anthology, Encounters with Kyoto!

After the obligatory hellos and how-have-you-beens, and a sufficient amount of Pizza, Fish’n’Chips and Guinness, we moved on to the entertainment, with MC Ted Taylor.

Michael Greco started off Set One reading a piece from his new book situated in the jungle of Borneo. The book was dedicated to his young daughter, who had also joined the party. Then, Rebecca Otowa read a short story from her third book about the secrets of shoe-swapping (black sneakers only, folks!). James Woodham followed with performance poetry bursting into song, and epic nonsense poetry which was not quite as nonsensical as it seemed. Preston Houser looked back on 38 years in Japan with a poem followed by the longing tones of his shakuhachi. The set continued with last year’s Competition Winner Lisa Wilcut‘s tanka covering one year in Kyoto, perfectly describing the seasons in a few well-chosen images. Finally, together with a bit of help from the audience, Kevin Ramsden closed the set with his celebrated Kyomojo poem that won him the local prize in our last year’s Writers Competition.

Thoroughly loosened up, we took a break with more chats and more drinks.

Set Two opened with “Drongo”, an Australian idiot who prominently features in Ian Richards‘ new book. Mark Hovane added a reflective and dramatic touch with his thoughts on “mitate” and how it relates to the winding paths in tea gardens (a demonstration was included.) Afterwards, Mayumi Kawaharada read haiku about Kyoto life, accompanied on the saxophone by Gary Tegler. Ken Rodgers read a bit from Robert Brady’s Langdon Chronicles as well as a comical piece of his own, and as the last reader of the evening Robert Yellin explained why pottery is really the same as poetry, to a background of Gary Tegler’s improv jazz.

The final bit, a musical piece with Ted Taylor and Gary Tegler almost didn’t take place, had it not been for Ted’s willingness to compensate for the lack of a drum kit, which of course was highly appropriate for a jazz piece (with or without drums) by Thelonius Monk.

A piece for saxophone with or without drums.

We all had a very enjoyable evening and would like to thank all the participants on the stage and those who were content to make up the audience. A shout-out too to the Gnome Irish Pub, who allowed us use of the venue without charge and provided nourishment for our bodies in solid and liquid form to complement the food for thought provided on stage.

We wish you all a successful 2020 and hope to meet again soon!

Featured writing

13 Temple Kyoto Pilgrimage

December 10, 2019

Prompted by Nick Teele’s account of reviving a 33 temple pilgrimage, a website reader from Denmark named Esben Andreasen has submitted an account of his own 13 temple pilgrimage to Kyoto. The piece below is an edited translation of his article which originally appeared in a Danish journal.

Esben’s first visit to Japan was in 1982 as a member of ‘The Japan Foundation Secondary School Educators Study Team’, a visit that started his craze for Japan. Since then he has visited Kyoto twenty times, his longest stay being half a year at Otani University studying Jodo shinshu (True Pure Land sect).

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ASPHALT PILGRIM IN KYOTO
by Esben Andreasen

My childhood public library smelled of old books and varnish. I remember I saw a folder saying: ”Plan Your Readings” and I wondered who the wise librarian was who wrote it? Is it at all possible to plan? Where to begin and where to end? Who to decide what interests me? And now, almost 70 years later I wonder if I have frittered away my life as a reader? Maybe I would have been a totally different person, if I had followed the librarian’s advice? I do not think I even read the folder.

Nowadays in Kyoto I have countless possibilities when it comes to visiting temples, and I can see that a plan is a helper, otherwise I grow dizzy. So instead of following sheer impulse, or visiting temples I have visited before, I need new inspiration and choose a website which offers a small pilgrimage to thirteen temples, each with a Buddha or a Bodhisattva, called Kyoto Jusan Butsu and start out as an asphalt pilgrim. The inspiration I get from Michael Pye’s Japanese Buddhist Pilgrimage (Equinox Publishing 2015).

Pilgrimage in a city sounds easy, but I could have chosen something very much easier. 88 miniature temples visited in 2-3 hours is also a possibility, but I do not take the easy way.

A few remarks on a practical nature. First, I do not walk all the way but use bus, subway and local trains. Still, my soles are very sore after a day’s walking, because I walk a lot. Secondly, I do not spend much time at each temple. My record is 10 minutes. Thirdly, the main obstacle is finding one’s way. I praise my smart phone, the GPS and Google Maps.

You must be patient and prepared for challenges and frustrations. At least two temples on the list were no longer part of the pilgrimage, but other temples had taken over. And it was hard to find which. At one temple I was told that yesterday it was open but not today. ”Come again, maybe you are lucky next time.” Some monks are a bit arrogant, especially at the popular and famous temples.

On the other hand you are met with great friendliness at more humble temples, where there are fewer tourists. Many important temples only rarely exhibit their age-old sculptures and even less famous sculptures of which you must not take photos. But that does not bother me too much, because – to use a worn-out expression – not the goal but the way is what counts, although it is not the prescribed aim. I may be meeting with a happy car-owner who dusts his fine Jaguar on a sunny morning with a broom of ostrich feathers! ”A real beauty!”, I tell him and he becomes very proud. Or I may pass by Kyoto station – much too big for the city – and stop, because a number of jazz big bands – mostly girls – are giving a resounding concert, one band after the other. Or I may pass a shrine where I see a couple of Western-looking faces in relief who turn out to be Edison and Hertz! Electric gods! Or I nay visit a temple for cats and another one for hogs on my way! It makes you wonder.

The difference between long and dusty pilgrimages like ”il camino” and city pilgrimage is striking. You walk for days in northern Spain, in your mind you have turned over your life till you get nauseous, and then you experience what it is to be empty. You have simply run out of mental effort, so why not simply put one foot down after the other and give yourself a rest?

An asphalt pilgrim has no rest. Watch out, all the time. Bicycles on the sidewalk are a danger, and even though the cyclist bears the responsibility, it is no fun being run over. And then constantly attend Google Maps not to lose your way. The GPS must have been invented by the Japanese.

Now, to the point. The above-mentioned website and Michael Pye’s book have the following temples:

But the list needs revisions. Number 3 on the list in 2018 is Kaiko-ji and number 11 in 2019 is Zuishin-in. Who the divinities are is not clear.

But it is clear that the pilgrim meets the characteristic inclusiveness of Japanese religion, here Buddhism. The temples are mainly Shingon (Esoteric Buddhism), but also Jodo (Pure Land Buddhism) and Rinzai (Zen Buddhism). Members of all denominations have no qualms of conscience when they visit temples belonging to other sects. The borders are fluid and often the Japanese Buddhist does not know to which she/he belongs.

The Kyoto Jusan Butsu pilgrimage is very new. According to Michael Pye it was set up in 1981, in imitation of a similar sequence in Osaka. The 13 stages reflect 13 memorial days on which to honour and pray for the soul of a departed family member: 7^th, 14^th, 21^st, 28^th, 35^th, 42^nd, 49^th, 100^th day, followed by 1^st, 3^rd, 7^th, 13^th and 33^rd anniversary. During the first 49 days the departed soul is a hungry ghost (gaki) in need of rest and in a dangerous situation, which explains the frequent memorial days at the beginning. After that the intervals grow longer and longer. But to practically minded Japanese there is no need to visit the temples in this order or on the exact days. It is sufficient that you visit the temples when you can, think of the departed relative and contemplate your own life.

For a dedicated religious follower the transactions at the temples consist of three phases: When the pilgrim arrives he/she asks for permission to visit the temple, explaining the motivation for the visit to the chief monk or priest; then the act of devotion in front of the Buddha or Bodhisattva statues, consisting of a recitation (often the Heart Sutra) and a prayer or petition to the divinity (good health, success at work, family happiness – or similar wishes for this-worldly benefits (genze riyaku)); and finally the temple issues a documentation of the visit in the shape of a calligraphy which the pilgrim pays for and pastes into the pilgrimage book (nokyocho), a kind of ring binder. All in all, a quid pro quo situation.

As an (irreverent?) outsider I have enjoyed walking many kilometers, meeting people and thinking of the peculiarities of Japanese culture, but I did not intend to perform the transactions. Between the serious pilgrim and myself there is a great variety of behaviour. Still, I bought my nokyocho (1500 yen), and in the end I got 13 calligraphies (300 yen each).

Walking with a plan is perhaps not such a bad idea.

Writers in focus

New Member Jay Crystall

December 3, 2019

Self Introduction – Jay Crystall

I was born in New York City in the 1960’s. And that’s where I spent my entire life before moving to Kyoto in February 2011, weeks before the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake.

I never had designs on becoming a writer although I spent decades developing my musical style and songwriting. The inescapable draw towards exerting myself creatively resulted in the roadkill of several mini-careers that ranged from Civil Engineer to Advertising Exec to Fine Arts Logistician. Whether it was my two-piece industrial rock band Orchid Room opening for 80’s rockers Flock of Seagulls or being the fair skinned singer percussionist in Jamaica’s Children of Jah I knew my advent in this life was to dive in and make a dent in culture, one way or another. My YouTube channel (jaycrystall) and solo performances express my determination to blend culture and build bridges to and from Japan. For sustenance I own an English school and work at Doshisha University and a few hospitals.

In terms of my writing, the phrase taiki bansei is what a NYC-based Japanese newspaper journalist referred to me as 20 years ago (大器晩成 – great talent matures late). I had the incredible fortune to meet Catherine Lenox, a well published ghost writer from Seattle, who was vacationing in Japan 4 years ago. Our friendship has led to the cross-Pacific collaboration that has become Lovesic in Kyoto, published with the support of Iron Twine Press. Japanese ceramic guru Robert Yellin was kind enough to contribute a prologue to this book:

Seen through the lens of Buddhist wisdom, Lovesic in Kyoto is a journey through spirit, language, musicianship, and the beauty and contradictions of modern-day Japan. From racing through New York City subways to riding his bicycle past white-faced, kimono-clad maiko in Kyoto, author/expatriate Jay Crystall shares the colorful, twisting life path that led him to Japan. Told with wit and candor and backlit by myriad lessons, hilarious faux pas, and the slippery slope of self-discovery, he begins to unfold a lifelong dream of impacting culture.

I look forward digging in and getting to know more of the colorful Writers in Kyoto community. Thanks!

Writers in focus

Drongo (novel by Ian Richards)

November 23, 2019

Extract from a new novel by Ian Richards, published by Atuanui Press and entitled, Drongo: A Kiwi Road Novel.

In which the hero, Andy, has hitched a ride with Mrs Macalister and her cat Silky. Though he has no license, Andy has convinced her to let him drive her car. Andy is 18 years old, wants to be a writer, and is carrying about his portable typewriter (nicknamed Half-Arse).

**************

We were swinging a little leftwards…I swung us back harder to the right…it meant we started into a turn, so I thought we might as well go on heading that way anyhow…I thought there were lots of small, interesting-looking cross streets coming up, and we’d probably get into one or other of them…it might even be a good idea to pull over someplace. There was a bad, dull thud around us which reverberated throughout the car…everything jumped and skidded, and I heard a mysterious, long squeal…then I realised that the squeal was coming from me, because my hands and shoulders were being showered with glass…something had slammed into the edge of my side of the car, up near the engine, and we’d been shoved hard over towards the left half of the road…the car had stopped moving, which was just as well since I wasn’t driving it anymore…I wasn’t doing much of anything, except for thinking how my head felt rattled and a bit twitchy on my neck. The truck that appeared to have hit us was coming to a halt just a little further up the street…I noticed its wing-mirror was half torn off, and the left side along the cab looked pretty well smashed…I could scarcely believe the whole event was all over, and I seemed to have missed a lot of it. So, I thought, this is a traffic accident. I glanced across at Mrs Macalister…she was still there, sitting almost motionless, with Silky still clasped in her lap…she had her face craned forward and was staring at the intricate cracks in what remained of the front windscreen… her features had settled into a peculiar, frightened smile that suggested nothing was wrong. With an effort I pushed open the damaged door next to me…I stepped out into the street, and thought the whole car looked as if a giant had tried using it to make a milkshake…underfoot there were bright, slippery globules of safety glass spread out on the tarseal in a beautiful twinkling sheet…I could see that the truck driver was already hurrying towards me around the side of his cab…he was a big, rough-faced man dressed in loose, grease-smudged olive-green overalls, and he was stamping on the road with each step in heavy steel-capped boots. ‘What the bloody hell were you doing?’ the truckie yelled at me as he approached. He was trembling from anger and perhaps from shock…I raised both hands with my palms up and out to show that I didn’t want any fuss…I opened my mouth to apologise. The truckie moved closer and caught me on the jaw with his fist…the blow was solid…it flung me back against the bonnet of Mrs Macalister’s car…I sank downwards to the road and spent a moment taking in what had happened. The urgent panting of the truckie’s breathing was just above my head…I glanced up and saw he was standing almost right over me, glaring down, and so I started getting to my feet…I had to use the car’s tyre as support…my sandshoes slid amongst the safety glass…without waiting for me to be properly upright in front of him, the truckie swung at me again…his blow brushed past the edge of my cheek. ‘I’ll fucking kill you!’ he yelled. He seemed sincere…after all, my face hurt, and he’d already had one good try at running me over…but while I was considering this, the truckie collected me with a solid punch once more…my entire body jerked from the impact. ‘You bloody little, fucking, bloody bastard!’ the truckie was yelling. At least, he was probably shouting something like that, because by now I’d straightened up and was too hell-bent on escaping to pay careful attention…I concentrated on circling round the rear of the car to keep some space between myself and another attack, but the truckie was coming after me fast…I skirted along the passenger’s side in an effort to put still more of the car between us…within the vehicle’s interior Mrs Macalister’s head and shoulders suddenly came into view nearby through the windows…I saw she’d reached up with one arm to clutch in desperation at the top of her seatbelt strap, next to her cheek…her lips were moving as if she was repeating some sort of phrase and I thought it might be ‘oh dear,’ since that was the gist of the message on her face.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Macalister,’ I called to her.
The truckie was still coming for me gamely…he was still shouting, but I was glad to see his heavy boots were slowing him down…I kept scrabbling and circling round the corners of the car to try and hold him at a distance, and within a moment or two I got to the open, shattered door on the driver’s side again…quickly I dived in and reached past the front seat for the rear of the vehicle…I lunged for my bag and Half-Arse…Mrs Macalister shrank away, and from her lap Silky astonished me by hissing at me in fury.
‘I really am sorry, Mrs Macalister,’ I yelped.
I wriggled myself out of the car and found the truckie had managed to get close again…this time I swung hard at him with Half-Arse and backed him off…it felt like a small victory for literature…then I started to run pell-mell up the road with my duffle-bag and the typewriter…the truckie responded by chasing me some more…evidently he hadn’t finished trying to kill me and believed there was hope. The thought popped into my mind that it was morally wrong to turn tail…it was possibly illegal, but I was an artist and I felt an obligation to future readers to keep myself safe…even so, I’d never heard of a major author who’d fled for safety from a long-distance truck driver before…for a few instants I thought he was actually going to catch me…but I ran as if my life depended on it, which it probably did…gradually he seemed to tire, and I just kept right on going. I reached the ferry terminal at a determined jog-trot…my lungs were burning and the sensation went all the way up into my windpipe, and it took me some considerable while to recover my breath…I still felt bad about leaving Mrs Macalister, but the feeling didn’t last for long…she struck me as the sort of over-cautious person who had miles of insurance…now she was going to be glad of it.

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Ian Richards hails from New Zealand is an Associate Professor of English literature at Osaka City University. His first book Everyday Life in Paradise was a finalist in the 1991 Heinemann Reed Award for best book of fiction. His biography To Bed at Noon: The Life and Art of Maurice Duggan (Auckland University Press, 1997) was nominated for the Montana Best Book Award. Richards’ stories have been broadcast on Radio New Zealand and appeared in numerous magazines including Landfall, the NZ Listener and North and South. Richards was born and raised in Palmerston North and received his PhD in English from Massey University.

To listen to an interview with him on Radio New Zealand about the writing of Drongo, please click here.

Writers in focus

Introduction to Mark Schumacher

November 19, 2019

SELF INTRODUCTION by Mark Schumacher

Wanna get tangled up and confused? Jump inside my mind. After twenty-five years of studying Japan’s divinities and demons, only now do I realize I’m in over my head. Japanese religious studies is not just Japanese. It is the study of Hinduism, Taoism, Confucianism, yin-yang theories, zodiac cosmology, star worship, mountain asceticism, shamanism, nature cults, animism, and more. All these ingredients got blended together in Japan – they are still being mixed together into an endearing and powerful cocktail, and I’m drunk on it. Japanese religious studies is excitingly confusing, complex, and syncretic.

These days, I’ve started to focus on Japan’s hybrid, multifaced, and ever-changing deities. It has opened a new door into confusion and complexity. The intricately interlaced Buddhist-Hindu-Kami matrix is akin to the primordial soup, and even today it keeps spinning around and turning out even more recipes. After nearly a quarter century learning the names of the gods, their functions, and their mythologies, I’ve only just begun to zero in on the “Japanization” of foreign gods, the “domestication” and “cutification” of these imported deities, and the commercialization of most religious icons.

Another new area of great interest to me involves the “modernization” of Japan’s gods. Below is the ABSTRACT from a lecture I recently presented (Oct. 2019) at Aoyama Gakuin University in Tokyo:

THE PANTHEON OF GODS in Japan continues to grow in modern times, just as it did in bygone centuries. In the last five decades, Japan’s religious institutions and religious-goods industry have devised new roles and new iconography for age-old Buddhist divinities. Some of the newer forms are derived from older manifestations, but some are entirely new. This lecture focuses on two of Japan’s most beloved saviors – Jizō and Kannon – and the new “modern” roles they play in memorial services for miscarried, stillborn and aborted children; in staving off dementia in the elderly; in granting sudden and painless death to senior citizens who don’t want to burden their families or don’t want to die from a long unpleasant illness; and in providing dedicatory services for deceased pets. The central concern of these new roles is death. This aligns well with the economic base of Japanese Buddhism, which for centuries has revolved around the provision of mortuary services. More and more temples are catering to modern social concerns. By introducing old gods in new formats to address changing social needs, funerary Buddhism has remained an integral part of Japan’s contemporary religious landscape.

Another focus of my research is to highlight the accelerating speed at which Japan is domesticating and cutifiying its myriad deities and ritualistic landscape. Commercial sales of religious goods by the secular retail sector are also expanding into all new product lines at accelerating speed. For more on this research, see:

NEW DUTIES FOR OLD DEITIES.
THE EVER-CHANGING FACE OF JAPAN’S RELIGIOUS LANDSCAPE.
DOMESTICATION, CUTIFICATION, & COMMERCIALIZATION OF RELIGIOUS ICONS

The message seems clear – adapt to the times, address changing spiritual needs, remain relevant as society changes. Otherwise get swept into the historical dustbin.

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QUICK RESUME FOR MARK SCHUMACHER Schumacher is a longtime Japan resident based in Kamakura. He works out of his home. For nearly three decades, he was a writer, editor, PC consultant, and translator (J-E) for major corporations in the US, Japan, Taiwan, and elsewhere. Since 1995 he has served as webmaster, writer/designer, and consultant for numerous Internet companies (both Japanese and foreign). Today he is an independent scholar of Japanese Buddhist statuary, and author of the popular A-to-Z Photo Dictionary of Japan’s Buddhist & Shinto Deities (online since 1995). He holds seminars on Buddhist art topics and serves as an art historian, researcher, and appraiser for various museums, scholars, collectors, and art associations. He is also the president of Sake Connections, a Japan-based exporter of premium Japanese sake, and in his spare time runs a small firm exporting modern Buddhist statuary. Japan Times interview with Schumacher, http://onmarkproductions.com/Buddha-Statues/?page_id=323Videos with Schumacher, http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/videos-buddhism-shintoism.htmlA-to-Z Photo Dictionary of Japanese Religious Icons, http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/buddhism.shtml

Description: C:\Users\schum\AppData\Local\Microsoft\Windows\INetCache\Content.MSO\584A4EB5.tmp

Mark Schumacher turned sixty years old in 2019. In this photo he is shown wearing a red-colored cap and vest known as Chan-Chan-Ko ちゃんちゃんこ, which signifies his rebirth, his “second infancy,” his Kanreki 還暦 birthday (kan = return, reki = calendar). The traditional Japanese calendar was based on the Chinese Zodiac calendar, which was organized into 60-year cycles. The cycle of life returns to its starting point in 60 years, and as such, kanreki celebrates that point in one’s life when one’s personal calendar returns to the calendar sign under which one was born. Traditionally, friends and relatives are invited for a celebratory feast on one’s 60th birthday. It is customary for the celebrant to be given a red cap and wear a red vest. These clothes are usually worn by babies and thus symbolize the celebrant’s return to his/her birth. MY ZODIAC SIGN. I am a bore! Actually, I am a zodiac BOAR. The Buddhist patron of boars is Amida Buddha. And the Big Buddha of Kamakura is Amida. Talk about winning the ovarian lottery.　

Writers in focus

More Poems (Malcolm Ledger)

November 18, 2019

The Abyss

I’m standing quite still on the edge of an abyss,
As wide and as deep as the heart itself is,
And though I’ve not noticed its vastness till now,
I know it’s been there since before time began.

And now that I’ve seen it, I can’t run away,
For it opens wherever I go,
Yawning and gaping, like some awful mouth,
Just waiting to swallow me – whole.

Yet the strangest thing is that, afraid as I am,
I miss by a mile if I try to fall in,
As I do with my shadow,
That will not be caught.

So what can I do,
Stuck here on this edge,
With a bottomless gulf at my feet?

Perhaps, when I’m ripe,
Like an apple in autumn,
I’ll fall, and be gone,
For ever.

Zazen

Within the night-dark room – a flame!
A breath of living fire,
That feeds upon itself, as if eternal,
Consuming darkness with its flickering tongue
Of fragile, yellow light.

Without, the moon-soaked wind blows cold,
And with faint knocks and taps
Allows the shadows of the dead a voice,
To summon and implore
The living.

The figures sit, unmoving,
With straight backs and folded hands,
And faces of forgetful bliss,
Softly shining,
Buddhas of the Three Worlds.

Through the open windows,
In rising gusts, the wind
Sweeps out the trembling flare,
To leave the living quick
Aglow, amid the smouldering dark.

Missionary Man

I met a young man in the street yesterday,
Who wanted to talk about God, (so he said),
So I said, “What about Him?”

He first of all told me Christ died for my sins,
(Whatever that means),
As if murder could make me feel better.

Then he told me how God made the world in six days,
When I wanted to know,
“Who made God?”

“The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand”, he exclaimed,
“Yes, I’ve seen it”, I said,
–in Kolkatta.”

“If you only have faith”, he exhorted me next,
“Ah, if only I could,
–but I can’t.”

So I said to him, “Show me, then, you of the Faith,
Show me God in yourself,
Right now!”

But his white-shirted limbs went as dead as a brick,
And his wonderful words came no more,
Though he wanted to talk about God, (so he said).

Ah, he sounded so glib,
When he talked about Him,
Like a salesman who’s pushing a product,

That I thought of a banker,
Withdrawing his cash on investments
In “Jesus Christ, Inc.”

But he’d licked up the vomit
Of what others had told him,
And spewed it out into my face,

‘Till the stink turned my guts,
And I left him alone,
Finding others to talk about God with.

Featured writing

Poems (Malcolm Ledger)

November 15, 2019

Another

Since
We met
There has been
No one
Else
For me but you
Took
Another
And came
To regret
It.

************

By the River

I sat on the banks of the darkening river,
By the broad, slow stream, where the water runs deep,
And the grasses of Autumn grew over my heart,
Entangling me, rooting me there.

I saw the leaves fall to the journeying water,
And felt the cold wind on my hair and my cheek,
And I heard the night-song of invisible birds,
In the reed-choked marsh by the shore.

I watched the dull flames of a fire in the night,
And I smelled its decay in the vanishing smoke,
And I heard the low boom of the scattering wind,
As it whirled the white ashes away.

I tasted the fruit of the tree where I sat,
And the rich, red, flesh of Eve’s breasts filled my mouth,
And my tongue sucked the juice that was bitter to drink,
Of fecundity turned to decay.

I saw the bright moon rise into the blackness,
Where she hovered, alone and unsure,
And I saw how her light fell all over the world,
And dissolved it in shimmering dreams.

I felt the first shock of the gathering storm,
And the icy-cold waters that lapped at my waist,
And the river which took me so lightly, so gently,
Embracing me, drawing me down.

In the flood of the night, in the wind and the rain,
And the beating of waves on the shore,
I surrendered completely, utterly, finally,
To the love of the fathomless dark.

************

Sleep

At night—no empty bed,
But warmth, and weight, and touch that knits the sleep,
Entwinéd limbs, soft breathing,
Until the dawn reveals your face.

************

No Self

Ye deaf and blind!
Your senses closed to Paradise before your face,
When will you let
The self leave off, and merge
With all that is?

Each second gone,
Each jewel moment lost for ever.
No going back!
But therein lies its bliss
For those who live at one.

Mind made, this world,
No here, no there,
No up, no down,
No you, no me,
As in a dream,
Struck dumb.
Body and mind dropped off.
Who knows what is, or why?

Heritage and Tourism Symposium

November 12, 2019

Protection and Promotion — Striking a Balance

Heritage and Tourism Symposium, November 8, 2019

by Rebecca Otowa

This past November 8, Writers in Kyoto hosted the Heritage and Tourism Symposium with four guest speakers. Over 80 people attended the event, including WiK members and concerned members of the general public, and many interesting points were raised.

John Dougill discussing a point about World Heritage sites

The first to speak was the founder of WiK, John Dougill, author of Japan’s World Heritage Sites. He spoke about the sites (WHS) in Japan, which now number 23. The reason so many sites have been designated, especially in recent years, is thought to be that Japan recognizes the importance of the WHS system and wishes to be seen as a player of the world stage. (Also, WHS strictures were loosened to allow the inclusion of sites of the original design but not comprised of the original materials — a change which allowed wood-intensive Japan to put forward buildings that have been rebuilt after fire.)

John Dougill spent a couple of years researching his book, visiting and photographing all the sites from Shiretoko Peninsula in the north to Okinawa in the south, and mentioned as his favorite the Ogasawara Islands, also known as “the Galapagos of the Far East”, with many species of unusual flora and fauna. His conclusions were:

1) Japan is 80% mountain land with much spectacular scenery. This natural heritage should be more widely publicized. Besides Ogasawara Islands in this context he mentioned Yakushima, also Mt. Fuji and three sites on Kii Peninsula, which could be described as both natural and cultural sites.

2) The regional impact of having a location designated as a WHS can be both positive and negative. On the plus side, one can cite local prestige, increased revenue and increased visibility and tourist flow. Negatives include the lack of flexibility to modernize (WHS are expected to be kept in their original condition) and the transformation of the entire area into a tourist destination, with all the accompanying upsets for residents and environment. In this connection it was mentioned that WHS could benefit from some sort of ranking system based on the size and accessibility of the sites.

3) Tourist Potential — The upcoming designation of Ancient Kamakura as a WHS raises the question, does this area really need more tourist promotion, access or visibility? The resulting increase in “inbound” tourism doesn’t necessarily benefit the locals. Amami-Oshima, indeed, is planning construction of a Marine Park and even the incursion of huge cruise ships into a fragile ecosystem with endangered species. How to strike a balance between protection and promotion? This emerged as a key issue in the symposium.

Amy Chavez listening to a question from the audience

The second speaker was Amy Chavez, longtime resident of Shiraishi Island in the Inland Sea and author of Best Behavior in Japan. The emphasis of her talk was on understanding and action. She pointed out that manners are not the same as sensitivity to the mores of another culture, though they may be related. Tourists need to be taught about the differences in how things are done — they can’t be expected to know that some of the things they do unconsciously are resulting in bad feeling among the locals. In the primarily Muslim country of Indonesia, which she cited as an example, people are very sensitive about the importance of the head, so that no one ever touches the head of a child, motorcycle helmets are never placed on the ground, and there is a resistance to multilevel dwellings because someone’s feet are walking around above one’s head. Such things are important to a culture. A similar situation in Japan might be that in the West, people usually expect someone else to take care of their personal trash, whereas Japanese people learn from an early age to manage it themselves. On the ground in tourist areas, Amy suggested there is more need for hands-on control. She mentioned three ideas for this.

1) “Tourist Aides”, people in uniform who patrol crowded tourist areas and gently remind people to follow the (posted) rules.

2) Stricter checking of tour guide licenses and making sure the guides understand that they are responsible for the behavior of their group (people in groups are much more likely to misbehave than people who travel alone).

3) “Parking lot” systems which prevent more than a certain number of people entering a tourist site at one time. If others want to enter, some people must leave. To this last I would like to add that a “buffer” number is a good idea, and that the capacity number be chosen carefully to preserve the ambience of the site. This kind of restriction is already being practiced in tourist venues in Europe.

Murakami Kayo, talking about regional diversity

The third speaker, Murakami Kayo, from the Kyoto office of the Agency for Cultural Affairs, was substituting at short notice for Hoshino Akie who was unfortunately unable to attend. She said that since 2003 there has been a push for the country to become tourism-oriented in order to “Raise Up the Country”, and mentioned the importance of regional promotion, with the recent shift in emphasis from regions being told what to do by the central government to regions being responsible for their own tourism promotion. This would include regions deciding for themselves what would be attractive to tourists and figuring out how to draw tourists who like diversity, both to improve the economic situation of regions and to take pressure off the heavily visited central sites. The creative use of regional characteristics like food and the rediscovery of interesting places both natural and cultural can be instrumental in this. She talked about the need for balance between overseas tourists and Japanese tourists, who may dislike sharing the tourist sites with foreigners, resulting in cancellations. Also she spoke of “carrying capacity” which is the number of tourists that can safely be admitted to a site in a given time, in order to ensure the site is not damaged by the sheer physical pressure of the numbers. For example, the Tomioka Silk Mill, opened since its designation as a WHS since 2014, has been used for impact studies including deterioration of buildings resulting from changes in air quality etc. In a word, cultural properties are as fragile as natural environments, and it is necessary to set up reasonable capacity restrictions in order to protect the sites from damage.

Alex Kerr making a point about overtourism

The final speaker was Alex Kerr, award-winning author of books about changes in Japan such as Lost Japan, Dogs and Demons and Another Kyoto, and expert on the effects of tourism and suggestions for management. Coiner of the term “UNESCO-cide”, he nevertheless opines that tourism is the last hope for many areas of Japan. He cites the village of Iya Valley in Shikoku, which he has worked to revivify by remodeling old houses and turning them into guest houses. There are now about 20 million abandoned houses in Japan, most of them in outlying regional areas, and he has initiated some projects to restore old houses in this way, adding the caveat that the regions themselves must be comfortable with the renovations. Alex emphasized that in tourism, management is key, and that the quality of the experience both for tourists and locals depends on systems of management and the desirability of a shift, now, from promotion to management especially in heavily touristed areas. In the Nishiki shopping arcade of Kyoto, for instance, locals have stopped going there to shop because the wares sold have largely changed to suit the tastes and demands of the tourists who flock through there. Thus the very things the tourists have come to see are disappearing. The vendors themselves need to control their products as is done in many markets etc. in Europe. Management of numbers also needs to be carried out, prior reservations which limit numbers being one of the tested methods for this. Alex cited several adverse effects and characteristics now being observed as tourist numbers soar:

1) Zero Dollar Tourism wherein all amenities and services are provided by the tour companies of the country of origin, with the result that many tourists arrive but don’t spend much money at the site.

2) False advertising — tourists may complain that the situation at tourist sites isn’t the same as the image they visualized with the help of promotional material, e.g. Mt. Fuji, whose climbing path is overcrowded and choked with refuse.

3) The myth of convenience, seen in places where large parking lots are built, intended to be more convenient for the tourist site itself, while the nearby shopping street, formerly an integral part of the site experience, languishes unvisited.

4) Poorly designed and placed signage, and oversignage. He showed slides of various tourist sites sporting forests of signs telling people to do this or that, the attachment of signs to ancient pillars which are part of National Treasure sites, and signs which repeat the same message over and over. He pointed out that the look of the site is spoiled by the signage which may send the message that visitors don’t have to respect the site, resulting in litter and bad behavior.

In conclusion Alex spoke of the need for management with emphasis on the quality of the experience, which does not necessarily arise by itself from a day-tripper mentality. This is the result of counting the simple numbers of tourists in and out, and not allowing them the time and room to feel respect and forge their own personal experience from the visit.

The event concluded with a lively question-and-answer period, some of the main points raised being the importance of liaison between the central government and local communities, establishment of proper consultants for regional tourism, and management of heavily visited sites to respect the reality of the carrying capacity.

It is to be hoped that a follow-up event will be organized to discuss further this complex and multi-faceted topic, and that the conclusions reached and the constructive suggestions made will slowly but surely trickle out into the general society.

Kayo Murakami responds to one of the many questions that followed the talks

Rebecca Otowa in the audience making a point

A representative of the Australian consulate added to the discussion points

Eric Johnston of The Japan Times asking a question. Eric was instrumental in setting up a previous meeting with Bunkacho (Agency for Cultural Affairs), to which this symposium was a follow-up.

The lively question time captured the panel’s attention

Writers in focus

The Horned God

October 28, 2019

THE HORNED GOD
by Marianne Kimura

No one knew how the statue of the horned god had gotten to the end of the broken desolate peninsula encased in the shambles of soggy, broken concrete. This spot, among rubble and weeds, with stark frames of defunct gigantic towers and their staring, blank and open windows, wasn’t a very appropriate or convenient spot for the statue of such an important god.

Or maybe it was. But, on the whole, they wanted their deity to be closer to them and their greener island across the water.

Dug proposed that they move it but no one could think of any way to move such an enormous and heavy metal beast of a monument. It was in the shape of a bull: four legs, a stiff tail thrust in the air in a dance that threatened violence, a barrel of a body and short, squat legs with cloven hooves. There was no doubt it was male: enormous bronze testicles hung between the squat back legs.

On its head were its famous horns which they sometimes decorated with beautiful vines and wildflowers collected from the banks of the sea nearby, the spot where they landed their rafts when they came to pay homage to him.

He was known as the Bowling Green God because of all the signs, some broken and some still hanging, in crooked angles, in his vicinity that had “Bowling Green” printed on them. He must have been a very important god in the past, too, because there were so many decrepit signs, still hanging or scattered around on the ground, with his name: “Bowling Green Park”, “Bowling Green Subway Station” and even a “Bowling Green Sandwich Café”. Horass, an elder in their little tribe and their ‘resident scholar’ had theorized that in the Greatera, places in this area had been given his sacred name as a sign of respect and out of a desire to share in his power and magnificence. “I’m not completely sure”, he said, “it’s possible that was his name, or rather I just don’t remember and I don’t know what else it could be. He’s the only important thing around here.” Horass’ sucked in his thin cheeks and a look of doubt had crossed his face.

(Not everyone in the tribe could read, but a few people, such as Horas and his wife Maree could and they had explained patiently to the others that in the Greatera there had been fast trains, called subways, that sped along in tunnels, and shops called cafés that sold food.)

The group, they called it their tribe, was about 50 people in all. They lived and farmed on a nearby island called Governor’s Island. This name, they knew, was from the Greatera. It had survived, like the name of their horned god, Bowling Green, because of all the signs left by the people who had been there years ago.

“Govern means rule”, said Dayve in a speculative mood, as they get into their rafts and push them into the water one May Day. A large faded and cracked red sign that said “GOVERNOR’S ISLAND” hung on some metal poles stuck into firm concrete on the beach. “Our island is where the old rulers lived in the Greatera”, he says more authoritatively, pointing at the sign with his oar as though its presence alone could confirm his theory. Lin, his long-time girlfriend, stares at the sign as she rows in front of him and is totally convinced. She smiles. Sure, she’d heard people say that before, (it is one of those theories floating around), but it is still so nice when things make sense in this world! She can imagine the governors of Greatera proudly coming and going next to the stately red sign a century ago as they fulfilled their important duties on the mainland.

But Horass, pulling an oar behind them in the same raft, disagrees. “No”, he said, “it wasn’t like that. Mind you, I was just a little kid back then, when all the cars and trucks stopped running virtually overnight…But before that happened, I can still remember some stuff…..the rulers were living in New York City and in someplace else….Washinham or Washinden…..the name escapes me now.”

Horass is the oldest among them, already perhaps 60, he was not sure, his age is just a guess. He is thin as a willow. They all are of course. Food is difficult to grow. It is a busy yet rudimentary existence by our modern standards.

Because of all the work, growing, storing, preserving food and making tools, the tribe rarely does things all together. They mostly visit Bowling Green in small groups or dating couples or even alone, if they dared to cross the deep harbor alone on such a flimsy wooden raft.

But in the springtime, the tribe makes a special effort to paddle together across the water in their rafts made of logs tied together and hold a May Day ceremony to honor Bowling Green.

They all know May. All the months of the year, from January to December, had come down to them, intact, from the Greatera. They know pretty much when the days of particular month got to 30 or 31, as the case may be, and a few designated people count them off and mark them on the walls in the run-down buildings that still survive, but, as Horass admits, there is no one to tell them if they are right. They are thus a little unmoored from the familiar numbers and letters, the alphabet, the numerals, the sequences of time and all the other hallmarks of literacy that had grounded billions of humans for centuries: July, March, August, 1, 7, 2, 8, A, W, J, Q, M and so on.

Even the order of the months, numbers greater than about 25, and the alphabet (except for the first three letters, ABC), are all now hazy in the minds of some of their tribe’s younger members.

Lifting away or coming unstuck and unglued, naturally, en masse, from the rubric of literacy, they are suspended safely by the seasons and the plants and animals instead.

That’s why the festivals are so important. And none more important than May Day.

Warm weather makes them content and excited and if it continues a while it is a sure sign of spring. Then one of them will count the marks on the wall and announce “It’s May Day!” That very morning they will drop whatever they were doing and all go and dance around Bowling Green, their horned god.

That May Day, after landing on the shore, which is a tangled jungle of broken concrete with some green sumac, willows, blackberries, reeds and other various greenery sprouting here and there among the crumbling ruins, they are gathered around the statue.

Suddenly Lin, overcome with emotion and joy at the heavenly spring weather and blue sky, drops Dayv’s hand and skips up to the statue. Seizing the deity’s sacred horns, she clambers up on its head. Then, balancing along his spine with her arms outstretched, she walks to the flattest spot on his back and sits down with a happy and triumphant smile as though she is riding him.

Like the horned god, she is wearing a crown of flowers.

“She should marry him!” a man in the crowd murmurs, ragged emotion cresting in his deep voice, almost like a sob.

Everyone turns to see who among them has made this strange suggestion, but no one acknowledges being the speaker and gradually, after an awkward silence, others take up the cry: “she should marry him!”

“Marry him!”

“Marry the horned god!”

“Lin should marry Bowling Green!”

“Go for it, girl!”

“He’s your guy, Lin!”

Only Dayv stays quiet, put out and feeling annoyed, possessive and embarrassed. This is what Lin gets for being such a seeker of attention, always she has to perform or have people’s eyes upon her. Sometimes she wears strange motley and fringed fashions she creates on her own, other times she skips around with her recorder and plays songs while most of them are working baling hay and carrying water for the collective goats. She ties up her hair with green wisteria vines. She grows flowers instead of vegetables and then asks him for some of his carrots and kale. Which, however, he always gives her.

He wishes, fervently, that she would quit this sort of thing. Maybe once they are married he can prevail upon her to be more conventional and normal, though he doubts it.

Lin is standing on top of the bull now. She strikes a pose: her hands in a “V” shape over her head. She winks at Dayv, who rolls his eyes at her and then blushes deeply when a few people in the crowd notice his peevish, impatient expression and then everyone turns to look at him with amused smiles on their faces.

A lover’s spat!　

“No, that’s not how it’s done”, a man calls out to Lin, the same the anonymous man with the deep voice who first suggested the marriage of the bull to Lin.

Everyone turns and sees, clearly now, that it is Vejo.

Vejo is a mysterious man, a man with a thick neck and a man who befriends birds by mimicking their calls. He is not even afraid of large and ferocious swans. He keeps, in fact, a pair of married swans as pets and his home is near the water where these swans swim happily around a bay.

He has a magnificent bicycle, not a wreck of a bicycle, like most of them have. His is excellent and he has a marvelous knack of keeping it in order (This is one source of mystery surrounding him―how he procures the special parts for his technically advanced bicycle is unclear.) He is married, but he has a reputation for being somewhat of a womanizer and his long-suffering wife Reha has more than once let it be known that she has run out of patience with his philandering. And he has an elegant gold earring in one ear, like a pirate.

“All right, then”, says Lin in her brightest, loudest and most commanding performer’s voice, “how’s it done, then?”

“You have to lie down on his back”, says Vejo, his arms crossed. He pauses. It almost sounds like he is speaking off the cuff and some in the crowd wonder if he is making this all up.

Dayv has moved close to the bull to catch Lin if she should fall off. He is thinking that she is just the type to get into something public and disastrous without thinking it all through.

“…And you have to look up at the sky and close your eyes while we all chant”, Vejo finishes.

Lin quickly lies down on the bull’s back and closes her eyes. The spring breeze blows her hair around and some flowers she is carrying flutter, petals scattering.

Everyone looks expectantly at Vejo, wondering what the chant will consist of.

“We chant, um, we chant…..” his gruff voice trails off weakly, helplessly.

Clearly he has no idea what he is talking about. It’s most disappointing.

Another pause. Everyone waits. Lin, lying on the back of the huge bull, is motionless.

“Well, I suppose we’d better just say ‘Congratulations Bowling Green and Lin’”, suggests Vejo rather defensively, as if expecting someone to protest that his idea is too simple, ridiculous and obvious.

But no one protests. After a few moments of reflection, someone starts chanting the phrase.

“Congratulations Bowling Green and Lin”.

Others follow, but then, suddenly, a clear and piercing woman’s voice changes the tune of the chant.

“Hail, Goddess!”

Now everyone turns to see who has said this, but there are a few women standing where the voice seems to have originated: Maree, Giwa, Elsi, Reha. Who has suggested this novel chant?

The women look knowing but remain curiously silent.

No one cares, after all. The thing is that the new chant seems better, more appropriate somehow. They all start chanting it.

“Hail Goddess! Hail Goddess!”

Dayv, standing near the bull’s left ear, wonders how Lin feels about suddenly being a goddess. She looks perfectly content. He can see a slight smile playing on her face above where he is standing, as though she has heard a good joke.

People in religious situations can be so….irrational, it occurs to him, and after a few minutes, he starts to fret that the crowd will progress to calling for a human sacrifice of Lin, now their goddess. At the very least, they might demand that she live out her life as a celibate. (He’s heard of such things, though not in their tribe.) That would suit neither of them.

He starts praying fervently to all the gods he’s ever heard of, (and he’s heard of quite a few), that the situation won’t get worse, that after the chanting is over, Lin will be free to resume her life as an ordinary mortal on Governor’s Island.

Lin opens her eyes ever so slightly, just enough to for her to peep through her eye lashes at what is going on but not enough for anyone to tell that she’s cheating. From her vantage point atop the bull, she sees no one, not Vejo, Dayve, Horass, Maree, Reha, Dug, nor any of the others.

What she sees, instead, is the blue sky and the staring windows of the empty buildings, the branches of the trees, maybe an oak, swaying above her.

And birds, maybe seagulls, soaring and turning in the wind.

Years later, married to Dayv and ever a performer when she gets a chance, she still remembers her first wedding, to Bowling Green, the horned god, and that crescendo of voices chanting on May Day.

*********

For other work by Marianne, please see her prize-winning short short story here, or the start of her ninja story here.

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The Abyss

Zazen

Missionary Man

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By the River

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Sleep

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No Self

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