HAGURO-SAN
Gassan to Hagurosan
all day long
I trudge from death to life
Now in TAKAYAMA where there`s a big festival on, the Hachiman Matsuri. 3 days of wheeling massive floats 9m high around the streets plus smaller ones, kids singing, smaller cart-floats, exquisitely decorated. The god or gods are taken out of the shrine, shown the neighbourhood and wheeled back in again. Basho wasn`t here, but I was: it`s the only festival anywhere near my route so I came off the route to come and see it. More on that later. I can hear them still gonging away in town from where I`m sitting, but I`m a bit festivalled out right now. Haguro-san The hotel BAV (Beateous Angelic Vision) got me was a ski-hotel right in front of the baby-run. I`m still having difficulty combining pictures of Japanese yippies in the latest ski-trendy outfits zipping down the hill next to the gods of the three mountains, but, hey, maybe the gods get their skis on and join them. In Japan this is quite possible. The hotel manager said , "call me Kazuo" and gave me a nice room, Japane se style (tatami mating, roll out futon, electronic toilet which squirts your undercarriage with warm water ... eyowwuuuuu!!!
Had to break off there, was using computer in YH. Now in central library in Takayama. Man, you should see the facilities they have here! Except, of course, their bloody censor filter doesn`t like the Necessary Journeys blog and won`t let me on. Tralala. Try explaining that in Japanese!!! So, 'ever resourceful' being my motto, otherwise called being bloody-minded and won`t take`no` for an answer I`m writing this in Yahoo and will save as a draft email, then paste it over when and where I can, probably from the YH. Ain't technology wonderful?
To continue. Had bath in male communal bath, changed into yukata. Went down for Japanese dinner. Everyone in the room, male and female, all dressed in their yukatas. Wonderful. Except, if you're a man, you have to remember to keep your legs together, otherwise your, er, undercarriage shows. Doesn't come naturally to Great Hairy Northern Barbarian used to the male territorial gesture of spreading your hairy legs to occupy as much territory as possible. Ugg. Actually, Japanese men take up just as much space as any others - what they do is pull their yukatas round their legs. Dunno how they stop it slipping, tho'. Really enjoyed the meal, which consisted of the usual assortment of dishes in small quantities. Getting used to this very refined way of eating - you mix n' match the flavours as you desire. Raw fish (sushi) with explosively hot horseradish mustard. Blows the roof of your mouth off. Umeboshi - sweet-sour mouth-puckering bitterness; cleans the palate for the next taste sensation. A sort of Irish Stew, with yam ('taro' in Japanese, I think ... taken the name from Polynesia? Isn't it called that there?). Sticky white rice - I haven't seen brown rice anywhere in Japan. Barbecued fish with a wonderful teriyaki-type sauce. Salty miso soup with little cubes of white tofu and spring onion. Then, to follow, 2 perfect grapes, each the size of a small plum, frosted, wonderful Muscat flavour, seedless, of course. Perfectly offset with two slices of crisp, cold nasi (Japanese pear). I'm becoming a foody in my dotage! Just makes European cuisine seem so ... unsophisticated: 'bung it in, mash it up, bung in oven, wolf it down'... and I don't even think the Japanese regard this as a luxury hotel. In fact, the next morning I notice a line-up of construction worker trucks outside; the workers stayed overnight in the hotel. Begs the question as to what they do consider 'luxurious'.
dawn at ski-hotel
construction worker trucks
do morning ballet
They warmed up their hydraulic platforms by raising them, shaking them from side to side with rainwater streaming off them, dipping and bowing to each other.Then off they roared.
The rain had stopped overnight and sunlight was filtering through the trees. Chopin on in lobby. The Japanese absolutely love Western classical music. I mentioned Sibelius to Kazuo and his face lights up. "My favourite composer!"
putting my boots on in front of automatic lobby door
it doesn't know whether to open or close
domo arigato gozaimasu, o-sewa ni narimashita
domo arigato...
I move away to end it's confusion
Chopin on Tannoy
10 min bus ride to Haguro Centre. Torii. Explanation boards (in English, too!). Descend stone steps to creek. Off to left, go0jin )(5 tiered pagoda). I'm more interested in the light conditions for filming than in being born. Gigantic straight cedars, one venerable gigantic tree with rope around, this generally signifying, well, special status, as far as I can see. Mad Japanese photographer hopping around with loads of equipment, getting the best shot of the cedar. In a conformist society, indeed, in any society, how do you create personal space for yourself? One way is to go mad .. or pretend you're mad. They may leave you alone, then, so long as you don't overdo it. These little cubbyholesof freedom we need to create for ourselves, take advantage of the slack in the system. There's enough square-jawed earnest people around trying to save the world .. let us be, let us be!
Sudden influx of tourists and three groups of kids.One primary: "arigato gozaimasu!" "arigato gozaimasu!", two secondary giggle giggle "good morning" and a brilliant smile from a nice schoolgirl. Spattering of Westerners.
blonde girl at Haguro-san
exotic beast
amongst a forest of crows
Steps. 2446 of them up to the shrines at the top. Took them 13 years to build. "What you up to today, then, Hirashi?" "Building steps, mate, building steps" "But your pappy and your grandpappy both built steps-" "Yes,mate, that's what we do - build steps, mate. Runs in the family, like. Step up in the world, you know." "Haw haw haw" " How's you're stepmother?!" "Haw haw haw". I'm still jumping around photo-ing steps and cedar trees.
2446 slippery steps up Haguro-san
God, it's hard work being born!
human being he go up with great difficulty
daddy long-legs he glide up
lightly, naturally
the birth canal of this goddess
is lined with cedar trees
2/3 of way up find path off to site of Southern Temple. In Basho's day there was a temple here, a fairly new one, built just 50 or so years before. It's where he and Sora stayed, courtesy of the head priest. There's two or three haiku stones along the path. Whilst I'm trying to figure out which are inscribed with Basho's words a woman comes along on her own. Ah: "kore wa Basho desu ka" "Hai, so desu ne" She trots off down the path but almost immediately reappears. "Mamushi!" she says (snake ... or, I think, Japanese adder. They are supposed to sit up and rattle at you before biting so I doubt it's one of them). She asked me if I'd been over Gassan and Yudono-san and I tell her I'm following Basho's footsteps etc. She takes a photof me sitting next to Basho's stone and reading his haiku and trots off. I wander down the trail.
These feet
tread the same stones
as Basho's
Don't see a snake. Maybe Japanese snakes don't like Great Hairy Northern Barbarians either. The site of Southern Temple is unbelievably tranquil. A small, green glade. Two kidney-shaped ponds which must've encircled, held, the temple, now full of water plants. Some large, flat-topped stones which were the foundations of the temple (it burnt down centuries ago). Another inscribed stone at far end. Scattered trees. Quiet, serene, peaceful. I'm quite alone.
the water does not intend to reflect the moonneither does the moon intend to be reflected in the water:
how calm and serene rest Hirosawa's waters!
(I may have got that poem wrong. Waldemar Kurtz,my first Zen teacher in Germany used to quote it. It may not even be 'Hirosawa')
This idea, concept, practice of 'non-intention'. Very central!
Looking for best angle for shot
I tread unintentionally near pond
PLOP!
a frog
Burst through red Torii at the top of the steps into eternal light: HERE I AM! HERE I AM!
All three gods - of Haguro-san (birth); Gasan (death); and Yudono-san (rebirth) are enshrined in this brodignagian red jumbo-jet hangar for the gods in front of me. 'The thatch on the roof alone is 1 1/2 metres thick', the brochure informs me. A dull wailing is being emitted from within, a ceremony going on. The steps to the hangar are high even for my long legs. There's a bit too much encrusted tradition going on here for my taste.I like to think the mountain gods and goddesses are rough gruff sort of chaps and chapettes who like fresh air, not too much incense, as are the forest gods. They sit up there amongst the clouds or trees and grump around the place, lay a bit of waste every now and then. I can't relate the mountain god singing to me all night on top of Gassan to a being or a doing who would consent to live in an airplane hangar (oh, a very very impressive red-painted one with oodles of functionaries to worship one, to be sure). Shinto or Buddhist ceremonies, there's always a lot of moaning going on. I wander off to find out times of buses to Tsuruoka, and, after a bit of argy bargy with a ruff-tuff monk-type (these fellows ain't sissies!) it turns out there's quite a few, so I go for the 3.30. This worries ruffy-tuffy who keeps telling me 'next basu, next basu' and pointing to next bus already waiting. Smile at very nice woman selling postcards.
(my oldest son, Stefan, is 18 today. I rang him earlier)
Calm down a bit - very tired, didn't sleep well the night before - and wander around looking for angles for film and still shots, admiring fantastic carving on smaller shrines. Get on bus, very soon back in Tsuruoka (Lonely Planet are a bit sniffy about Tsuruoka, but, hell, it's got excellent transport connections to everywhere; a great supermarket which sells cheese and bread; cheap, good, clean accomodation; free internet connections on 3rd floor of the Marica Department Store next to the station; did I mention a Mister Donut (!); not to mention, of course, a silly statue outside the station which sings loud folk songs to itself whilst turning round and round! What more could you possibly want???) Bit of a comedown after the heights. Feel I want to go home and tell of my exploits.
all day long
I trudge from death to life
Now in TAKAYAMA where there`s a big festival on, the Hachiman Matsuri. 3 days of wheeling massive floats 9m high around the streets plus smaller ones, kids singing, smaller cart-floats, exquisitely decorated. The god or gods are taken out of the shrine, shown the neighbourhood and wheeled back in again. Basho wasn`t here, but I was: it`s the only festival anywhere near my route so I came off the route to come and see it. More on that later. I can hear them still gonging away in town from where I`m sitting, but I`m a bit festivalled out right now. Haguro-san The hotel BAV (Beateous Angelic Vision) got me was a ski-hotel right in front of the baby-run. I`m still having difficulty combining pictures of Japanese yippies in the latest ski-trendy outfits zipping down the hill next to the gods of the three mountains, but, hey, maybe the gods get their skis on and join them. In Japan this is quite possible. The hotel manager said , "call me Kazuo" and gave me a nice room, Japane se style (tatami mating, roll out futon, electronic toilet which squirts your undercarriage with warm water ... eyowwuuuuu!!!
Had to break off there, was using computer in YH. Now in central library in Takayama. Man, you should see the facilities they have here! Except, of course, their bloody censor filter doesn`t like the Necessary Journeys blog and won`t let me on. Tralala. Try explaining that in Japanese!!! So, 'ever resourceful' being my motto, otherwise called being bloody-minded and won`t take`no` for an answer I`m writing this in Yahoo and will save as a draft email, then paste it over when and where I can, probably from the YH. Ain't technology wonderful?
To continue. Had bath in male communal bath, changed into yukata. Went down for Japanese dinner. Everyone in the room, male and female, all dressed in their yukatas. Wonderful. Except, if you're a man, you have to remember to keep your legs together, otherwise your, er, undercarriage shows. Doesn't come naturally to Great Hairy Northern Barbarian used to the male territorial gesture of spreading your hairy legs to occupy as much territory as possible. Ugg. Actually, Japanese men take up just as much space as any others - what they do is pull their yukatas round their legs. Dunno how they stop it slipping, tho'. Really enjoyed the meal, which consisted of the usual assortment of dishes in small quantities. Getting used to this very refined way of eating - you mix n' match the flavours as you desire. Raw fish (sushi) with explosively hot horseradish mustard. Blows the roof of your mouth off. Umeboshi - sweet-sour mouth-puckering bitterness; cleans the palate for the next taste sensation. A sort of Irish Stew, with yam ('taro' in Japanese, I think ... taken the name from Polynesia? Isn't it called that there?). Sticky white rice - I haven't seen brown rice anywhere in Japan. Barbecued fish with a wonderful teriyaki-type sauce. Salty miso soup with little cubes of white tofu and spring onion. Then, to follow, 2 perfect grapes, each the size of a small plum, frosted, wonderful Muscat flavour, seedless, of course. Perfectly offset with two slices of crisp, cold nasi (Japanese pear). I'm becoming a foody in my dotage! Just makes European cuisine seem so ... unsophisticated: 'bung it in, mash it up, bung in oven, wolf it down'... and I don't even think the Japanese regard this as a luxury hotel. In fact, the next morning I notice a line-up of construction worker trucks outside; the workers stayed overnight in the hotel. Begs the question as to what they do consider 'luxurious'.
dawn at ski-hotel
construction worker trucks
do morning ballet
They warmed up their hydraulic platforms by raising them, shaking them from side to side with rainwater streaming off them, dipping and bowing to each other.Then off they roared.
The rain had stopped overnight and sunlight was filtering through the trees. Chopin on in lobby. The Japanese absolutely love Western classical music. I mentioned Sibelius to Kazuo and his face lights up. "My favourite composer!"
putting my boots on in front of automatic lobby door
it doesn't know whether to open or close
domo arigato gozaimasu, o-sewa ni narimashita
domo arigato...
I move away to end it's confusion
Chopin on Tannoy
10 min bus ride to Haguro Centre. Torii. Explanation boards (in English, too!). Descend stone steps to creek. Off to left, go0jin )(5 tiered pagoda). I'm more interested in the light conditions for filming than in being born. Gigantic straight cedars, one venerable gigantic tree with rope around, this generally signifying, well, special status, as far as I can see. Mad Japanese photographer hopping around with loads of equipment, getting the best shot of the cedar. In a conformist society, indeed, in any society, how do you create personal space for yourself? One way is to go mad .. or pretend you're mad. They may leave you alone, then, so long as you don't overdo it. These little cubbyholesof freedom we need to create for ourselves, take advantage of the slack in the system. There's enough square-jawed earnest people around trying to save the world .. let us be, let us be!
Sudden influx of tourists and three groups of kids.One primary: "arigato gozaimasu!" "arigato gozaimasu!", two secondary giggle giggle "good morning" and a brilliant smile from a nice schoolgirl. Spattering of Westerners.
blonde girl at Haguro-san
exotic beast
amongst a forest of crows
Steps. 2446 of them up to the shrines at the top. Took them 13 years to build. "What you up to today, then, Hirashi?" "Building steps, mate, building steps" "But your pappy and your grandpappy both built steps-" "Yes,mate, that's what we do - build steps, mate. Runs in the family, like. Step up in the world, you know." "Haw haw haw" " How's you're stepmother?!" "Haw haw haw". I'm still jumping around photo-ing steps and cedar trees.
2446 slippery steps up Haguro-san
God, it's hard work being born!
human being he go up with great difficulty
daddy long-legs he glide up
lightly, naturally
the birth canal of this goddess
is lined with cedar trees
2/3 of way up find path off to site of Southern Temple. In Basho's day there was a temple here, a fairly new one, built just 50 or so years before. It's where he and Sora stayed, courtesy of the head priest. There's two or three haiku stones along the path. Whilst I'm trying to figure out which are inscribed with Basho's words a woman comes along on her own. Ah: "kore wa Basho desu ka" "Hai, so desu ne" She trots off down the path but almost immediately reappears. "Mamushi!" she says (snake ... or, I think, Japanese adder. They are supposed to sit up and rattle at you before biting so I doubt it's one of them). She asked me if I'd been over Gassan and Yudono-san and I tell her I'm following Basho's footsteps etc. She takes a photof me sitting next to Basho's stone and reading his haiku and trots off. I wander down the trail.
These feet
tread the same stones
as Basho's
Don't see a snake. Maybe Japanese snakes don't like Great Hairy Northern Barbarians either. The site of Southern Temple is unbelievably tranquil. A small, green glade. Two kidney-shaped ponds which must've encircled, held, the temple, now full of water plants. Some large, flat-topped stones which were the foundations of the temple (it burnt down centuries ago). Another inscribed stone at far end. Scattered trees. Quiet, serene, peaceful. I'm quite alone.
the water does not intend to reflect the moonneither does the moon intend to be reflected in the water:
how calm and serene rest Hirosawa's waters!
(I may have got that poem wrong. Waldemar Kurtz,my first Zen teacher in Germany used to quote it. It may not even be 'Hirosawa')
This idea, concept, practice of 'non-intention'. Very central!
Looking for best angle for shot
I tread unintentionally near pond
PLOP!
a frog
Burst through red Torii at the top of the steps into eternal light: HERE I AM! HERE I AM!
All three gods - of Haguro-san (birth); Gasan (death); and Yudono-san (rebirth) are enshrined in this brodignagian red jumbo-jet hangar for the gods in front of me. 'The thatch on the roof alone is 1 1/2 metres thick', the brochure informs me. A dull wailing is being emitted from within, a ceremony going on. The steps to the hangar are high even for my long legs. There's a bit too much encrusted tradition going on here for my taste.I like to think the mountain gods and goddesses are rough gruff sort of chaps and chapettes who like fresh air, not too much incense, as are the forest gods. They sit up there amongst the clouds or trees and grump around the place, lay a bit of waste every now and then. I can't relate the mountain god singing to me all night on top of Gassan to a being or a doing who would consent to live in an airplane hangar (oh, a very very impressive red-painted one with oodles of functionaries to worship one, to be sure). Shinto or Buddhist ceremonies, there's always a lot of moaning going on. I wander off to find out times of buses to Tsuruoka, and, after a bit of argy bargy with a ruff-tuff monk-type (these fellows ain't sissies!) it turns out there's quite a few, so I go for the 3.30. This worries ruffy-tuffy who keeps telling me 'next basu, next basu' and pointing to next bus already waiting. Smile at very nice woman selling postcards.
(my oldest son, Stefan, is 18 today. I rang him earlier)
Calm down a bit - very tired, didn't sleep well the night before - and wander around looking for angles for film and still shots, admiring fantastic carving on smaller shrines. Get on bus, very soon back in Tsuruoka (Lonely Planet are a bit sniffy about Tsuruoka, but, hell, it's got excellent transport connections to everywhere; a great supermarket which sells cheese and bread; cheap, good, clean accomodation; free internet connections on 3rd floor of the Marica Department Store next to the station; did I mention a Mister Donut (!); not to mention, of course, a silly statue outside the station which sings loud folk songs to itself whilst turning round and round! What more could you possibly want???) Bit of a comedown after the heights. Feel I want to go home and tell of my exploits.
posted by waveringbats at 10/12/2005 01:57:00 am
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