Musing

The glass

wearing the steam

of last night's bath

slips into

a brilliant gold

with the morning sun

momijigari (紅葉狩り)

Four or five years ago I bought a tiny Japanese maple tree (momiji) at Toji Temple in Kyoto. It had a twisted trunk and just a handful of leaves. It was meant to be a bonsai. I pruned it periodically to encourage an attractive shape, but I allowed it to grow like any tree, giving it ever bigger pots.
Observing the autumn foliage of trees in Japan is called momijigari (紅葉狩り). This past autumn I decided to document the annual wardrobe change of my little momiji. Every morning from late October to late December I took a photo of it, capturing a splendid 65-day performance.

A New Year's walk (お正月の散歩)

Katsuragawa is still, as if in deep thought.  The golden fruit of the crabapple tree always looks like a celebration, champagne bubbles on bare limbs.  The empty sound of the Hankyu as it passes over the bridge; too early for passengers.  Sumi-e mountains stretch into the soft morning light.  The smoke from Matsuo Taisha rises, a blue smudge over the sleepy green hills.  The sun cuts through the clouds and briefly the brown river grass turns to gold.

Eigashima Sake Brewery (江井ヶ嶋酒造)

When you connect the dots along life's path, it is a wonderfully strange journey.  

In June I conceived the idea to teach a two-part course on Japanese sake at the eikaiwa (conversation school) where I work.  You might ask, "What does a gaijin know about nihonshu (sake)?"  Well, I can answer, prior to this class, very little.  But two weeks of serious research expanded my knowledge of the Japanese national beverage substantially.  

The class ran in October.  The students seemed to enjoy the lessons and after the last class we made a field trip to Fushimi - the sake brewery district of Kyoto - and did some nihonshu tasting, applying our new knowledge.  That was that.  Or so I thought.

In early November I received an e-mail from one of the students in my class.  She wanted to organise an excursion to her family's sake brewery in Nishi-Akashi in Hyogo Prefecture.  I said, yeah, great, I'm in!

So it was, recently, I found myself in Eigashima, a small seaside district of Akashi city, some 2-hours south-west of Kyoto.  This is well off any tourist map.  Even Japanese people would probably give this town a miss, roll right past on their way to more famous locales.

Eigashima Brewery was established in 1888 by Heikichi Urabe.  Excellent local spring water and high-quality rice are essential to making good sake and this area has been famous for both since the Edo era (1603-1868).  The company expanded, contracted and diversified over the years with the changing tastes of the Japanese people, and added whiskey and wine to its impressive portfolio. But the root of the business is nihonshu, for which it has won awards.

It was a cool gray morning the day we visited, the view of Awaji Island and the famous Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge was totally obscured.  We were guided through the 55,000m² beachfront complex by the brewery's gregarious toji (master brewer), Nakamura-san.  He has the double and rare distinction of toji and master distiller, overseeing the production of both sake and whiskey.  The beautiful Meiji era (1868-1912) buildings were not surprisingly quiet, as the traditional sake brewing calendar ends in autumn when the latest batch is bottled and delivered to market.  This meant we got to taste sake that had only just arrived in shops and restaurants around the Kansai region.

I'm still very much a novice when it comes to sake.  But it is definitely something I am enjoying studying.  Because…to know nihonshu is to know Japan.

  

Ephemera

Late summer (晩夏)

Late summer.  

Yukata have been packed away, folded neatly into their tatogami (kimono wrapping paper).  The orchestra of cicada have stopped rehearsing.  The smell of sulphur from recently exploded fireworks has vanished, swallowed by air and time.  Hamo (dagger-tooth pike conger eel), that quintessential Kyoto delicacy, has disappeared from restaurant menus.

There is a shift, a quietness as autumn approaches.  The suzumushi (bell cricket) have begun their song.  But... a few final brush strokes to the summer tableau - tiny wildflowers, a cool mountain stream.

Suma Beach (須磨ビーチ)

Well, I finally found a proper beach in Kansai.  It's in Kobe in Osaka Bay and it's called Suma Beach, which sounds like the California beach Zuma, but actually isn't anything like a California beach.  It's more like Miami Beach.  That is, super cheesy.

I had gone to Kobe to see an exhibition at the Hyogo Prefectural Museum of Art and decided afterwards to go a little further down the line to check out the beach.  The blazing heat of summer in Kyoto always leaves me longing for the ocean.  

Suma Beach is just steps from the train station.  In the summer months dozens of large beach huts are erected along the 1.5km walking path, which are basically beachside izakaya with showers and changing rooms for beachgoers.

It was late afternoon when I arrived.  The beach and the bars were full but not thronged.  There were two things I noticed immediately.  One: there didn't seem to be anyone over 25 or under 15.  Two: this was the most Japanese skin I had ever seen.  Lithe, tan bodies in bikinis and trunks.  In Santa Monica, Newport or Malibu this is completely normal.  In Japan - extremely rare.  I suddenly felt like I wasn't in Japan anymore, like I was on the set of an American "reality" show - Jersey Shore Goes to Japan.  There was a clash of really loud, really bad music coming from every beach hut.  There were girls with too much make-up and too much jewellery for the beach, wearing high heels, carrying purses.  Endless selfies.  There were tattoos and muscles.  And even an old guy wearing a neon pink banana hammock.  Everybody seemed to know everybody.  It was a scene.  Where am I?!

But as I sat there drinking my beer feeling totally out of place, I actually grew happy.  I was watching Japanese kids act like kids everywhere, in the States, in Europe…  There was a sexual energy I've never witnessed here before, girls flirting, guys acting cool.  Young people in Japan have, in recent years, developed a reputation for being completely uninterested in sex and relationships.  It is something of a national crisis, and gets a lot of space in the news.  This little strip of beachside bars seemed to be sending a different message: "the kids are all right."

Suma Beach was about 5 degrees cooler than Kyoto.  The ocean water was refreshing and a gentle breeze kept the warm air moving.  Still, I don't think I'll be going back.  Not in summer anyway.  I'm too old for that scene.