昨日の日没と今日の疲れ
The last few hours
My jet lag is killing me. Although I went to bed last night around 11 pm, I woke up at a bright and early 4:30 this morning. Rather, it wasn't so "bright," because the sun didn't come out until abut 7 am.
Again, I went hiking today in an attempt to wear myself out. I think it's working, because I'm beat now, and now that I'm back, I really want to hunker down for a nice long cat nap. Except it's only 2:13 in the afternoon. So, now I'm just buying time, trying to keep myself awake for at least another 6 hours.
The sunset last night was incredible. Here is a picture I caught of it from my room window. (Can you believe I live in such an incredibly BEAUTIFUL setting!!!?!?! ) It still amazes me that I am living in a place as gorgeous as this as a mere (underpaid and unrecognized) PhD student, living only 1.5 hours from Tokyo. Today, the weather was almost as clear as it was yesterday, so I got another great picture of Mount Fuji on my way into the dorm from my "hike." I took this at the outlook point just about 50 meters down the hill from our university. Enjoy... (I call this photo "Fuji in January") :-)
Actually, I should not really call what I did today a "hike" because I never found the trail. I was heading for Mt. Futago from the Nagae Intersection here in Hayama Town. A word to the wise (and the not-so-wise): do not attempt this hike by referring to the "Miura Hanto Hiking Course Guide" map. Although the map is pretty - got lots of beautiful glossy pictures and colorful details - it hardly gets you where you need to go. I discovered today that the map lacks complete detail. Next time I will do my homework. Thanks to this "course guide" map, I was walking around Nagae neighborhood for two hours trying to pick up back roads and trails to the Futago (Twin) Mountains. Impossible.
Although I really didn't get the hike that I wanted, I did have a few interesting experiences. First, by walking around aimlessly in people's back back alleys, I saw a rural (and poorer) side to Hayama that I had not been previously aware of. Some of the houses deep deep behind the main thoroughfares greatly contradict Hayama's pristine image as the emperor's summer resort. Some of these houses were made of tin and cement and had random collections of junk spewing from their windows and all over their yards. One house I passed had a collection of tractors, tombstones, and other brick-a-brack, waiting for the chance-by consumer, perhaps. The total lack of order around these poor hovels reminded me of an article I once read by a former professor, Andrew Gordon, that argued that despite their post-war image as industrious and efficient, "the Japanese" were not necessarily intrinsically orderly. (If I remember correctly,) Gordon provides examples of slothful and derelict work habits exhibited by laborers in the early 20th century to make his point that Japanese workers were not always as inherently diligent as the media might make them out today. For me, seeing such all-out untidiness and rusticism in the crevices of rural Hayama, I couldn't help but think that so-called (Western senses of) "modernity" and "industrialism" certainly do not yet pervade all of contemporary Japan.
Second, when I chanced into some of the back trails behind these old encampments, I was confronted with yet another side of Japan, which I must admit, did seem to measure up to some of the stereotypes I have learned about in school. What I am trying to described here is some sense of mysteriousness in nature. For example, behind one tucked-away hamlet, I found myself walking in a wild, rustling bamboo thicket. Amidst the thicket, there were streams of light and shadows and intermittent stirs of wind. The images and sounds reminded me of the forest spirits from Miyazaki Hayao's cute anime, Tonari no Totoro. As I walked around the bamboo grove, I nearly tripped on several offerings in the shape of a few flowers in and old jar of water, and a couple of rocks piled up on one another. After climbing a bit higher and deeper into the woods, I happened upon a decidedly small, out-of-the-way shrine.
To find such a site, barely larger than a doll house, I wondered to myself, who in the world must be tending to these seemingly unknown establishments. I've never met one Japanese who acknowledges a sense of religion or spirituality, much less someone who seems interested in caring for such homemade and hidden shrines. Surely I need to meet more Japanese people so I can figure out what is going on here. I imagine that these shrines might be being kept up by people from older generations - but, what has kept these shrines going so long, for thousands of years, apparently, in the first place? And are people my age and younger going to pick up and carry on these traditions? If so, I sure would like to meet them - to see how and when this (ancient?) tradition gets passed on.
Again, I went hiking today in an attempt to wear myself out. I think it's working, because I'm beat now, and now that I'm back, I really want to hunker down for a nice long cat nap. Except it's only 2:13 in the afternoon. So, now I'm just buying time, trying to keep myself awake for at least another 6 hours.
The sunset last night was incredible. Here is a picture I caught of it from my room window. (Can you believe I live in such an incredibly BEAUTIFUL setting!!!?!?! ) It still amazes me that I am living in a place as gorgeous as this as a mere (underpaid and unrecognized) PhD student, living only 1.5 hours from Tokyo. Today, the weather was almost as clear as it was yesterday, so I got another great picture of Mount Fuji on my way into the dorm from my "hike." I took this at the outlook point just about 50 meters down the hill from our university. Enjoy... (I call this photo "Fuji in January") :-)
Actually, I should not really call what I did today a "hike" because I never found the trail. I was heading for Mt. Futago from the Nagae Intersection here in Hayama Town. A word to the wise (and the not-so-wise): do not attempt this hike by referring to the "Miura Hanto Hiking Course Guide" map. Although the map is pretty - got lots of beautiful glossy pictures and colorful details - it hardly gets you where you need to go. I discovered today that the map lacks complete detail. Next time I will do my homework. Thanks to this "course guide" map, I was walking around Nagae neighborhood for two hours trying to pick up back roads and trails to the Futago (Twin) Mountains. Impossible.
Although I really didn't get the hike that I wanted, I did have a few interesting experiences. First, by walking around aimlessly in people's back back alleys, I saw a rural (and poorer) side to Hayama that I had not been previously aware of. Some of the houses deep deep behind the main thoroughfares greatly contradict Hayama's pristine image as the emperor's summer resort. Some of these houses were made of tin and cement and had random collections of junk spewing from their windows and all over their yards. One house I passed had a collection of tractors, tombstones, and other brick-a-brack, waiting for the chance-by consumer, perhaps. The total lack of order around these poor hovels reminded me of an article I once read by a former professor, Andrew Gordon, that argued that despite their post-war image as industrious and efficient, "the Japanese" were not necessarily intrinsically orderly. (If I remember correctly,) Gordon provides examples of slothful and derelict work habits exhibited by laborers in the early 20th century to make his point that Japanese workers were not always as inherently diligent as the media might make them out today. For me, seeing such all-out untidiness and rusticism in the crevices of rural Hayama, I couldn't help but think that so-called (Western senses of) "modernity" and "industrialism" certainly do not yet pervade all of contemporary Japan.
Second, when I chanced into some of the back trails behind these old encampments, I was confronted with yet another side of Japan, which I must admit, did seem to measure up to some of the stereotypes I have learned about in school. What I am trying to described here is some sense of mysteriousness in nature. For example, behind one tucked-away hamlet, I found myself walking in a wild, rustling bamboo thicket. Amidst the thicket, there were streams of light and shadows and intermittent stirs of wind. The images and sounds reminded me of the forest spirits from Miyazaki Hayao's cute anime, Tonari no Totoro. As I walked around the bamboo grove, I nearly tripped on several offerings in the shape of a few flowers in and old jar of water, and a couple of rocks piled up on one another. After climbing a bit higher and deeper into the woods, I happened upon a decidedly small, out-of-the-way shrine. To find such a site, barely larger than a doll house, I wondered to myself, who in the world must be tending to these seemingly unknown establishments. I've never met one Japanese who acknowledges a sense of religion or spirituality, much less someone who seems interested in caring for such homemade and hidden shrines. Surely I need to meet more Japanese people so I can figure out what is going on here. I imagine that these shrines might be being kept up by people from older generations - but, what has kept these shrines going so long, for thousands of years, apparently, in the first place? And are people my age and younger going to pick up and carry on these traditions? If so, I sure would like to meet them - to see how and when this (ancient?) tradition gets passed on.
posted by annmerry at 2:07 PM
1 Comments:
the pictures are GREAT! :)
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