Pancake Epiphany...and Shinjuku

It took far too long than necessary for me to get from Kyoto to Shinjuku, but I’ll spare the details and say that after getting on the wrong train twice and back-tracking far more than I should have, I arrived in muggy, rainy Tokyo with sore feet, an aching back and about 8 hours to kill before my night bus to Sendai.

Every locker at the station was full, so lucky me got to walk around with my entire trip on my back. Fortunately, Shinjuku is interesting and busy enough to keep your mind pre-occupied. 

 For example, robot girl battling is apparently a thing...a very popular thing.

I saw plenty of the street art and fashion that the area is known for, and even popped into a few famous stores. I made a real nuisance of myself in the enormous and very cramped Don Quixote store. The building has five floors, and they all are just jam-packed with a wide variety of everything imaginable. Designer bags and shoes, home appliances, toys, gag gifts, tech, gear, snacks, music, clothes, cosmetics, luggage and more, just stuffed in to the ceiling! I shimmied my way through the shelves and racks and indulged in a few little items like a Bath and Body Works Minty Foot Scrub (hey—I was looking forward to a little pampering after this trip). And hey, anything from Bath and Body Works for under 20 bucks is a freaking miracle. My scrub was just 700 yen! Yeah, let that settle. 

As the sun went down and the neon lights came up, I was starting to feel seriously under dressed. There is some amazing and edgy fashion in Shinjuki: everything you've heard is true. I had read about a shop in the area that sold cute fashion corsets, so I went looking for it thinking I could just change there and wear it out. Unfortunately, the place I'd read about wasn't in the right location. So instead, I found a plaza and propped myself against a rock to rest and people watch for a bit.

That's when the creep found me.

At first, he'd just doubled back to say hello and then we were conversing in Japanese/English. It was fine, but this middle-aged man kept commenting on my eyes and even my body, asking if I had a boyfriend. 

 

Obviously, I lied and said "Yes, and he visits every month." He also kept licking his lips or sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth. For all his business attire, he was seriously gross. He actually suggested (seriously? jokingly?) that he could be my Japanese boyfriend (lick) and told me he loved me (lick). Finally, I told him I had to leave and meet my friend in the station. He offered to buy me dinner but I just said no thanks and walked away...only because my bag was too heavy for me to run.

Maybe you’re thinking I should have just laughed it off, that he couldn’t possibly be serious…but is that just a common way for middle-aged and older men to talk to young women here? Because it happens EVERYWHERE! And maybe I could have just taken it as a joke, but something about this guy in particular was just giving me red flags out the hoo-ha.Why don't the handsome young salarymen pay me that sort of attention? Why just old perverts?

But seriously, what am I doing to draw these guys my way like so many moths when all I need is a butterfly? Ok, that’s asking a lot, I realize. How about I settle for a luna moth?

Fortunately, that doesn’t conclude my adventures in Shinjuku. At this point, I was grossed out, but also starving. Stations are tourist meccas for food, so I went up to the restaurant floor seeking out the comforts of the Starbucks. Unfortunately, I’m not a novel thinker and the place was full. So onward and upward to the 6^th floor when I found the most beautiful sight in the world:

An all day/late night pancake shop. 

Yes, Tana. Let's make some pancakes.

The place is called Slappy's Pancakes and it was set up a little like an teppanyaki place where if you elect to sit at a table with a griddle, you could make your own pancakes. I wasn’t feeling nearly that adventurous, so I just asked for a regular table. 

When I'm whimsical, I play with my latte foam

I was surprised when my waitress spoke in some very good English. She was actually from Akita and was amazed that I was teaching in Iwate: she knows the area well, and told me that Tohoku has a special place in her heart. It was so nice, after a long day and a long trip, to be talking to someone so kind about our mutual “home.” 

And the fact that she served me this familiarity with coffee and pancakes only solidified our sudden friendship. 

Maybe it was the tired feet, or there’s seriously something magical in that batter, but those were seriously the best pancakes I’ve eaten in my life.

So we talked for a little while. I asked her what brought her to Shinjuku since she was from Akita. She came to Tokyo to find work because she loved the big city life (even though her heart belongs to Akita) and her first job was in this pancake restaurant. Ever since then, she’s never wanted to do anything else. She enjoys being a waitress and her job here is secure. 

I thanked her for my food and she went off to check on another table. After she left, I started thinking. How amazing it has to be to have that sort of contentment about what you’re doing. 

I sat there, amazed. I can only hope to find that sort of satisfaction, especially now when I don’t know for sure what I’ll do with my life. The way she carried herself and talked about how she enjoyed her job just made me reflect on how in America, every child is told they’re special and every other show on TV is about discovering the next idol in music or dance or television. In a land of equal opportunity, everyone thinks they’ll be the next big thing. And while sure, that’s great, reach for the stars, elementary school kids are brainwashed with the “I’m special” creed. Yes, everyone is special…in their own way. But the sense of entitlement that comes along with chanting “I’m special” is damning: it sets a tone that some people are better than others just based on what they do with their lives.

The pancakes that changed me

In Japan, junior high schoolers tell me that they want to work in book stores or bakeries or be nursery school teachers. People work at convenience stores and gas stations and on construction sites with pride because they know that what they’re doing, they’re doing to the best of their ability and their participation builds a better, stronger society.

And I love that way of thinking.

Nobody needs to be rich or famous. Find what makes you happy and do that for as long as you can: isn’t being happy more important than being prestigious? We all have a place in this world, and none is better or worse than the next. You can’t have executives without clerks. You can’t have police chiefs without officers. You can’t have elaborate half-time shows without someone pushing buttons and wearing a headset backstage. And you can’t have pancakes in Shinjuku if someone’s not mixing up the batter in the kitchen.

Gion by Day

I won’t belabor this. I didn’t see a geisha. 

When I was in Arashiyama, there was a whole fleet of rickshaw drivers. Most carried tourists, but one man was pulling two young women with him. 

Don’t get crazy. They’re not maiko, they’re not geisha. Here’s a hint: look at her fingernails. 

I read about this before I went to Kyoto, but some kimono shops will actually dress Japanese tourists and locals like geisha for the sake of the tourism. While not a bad gimmick, it’s just not the same. The girls get to look fancy and be the center of attention, and tourists like me walk away with a nifty memento. 

After Arashiyama, I went to Gion to seek out the real deal. When you get off the subway and emerge again into daylight, you’re on the western shore of a wide stream. 

On this side, a long line of shoulder-to-shoulder restaurants sits with large, wide terraces for outdoor dining. 

Cross the long stone bridge and you’re officially in Gion. The big, famous kabuki theatre is directly across the street from the stream. When I was there, there was already a line for that evening’s kabuki performance. Large posters were hanging from the building’s face, showing the extravagant costumes and the dramatic make-up the actors wear. 

It takes a little walking until you find yourself in natural habitat of the geisha: the tea houses. Some of the oldest tea houses in Kyoto are on this congested little street packed with tourists and taxis. 

As I was walking along between all the old tea houses, I ended up behind this older American couple and a young American man. I assume the younger guy was here on his own either as a student or teacher or nomad and was just giving this older couple a little tour. He knew his stuff, at least enough to know his way around and to explain "These are old tea houses, some of the oldest in Kyoto, where geisha entertain. Of course, they're really expensive to get into, so I wouldn't be in one, haha!"

The woman then came out with this little gem: "Oh, geisha. They're the prostitutes, right?"

I could have slapped her. Geisha are NOT prostitutes. Prostitutes are prostitutes. Geisha are professional entertainers who study and train for years to go from novices to maiko to full premier geisha. Often, girls leave their families and are cut off from them to pursue training. You basically turn your back on friends and family to become an artisan of this world of mystery, intrigue and beauty. Geisha belong to a world and class of their own: their otherworldly makeup and dress sort of evoke another dimension. They're to be respected and awed. 

The guy had more class than me, however, and just laughed it off and told her "No, no they're not." 

As you walk further and further, something envelopes you. While the old and the new layer each other like lattice work, you can feel how old the neighborhood is. You forget the lights and color of Tokyo and the blast of a shinkansen passing, and you’re in the dense, composed and mysteriously shrouded world. 

Maiko stage for performances

These women were just walking out of a little cafe when I snapped this

 I found my way to the southern-most part of Gion-cho and found Kennin-ji, THE oldest zen temple in Kyoto. Approximately 800 years old. Mind blown. Seriously, Kennin-ji is where it all started.

The founder was a priest named Yousai. He was ordained at just 14 and during his religious Tendai studies, traveled to China twice. China, as we all know, started Buddhism about 2500 years ago, so when Yousai arrived, things were well-established and oh so appealing when you find that the Buddhist believe that the suffering we feel in life is transcended through wisdom and compassion. Be it, feel it, transcend it.

Thunder and wind gods of Kennin-ji

The Zen Buddhists Yousai met were also drinking this crazy thing called “green tea,” and Yousai brought it back to Japan and made the practice wildly popular. He became known the father of the tea ceremony because of his enthusiasm for spreading the green tea culture.

It’s a large temple complex full of miniature karesansui and shoji screens and sumie paintings of birds and cloud dragons. If you slip on some plastic slippers, you can cross from the main hall to the Hatto or the Dharma Hall and find the most beautiful ceiling in Japan. The Twin Dragons!

After all that, I checked the time. I didn’t want to be late to meet my parents, but I still wanted to try and see one more thing: the Ryozen Kwanon Tribute to the Unknown Soldier. It sits at the base of the eastern mountains and commemorates the unknown fallen soldiers who died for their country in pursuit of world peace.

 The biggest draw is the beautiful Buddha of compassion, Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara. There is also a large, brass ball or “jewel” in front of the shrine. You place your right hand on the ball and as you walk around it three times, you make a wish. 

I wish to return! 

Green Summer is Green

"Emails!" -Neil Patrick Harris, Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog
"Pictures!" -Redhii, Real Life in Japan

 The top of Kinkakuji has a phoenix! Who knew?

I love stone foot bridges! You don't even know!

 Just a little pond outside of someone's store.

Literally street art. I love this. There's something Russian-nesting-doll about it.

Gold, Tigers and Bamboo

We left “Osaka” bright and early on Friday. Within an hour, we were closing in on Kyoto again. We picked up our luggage from the lockers at the Okie Dokie station and managed to get the hotel to hold them until we checked in that evening. Our mission that morning: Kinkakuji and Ryoanji.

We caught a bus outside the hotel and arrived in the hills of western Kyoto by 10:30. Already, the streets were tight with pedestrians and creative taxi drivers. The weather was looking a bit shady, and my concerns only grew as I looked out the window at a woman bringing some of her souvenirs into her shop and putting an awning up outside. 

But we were lucky: it didn’t rain on us at all! Once in a while, we actually got a little sunshine breaking through the clouds. That was especially nice once we were in the park and stood across the pond from Kinkakuji itself!

Golden Pavilion by name, Kinkakuji stands on the edge of a lotus pond. It sits so passively and isolated from all these people, frantically taking pictures. It was like being at the zoo, gazing into into a swan’s enclosure. I don’t know why I imagined it would be smaller, so I was surprised. But it was just as beautiful as I had hoped. 

The park has more than just the Golden Pavilion. Nobody ever mentions the tea houses on the site, one of which offers tea and snacks under a red parasol. They also never mention the small clutch of stone Buddhas on a little hill along the trail. Between them are two bowls: a large stone bowl and a smaller metal one. 

People can toss money offerings into the little group. You hope to land in one of the little bowls so your prayer or wish will be answered. If you hit the metal bowl, you’re rewarded with a full-bodied but high and pretty sound. 

I, however, got the stone bowl. Tink. It still counts. It seemed greedy to keep trying after landing in one bowl or the other so I took my win and let it ride.

The next stop was Ryoanji. For those unfamiliar, think of those little sand and pebble zen gardens you can pick up at Sharper Image or Barnes and Noble. Not think of that only life sized and immaculately groomed. 

These rock gardens are called karesansui and they’re supposed to reflect an aesthetic or natural pattern. 

Ryoanji’s karesansui is famous for a couple of reasons.

1.   The way the rocks are positioned, it’s supposed to reflect a tiger leading her cub across a river.

2.   Legend says there are 16 rocks, but the unenlightened person sees just 15. 

Ever in search of the sixteenth rock, people pad out onto the wooden porch and gaze at the rocks, meditating on the zen qualities. It’s simplicity and nature, confined and still organic. 

By the time we left Ryoanji, it was past noon. Mom and Dad wanted to see Ginkakuji (the Silver Temple, more famous for its sand gardens than its un-gilded walls) and the Philosopher’s Walk. But I had other plans. I wanted to see Arashiyama, site of the famous bamboo grove and of course, Gion. I still hadn’t gotten in any geisha-spotting and I was running out of time!

So we went our separate ways, promising to meet again after 5pm at the hotel. I walked through a quiet little neighborhood and caught the trolley to Arashiyama. The place was incredibly lively, more so than I’d expected! I thought the only draw was the bamboo grove, but I was very very wrong. There are beer gardens, shops, restaurants, and legends about ghosts-aplenty. But my mission was clear: find that bamboo forest and gape until my jaw fell off my face. 

I didn’t get off to such a hot start. The bamboo grove isn’t clearly marked on maps: it’s just a part of a very large park full of hills, paths, look outs and nature trails. I took every one of these until I found someone who could tell me how to get to the grove. 

I did enjoy my weird little detour, though. I walked along the river and found a little restaurant backed against the hills. 

My friends from back in the states who are familiar with my childhood neighborhood have heard me describe the road leading to my house as a “tree tunnel.” 

“Oh, just keep driving on Town Point Road. You’ll enter a tree tunnel,” I’d say. It’s pretty self-explanatory to me: a tunnel, only more tree-y. 

Arashiyama has a bamboo-tunnel and it is just as beautiful and grand as you’d expect from enormous, slender and graceful bamboo. The bamboo forest is so dense, light filters in blue and green. And it would be silent if not for the large crowd. But you’re not here for the crowd: don’t focus on the scalp in front of you. 

Look up! 

There’s nothing like being stunted in size and presence by something vast and old and lovely whether it’s Todaiji or a bamboo grove.

Before I left, I bought a little deer shaped incense burner to remind me of Nara and a few woven and lacquered bamboo coasters. Sure, you can probably get those anywhere, but after seeing them made in the Kyoto craftsmanship museum, I developed a whole new respect for them.