Kabuki From the Cheap Seats

Posted on November 21, 2013 by lisafindley

I wish I’d clarified for myself that I wanted to see as many types of musical and stage performances as possible earlier in this trip. I didn’t seek them out as vigorously as I did by the time I reached Vietnam, which I suppose means I’ll just have to go back to spots earlier on the itinerary and see what there is to see. Still, I knew what I wanted when I was in Japan, and I saw a lot: a Cinco de Mayo concert, a geisha dance performance, a Beatles cover band rehearsal, a traditional lyre-type performance, and a kabuki show. My experience at the kabuki show was a great mixture of high and low, even from the cheap seats.

Outside the theater

Getting a seat at a kabuki show isn’t hard, so long as you get it early and pay what is, for me, a large sum of money. But as at so many theaters throughout the world, concessions are made for the poorer theater fan. You stand in line outside the theater for at least an hour, get a ticket, and then wait for another hour before you can stand in line inside the theater to get your spot. I used my in-between hour to eat some tasty noodles from the shop next door, then went up to the fourth floor to wait in line again.

It was an efficient queuing system

People were in a range of outfits, from jeans to suits, and a few women in full kimono outfits. Two women in perfectly turned-out kimono took it upon themselves to make sure I stood in the right place in line and had my ticket, and generally was all taken care of. They posed for a photo for me, and we shared a lot of smiles, but we didn’t speak a word of each other’s language, so that’s as far as that friendship went. It’s all I needed to feel good going into the performance, though.

My friends in line

I paid extra for an audio guide in English, which was worth it. The guide gave a summary of the story before the show and then translated as the actors spoke. It was the story of an old man who needs to sell a sword to raise money for his daughter, and he approaches three warriors just returned from battle. Warrior 1 offers to buy it, and has Warrior 2 appraise it. But Warrior 3 says looking at it doesn’t prove anything. If the sword cuts through two human bodies, it’s a good sword. They find a convict facing the death penalty, and the father sacrifices himself as the second body. But when Warrior 2 does it, he only kills the convict. Warriors 1 and 3 leave in disgust, and Warrior 2 explains to the father and daughter that he purposely didn’t use the full strength of the sword because he noticed it belongs to his ancestral home (the side he’s fighting against in this war, because adoption complications). He proves it’s good by splitting a stone cistern in two, and that cistern was in the name of the play, which I can’t for the life of me remember now or find on Google.

My audio guide. Happily and slightly surprisingly, I obeyed its instructions and did not drop it.

The set was simple, a painted backdrop and a few low tables and tall screens to break up the stage. The actors wore large, stiff costumes that looked practically 2-D, and often the actors moved in deliberate, almost jerky movements. Kabuki has had close ties to Japanese puppetry for centuries, so that’s not surprising.

Kabuki is performed by all-male casts. I was surprised to learn that the form actually started with all-female casts in the early 17th century, but it was quickly deemed too lewd and subsequently outlawed. Since then, it’s been the all-male casts we’re used to associating with Shakespearean times. (Kabuki’s beginnings and Shakespeare’s peak are just about the same time, incidentally.) Apparently, women perform in some productions today, but not in the one I saw.

A quick sneak view of the theater before the lights went down and we had to put cameras away–strictly no photos during the performance, of course

The actors spoke in exaggerated tones, the female character a plaintive whine, the narrator a sharp bark, the great warrior’s voice a sonorous command. The male characters often made that “ohhh!” sound, accompanied by a slight roll of the head and eyes, that I associate with bad imitations of dubbed martial arts films. It served a similar purpose here, it looked like, as a mocking end to a challenging statement.

Occasionally, audience members would shout out phrases (whether of encouragement or disapproval I’m not sure), especially when the actors were exiting the stage via the hanamichi, the long walkway that extended into the auditorium stage right. For years, kabuki was the common man’s theater, a combination of drama, stock comedic characters, and specific story structures that amused the masses. It was only at the end of the 19th century that kabuki performers tried to get the upper classes to enjoy and support the art. It worked, and now kabuki has several fancy theaters in Tokyo and elsewhere in the country, and it’s promoted outside Japan as a traditional, serious art. But you can’t keep the hoi polloi from their art forms entirely. People will shout out during kabuki plays, just as they will at concerts and movies.

Beautiful posters outside the theater

I stood for the entire hour and twenty minute performance, leaning awkwardly against a rail provided for that purpose. The cheap seats aren’t even seats, as it turns out. It’s standing room only up at the back of the top balcony, crowded in with women in kimono, men in suits, teenagers in jeans. Surrounded by this cross-section of Tokyo society, all of whom clapped, laughed, and gasped appreciatively throughout the performance, I smiled to myself. This is why I want to see as many different types of performances as possible as I travel the world–to see how the varied acts affect us all the same way, lighting up our faces and moving us deeply.

Where in the World Wednesday

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Kyoto, Japan; May 10, 2013

A Fun Night in Tokyo

Posted on November 19, 2013 by lisafindley

Top of my list of things to do in Tokyo was sing karaoke in the land that invented it, and the first Saturday I was in the city, I did just that. Of course, the closed-room private karaoke of Japan and Korea means that, unlike the karaoke nights at bars in the States, I couldn’t just show up and put my name on a list to sing next. I’d need to have a set of friends to go with. Luckily, a couple of Oregonians I’d met in New Zealand were visiting a friend in Japan the same time I was there, so the four of us met up and went to Shibuya, the neon entertainment hub of Tokyo.

My Tokyo glamour shot

You can pick out your own tambourine when you sign up for a room

Per person prices–look at the increase at 11pm!

Even better, we went to Karaoke Kan, because my host said that’s where Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson filmed the karaoke scenes in Lost in Translation. Takako, Vasha and Dar’s friend, arranged for us to be in one of the two rooms that they filmed those scenes in, which was cool, and she ordered our drinks and food for us, too–lucky us! She’d done a study abroad thing in high school, where she became friends with Vasha, so those two had the easy chatter of old friends, which is always nice to see.

Our room, 601

Lifelong friends Vasha and Takako

The three of us women got silly right away with Spice Girls and the like, and Takako serenaded us with a Japanese ballad. Dar took a little longer to find the perfect song, but he blew it away when he did. (I didn’t know it; I think it was a pop punk song from the ’90s? Most of our choices were from the ’90s.)

You know what they say: The couple that karaokes together, stays together

All the accoutrements for a successful night’s karaoke-ing

Then I sang “More Than This,” that moody beauty by Roxy Music, in an homage to Bill Murray’s talk-song version in Lost in Translation. Of course, I wasn’t flirting with a girl half my age while I sang it, and I’m not a comedic legend making a splash in my first dramatic role, but other than that, it was just about the same.

Singing “More Than This”

Groovy wallpaper

After our two hours were up, we decided not to extend, since the prices make a huge leap after 11pm. Instead, we had a bite to eat at a place across the street, then wandered into one of the many arcade game places and had a drum-off. We realized the last train of the night was about to leave, and I didn’t know how to get home without the train, so we raced across the busiest intersection in Japan just in time to make it.

Drumline

Vasha, me, Dar, and Takako–a great night out

As we ran (okay, my friends ran, and I jogged poorly), I glanced around me and took in the stylish Japanese youth texting, laughing, strolling to their next destination. It was a beautiful spring night, the neon was buzzing, the bars and nightclubs and arcades were full of smiling people. I wished I could stay up all night with them.

The neon of Shibuya

An Afternoon in Asakusa

Posted on November 18, 2013 by lisafindley

Kaminarimon Gate swarmed with people. The gods of wind and thunder who guard the entrance to Sensoji Shrine looked fierce in the afternoon sun, and all the Golden Week visitors snapped photos under the red lantern that takes its name from those wooden guardians. Kaminarimon, or Thunder, Gate is in the heart of Asakusa, a district in Tokyo on the Sumida River.

Kamariniron Gate

The lantern at Thunder Gate

I sailed up the river on a packed tourist boat and followed the crowds past the rickshaw drivers, under the gate of thunder, and down Nakamise-dori, a walking street selling snacks and souvenirs. I had some mochi and admired the five-story pagoda at the end of the street.

Rickshaw rides

Nakamise-dori, a walking street of souvenirs and snacks leading from the gate to the shrine

Souvenirs

Rows of drawers filled with paper fortunes lined the approach to the shrine, and people tied fortunes they didn’t want to a fence in one corner of the pavilion. I joined in others who stood at the fire in front of the shrine, waving purifying smoke toward my face while wishing for luck.

Purifying smoke

Discarded fortunes

I climbed the red steps to the shrine and took a couple photos before I saw the sign requesting that people turn off their cameras. So I won’t show those photos, but I’ll tell you that the altars were an ornate gold, fronted by rows of flowers, and the ceilings were painted with scenes of sinuous dragons and elegant women.

Leading up to the shrine

The five-story pagoda

Asakusa used to be the main entertainment district of Tokyo. Shinjuku and Shibuya have taken over as the nightlife areas of the city, but sites like the Kaminarimon Gate and the Sensoji Shrine keep it a central part of the city’s identity.

Best Menu Item

Posted on November 15, 2013 by lisafindley

I mean, at a barbecue joint called “Meat,” you don’t expect many non-carnivore items, but still, I’ve never seen it spelled out like this before.

Vegetarian Options

Sunrise, Sunset

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Sunset, Charlotte, Michigan

Where in the World Wednesday

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East Lansing, Michigan; October 10, 2013

Tea with Kazumi: A New Friend in Hirosaki

Posted on November 12, 2013 by lisafindley

On my second day in Hirosaki, I looked at more cherry blossoms and some non-sakura things in town, and I made a new friend. The city itself isn’t much; it’s a modern Japanese town, clean and neat but not architecturally interesting. I walked back to my Couchsurfing hosts’ home from the castle a couple times, but most of the time I made the two-mile trip on a shuttle bus from the castle’s east gate to the train station’s front doors, a $1 one-way trip set up specially for domestic and international tourists in town for the sakura.

Hello, flowers!

One part of town used to be known for indigo dyes, and some of that work is still done here, so I walked to the indigo shop by the northern castle wall. Everything was a little pricey for me, but I did admire the deep blues and near purples of the dyed cloths. Then I took a side road to the streets behind, which my map claimed were lined with Edo-period samurai houses. I had trouble finding any, but finally stumbled upon one. I found it similar in layout to the Shirotas’ home in Shinrin-koen, set in an elaborate little garden. I apologized to a middle-aged Japanese woman who wanted to get past me on her way out of the house, but when she heard me speak in English, she struck up a conversation.

In the indigo dye shop

The samurai house

Some of the treasures of the house

Thatched roof

Her name was Kazumi, and she wanted to chat with me and show me the town. She lived close to Tokyo, but was visiting a friend here. Her friend was busy during the day, so she was taking in the sakura, although she was disappointed by how few trees were in bloom. She insisted I walk to the other side of the castle with her to look at a certain garden, and I was happy to comply.

The clean, uninteresting streets of the non-castle part of town

Kazumi is married and has one grown child. Her husband travels a lot for business, and he used to take her with him on trips. She’d found it difficult to understand tour guides, and her husband had urged her to learn English, but she’d resisted. Then, twelve years ago, at the age of 49, she decided she wanted to learn, and here she was, a few idioms away from fluency. I was impressed, and once again embarrassed by my pathetic “I find learning languages difficult” excuse for my mono-linguistic ways.

Plum blossoms

The garden she took me to was Fujita Memorial Garden, south of the castle. It was beautifully conceived, another meticulously laid out, peaceful place with a little waterfall and a red bridge (like all the red bridges around the castle) and a koi pond. I could see how it would be glorious in summer. Kazumi told me about the different plants I was seeing, including the plum trees in bloom. Usually, the plum trees bloom in early March, before the cherry trees, but because it’s colder than usual this spring, some plum trees were still in bloom while the cherry trees were just peeking out. The plum blossoms were a bright and beautiful pink, a lovely contrast to the white and pale pink of the cherry trees.

Following Kazumi, who set a fairly brisk pace

Following Kazumi through Fujita Memorial Garden. Kazumi set a fairly brisk pace.

One of the many plants Kazumi identified for me. I can’t remember its name, but I know it’s a mountain flower native to Japan.

The castle grounds and surrounding areas were dotted with signs like this. Apparently, there’s a popular TV melodrama with scenes set here, and the signs showed exactly where they were, so you could re-enact them or just point excitedly.

After we’d walked around the garden, Kazumi treated me to tea. We went to the little tea room overlooking a large weeping cherry tree and sat at a table laid with a white tablecloth. Kazumi ordered for us both: apple tea and an apple tart each. Hirosaki produces a lot of Fuji apples, and it becomes a tourist destination again in autumn, when apples are in season (and again in winter, when the nearby mountain is taken over by skiers and snowboarders). There was a live xylophone concert in the room next door, which we couldn’t see, only hear. We sat in a glassed-off porch, talking quietly about our travels, while a round, ringing sound reverberated throughout the room. It was lovely.

Apple tea & tart

Apples are so important that they’re made into public art

Kazumi was clearly a kind, generous person, but she also had clear ideas of how things should be, and she was eager to share those ideas; she had opinions on almost every arrangement of plants in the garden, and everything she said came with a note of authority. One of the first things she said to me, when we met at the samurai house, was, “This is just a middle or lower class samurai house, not very high.” It might be because she’s rich–she inherited three houses from her mother and her husband bought two more, and she goes to a Thai villa every spring for a vacation. Or it might be a cultural difference that I didn’t pick up from the other Japanese people I met. Either way, I didn’t necessarily agree with her on everything she said, or understand where she was coming from, but it didn’t matter. We were two women, fond of beautiful gardens and meeting new people, sharing tea and apple tarts in a room echoing with music.

Kazumi and me in the tea room

Hirosaki in Bloom

Posted on November 11, 2013 by lisafindley

Hanami celebrates the ephemeral nature of life and the beauty of friendship and the natural world, but this year the few people I saw engaging in the custom were also celebrating hardiness and perseverance, whether they meant to or not. Hanami is the Japanese custom of having a picnic with friends under the blooming cherry trees in spring, but it was an especially cold and rainy spring in Hirosaki this year, so I was impressed by the few groups of people I saw laying out plastic sheeting and blankets, bundled as they were in raincoats and scarves.

Celebrating hanami despite the gloomy weather

I wasn’t upholding a national custom or family tradition by visiting Hirosaki for the sakura (cherry blossoms), but I did rearrange my schedule and endure the cold and rain for it. I was as determined as those chilly revelers to admire the beauty of the sakura in weather that did its best to mask it.

Sakura in bloom

Hirosaki is in Aomori Prefecture, the northernmost district on the main island of Japan. It’s 400 miles northwest of Tokyo, and part of my journey there was spent on the Shinkansen (bullet train). As expected, the trains were clean, comfortable, and on time. I covered 400 miles in about 5 hours, including changing trains. I’ll repeat what every American who’s ever traveled this way has likely said: Why aren’t we doing this in the States? They love cars in Japan, too, but they still put money, research, and time into the train infrastructure.

The nearby mountain is popular for winter sports

Anyway, sakura season was already over in most of the country by the time I arrived in Japan in late April, but I’d done my research and I knew that I could still catch the fleeting beauties if I went north. I saw patches of snow on the hills the closer the train got to Hirosaki, the first snow I’d seen since March of the previous year. Except for a few sunny hours the day I arrived, it was cold and rainy the whole three days I was in town, so I went everywhere in my fleece, raincoat, and scarf. It felt like New Zealand all over again.

Snow on the ground, blossoms in the trees

The park provided a couple of backgrounds like this, so you could take your picture with the sakura even if they weren’t actually in bloom.

Part of the appeal of the sakura is the setting, and Japanese towns go all out in creating the right atmosphere. In Hirosaki, it’s easy, because there used to be a castle there. One of the guard towers of the inner castle still remains, and there are some stone foundations and impressions in the grass that show where other parts of the castle used to be. It’s free to cross the moat and enter the outer walls of the castle, and then to cross the inner moat.

Foundations of a guard house in the inner castle grounds

The outer moat

Some concessions for English-language tourists

They only charge to enter the inner castle area and the guard tower. My excellent Couchsurfing hosts told me to save my money on the entrance fee, but I spent the $6 anyway. They were right about the guard tower. Steep stairs, half-hearted displays of samurai weaponry, unimpressive views through tiny windows more suited to the arrows of warriors past than the cameras of today’s tourists. But there was a gigantic weeping cherry tree in the courtyard, more in bloom than most of the non-weeping varieties outside, that I was glad I saw.

View from the guard tower of Hirosaki Castle

Another view from the guard tower

This weeping cherry tree, in front of the inner guard tower, is over 100 years old

The grounds are large, and several paths are lined with food and souvenir vendors. I had a pork bun, a sausage on a stick, a chocolate-dipped banana, and a donut that at first struck me as dry and only vaguely sweet, like communion bread, but about halfway through I realized it was delicious, and I wished I’d bought two! Do with that what you will for metaphors about trying new things, sticking it out, etc.

The donut of metaphors

These fences were actually made of hard plastic–it’s the most convincing fake wood fence I’ve ever seen!

The lamps along the paths were mostly photos of adorable children, like this one. Looks like people could buy the space to show off photos of their kids and support lighting the castle grounds.

Not everyone chose to put their kids’ photos up.

The blossoms were at 10% when I arrived, and maybe 30% when I left (the government issues sakura updates, so you can see what percentage of “open” the blooms are in which areas of the country–that’s how big a deal the sakura and accompanying hanami celebrations are).

My first day in Hirosaki--hardly any blossoms

My first day in Hirosaki–the trees are just starting to bloom

The trees exploded in bloom a few days after I left, but that’s how it goes sometimes. The admiration the Japanese have for the sakura is their perfect, delicate beauty and the fact that such beauty is only on display for a short time every year. Cherish the beauty you see in the world, and accept that it’s ephemeral.

My last day in Hirosaki–more blossoms

One of the serene bridges of the castle grounds

Seeing cherry blossoms hang over a red bridge reflected with a castle tower in placid water was still worth it, even if the blossoms were only barely open, even if rain drizzled down the back of my neck and my toes slowly numbed throughout the day, even if I spent a lot of extra money to travel north just for this rather than stay south. The weather did its best to dampen my spirits and dull the bright white blooms of the cherry trees. Nice try, weather, but the blossoms were still beautiful to behold, and I’m glad I went out of my way to see them.