Yesterday's lion dance at the local village autumn celebration was distinctly underwhelming - though it was only when visiting woofer/friend-of-the-family Sunnei voiced how tedious she had found it that I dared to admit the same! The lion proceeded at snail's pace through the village, amid a circle of fire braziers held by half a dozen or so, to a pavilion at the top of the village. What had started as a simple folk procession then seemed to assume weighty religious significance: after the lion had "danced" (about which the less said the better), two priest-like dignitaries received and placed on the altar a long succession of offerings to welcome the gods. Finally - though we left before it had finished - the assembled officials paid their respects: an elaborate choreography of bows and claps. Phew.
Back at the house the celebration continued in a rather surprising way: an array of junk food including the most disgusting plastic capsules of fish fused with cheese. Happy autumn!
Today, thanks to Sunnei, several jigsaw pieces have fallen into place. I'm beginning to understand why verbs don't conjugate: the individual counts for so much less; whether it's me, you or them isn't the point. Sunnei even said that the western emphasis on "I think x, I think y..." can even be quite jarring. And when I asked what the Japanese was for "Please could you pass me the..." I was told "Kudasai...", which I know means "I would like...". In other words, simply saying the latter is enough; the Japanese tune in so readily to each other that someone's wish becomes their command.
As we worked together weed-managing (I can't say "weeding" as we leave the root in place - probably just as well as much of it looks suspiciously like the dreaded Japanese knotweed) we chatted about relationships and the differences between the frontier north, Hokkaido, where Sunnei is from, and the more traditional south where arranged marriage is still common. But even for Sunnei the individual is less important than the family. I'm not quite sure where this leaves her - a modern girl trying to make it as an acupuncturist and body worker but struggling because she isn't state-licenced. It's a weirdly familiar but different situation. You can only practice as a body worker if you do the amma style of massage (reserved for blind workers) or if you have a fully state-recognised acupuncture qualification, which is a very expensive training. So she supplements her living doing admin jobs.
I also discovered that Rie is an ex-restaurant macro-biotic chef, and artist. And Masan was an environmental and museum-exhibitions consultant. Tiens tiens...
After lunch we returned to the village shrine to watch a different kind of procession. In contrast to yesterday's this one was riveting: teams picked from cohorts in the village, their year of birth emblazoned on their team T-shirts. The game was to haul a (?) shrine up the same route as yesterday, competing with each other with two routes to pull the vehicle off course. Clearly the drinking had begun early in the day. Most were drunk as skunks. And further aided by officials passing to and fro refilling with sake. It's curious that drunkenness is tolerated - even encouraged - but I barely saw anyone smoking. I suggested to Sunnei that this might be because it's the only way people can break free and indulge in free expression. And she agreed!
So another full-on day comes to a close. I am having an incredible experience. But I think I must abandon any idea I had of this being a kind of retreat. There's far too much going on! And tomorrow, my birthday, Masan has just announced at the supper time "next-day briefing" that we are going to do a survival activity. No water, no fire, no toilet. Everything will have to be constructed. Is this what I would have chosen as my birthday treat? The man is mad. Watch this space...
Back at the house the celebration continued in a rather surprising way: an array of junk food including the most disgusting plastic capsules of fish fused with cheese. Happy autumn!
Today, thanks to Sunnei, several jigsaw pieces have fallen into place. I'm beginning to understand why verbs don't conjugate: the individual counts for so much less; whether it's me, you or them isn't the point. Sunnei even said that the western emphasis on "I think x, I think y..." can even be quite jarring. And when I asked what the Japanese was for "Please could you pass me the..." I was told "Kudasai...", which I know means "I would like...". In other words, simply saying the latter is enough; the Japanese tune in so readily to each other that someone's wish becomes their command.
As we worked together weed-managing (I can't say "weeding" as we leave the root in place - probably just as well as much of it looks suspiciously like the dreaded Japanese knotweed) we chatted about relationships and the differences between the frontier north, Hokkaido, where Sunnei is from, and the more traditional south where arranged marriage is still common. But even for Sunnei the individual is less important than the family. I'm not quite sure where this leaves her - a modern girl trying to make it as an acupuncturist and body worker but struggling because she isn't state-licenced. It's a weirdly familiar but different situation. You can only practice as a body worker if you do the amma style of massage (reserved for blind workers) or if you have a fully state-recognised acupuncture qualification, which is a very expensive training. So she supplements her living doing admin jobs.
I also discovered that Rie is an ex-restaurant macro-biotic chef, and artist. And Masan was an environmental and museum-exhibitions consultant. Tiens tiens...
After lunch we returned to the village shrine to watch a different kind of procession. In contrast to yesterday's this one was riveting: teams picked from cohorts in the village, their year of birth emblazoned on their team T-shirts. The game was to haul a (?) shrine up the same route as yesterday, competing with each other with two routes to pull the vehicle off course. Clearly the drinking had begun early in the day. Most were drunk as skunks. And further aided by officials passing to and fro refilling with sake. It's curious that drunkenness is tolerated - even encouraged - but I barely saw anyone smoking. I suggested to Sunnei that this might be because it's the only way people can break free and indulge in free expression. And she agreed!
So another full-on day comes to a close. I am having an incredible experience. But I think I must abandon any idea I had of this being a kind of retreat. There's far too much going on! And tomorrow, my birthday, Masan has just announced at the supper time "next-day briefing" that we are going to do a survival activity. No water, no fire, no toilet. Everything will have to be constructed. Is this what I would have chosen as my birthday treat? The man is mad. Watch this space...
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