a short-ish list of things I saw in Kyoto
People, bikes, and cars negotiating narrow alleys, mostly moving in the same direction, and fast. A radio interviewer asked me what impressed me as a visitor to the country, and I named this feature, along with the feature of alleys not lined with corpses. He explained it the same way every striking Japanese trait is explained by natives and foreigners alike. "We are an ethnically homogeneous people," he explained.
After a discussion with my hostess about the 1587 martyrdom of Franciscan missionaries and otherwise minimal impact of Christianity on the nation, which ended with her saying "We are not a very religious people" -- people offering fervent supplications to shrines, all over town, every day. What is Shinto, a suggestion?
The home of Kawai Kanjiro, the great potter and glazer, which was like a scene from an Ozu movie. A proliferation of unmoving things to look at, and an inspiring (and in its own way, practical) collection of philosophical principles to chew on.
The imperial palace and gardens, built in the mid-19th century, and occupied briefly by emperors Taisho and Showa before the capital relocated to Tokyo. Mornings, Mrs. F. and I would rise early (sometimes as early as 3:00A, due to some worse-than-usual jet lag) and stroll around the peach groves, broad gravel walkways, and shrines of this Kyoto version of Central Park. The passage of this gargantuan piece of beautifully tended real estate from imperial hands into the public's, with free availability to anyone who wants to use it unsupervised and anytime, is a sign, for all of us who are accustomed to doubt it, that things can get better.
The city's mayor bowing to my wife, onstage at Naruyama Park facing Yasaka shrine, presenting her a bouquet, and calling her "kirei" (beautiful), followed by some complimentary words about my music.
Extreme, programmatic, unfailing, almost insane politeness in all social and commercial interactions. It is true that this is a mask, and who knows what gremlins lurk beneath it. It is true that it can be unnerving to the Western tourist for waiters and chefs to run after him out of restaurants, bowing and thanking him for his patronage. It is true that this tourist at times entertained a fantasy of yelling "motherfucker" on a crowded sidewalk, clapping a maitre d' on the back, or just coughing cavalierly into the air. But on the whole, it is wonderful to get a short reprieve from those people that beset you in America: the loud, the boorish, the fat, the lazy. I stand with Mr. Schopenhauer, who says that manners are like false currency -- so spend, spend, spend!
Cartoon cats. Swastikas.
An airline employee at a baggage carousel, delicately catching each item as it came down the ramp before hitting the belt. Imagine an American airline shelling out good money on this function, or the person assigned to do it, doing it.
Two attractive but otherwise unrelated lady country singers named Yuki.
People, some on bikes, dressed in long outer garments and sweaters in 75F weather. "Don't you people sweat?" I asked our hostess one afternoon. (Through judicious deployment of remarks like these, I left a long trail of goodwill behind me.) "Many women here believe that exposure to sun makes their skin less attractive," she answered. "Also, yes, we sweat less because of our lower body fat."
2 comments
We were there in 1996 and I remember Kawai Kanjiro's studio well. Also enjoyed the beer vending machines, the state-subsidized bathhouses and Kyoto's own local cry of thanks, "O-key-nee!"
If I had known you were going I would have recommended the astounding Moss Gardens.
no tall jokes?