left gasping by the colors found in a geisha house....

The trip to Kanazawa was chock-full of visual stimulus. Our bus followed a western route over the Japanese alps, just skirting Nagano of Olympic fame, and wound down toward the coastal region of the Sea of Japan, then south, hugging the steep slopes above the sea, still in central Honshu, reaching the cultural mega-city of Kanazawa after a six hour ride.

Fallen orange, red and yellow autumn leaves, wet from the rains, padded the slick, mossy, rock-lined streets. Homes once inhabited by samurai, and now their descendents or very rich businessmen, were surrounded by meticulously manicured gardens, serene in their layout, softened with the sounds of running water and birds. We were allowed to walk through some of the gardens that had gates opened to the public and we quietly and respectfully tiptoed through these private spaces, glimpsing the serenity, for a moment, of such a life spent amidst such beauty. A few homes had their rice paper doors slid open for the breeze, offering tantalizing views of tatami mats, sparsely furnished expanses and rooms that had never known clutter for even one day of their hundreds of years. We doffed our shoes and stepped into shops offering local crafts,  mostly pottery or silk, and stores offering sweets: tastings proffered by clerks on the sidewalks, bean-paste filled pastries and traditional sweet cakes eaten before tea. 

One of our stops was a geisha tea house where, kneeling on bamboo mats at low-lying tables, we were served small tea cakes topped with gold leaf (a specialty of the area) followed by macha, handed us in delicately decorated tea bowls. Macha is the bitter, green, frothy tea of Japan and is meant to be drunk in just two to three swallows. Two or three swallows nicely dissipates the cloying sweetness of the cake, more would be too bitter to enjoy...so a lovely balance is achieved. Our table surrounded a large, square, ash-filled fire pit where the water was traditionally warmed in the heavy metal pot suspended by an iron rod from overhead beams. Later, our server, dressed in beautiful kimono garb and with the help of an interpreter, took us upstairs to a tatami mat room to answer our questions about geisha life and history. 

We toured the Kenroku-en Gardens in the rain, watched rubber-booted workers brushing the rocks in the stream beds with brooms (to keep them free of moss and debris) and watched other workers clipping lichen with very small scissors, piece by miniscule piece, under the spreading arms of a carefully formed and very ancient fir.  In readiness for winter and to ward off the damaging effects of a heavy snow, tree branches were being wrapped in rope and upheld by maypole-looking affairs and the branches were propped, as well, from below, by strong bamboo poles.

The Museum of Contemporary Art showcased current Japanese artwork and installations and another high-light was a tour through a ninja temple, built in the 1640's and full of secret passages, traps, escape routes and mystery. We got up early to walk through the Kanazawa fish market, just opening for business, and marveled at the busyness and massiveness of the fish market itself... street after street (covered overhead) of stalls filling with the days fresh catch, dripping with sea water and in some cases still live seafood, every kind, every description....octopus, snails, crab, lobster, roe and the vegetable and flower stalls mixed in, small stalls selling prepared food, slippery walkways and always the smell...

Some final observations:  

Coming from a culture that is, by its very definition, a melding pot of diversity and where individualism is the norm, I am experiencing culture shock.  People, places, sites, sounds, smells, ideas, objects, tastes all tangent into my field of vision unexpectedly, without explanation or forewarning often and I have been left wondering,  breathless, embarrassed,  curious, uncomfortable, excited, pleased, puzzled... you name it....it's run the gamut. I have landed where conformity is prized. This is not a concept I understand.  Our two cultures have managed to, certainly not blend, but co-exist, side-by-side, harmony is maybe not the right word but, certainly not disharmonious, in the few places they touch, but the contrasts are extraordinary. Maybe it's in the contrast that makes this work so well.  We can't blend, that much I have already determined...only observe, copy, wonder at and learn from. The Japanese value harmony. If the rules are followed, harmony will follow and result in a life of ease. They have a love of nature but it is in the subduing or shaping of the wildness to meet a standard, following very precise rules (ikebana and bonsai being two examples) that leads to the state where the beauty can be appreciated and measured and explained. It is in some of the unexpected juxtapositions that give me pause and allow me a glimpse into a culture I'll never be able to comprehend. The kimono with it's contrasting but perfectly harmonious obi. Explain it to me please, I can't but I do appreciate on an aesthetically visceral level the impact. The simplicity and sparseness of a geisha house, the grace and rules within contrasting, shockingly with colors that palpably hit my senses by their unexpected placement and please me but leave me curious and hungry for the next sensual 'hit'. If I asked for an explanation of the color placement, I would be given an explanation....I'm not sure I would understand.

One encounter from my recent trip I will not forget:  We decided to graze the local grocery store for dinner rather than find a sit-down restaurant. In the basement of every department store, one can find grocery stores that are a medley of merchants supplying cooked, cured, pickled and fresh produce displayed enticingly and hawked irresistibly; a great diversity of produce, fun to peruse and nibble one's way through. We made our selections (what we thought was a cucumber salad with daikon radish turned out to be baby eels...eyes and all) and placed our purchases on the counter and while our items were being rung up (checkers singsong prices and items as they are scanned and ours was diligently and dutifully following the norm) and as we were distractingly digging through our purses for the correct coins, the checker looked up, not realizing we were foreigners and gasped at the sight of us, so strange and tall and white and different and was embarrassed by her own sudden and public lack of composure. We were frozen and staring....so we laughed.... and I babbled something in English and she smiled, and was flustered, her hands over her mouth, regaining her composure and laughed, too, and we both sort of stared at each other, sharing in the amazement of the encounter.  I understand her gasp. It's in the letting in of the unexpected that doesn't have an immediate explanation that gives rise to shock. Except right around the air base where we live and in some parts of the larger cities, diversity is not known in Japan...even today. I have 'shocked' so many people by my mere presence....I am truly outside looking in. It is an amazing perspective to be living with and I can only be inspired by the differences and am also seeking similarities. I am truly an ambassador here and must be mindful and self-conscious and I can certainly understand her gasp....in that we are sisters.... as I am personally left gasping by the colors found in a geisha house....