This is Kansai

Eight Years

I love Japan. Really, I do. Were it otherwise I'd have left ages ago. Yet as of this September it's been eight years, and in that time I think I've seen more of this country than most. To begin with I was a one-year exchange student at Yokohama National University in Kanagawa. I'd later spend a year and a half in Tokyo before I moved to Shizuoka and lived at the base of Mt. Fuji. It's a shame I didn't take many photos then because my town was located to the east of the mountain and I saw some brilliant sunsets. I'm talking about evenings when a crown of clouds caught the purple-orange flare of the day's last light and created the most stunning backdrop imaginable.

Gotmeba next to Mt. Fuji

I planned to stay in Gotemba more than a year but then I got cancer and had to leave which led to an eight-month recovery period in Tokyo. After that my company sent me to Gifu and for the next four years I lived in Minokamo. It was a small town with many Brazilian and Filipino foreigners who worked at the local factories, and I had the chance to learn Portuguese through the Brazilian friends I made. I could have remained for longer but I made up my mind to relocate--this time to Toba in Mie prefecture. Oh Toba, what a wonderful place you were. I fell in love with your islands and green hills, and wanted to get to know you better but then my company lost the teaching contract and I had to say goodbye after only five months. That brought me to where I am now--Osaka.

Famous for sumo among other things

The Curse of the Colonel

I could write a thing or two about Osaka. It's a huge city at the heart of Japan's Kansai Region and one of the country's largest ports. The people here are friendlier than those in Tokyo. They have their own dialect, their restaurants serve better food, and they pride themselves on being at odds with the mainstream culture from the capital. But for all their liveliness and idiosyncrasies, I can't help feel that the locals get swept along in the ordinary flow of things. It's not their fault. They're in a big city.

Waiting for the train

Anyhow, what I find most fascinating about Osaka is its lore. Tradition still runs strong here and one story stands out in my mind--The Curse of the Colonel. It's a curse that goes back to the year 1985 when the Hanshin Tigers baseball team last won the Japanese League championship. At the time the star player on the Tigers was Randy Bass, an American first baseman and power hitter. His presence revitalized the team and three decades later he remains a greatly revered figure among fans. The Hanshin faithful are not your typical sports fans either. They have a level of devotion that borders on obsessive and are notorious for their rowdiness. For example, after the last game in the '85 championship series, a mob of them went to Ebisu Bridge, a popular and hip gathering spot in Osaka. One by one they shouted the names of the team's players, and someone who looked like that player jumped into the canal below. The problem was when they called out Randy Bass' name, none of the Japanese fans resembled the big, hairy Westerner. So the mob raided a nearby Kentucky Fried Chicken, grabbed the plastic statue of Colonel Sanders, and tossed that in instead.

Randy and the Tigers win!

The Colonel pays the price

Randy's legacy lives on

As fate would have it, the Hanshin Tigers entered a prolonged slump following their championship season. Due to the poor performance of their team some fans began to wonder if the Tigers had become cursed. The Colonel incident was still fresh on their memory, and the way many people saw it, the fans at Ebisu Bridge had defiled the physical representation of a once living man. Perhaps out of vengeance the spirit of Harland D. Sanders had cursed the team to never again succeed. Tigers fans took the matter very seriously. To appease the Colonel they made an effort to find the statue and return it to its rightful place. Divers searched the waters of the canal and on other occasions boats dredged its muddy bottom. But these attempts failed. The statue remained lost for several years until in 2009 a construction company sent workers into the canal to do foundation work on a building. One of them spotted the statue and it was finally recovered. However, the Colonel was not intact because the statue was missing its glasses and left hand. Fans had it cleaned and then moved it to the KFC near the Hanshin Tigers home stadium where it is on display for visitors to see.

The long-lost Colonel 

The hand and glasses remain in this canal

Four years later the Tigers have still not won another championship. Some fans think the curse persists, and for it to go away the statue must be returned to its original location. But the Kentucky Fried Chicken store moved to a different street and had the statue replaced. Others believe the problem is the missing hand and glasses. Until they are found the Colonel's spirit might never forgive the fans their insult.

As for Randy Bass, he played a few more years in Japan. The slugger at one point threatened to break Japan's single season home run record. He was only one home run short when his team faced the Yomiuri Giants for the final game of the season. Unfortunately, the opposing manager was none other than Sadaharu Oh, the current record holder, and in an act of great cheapness Oh had his pitchers intentionally walk Bass during each of his plate appearances. I'm sure the experience left a bitter taste in the American's mouth, but in spite of the dirty, underhanded move, Oh's legacy would not last. This very year a Curaçaoan player finally bested Oh's 55 home runs. The fact that it took this long is a testament to the skill of Japanese pitchers.

Now a US senator

Meanwhile at Hanshin Koshien Stadium

Castle City

Going back several centuries, Osaka was a city of merchants that accumulated great wealth. Unlike the samurai class who were dependent on their lands and tax collection for income, the merchants prospered through the growing trade industry and this created great resentment between the two classes because the often poorer samurai were higher up in the caste system. Not surprisingly, Osaka came under attack owing to its importance as a port of trade, and in 1583 the principal defense of the city became a castle built by the warlord Hideyoshi Toyotomi. It then fell a few decades later, and Osaka like the rest of the country came under control of the Tokugawa shogunate. That was at the start of the Edo Period.

The Battle of Osaka Castle

For over 200 years the Tokugawa government imposed a policy of isolation while attempting to maintain a feudal based caste society. At first the island archipelago experienced great peace and prosperity, but stagnation and corruption within the ruling class led to eventual turmoil. The breaking point was when foreign powers forced the country to open its borders in 1854. With their naval might and superior cannons, the Americans, British, French and Russians exploited Japan's weakened position. In order to retake control from the foreigners a rebel army overthrew the Tokugawa government and returned power to the Imperial family. That in turn precipitated a period of swift modernization. By the time World War I began Japan had emerged onto the global scene as a formidable military state and it continued a land grab in Asia, taking parts of China, Korea and South East Asia. This outward expansion continued until Allied forces pushed the Japanese back towards their homeland during World War II, after which aerial bombing raids devastated the country's major industrial centers including Osaka.

Osaka Castle did not escape the carnage of war. It had served as an armory and was targeted by US forces. Only the stone foundations remained in the aftermath. Today a replica of the castle keep stands in for the former one. I call it a replica because the current iteration was built in 1997 with reinforced concrete and an elevator. Not too long ago I went to see it. The castle is now a landmark of the city and a popular tourist destination. The main tower aside, the castle grounds and inner keep are accessible for free, and the tower doubles as a museum with many historical artifacts and displays. Standing five stories high, it offers a panoramic view of the surrounding park and cityscape beyond.

Main tower

Painting in the park

City manhole cover

The central part of Osaka does not have much greenery so the wide and expansive castle park attracts many joggers. For this reason a charity group chose it as the site of the city's annual Osaka Great Santa Run. The money collected from the event goes towards buying gifts for sick and unfortunate children throughout Japan. Last year 15,000 people took part and this December I too plan on donning the red suit and cap, and joining in on the 4km run. What can I say? Often I run to exercise, other times I run to remember, and sometimes it's to forget. This time it will be for those in need.

In the spirit

Sakai

For now I am living in Osaka but I spend a good part of my week down south in the neighboring city of Sakai. That's where I work. I'm an English teacher at a Junior high school, and I have only the one school, but it’s a full time position so I'm there Monday through Friday. The gig is easy. I teach 15 classes a week, the kids are well behaved, and the commute gets me away from the urban mess that is Osaka. My school is in a residential part of Sakai where there are plenty of trees and few tall buildings. However, only a few train stops away is the rather congested city center with its nearby port and industrial waterfront. That part of Sakai is most famous for giant grave mounds which are in the shape of a keyhole and surrounded by water filled moats. They date back 1600 years and the city is trying to have them registered as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The main one is supposedly the final resting place of Emperor Nintoku and it is the largest burial site in Japan.

Interestingly, Nintoku was the 16th emperor in the Japanese imperial line. The current Emperor, Akihito, is the 125th, making the Japanese imperial family the longest lived dynasty in existence. But it’s arguable whether the emperors from over 500 hundred years ago were of the same bloodline or even real people. This is because historical evidence is limited to written accounts that often blur the line between fact and folklore. For example, according to Shinto traditional beliefs, the first Japanese emperor was a direct descendant of the gods and all successive emperors were thereafter deemed incarnate divinities. The Americans, however, made the Imperial family renounce the claim following WWII.

UNESCO campaign poster

The green hill is the burial site

Back to Sakai. The city is also known for its traditional blade making. And when I say the word "blade," I'm referring to cutlery and the like. Before the modernization of Japan the craftsmen in Sakai had used their forging skills to make swords, but once the newly installed imperial government forbade samurai from carrying swords, the craftsmen switched over to cutlery to stay in business. At that time they continued to use traditional sword making techniques to produce the blades. Then with the advent of industrial technology, knife makers soon employed machinery in the manufacture of their goods. Today the exceptions are mizu-honyaki knifes. They are made of differentially hardened high-carbon steel, the same as a Japanese katana, and thanks to their superb level of craftsmanship, kitchen knives of this variety typically sell for over 1000 dollars a piece. Even at that price the chefs at high-end Japanese restaurants will often use Sakai made knives because they possess a fine, durable edge that allows for precise cutting.

Cheap Sakai knives for sale

The real deal

Festivals

In my time in Japan I have probably seen over 100 festivals. With so much experience at these festivities I've come to realize there are three things which define them. First off, Japanese festivals have stands that sell food and offer carnival-like games for prizes. Almost every festival will feature these and they do not vary much from place to place. Next, festivals are usually constructed around an event which is either a dance, the carrying of a portable shrine, or a combination of both. The dancing tends to be elaborate, and involves colorful costumes and traditional music. It can take place on a stage or in a parade-like procession. As for the portable shrines, most are carried by young men. The really large ones, however, are dragged or pushed. Because they are made of wood the shrines are heavy and dense, and it is grueling work moving them around. I should know. I've volunteered to help with the shrines on two occasions.

The shrine you carry

The kind you pull

The first time I helped was at a festival in Tokyo. We had the wooden shrine up on our shoulders, and a group of us carried it along a street for an hour. Every 10 minutes we rocked the damned thing like a boat on choppy water, the purpose of which was to excite the god inside. Portable shrines supposedly carry a deity, so they double as a kind of palanquin to allow Japanese deities to tour the areas where they are worshipped. People in turn gather to celebrate the emergence of their local deity and hope that it will bless an upcoming harvest or bring about some other type of good fortune.

Once I was finished carrying that portable shrine in Tokyo I swore I would never again subject myself to physical torture of the kind. Several years later though, I attended a different festival in Gifu and this time I was among a hundred people who were pulling a giant boat-like shrine up a hill. My friends talked me into participating and I suffered greatly for it. I remember feeling sick for an hour afterwards, worried I was about to retch at any moment. That had settled it. Every festival since I've been content to stand on the sidelines and take photos.

Not as fun as it looks

Atop of the hill

In the Osaka area I have already seen five festivals. I also watched an antler cutting ceremony in Nara. To stay in the know of what's going on I refer to a site that lists major events throughout the country. There are dozens every week and any festival within an hour's train ride is something I'm keen on checking out. Unfortunately, more than one may take place on the same day, or I might be too busy to visit them all. But I try. This is the reason I never get a chance to rest up, because given the choice between waking up early on a Sunday morning and riding the train by myself to a far off place I've never visited before, or sleeping in and being lazy, I always go with the first option. The downside is that the following Monday I suffer as I stumble into another week fatigued and sleep depraved.

No escape

Japanese festivals offer the unexpected

Sky and Sun

My junior high school is unique for a peculiar reason. It is the only school in the area that raises sheep, and they've been doing it for over 30 years. But don't get the wrong idea. The place is not a farm and there are only two sheep at a time. The current pair are called Sky and Sun. They came from a breeder in Kobe, and they are quite fortunate because their brothers and sisters have probably ended up as meat on a plate by now. Such is the fate of most sheep in Japan.

A few weeks ago a camera crew from the NHK television network came and filmed the sheep. They wanted to create a segment for an afternoon news program, and while they were present, the school staff let the sheep out to graze the lawn between the school buildings. That caused a commotion among the students. I became annoyed because the kids in my class ran to the window and waved to the camera crew in an attempt to get on TV. The thing was the cameraman and reporter were too focused on the sheep to look over. They kept spooking Sky and Sun by getting in close with their big camera. I was thinking that with herd animals like sheep, you should let them come to you on their own good time.

Sky

Between buildings where the sheep graze

Occasionally, when I don't have class I go to the sheep pen and lean against the fence. It may take a minute or sometimes five but the two animals will trot over, and I'll then give them a pat along their neck and behind the ear. Sky never grows tired of the attention so I like him more than Sun. Come to think of it, he is the first sheep I've really gotten to know in my life and I am fascinated by his appearance. The hairs of his thick wool coat are clumped into coils and peppered with dirt, dried out moss, and twigs. Around the face the wool thins out, exposing two dark eyes, at the center of which are pupils in the shape of a minus sign. His snout extends down to a pink nose covered with black dots and his jaw, I've noticed, always moves from right to left when he chews. These physical differences between us are both an affirmation of evolution and the biodiversity within our world.

Ahead of his time

 Speaking of evolution, Charles Darwin believed that all living organisms came from a common ancestor--an idea that modern geneticists proved to be correct. It all began with the first life on Earth some 3.5 billion years ago. For most of that time heavy solar radiation and falling meteorites prevented any organism from moving beyond the microbe stage, at least up until a stable atmosphere shielded the planet's surface. That single change in the environment allowed simple bacteria to evolve into whales, beetles, moss, cedar trees, the other billions of species that currently inhabit our world, and the countless more which have gone extinct. So now exist I, a junior high English teacher. In my school is Sky. We are different products of the same ecologically based process of growth and adaptability. Knowing this, when I stare into Sky's eyes I cannot help but to ponder our relationship in the grand scheme of things. Is it by mere happenstance that I am human and Sky a sheep? Or is there something more to it? I suppose I've always viewed the universe as a dynamic nexus of interdependent possibilities. After all, one possible outcome was impetus enough for a species of Earth's primordial bacteria to embrace a greater form, itself something set in motion at the very beginning of all creation.

Ok. This is some serious existential business I'm getting into. I've got to think it through. Hmm...at best I can venture that the very fabric of the universe is a constant process of change mediated by an infinitely complex physical reality. The fabric has no fixed state or confines, and because we are threads running through it, we like everything are bound to its unfathomable yet absolute course. In that sense I am no more in control of my destiny than Sky. The difference is that I am cognizant of the causality of change. Thus, I can reflect upon the possibilities that shape my existence, and in doing so, develop a sense of free will. Sky on the other hand does not question why he eats one blade of grass and not another. He has no choice in the matter. His actions are driven by a thoughtless, instinctual reaction to stimuli from his immediate environment. So when he sees me and comes over and lowers his head, it is an almost mechanical response to my presence. I am compelled to run my fingers through his wool. Sky's rib cage rises and drops with his breathing, and his long, white eyelashes flutter. I feel the warmth of his body and am happy for the shared contact between us. Meanwhile, birds chirp from nearby trees accompanied by the rustle of leaves swaying in the autumn breeze, and out there far beyond our little blue dot of a world, in the sum vastness of space, the cosmos turn as they always have.

Time and space