Kabuki & Kimono. (Just not at the same time.)

Hello again, readers!

WR here.  It's been a busy few weeks for me, what with the wrapping up of classes and the launching of mid-term classes and the ceremonies and the graduations and the tearful goodbyes and the entrance exams and the university results and the enkai and all of that.  But in the midst of that craziness, I had what I would consider to be a very "Japanese" week.

First, it started with a matinee Kabuki showing at the Hakata-za Theater in Fukuoka City.  It's a major professional house in the heart of the city, in the lively Nakasu-Kawabata area.  I'd never been inside before, nor had I seen a Kabuki play, so I was suuuuuuper excited.

One of the flags out front.

Promo Posters, year by year.

Once I got inside the building and past the ticket-takers, I took several flights up to find a crazy array of specialty shops.  These ranged the gamut, from stores selling expensive, handmade bags, to stands selling Hakata nick-knacks.  Sweet-treat bakery kiosks next to lavish jewelry stores.  Kimono accessories across from a cramped row of bento-box vendors.  (The pictures below don't really do it justice, as those areas were so crowded that it was difficult to get a good shot, but I think you can get a sense.)  It was essentially 2 ~ 3 floors of shops like this.  Insane.

So, I did a little shopping, bought myself a cute folder and a kabuki-themed furoshiki, and then made my way up to the top-most balcony (my seat).  Outside of the main theater space, there was a schedule of the day's three plays.

Ta-daaaa!

As you can see, there's a rather long intermission between the first play and the second play.  I was shocked when, the moment the house lights came up and the applause died down, I heard a collective plastic crackle as everyone in the room opened up their bento and started eating their lunch.  Right there, in the seats.   As an American theater-goer / theater-maker, who's been personally flayed by stage managers in the past for having even a well-sealed bottle of soda in a rehearsal space, I was pretty flabbergasted to see all that food flying about.  Still, I joined in the collective feast, only in my less classy way; a tuna-mayo onigiri from Family Mart and some cheddar almond crackers.  What can I say?  I'm claaaassy.

Anyway.  Here are two shots of the interior.  It's really a lovely space, and I adore the long, traditional walkway along the left side.  It made for some incredible, dramatic entrances.

For now, I'll skip the story about the sweet but semi-crazy man who sat next to me, bought me crackers, but then told me "I was being impolite" (in Japanese) when I tried to share with him, kept asking me, "Where is your husband?" (in Japanese) over and over, kept apologizing to me that his country doesn't have enough English (in Japanese) for someone like me, and then offered to walk me home (in Japanese) because I probably couldn't understand any Japanese and I was all alone in a big city.  Right.

But, overall, the shows were great.  Beautiful and whimsical, stark and surprisingly funny, bittersweet and full of longing, rich with texture and subtlety.  And, really, c'mon.  Only in Kabuki can you have a scene with a dozen on-stage decapitations that's hilarious.

So.  Fast forward a few days.  I went to a lovely onsen on the Hakata wharf with a couple friends.  It was delightful and relaxing and no, I don't have a single photo.  It's an onsen.  Everyone's naked.  Of course I didn't take pictures.

Fast forward a few more days.  I bought a kimono.  (Pause) Yes, really.

That's me, in my school's tea ceremony room.  We had a practice fitting session the day before graduation (the day before I wore the outfit in earnest, you might say).  Isn't it puuuuurdy?  Here's the kimono and the undergarment kimono, hanging up.

Below, you can see me in the both kimono configurations.  First, you can see what I wore to the graduation ceremony.  There's a different obi (belt) and a hakama (ceremonial over-skirt) over the top.  It is *the* traditional look for graduations, some likening it to a graduation robe in American ceremonies.  I didn't buy this hakama, though I think it's beautiful.  Instead I rented it for one week.  The second photo is the outfit I wore to the evening work enkai.  It's a more traditional kimono look.

Ceremony outfit.

After-ceremony outfit.

Before you ask.... No, dear God no.  I did not put this on by myself.  I had help from an amazing, kimono-savvy teacher who basically did absolutely everything for me.  It's easy to think, seeing the perfectly draped, beautiful kimono above that it's a simple process.  But it's not.  Here are all the straps and strings and belts and loops that keep a kimono looking nice.

And here's a picture of the whole shebang.  With description.

From left to right:

1.) Kimono Under-dress-thing.

2.)  Kimono.

3.)  Obi.

4.)  White Tabi, those cute toe socks.

5.)  The towel that was wrapped around my waist, to make it fuller underneath the obi.

6.)  The whatever-it's-called stomach plate, making a smooth firm surface to tie the obi against.

7.)  Wrap 1 (pink), for securing some of the many kimono folds.

8.)  Wrap 2 (blue), same thing but different place.

9.)  Clip 1 (dark pink), for keeping the kimono width correct and the front to back folds in the right place.

10.)  Clip 2 (light pink), same thing but different place.

11.)  Cloth bands, for securing the first waist fold of the kimono.

12.)  Decorative yellow sash.

13.)  Decorative orange and green rope.

Not shown, but worn:  My yoga pants, underwear, sports bra, sports tank (all of which I wore underneath), my white shawl (which I wore over the top, when outside), and my surprisingly comfortable and cute geta shoes.

Yeeeeeeah.  It's a lot of stuff.  A LOT.  But, the whole experience made for such a wonderful memory.  I felt beautiful and elegant, if a little out of place.  And my students absolutely ADORED it.  They were so SO so SO happy that I kept to my promise and wore a kimono for them.  I can't tell you how many pictures I took with squealing students.  It was great.  So, all in all, I think it was worth the stress and hassle and difficulty going up and down stairs.

That's it from me for this week!  Tune in next week for more of the Rowland-Weinstein, cross-Pacific adventures!  As always, thanks for reading and don't forget to feed the fish!

WR

Minnesnowta

Long time no type my digital compatriots! DW here,  to fill you in on the happenings here in the still chilly northlands.  In the epicly long time since you last heard from me I have been alternately studying my ass off (still trying to remember what the acronym SLP stands for :/) and freezing my nards off.  After 7 weeks of that there is very little left of me sub navel.  Fortunately the University of Minnesota is on "Spring" break for the next week, and I thought I would pounce on the opportunity to say hello, and hopefully start the ball rolling on regular posts again.  

Have the university name catching the snow just seemed profoundly appropriate.

This is where I have been spending most of my time.

The view out the first floor of Shevlin Hall as I wait for a client
to brave the snow for a session.

My courseload is fairly light.  But I've started seeing clients within the internal clinic, and between that and my TA position I was keeping busy for the first month and a half.  Things got more hectic in the past few weeks as my own midterms, grading responsibilities, and a new (and fabulous) practicum opportunity all came my way at the same time.  Now I just have to make the most of the week reprieve to get my feet under me for the push to the end of the semester.

When I'm not in class or clinic, I'm generally at home . . . preparing to be in class or clinic.

Are you noticing a theme with the landscape?

In truth, the weather has finally started to take turn for the better.  Last I heard we had lost about 16 inches of our snow cover . . . I even saw grass one place . . . in a hole someone dug in the snow.  And despite the temperatures and the hassles with parking, it has made for some beautiful views.

The cathedral in St. Paul, just down the street from my gym.

Makes for a pretty picture, just be glad you couldn't feel the wind-chill.

Otherwise things have fallen back into the place they were in last spring.  WR and I convene through the glories of the interwebs and I have small furry companions to harass me in real time.

I've even found the necessary items at local stores to have a little taste of Japan at my beck and call.

チキンカツカレー

おこのみやき！

That's pretty much all I have for the time being.  I'll probably have more news for you next time we talk, and who knows, maybe it won't be 8 weeks from now ;). 

For now, thanks for reading and don't forget to feed the fish!

DW

Yanagawa.

Greetings, readers!

It's WR again.  I know, I know.  You're probably getting sick of me and my Japan stories, but DW is really busy at the moment, so I thought I'd pull voluntary blog duty and earn some Wife Points.  (If you get 100 WP, you get a free meal at the Brazilian Steakhouse of your choice!  True story!*)

*denotes hyperbole.

Today was a national holiday, 建国記念の日or "National Foundation Day."  It celebrates the foundation of Japan as a nation, and the ascension of the first Emperor, Emperor Jimmu.  (He's a handsome devil, with that 'stache and all.  Read about him here.)  So, thanks to ole' Jimmy boy*, I had the day off of work and decided to take a quick day trip down to Yanagawa.

*denotes cultural insensitivity.

Yanagawa is a small town in the southern part of Fukuoka prefecture.  (To see Yanagawa's tourist website, click here.)  It's not terribly far from where I live, only about 45 minutes away on the fastest express, but it feels like a different world.  Here it is, on a map of Fukuoka prefecture.  Yanagawa is the the city in dark green, fronting on the Ariake Sea.

Yanagawa is famous throughout Japan for its deep literary traditions, its savory unagi (cooked eel), and its miles and miles of beautiful, winding canals. Today, armed with my Nikon and blessed with beautiful (though flippin' cold) weather, I took the following pictures of Yanagawa.
 

The canal men, waiting for us to board.

The canals near the station.

Our "driver."  He had a lovely singing voice!

The driver, ducking as we pass under a bridge.

"Drive-thru coffee."  Yes, really.

A doll-shrine, on the canals.

Ducks!

I love this one.
You can see our boat in the safety mirror!

Some of the homes we passed on the tour
had beautiful docks.

On the ground, around Yanagawa old town.

A row of tea shops and coffee houses.

The traditional displays inside
the "River Flows" tea shop.

Close up.  Cute mouse.

My darling Darjeeling.

Beautiful skies.

A famous house, the importance of which
I can't remember.

"Welcome to Yanagawa!"

As you can see, Yanagawa is a gorgeous place and the canal tour was fantastic, despite the occasional blast of frigid winds.  And while I definitely didn't understand the lion's share of what our driver said, I consider it a huge personal victory that I caught the all-too-important phrases, "Remember, this boat ride is one way," and "Take your time exploring Yanagawa," and "Don't walk back to the train station," and, "Take our free shuttle," and, "The walk back to the station from here takes 1 hour and 45 minutes," and "No, seriously, take our shuttle," and "It comes every 30 minutes, right over there."  Aha, got it.  I'm glad he told us that, too, because it'd been my plan* to walk back to the station.  The shuttle was much more convenient and saved me a ton of time and energy.

*original plan based solely on laziness of research.

All in all, though, it was a lovely little day trip.  I could've seen more, I'm sure.  But I enjoyed what I saw, and plan to drag DW back, when he comes to Japan for his next visit.

Thanks, as always, for reading!  Don't forget to feed those fish!
(And maybe even follow us or subscribe, while you're at it.*)
 
WR

*totes do it.

The Ishikawa Project.

WR here, writing to you from warm (comparatively speaking) ole' Japan.  I arrived back two weeks ago, almost exactly, and I've finally shaken the last remnants of jet-lag... just in time to fight the influenza everyone has.  The good news is, for the moment, I'm winning.  (Go-go-gadget-hand-sanitizer-and-vitamin-C-drinks.)

This week's anecdote follows the story of this guy.

Goemon Ishikawa.

Or, more precisely, this guy.

This photo was taken with my fancy new camera (Skweeee!  So cool!) by one of my favorite coworkers.  It's of her Goemon Ishikawa figurine, one of many ridiculously cute things on her desk.  If you can read Japanese, than you know her name.  But for everyone else, she is hereby anonymized in this blog post as: Tansei-sensei.

Tansei-sensei is a sweet, kind, quiet, surprisingly young art teacher, who's been nothing but incredibly welcoming and friendly to me, despite speaking very little English.  She's drawn doodles for me.  She's left sweets for me.  She laughs at my jokes, even when I butcher them (in either language).  She genuinely tears up with me, if I have bad news.  She's been my nearby-desk-mate for a year and a half.  And she, like many of my coworkers, has never left Japan.

We talk sometimes, about the places I'm going.  The places she could go, too.  She gets this almost-distant look, thinking of it, saying, "いいね~?"  But then she sighs, countering that she has no time, no passport, no extra money, no eager traveling companions, etc.  The usual, if reasonable, excuses.

So, recently, as I was packing to go back to America for the holidays, I thought, "I should do something special for her."  I'd gotten dozens of specific omiyage (souvenir) requests from my other friends, but all Tansei-sensei would say is, "You have fun!" or, "I'm looking forward to hearing stories upon your return!"

Then I had a thought.

Tansei-sensei is head of our school's photography club, and she loves taking and looking at pictures almost as much as she loves "Lupin the Third," the show from which Mr. Ishikawa comes from (if you watch that video, you can briefly see him in action).  So, I decided to do a photography project with my new camera, in Tansei-sensei's honor.  If she couldn't come with me to the ole' US of A, than Goemon Ishikawa would.

Here's what Tansei-sensei came to work to, three days later, after I'd left.

The note is taped to Goemon's former pedestal.  It reads,  "Maya-chan, I want to go to America.  I'll be back.  (Hearts)  ~ Ishikawa."

(Confession: This is her favorite figurine, so I told a mutual-friend-teacher to tell Tansei-sensei that I was taking him and that it was for something fun, and that she shouldn't worry... just in case she asked.  I'm not heartless, guys.  Sheesh.)

And so, "The Ishikawa Project" began.  Dan and I took hundreds and hundreds of pictures with Goemon, all throughout our cross-country trek across the United States.  When I returned to Japan, I printed the best (or at least, the most representative) at the ever-convenient Yodobashi Camera, and left the whole shebang on her desk, just like this:

She comes to work a few hours after me, so that's exactly what she found.  No note.  Just Goemon returned, and his photo-book.  Inside the album, were these:

I gotta be honest, I was pretty proud of the complete package.  It turned out so great!  It was fun for us to do, and she was so humbled and appreciative.  In fact, it took several times of me handing the album back to her for her to realize it was her's to keep.  The third time I slid it across her desk, Tansei-sensei's eyes went wide and she said, in simple Japanese, "私の...?　ほんと?” ("Mine?  Really?")  I smiled back and said, "お土産です．”　("It's your souvenir.")

So, the moral of this story?   Be kind.  Give gifts.  This entire thing cost me only about $20.00, but it's something we'll both remember for the rest of our lives.

As always, thanks for reading!  \(^_^)/  And don't forget to feed the fish!
WR