To pick up where I left off, I went to the jam session in Namba on Friday. It was worth the 1000 yen, and although there were very few people there, they were all quite good. There were two guitarists, two drummers, a singer, a saxophonist, a bassist, and myself (although besides us, the only people in the place were the waiter, the cook/bartender, and a drunk at the bar who smelt of rice crackers). All of the musicians were great. They all swung like gates. I was/am still quite rusty, but I hung with them. The only rough spot of the night was the vocalist who, though actually being quite a good singer, sang so close to the mic she drowned out the entire band and was far and away too loud. I’ve never had my ears bleed whilst listening to ‘Come Rain or Come Shine’ before.
One of the drummers spoke English and we talked a bit before I headed back to Tennouji on foot (it was 2AM when I left the place, and the subways had ceased running some hours earlier). On the way I ran into four Russian guys heading uptown from what I presumed was a night of drinking down in Tennouji (drinking to say the least). We stood on the street and talked for a while. They all spoke English, and as it turns out, were members of the Russian State Symphony Orchestra on a tour of Japan. We talked about music for a while before parting ways. I got back and passed out a little after 3.
I overslept the next morning. I had meant to get up at 7 to catch the train to Nara, but woke up at 9:30. I made some quick phone calls to my hostel in Nara (to make sure it would be open when I got there), quickly packed and hopped on subway to Nipponbashi station. From there, I caught the Kintesu line going East over the mountains to Nara. The ride was short, the seats were comfy, the train was quiet, and the views were great. The train climbed into the mountains (giving me a good look back over Osaka) before going through a series of tunnels and emerging in Nara Prefecture on the other side, green and flat.
My hostel was kitty-corner to the train station. It was very small, and run/owned by a man named Koskue (I may have his name misspelled). There was a long common room with a decent kitchen and dining area, plus a shower and toilet. The dormitory was small, covered in tatami mats (very comfy) and equipped with eight bunks. As I was settling in, a French-Canadian couple showed up. I was never sure if they were married or not, although they both had rings and had been together since high school. Their names were Emile (I think that’s also misspelled, but it sounded a lot like ‘Emily’) and Fabien.
I didn’t have much time, though. I beat feet towards JR Nara to meet Miki, whom I had met at the Jazz Ya session early in the week (she’s a pianist, also). She’s from Nara, had offered to meet me and show me around town, and had told me to meet her at the bus terminal at JR Nara station at noon. Finding this place was crucial, as I do not have a cell phone. When I arrived, I discovered the station has not one, but two bus terminals, located on opposite sides of the station. I spent the next 30 minutes walking back and forth between the two. After a while, she appeared at the East terminal, and we headed into town for lunch.
I did not know where she planned to take me. We had lunch, discussed language and music, then walked to Nara Park. Silka deer, once believed to be sacred, roam freely in the park. People feed them (you can buy this biscuits, though I abstained), brake for them, and generally treat them with respect. They’re strange deer. Their faces are more canine-looking than the deer I’ve seen back home. Still, they’re quite tame, as one would expect, although signs warn people they occasionally bite, kick, butt, or knock-over people.
Later on, one of the damn things tried to eat my map. I found myself in a tug-of-war with an angry Japanese deer. I won, of course, but what I won was a badly crumpled map covered in deer saliva and teeth marks (not exactly a grand prize).
After a while, we reached the outside of Todaiji temple, the one of the largest wooden structures in the world. The temple complex is quite extensive, as well (and used to be larger, with two seven-story pagodas flanking the main hall which were lost in a fire). Inside the first gate stand two guardians, each maybe 6 or 7 meters tall, and carved completely of wood. The real sight, though, was the 50-foot metal statue of the Buddah in the main temple hall, which is surrounded by several more guardians (made of metal and wood). The hall is massive. It’s not like a cathedral, but the fact that’s very open to the air and made of wood made it unlike anywhere I’d ever been.
Miki speaks English, and she did her best to explain everything to me. She did a good job, though like me, she’s not up her spiritual/religious knowledge. That wasn’t what really interested me anyway. I’m fascinated far more by the tangible. In other words, the temple itself, the guardian statues, the artwork and the craftsmanship, and history behind all of that are what truly amaze me. I was awed, much as I was upon entering my first cathedral in Europe (Eglise St. Eustuche in Paris, by the way), but by the wonder of the structure and the creativity and work that went into making it, and not because of something higher. If I was a man of some faith as well, I probably couldn’t have handled it.
Like the castle, the zoo, and aquarium, there were hoards of screaming children. There just seems to be an endless supply of them. A few (older than the rest) interviewed me for what must have been an English class, and Miki and I took a picture with them. Miki would occasionally inform me she heard chatter amongst the crowds (young and old) about me. She never said what exactly they were saying, but just that the sight of a guijin (non-Japanese person) was a slightly unusual thing at some of these places.
We walked up a the hill a ways to a small temple and looked out over the city as the sun went down, then headed back through the city to get some food (passing by another temple, a pagoda, and a small lake populated by turtles). She took me the kind of place I’d been dying to visit but was too trepidatious to enter due to the language barrier. We feasted on okonomiyaki and beer and discussed music some more before parting ways for the night. I headed back to hostel and spent several hours sitting on the tatami mats in the dorm chatting it up with the two French-Canadians.
The next day I took the train to nearby Oji and met Miki once more. After lunch, we hopped a bus (my first Japanese bus trip) to Horyuji. The temple complex there is one of the oldest wooden structures in world (built in 7th century, then rebuilt in 9th). It was raining, and there were yet again scores of school kids who once more practiced their English on me. Inside the main temple hall, a man gave me (via Miki as interpreter) a history of the temple, the surrounding area, and the arrival of Buddhism in Japan. Although enlightening and fascinating, I started to feel bad for Miki. Her English is very good, but admittedly not quite up to the task of translating lofty philosophical/religious concepts (to be fair, my Japanese is barely up to the task of asking where the bathroom is). She did an amazing job, though, so much so that it shocked me that the man thanked only me when he left. Chauvinist pig.
After touring a small museum and having tea/sweets at a café, we took the bus back to Oji. She got off in front of her house (she lives there), and I took the bus back to the station. I got groceries at the nearby market (chicken and rice, and a Guinness for dessert) then took the train back to JR Nara. I ate dinner with Koskue back the hostel, then took a night stroll around Nara. It amazes me how safe and clean Japan is. After I got back, Koskue, the French-Canadians, and myself talked a bit over tea before going to sleep.
I awoke to rain. Hoping it would eventually stop, I took my umbrella and walked towards Nara Park. The deer were still out, and there were still kids running around Todaiji Temple. I veered South and headed into the park. The path was covered by a blanket of trees, so the rain was tolerable inside the park. I meandered for an hour or so down the muddy trails past stone lanterns, small shrines, and a temple before turning up a road that would take me to the summit of Mt. Wakakusa. It hadn’t let up at all, but I wasn’t going to let a little rain stop me.
The hike wasn’t that hard, only 4.5 km. Incline-wise it was a cakewalk, and the path was clearly defined (parts were even gravel-covered). Winding up through what’s known as the Primeval Forest (where the wood for all the temples had been collected so many years ago), the trail would occasionally dissolve into fog, as clouds would slowly drift down the mountainside through the forest. Although a clear day would have been better, I suspect not many people get to see what the woods look like in that weather. It’s quite beautiful. I also had the entire forest and mountain to myself (save for the crows and deer).
I reached the summit after a few hours. It too was devoid of people. The view was a mixed bag. On one hand, you could just barely see Nara City below, but on the other, the sight of the fog drifting down the mountain, through the trees, and out over the city was spectacular. The hills were rolling and green, like what I imagine the Scottish Highlands must look like. The rain beat down on me so hard my umbrella started to leak, and my backpack got soaked through. I had just about had enough of rain.
After wandering around over the summit for a while, I headed back down another (shorter) trail through the foothills and wound up back in the North end of Nara Park. I cut across the park and headed to a sushi place Fabien had told me about. Indeed, when I showed, he and his girlfriend were inside. We ate (oishii!), then parted ways. They headed back to the hostel, and I went for a beer down at a jazz bar at the extreme far end of that shopping arcade. I sat at the bar, listening to records for two hours. I was only going to have one beer and split, but then she started playing a Bud Powell solo record, and I sat down for brew no. 2.
After taking the subway back to hostel (I was sick of the rain), I settled down at the table for several hours of bs-ing with Fabien, Emile, and Koskue. The couple were gone the morning when I woke up. I had breakfast with Koskue and then caught the train back to Osaka. I had made reservations at Hotel Mikado once again. I know the area, and this time I got a Japanese style room, which was cheaper. It’s basically the same as the Western-style room I had been staying in before except it doesn’t have a bed and the floor is covered three tatami mats. There’s a sort of roll-out mattress I sleep on. It’s not ideal, but it’s certainly cost-effective, and I can deal with it for a few days. It’s best if I sleep on my back.
Once back in Osaka, I spent the day chatting with folks at the hostel. I am learning some Japanese, but only little bits at a time. Still, I feel somewhat comfortable with some basic phrases and questions. I headed to Jazz Ya for the session. Most of the players (save for a guitarist and the pianist from last week) weren’t that great, and frankly, I sounded like poop. A Canadian bassist named Thomas was there, though, I so I talked with him quite a bit. We went out for some grub later in Shinsekai. We had some Kushiage (deep-fried food on skewers dipped in sauce) and washed that down with beer. He lives quite near where I’m staying, actually, and so the place we ate was quite close to our respective pads.
Incidentally, five separate people have told me that Tennouji (more specially Nichinari-ku, which is where my hotel is) is not only dangerous, and not only the most dangerous area In Osaka, but the most dangerous area in all of Japan. If this is sketchy, I can’t imagine what the safest part of Japan is like. This place may be a little dirty and dingy, and possibly a little scary at night, but it’s still safer than 90% of the US. I’ve heard 15 years ago it was pretty bad, and that all these hotels (there are many in the area) were flop houses where you could get a room for 500 yen a night. You could also get your stuff stolen and possibly your ass kicked, but that was a while ago. The place is much better now, if a bit dirty.
I’m heading to another session in a few hours. Thomas told me of a free on in Fuse. Finally! I’m looking forward to not having to pay to play. Miki explained to me that, since jazz was foreign and therefore something special, it usually costs a lot. That plus the fact that the dollar sucks makes being a jazz enthusiast/musician in Japan quite the expensive hobby, but I’m willing to shell out the cash sometimes. At least there’s an audience here.
Soupy twist,
Edward
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