TOKYO NOSTALGIA

It has been too long.

I have been back from Tokyo this summer, and only now is the nostalgia kicking in. Looking through photos of Japan and hearing from friends left behind, it dawned on me that I truly missed the land of the rising sun. Along with a new year come new resolutions. Hopefully 2015 will bring more articles to this blog, despite the Parisian busy-ness that has swallowed me up since September. I will try to kick time in the butt by getting inspired by Tokyo from afar and attempt to find Japan in Paris.

Till then, Happy New Year, yoi otoshi wo omukae kudasai, よいお年をお迎えください

ALL THE PRETTY DONBURI

墨絵 SUMI E, THE ARTISTIC YOGA THAT SAVES MY WEEKENDS

Sunday morning, 10:45AM. Yoyogi-Uehara. The rain has stopped. The atmosphere is still humid, and the roads are two shades of grey. On the street, all know this is only the intermission to the tsuyu performance, and umbrellas hang from people's arms.

There are few things, in my mind, that make not sleeping-in on a Sunday morning acceptable. My sumi-e rendez-vous is one of them. From the post title to here, most of you must have wondered what sumi-e is. Sumi-e (墨絵) is the art of ink wash painting, a type of East Asian traditional brush painting. It was first developed in China, and later expanded to Korea and Japan. Using various size brushes, likely made from natural materials, we paint using sumi (ink) on washi paper. The ink is "made" at the beginning of every lesson, from a stick of sumi, using water and a suzuri (inkstone).

Yes, I said "made". In sumi-e, it is more complicated than just sticking your brush in a ink bottle or rubbing it on an ink palette. "Making" the sumi is in fact one of the most important steps of the 3-hour lesson. Here is how it is done.

We also do way more than just bamboo. While it takes years of practice to master bamboo leaves, and everything else about sumi-e (as the sensei cleverly put it this weekend when he asked us how long it took him to paint a tea cup during a demonstration, "it took me 30 years"). Every week we learn a new technique with a new type of subject. Usually it's flowers/nature subjects, but these past two lessons have been about tea cups. It's a whole new interpretation of the place of objects in space and composition, that I have yet to master. Although sometimes, you think you're doing it wrong, and it's actually the right kind of wrong. Which is right. Since we vary according to seasons, some of the things I have done so far are sakura (cherry blossoms), ran (orchids), tsubaki (camellias), kiku (chrysanthemum), and tea cups more recently. Among other things of course. We also vary colors a lot (colors are not from sumi ink, but from pigmented ink). Sometimes the whole point is to make interesting color palettes in a composition, or to play on water quantity to create unique "gradation" patterns.

My sumi master is actually an Israeli that has been living in Japan for 31 years. He is a soba-lover and speaks Japanese like a Japanese. Every Sunday lesson is unique, not only because sumi is a very interesting discipline, but also because we chat and learn about cultural subtleties. I go there every other week, for 3 hours, and it's truly like an "artistic yoga", clearing of the mind type of moment. Sometimes I arrive tired, wishing I could have slept in and thinking about the long nap I am going to take after class, but as soon as I arrive, the tatami and sumi draw me into a new mode, and I gradually feel better. The tea break, with every time a different tea and a plate of various sweets, is always very appreciated, and by the end, I am always a little sad to put my sumi stick away in its tiny wooden box. While sometimes sumi-e can be extremely frustrating, the sensei is always so encouraging about the fact that it is not about the shape, or that a work is not done until you have added many components that can complete a unsatisfactory first brush stroke. Every stroke counts, and one too many can break the balance of your composition. It is a truly fascinating universe that I will be incredibly sad to fly away from.

For your information, I paint at Ilan Yanizky's studio, here is his website http://ilanyanizky.com/ if you want to see more! You can check out his work, it's truly beautiful.

OF TSUYU AND MONSOONS

I had to learn it the hard way : if there is one thing it is okay to steal in Japan, it's an umbrella. The rainy season started today, and with it, pouring rain and umbrellas everywhere, growing out of subways and buildings like mushrooms out of humid moss. Commonly referred to as tsuyu, it soaks Tokyo twice a year, and drowns all chances of a dry day. Rain in Japan is nothing like rain in Europe or anywhere I have lived. Imagine buckets of water being thrown on you repeatedly, all day long. The drops can come at anytime, startled you when you thought you were done for the week, or announce themselves the night before, drumming on the rooftops. For those of you who have never experienced a rainy season, ever, anywhere, I strongly advise you spend the rest of your life avoiding it. Come June, Tokyo gets swallowed in a humid, humid, humid and hot bubble, to the point that the Japanese have come up with the clever  蒸し暑い, mushiatsui expression - humid and hot. While I have shivered under cold rain in Normandy, Japan offers a different precipitation experience, creating interesting umbrella jams on the streets, and a delicate perspiration scent on the subway. People become sweaty animals, sweat salary men with their hentai manga, sweaty teenagers fooling around, soaked and slippery floods. Home becomes a sweet haven for dryness and cool. As it does for extremely cold weather, the idea of going out raises numerous problems : what shoes am I willing to ruin, bike, foot or subway, should I wear a poncho that will cover my whole body, what umbrella am I willing to part with in the event that someone-with-no-soul steals it.

As the rain falls and cover all with a glossy layer, as streams form in the most shapely sidewalk crack, I try to convince myself I will be able to find some poetry in this rainy season. I remember staring at the white-grey sky, counting the drops falling to my face as I wondered if all this could become wonderful, if caught in a photograph or if approached with an open-mind. Then I looked at the weather for the next days, and realized the sound of rain drumming against my window and roof, surrounding us all, would not stop tomorrow, nor the day after. We are, for a yet unknown period of time, bound to the falling rain.

On that note, I am highly considering buying sun jellies. I would have to get them imported, which begs the question of whether this tsuyu is worth it.

OF SHAMISEN, KIMONOS, AND ONE STEP FORWARD JAPANESE CULTURE ENLIGHTENMENT

The Tokyo skytree from afar

Konbanwa!
It is about time for some bunka talk. Bunka meaning culture, of course. It is beautifully written 文化 in that amazing language I would like to call my own one day (yes I mean Japanese).

Anyhow.

A few weeks ago, Waseda let us breathe for a week, during the oh-so-blessed Golden Week. It's technically more like almost-juxtaposed national holidays, but my oh-so-liberal (not sure one has to do with the other) host university, 早稲田大学 (Wasedadaigaku), treated us with an entire week of freedom. It was time to rest, and catch up on my cultural outings, which have become increasingly rare, in correlation of course with weekly workload, bad weather (rain in Spring, really?) and upcoming deadlines I could not escape. For my own good, I planned ahead: my friend Mika - an amazing girl may I add - told me about an organization through which she had already done one cultural event, specifically the visit of Ueno Park. She had loved it (and wrote a sweet article about it on her own blog) and wanted to attend the shamisen and kimono workshop. We signed up, and there we were, adding the event to our calendar.

D-day arrived and my friend Mika and I attended the small cultural event organized by PEACE, an association mainly ran by retired Japanese people eager to speak English and share their knowledge about Japan. On a very very sunny day, we met a middle-aged woman - Mrs Abe if I recall correctly - at Inaricho station, in Tokyo. She led us to a private house, where a line of old Japanese women were waiting for us in a small tatami room. They were adorable, curious eyed and smiles upon their faces.

One of the women stood in the corner, looking regal in her green kimono, introduced herself as the shamisen professor. She had a wise smile, welcoming us in her home, but you could tell she ran the place. Folded kimonos were set up on the floor. "They're for us", we thought, as we started to spot the one we'd rush to when the time came. I'm a sucker for blue fabrics, so I picked out a blue yukata, with red and yellow flowers. We also had to choose a opi (帯), more specifically tsuke obi with a separate bow, worn with an obijime. The obijime is a thin decorated sash, used to tighten the obi.

After first introductions, we picked a yukata or kimono, and suddenly felt like Disney princesses, being dressed by adorable women. Their gestures were quick and precise, tucking in any misplaced fabric. They laughed among themselves, especially since they were not all use to dressing someone in kimono, or had forgotten the right folds and knots. The fabric battle over, a bow was placed on our obi, straightening our backs. I must admit it felt very unnatural to have such a big bow on your back. Curling our back was not an option, and our new attire made us feel as though every move was to be delicate, every step light. It's harder to wear than a pair of jeans, and we wanted to appear as graceful as possible, to honor the women's kindness. So we took small steps on the tatami, and refrained from big gestures. We also snapped a few pictures, but Mrs. Abe (mother, not grandmother) insisted on taking photos of us

Mrs. Abe's host daughter, from Taiwan. Jealous of her kimono

My beautiful friend, Mika

The most important part of the morning came after. The shamisen professor (Mrs Abe) asked Mrs. Abe (her daughter, so the mother, so the woman who picked us up - are you still following this?) to gather us, and so we did. We were asked to sit on benches, behind music stands. Before the lesson started, the 3 Abe women (grandmother, mother - the lady who picked us up from the station - daughter). The daughter was the least eager person in the room, but played beautifully with her obaasan (grandma) and okaasan. They interpreted Japanese folk songs, such as "Sakura". The sensei (professor, a term widely used in Japan. Seriously, it's a must know) made us sing along:

sakura sakura

yayoi no sora wa

mi-watasu kagiri

kasumi ka kumo ka

nioi zo izuru

izaya izaya

mini yukan

Trust me if you sing this song anywhere on the street, someone will know what you are singing. It's quite pretty, see for yourself:

The score of sakura folk song

Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,

Across the spring sky,

As far as you can see.

Is it a mist, or clouds?

Fragrant in the air.

Come now, come now,

Let's look, at last!

If you find anything better than watching sakura (桜) bloom, do let me know.

 The sound of the shamisen is very unique and the first notes transport you directly to the country of the Rising Sun. It can be incredibly soothing, but the trio also interpreted a mambo rhythm in shamisen, which was a bit catchier. The instrument itself sort of looks like a 3-stringed banjo, but it is played with a big plectrum, called a bachi. I am not very musical of a person, but some people picked it up quickly. We had to play and sing along the shamisen professor instructions, which turned out surprisingly okay. But I'm sure it would take years of practice to master the musical subtlety of the shamisen.

Overall, the shamisen lesson was over too soon, but Mika, Helen (a friend who was coincidentally attending as well!) and I had a lot of fun playing kimono ladies and posing with our intriguing instruments. It was also great to interact with old people eager to give their time and share their knowledge about Japan. I'm always a fan of learning new things about mysterious Japan and falling a little more in love.

Oh and after this entertaining morning, we found unwanted thrown away flowers and brought them home. The last one died today, about 3 weeks later. This city is full of surprises (including the Tokyo skytree sight, see above)

TOKYO CHRONICLES / A PLACE FOR ART IN ROPPONGI

THE FUJI EXPEDITION

I realized I had never talked about our climb of Mount Fuji. In September, Mathilde, Victor, Ambroise, my father and I packed our backpacks and left for Mount Fuji at around 21PM, in order to arrive around midnight at the start of the Mt. Fuji climb. We pilled layers of clothes, and put some extra socks and extra warm layers in our backpacks, added some cereal calorie bars, mini oxygen bottles, headband lamps, gloves, water, and took the road. At the site, one bathroom break, a warm coffee from a vending machine, and off we went in the night. There are two ways to climb Mt. Fuji, and we chose the night climb, so as to admire the sunrise from the top. This meant we had to get to the summit before 5ish. As 5 light spots in the night, we walked, and walked, and climbed. At some point your legs do not want to carry you anymore, your lungs are tired from the lack of oxygen, you're thirsty, you're hungry, you need a break. We had energy bars and energy jelly (all Japanese outdoors stores sell them, and they have very interesting flavors, although new culinary experiences are the last thing you want to do while climbing Mount Fuji), and, while most rest stations were closed (because of the season), we took several breaks. It wasn't all stairs and fun, sometimes we had to have to use our hands to climb rocks. After about 5 hours of tremendous effort, our legs carried us to the summit. That moment when you realize you have reached the top is golden. We had just enough energy to take some photos, and congratulate ourselves for making it to the summit ... until we realized we had to hike down the mountain. All we wanted to do is roll down, but somehow we carried ourselves back to our car, and looked for an onsen that would rinse off that tiring night and soothe our exhausted muscles.

The tired bunch, 3250m

Go team LH

KANAMARI MATSURI, THE "PENIS FESTIVAL"

The Kanamari Matsuri was one of those festivals I had read about, but never thought I would attend. It is often referred to as penis festival, but more specifically it is a shinto (remember, there are two major religions in Japan, shinto and buddhist) celebration of fertility that occurs yearly on the first Sunday of April. At the center of this festival is the Kanayama temple, and a giant parade that celebrates three giant penises (one of wood, one of iron, and one pink, carried by men dressed as women), carried in mikoshi (divine palanquin, or portable shinto shrine) throughout the city streets.

I do love a good matsuri. There is always good food, a great celebratory atmosphere, dances, people, and so on, but this one was a short party. Not only did we get hit by bad weather (it seems as though bad weather is all I get when I decide to get out of the city), but I was disappointed by the execution in itself. It was actually a big gaikokujin fest, and lacked Japaneseness. I quickly put my camera back in my bag, as it started pouring. Despite the rain, and the beer-inhibited tourists, it was an interesting experience, and we got to bring back genitals lollipops!

Happy Victor

The star

GETAWAY : GREEN GREEN KAMAKURA

There comes a moment in your Tokyo routine when you need to take a step out of the city and embrace the green-ness around the capital. Away from the concrete and to Kamakura we went. Kamakura is a very popular destination, about one hour away from the city center. It is very well known for its giant buddha, Daibutsu, and for its zen temples. Just what Fiona and I needed to rinse off the city dust! While the weather was not as beautiful as we had hoped, we were lucky to be close to alone to visit the zen temples. The silence and beauty of the surrounding nature, and the spirituality of the temples, was definitely a relaxing experience.

Under an unpleasant gray sky, we started off our visit at Kita-Kamakura. You can also start your visit at Kamakura, and work your way to the many temples of the area. About 50m from the mini station of Kita-Kamakura, we entered the Engakuji zen temple. No one in sight but two or three couples. Had the sun peaked from behind the clouds, we would have dropped our bags and stayed there, under the leave roofs overlooking the temple. It was beautifully calm, a truly soothing experience. The tones of green around us were mesmerizing, and created a very Japanese zen atmosphere.

Ticket to Engakuji temple

Stairs to the temple

Zen Japanese beauty

More of Engaku-ji

Next, we headed towards Tôkei-ji and Jôchi-ji, on the other side of the train tracks. We adventured towards Genjiyama Park and followed the Daibutsu Hiking course, leading to the Kuzuharagao-ka sanctuary. We walked, and walked, and walked, on a jungle-y path, hurrying to arrive at the Daibutsu before sunset.

Up we go

In the jungle

We walked and walked and walked in a tree tunnel, and finally reached the road to the Daibutsu. We hurried to the temple and barely made it before closing time. I therefore advise everyone to arrive before closing time, 17:30PM, so as to not be kicked out by the Daibutsu guards.

For big buddha, keep walking

Big buddha and little buddha

As great as this getaway was, we were relieved to step on the JR back to Tokyo, as Kamakura became dark and colder. We were tired but happy, ready for our gyoza soup waiting at home.

Bye bye green

A PINK POST FOR SPRING

XMAS IN TOKYO TOWN

This Christmas, I spent the day working in Hollister, and enjoyed a nice dinner with two friends: home-making a Christmas meal was a real challenge on a student budget, but our French dinner was a real success.

My friends in front of a giant shiny tree in Ebisu

Paul adoring its accomplishment

One thing interesting to know about Christmas Eve dinners, contrary to the French culture I was brought up in, is that they are an occasion for couples to go out on dates (what they ‘translate’ as デート//deeto, a Japanese-ied version of the term “date”. What I like to call ‘katakana English’, katakana being the syllable alphabet reserved for foreign terms such as pen, t-shirt, computers, and on and on) (sorry the exclamation point is going to seem a little late here) ! While back home, Christmas is all about family getting together and sharing amazing food (until we can’t walk anymore), amazing wine, and quality family time, Japanese people view this holiday quite differently. And although Christmas has become a commercial holiday in Europe and the United States, it is far from the marketer’s dream it is in Japan. Lights, delicacies, mini creches, mini trees, seasonal songs in stores, people dressed as Santa, dogs dressed as Santa, from November 1st (the end of Halloween, of course) take over the entire city (and I haven’t seen Disney Land Tokyo but I’m sure it’s crazy out there as well). In the city of single-hood, couples rumble and take over restaurants (some restaurants only take reservations for COUPLES. Yes. Verified fact). Family time comes later, for New Years Eve, when, contrary to Western cultures, kids stay at home and go to the temple with their family, to celebrate the past and upcoming years. The city is already preparing itself for the New Years celebration, with front door traditional decorations showing up on streets, people hurrying to mail their New Year wishes that will only leave on time to arrive on the first day of 2014 (Japanese genius) and stores selling this strange rice dough ornament that is used as decoration.

Merry merry Christmas from Tokyo, with love.

Beautiful tree in Kamakura

Baby island

A place for art/Omotesando

TOKYO CHRONICLES: PIN NAP AND WHAT NOT

こんにちは, konnichiwa dear ebi(s) (shrimps),

I haven’t found much time to draw or post anything lately, and the absence of a scanner does not make things any easier. Plus, I have been very busy - moving, midterms, and the start of a new part time job have taken up a lot of my free time. This is a time of changes and I will soon draw and post about all these new adventures.

One interesting new experience came up completely out of the blue. When you are a gaijin (literally, outside person, outsider. The politically correct word for this is gaikokujin, and this term is already pretty self-explanatory - person from a foreign country) in Japan, it is fairly typical to get stared at or asked questions such as “where from” (Japanese people and English are very incompatible) or the more likely “America?” It is also common to be approached by advertising/modeling agencies. Being fairly short and a “common” looking gaijin, I was very surprised to be approached by Hollister/A&F scouts looking for staff for their new store. I knew nothing about the brand and to be honest did not really care for it (though the latest controversy about A&F’s “selecting” of its customers based on size and weight did make me roll my eyes), but I still went to the interview, for the heck of it, with a girl friend. Surprisingly enough, considering our fairly intermediate Japanese level, we got hired. I started work this Sunday and it’s a blast. I never would have expected liking working in retail, but hey, there is a start to everything. There is an interesting vibe in the store (which doesn’t open until December 19th), as it is a melting pot of Japanese newly hired staff, that know as much English that I know Chinese (more than limited) and American managers, expatriated to orchestrate the opening of a new store in Tokyo, and therefore unfamiliar with Japanese. And by unfamiliar I mean they don’t speak a word. Not one (oh one of them did say “sushi” at some point). And there I am in the middle of this cocktail. Instructions are given in English to Japanese natives, that of course understand a fourth of what is asked of them. You can imagine the hilarious situations this generates. Moreover, Hollister being an all-American brand, spirit in the store is of the essence, and we are asked to “rehearse” the tag line in view of the grand opening new week. Trust me, it takes a lot of energy and patience to get Japanese staff members to cheer and be spirited. Lastly, it’s the best possible experience to speak Japanese. As we are currently getting the store ready for the opening, there are numerous opportunities to chat and listen to conversations. Even if conversations are currently very limited, my French side + the fact that I speak a clumsy Japanese usually does the trick to win people over, and I’m having a lot of fun attempting to have constructive exchanges with my Hollister fellows.

Another less shiny detail of this job experience is commuting. I live in the center of Tokyo, and unfortunately the store is opening in Shin-Misato, way way way outside of the city. It takes me about one hour and a half to get to the mall, and allows me experience the joys of long train rides. That moment when buildings start lowering to 10, then 5, then 2 floors, giving the space to houses and factories and malls, and I finally see the horizon, always brings up mixed feelings. First, joy of seeing sky, sky, sky and only sky. But also, “what am I doing here”. Most of the time, I’ll also meet about 3-4 people during my trip that will stare at me, big-eyed, or talk about me (teehee, what they don’t know is, I understand), which usually gets on my nerves. I find it strange that this still happens in 2013, although nobody touches my hair and they probably are wondering what I am doing adventuring so far outside the touristic borders (outside the city center), and not at all on my way to Kamakura or Hakone (famous cool places to be a tourist around Tokyo). And alone ! But I find it all worth the long rides and stares: it’s all a great adventure!

Cute newly married couple strolling in Omotesando

Tradition and contradiction

On food: fish at ZAUO

Serenity

Yet another glorious element of Japan

Tea frenzy

On drinks: have a biiru ビール