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