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Metropolis Japan
6 days ago
- General
- Metropolis Japan
Japanese Creation Myths Born from Water
Japan's oldest stories are told in water By Credit: WizData In the beginning, there was water. Not still water, but moving—swelling, spinning, restless. From the first ripple came form. From form, came gods. And from gods, came islands. Across the Japanese archipelago, stories of creation surface from sea and mist. But whose waters are we speaking of? Japan is often flattened into a single narrative. One language. One people. One myth. Yet its beginnings, like its islands, rose from many sources. Beneath the national story lie a myriad of tribal voices—from the Ainu in the north to the Ryukyuans in the south. Each carries its own vision of how land emerged from water. And though the details differ, the theme remains: life begins at the edge of the sea. The Mud-Stained Sea and the Heavenly Spear In the Kojiki, Japan's oldest written chronicle, the first scene is not fire or sky, but mud and water. A formless mixture, dense with potential, spins slowly in the void. Lighter parts rise. Heavier parts sink. From this cosmic sediment floats a single green shoot. It stretches skyward until it becomes a god. That god, in time, grows lonely. From its solitude come others. Finally, two remarkable ones: Izanagi and Izanami. Looking down upon the ocean's chaos, they wonder what lies beneath. Izanagi thrusts his spear into the water. When he pulls it out, drops of mud drip from its tip and harden into land. These are the first islands of Japan. Not sculpted, but shaken loose—accidental beauty born from curiosity. The two descend. They walk the islands in opposite directions, scattering seeds, calling forth trees. Later, they reunite and have children. Their daughter, the radiant and untouchable Amaterasu, becomes the sun, and their son, Tsukuyomi, becomes the moon. Their unruly son, Sosano-wo, is cast into the sea—his exile creating the first storms. Japan, then, is born not with thunder but with mud. A land stirred from water and tempered by wind. A place shaped by drifting gods and the droplets they leave behind. The Wagtail's Dance on Floating Earth Far to the north, in the cold cradle of the Ainu people, a different creation story is passed down—not written, but sung. In the beginning, only water and mud. No mountains. No trees. Only demons and gods in heavens far above and worlds far below. The first kamuy —the sacred gods of the Ainu religion—sends a bird to prepare the land. The water wagtail glides over the surface of the swampy sea, parting the water with the beat of its wings and stamping the muddy earth with its tiny feet. Earth rises—not all at once, but in soft patches. Islands drift into being. The Ainu call this floating earth moshiri —not conquered, not commanded, but coaxed into place. Land is not given, but earned with patience. Not shaped by spears, but by wings. Even today, the wagtail's flutter is remembered in rituals and place names. A bird with no tools, only time—and the gift of knowing how to move with water, not against it. Tides of the Divine in Ryukyu To the south, where the sea warms and coral rings the shores, the Ryukyu Islands speak of another beginning—one that crosses worlds. The Chuzan Seikan, the first official history of the Ryukyu Kingdom, tells of Nirai Kanai, a mythic land beyond the sea. A deity descends: Amamichu. Sent by the gods to build a nation, she lands first on Kudaka Island—a place still considered sacred. She brings stones to hold back the waves, plants trees, and bears five children—three sons and two daughters—who become kings, farmers and priestesses. Life here doesn't erupt. It arrives quietly, carried on tides. One story tells of a jar containing five grains washing ashore at Ishiki Beach. Amamichu scatters its seeds, and agriculture begins. Another recalls Amamichu molding land and raising shrines with her partner, Shirumichu. The world does not spring forth in one motion. It takes root, like salt crusting on rock, like the ocean courses sand, one wave at a time. In Ryukyuan cosmology, water is never just a setting—it's a corridor. A threshold between here and the divine. The gods live beyond the waves, in Nirai Kanai, and send their gifts by sea. Grains, wisdom, even rain itself. Even now, you'll find utaki —sacred groves near water—where islanders still whisper prayers toward the eastern sea, hoping for answers that wash in with the morning tide. Where Waters Divide and Join It's tempting to trace a straight line through Japan's history, to treat it as a single nation with a single past. But water teaches us otherwise. It divides. It connects. It carries fragments that do not always belong to the same shore. Beneath the dominant narrative of Yamato Japan lie many peoples: the Ainu of Hokkaido. The Ryukyuans of the Okinawa Islands. The Jomon, the Emishi, the Hayato—each with their own ways of living, believing and becoming. The stories they tell aren't just folklore. They are maps. They remind us that Japan was never just one origin, one god, one island. It was—and still is—a mosaic of myths. Of shared waters connecting different lands. Still, the Sea Moves From the spear that stirs the ocean, to the wagtail's quiet dance, to the waves that carry grain jars to Ryukyu shores—every story begins the same way: with water. Water that is never still. Water that erases and reveals. Water that listens before it speaks. Water that connects us all, far beyond Japan. These myths are not relics. They are tides. And even as they fade from textbooks, they continue to shape the way Japan sees nature, divinity and itself. You cannot bottle them. You can only trace their outlines in the stories we continue to tell. Stories where, before anything else—before the sun, before the gods—there was sea.
20-06-2025
- General
Japanese Jeans Turn Sixty: Visiting Okayama's Denim Capital, Kojima
The first denim jeans made in Japan appeared in April 1965, six decades ago. Today Kojima, Okayama, is a center of the denim culture in Japan. This region continues to attract domestic and international attention as a fashion cultural hub for the rule it continues to play with its technical prowess and innovation in the global jeans market. Cotton at the Industry Core The Kojima region in Kurashiki, in what is now Okayama Prefecture, is no fresh arrival to importance in Japanese history. It gets a mention in Kojiki, the oldest surviving Japanese-language text. While Kojima is now connected to the mainland, it used to be an island, as the –jima in its name suggests. Over time, land reclamation, combined with the accumulation of sand deposited by local rivers, transformed the area into a vast plain. Widespread land reclamation in the Edo period (1603–1868) made the soil of Kojima salty and unsuited for rice production. Farmers therefore cultivated cotton instead, which has better salt tolerance. Cotton produced here was woven into cloth for sails and socks, of which Kojima was the most important production center. From the Edo through the Meiji –periods, sailcloth produced in Kojima was used extensively on the kitamaebune sailing ships that plied the Sea of Japan, connecting Osaka and Hokkaidō. Basically nondyed canvas, sail fabric provided the foundation for Japan's first locally made jeans. History of Kojima and Domestic Denim Production 712 The place name Kojima appears in the Kojiki. Edo Era (1603–1868) Cotton cultivation and sail production takes off. Meiji (1868–1912) Kojima produces canopies and workwear. Early Postwar (1945–60) School uniforms dominate output. 1965 Kojima produces first Japanese-made jeans. 1980– Market becomes more competitive with influx of imported jeans. 1990s– 'Vintage' jeans gain popularity, focusing attention on high end of market. Compiled by the author. In the Meiji era many cotton mills opened around Kojima, producing tents, truck canopies, and workwear. After World War II, cotton school uniforms, of which Kojima was the greatest producer, came to dominate production. Hundreds of years of a thriving cotton industry also made Kojima the repository of significant expertise in sewing. Forced to Change Course However, this cotton powerhouse would soon be flung into crisis. In the latter half of the 1950s, Japanese manufacturers began producing a new fiber called 'Tetoron' (polyester). A revolutionary material claimed to be 'finer than silk and stronger than steel,' Tetoron proved to be a disruptive innovating force in the industry. As Tetoron school uniforms became all the rage, sales of their cotton counterparts plummeted. Major clothing label Maruo Hifuku (now 'Big John') was left with warehouses overflowing with unwanted cotton uniforms. Not knowing what to do, CEO Ozaki Kotarō turned to jeans (often called jīpan in Japanese, a linguistic borrowing from the G in GI, the American military members stationed in the country), which at the time were a major hit in Tokyo's Ameyoko shopping district. An imported American 1960s Union Special sewing machine, capable of sewing rolled seams. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) Ozaki procured a pair of US-made jeans and meticulously examined the fabric and stitching. With its years of sewing experience, Ozaki believed his company had what it took to produce the new garments. However, he had never seen denim before. Maruo Hifuku also lacked the metal rivets used to reinforce jean pockets or metal buttons and zips, not to mention thread suitable for sewing thick cotton fabric, or, for that matter, the right kind of sewing machines. Ultimately, it was only after importing most of these supplies from the United States that Maruo Hifuku was finally able to start making jeans in April 1965. The young women working in this 1970s jeans factory lived in company dormitories. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) Growing the Brand Ozaki was short in stature, even for a Japanese person, and his given name, Kotarō, could be rendered as 'Little John' in English. Feeling that this sounded like a brand for children, Ozaki's product development team eventually settled on 'Big John' instead for their brand name. The first Japanese jeans were manufactured in 1965 under the Big John brand. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) Over time, jeans came to enjoy broad support that transcended class, age, and gender. However, it was actually Ozaki's focus on gender differences that led to the creation of the women's jeans brand 'Betty Smith.' This was followed by the 'Bobson' line, which was established in 1969 as the little brother of the Big John brand. This positioning-based brand strategy, unusual in Japan at the time, proved highly successful. Betty Smith, Japan's first women's jeans brand, was launched in 1970. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) An advertisement for Betty Smith jeans from the 1970s. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) Interestingly, Big John advertised and marketed these brands as if they were from California. Beginning in the 1970s, Japan's textile industry became less competitive due to US-Japan trade friction, the increasingly strong yen, and the industrialization of developing nations, causing the Japanese market to be flooded with jeans imported from the United States and other markets. Now that they had been introduced to the real McCoy, Japanese consumers also became choosier. Kojima's jean manufacturers were forced to differentiate themselves from their competitors. Building on the Region's Original Strengths While Japanese clothing manufacturers initially sourced their raw materials from the United States, Kojima's makers began to explore ways to bring their production focus to a more local level, from materials to crafting methods, early on. As discussed above, the changing business environment also encouraged Kojima jeans manufacturers to innovate. What was traditionally called the Sanbi region (comprising the old domains of Bizen, Bitchū, and Bingo that span today's Okayama and Hiroshima prefectures), has for hundreds of years had a large indigo dyeing industry, and it was this experience that enabled a smooth transition to modern-day indigo dyeing. Hiroshima-based textile manufacturer Kaihara, one of the first to make indigo-dyed denim, is now an internationally renowned company with an over 50% share of the domestic market. According to the Japan Cotton and Staple Fiber Weavers' Association, which represents the cotton textiles industry, a total of 23.9 million square meters of denim were manufactured in the Sanbi region in 2023, representing almost 100% of Japanese made denim. Renowned jeans manufacturers from around the world love the product for its quality and uniqueness. Kuroki is a denim manufacturer based in Ihara, to the west of Kurashiki, that has partnerships with the world's largest luxury brand, LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton, and has received praise for its incorporation of traditional Japanese weaving techniques. Denim manufactured in the Sanbi region travels to Kojima to be made into high-quality jeans. This is because, as noted above, the region is home to a large workforce of skilled textile workers, as well as to the craftmanship and attention to detail that have been passed down from generation to generation. At the heart of Kojima-made jeans are pattern-cutting technologies that make jeans better fitting, and over 200 years of technological innovation in stitching thick cotton. Denim garments shrink slightly over time, a property that Kojima's jean manufacturers have successfully transformed into a comfortable fit through the application of expertise in patterns and stitching. Stitching techniques passed down through generations are the secret of Kojima-made jeans' comfortable fit. (Courtesy Betty Smith Jeans Museum) Kojima manufacturers have also continually tried to avoid falling into the trap of mimicking established overseas brands like Levi's, time and time again creating new value. Their washing techniques are a prime example. Wash processing makes jeans softer and more comfortable to wear. To date, textile manufacturers have developed a variety of wash processes, including stone washing, in which denim garments are put in a washing machine with pumice and abrasives; chemical washing, in which garments are treated with bleach and other additives; and bleaching, in which oxidants and reductants are added to fade the fabric. Another manufacturing technique that enables makers to add value is 'distressing,' in which fabric is sandblasted or otherwise intentionally damaged. As well as enabling Kojima-based manufacturers to differentiate themselves from overseas brands, these techniques have also led to the creation of new trends in jeans fashion. The world-leading refinement of these techniques is the reason that many overseas brands of jeans are produced in Kojima. A World Denim Leader Let us consider what needs to be done to enable the continued development of the Kojima jeans industry. It is possible to identify five main areas where work is needed. The merging of traditional craftsmanship with technological innovation The enhancement of branding Tie-ups between industry and tourism Environmental measures Reuse and recycling With regard to technological innovation, the distressing process is now being performed by lasers, as the merger of this new technology with traditional technologies opens up new markets. When it comes to boosting the 'made in Kojima' brand, we can learn a lot from the Swiss watch industry, which pulled off a successful revival in the 1980s through clever marketing. Harnessing tourist attractions like 'Jeans Street,' which is filled with jeans proprietors, and the Jeans Museum, which showcases the history of Kojima's jeans in a way that shares the appeal of the local jeans culture with a large audience, will win new fans. This unique sign greets visitors to Kojima Jeans Street. (Courtesy Kojima Chamber of Commerce and Industry) This manhole on Kojima Jeans Street features a characteristic logo and orange stitching. (Courtesy Kojima Chamber of Commerce and Industry) It goes without saying that ongoing efforts to manage the large quantities of water and chemicals consumed in the manufacturing process are essential, in addition to other environmental commitments. As textile waste increasingly becomes an issue internationally, initiatives for the reuse of unwanted jeans will become even more important. According to Ōshima Yasuhiro, former chair of the Kojima Chamber of Commerce and president of Betty Smith, 'In addition to being the home of Japanese-produced jeans, Kojima needs to retain its leading position as a manufacturer of the world's most global uniform.' In order to resolve these issues and make Ōshima's aspirations a reality, the fostering of workers who will carry on the craft, as well as engineers who will bring about future innovation, is a matter of urgency. The industry also needs a new entrepreneurial figure to carry on Ozaki Kotarō's legacy of plotting and executing a path for the future. The street remains a popular destination for visitors. (Courtesy Kojima Chamber of Commerce and Industry) References The author referred to the following works in preparing this article. Christensen, Clayton M., The Innovator's Dilemma: When New Technologies Cause Great Firms to Fail, Harvard Business School Press (1997). David, Paul A., 'Clio and the Economics of QWERTY,' in American Economic Review, Vol. 75 No. 2 (1985). Heldt, Gustav (trans.), The Kojiki: An Account of Ancient Matters, Columbia University Press (2014). Porter, Michael E., Competitive Strategy: Techniques for Analyzing Industries and Competitors, Free Press (1980). Porter, Michael E., The Competitive Advantage of Nations, Free Press (1990). Schumpeter, Joseph A., The Theory of Economic Development: An Inquiry into Profits, Capital, Credit, Interest, and the Business Cycle, Harvard University Press (1934). Sugiyama Shinsaku, Nihon jīnzu monogatari (The Story of Japanese Jeans), Kibito Publishing (2009). (Originally published in Japanese. Banner photo: A display of jeans welcomes visitors at the entrance to the Kojima Jeans Street. © Kojima Chamber of Commerce and Industry.)
10-06-2025
- General
Takenoko: Bamboo Shoots in Japanese Cuisine
Regarded as a quintessential spring ingredient, takenoko is the Japanese name given to the young shoots that sprout up from the underground stems of bamboo, literally meaning 'child of bamboo.' The shoots have a tough, hairy outer skin, which gradually falls off as they grow—once all that skin is gone, they become known as take (bamboo). The time it takes for this transformation is roughly 10 days and it is only during this time that they are soft and edible. This is reflected in the kanji for takenoko 筍 with its crown of 竹 ( take , meaning bamboo) and 旬 ( jun ; 10-day period) underneath. (© Pixta) Bamboo shoots are a key ingredient in Japanese dishes like takenoko gohan (bamboo shoot rice), chikuzenni (simmered chicken and vegetables), and chinjao rōsu (Chinese pepper steak, the taste for which has been adjusted to become a Japanese home-cooked favorite). Pre-processed takenoko can be bought all year round, but the taste of fresh bamboo shoots is a real seasonal treat. Takenoko sashimi, in which newly dug bamboo shoots are thinly sliced and eaten raw, is the height of indulgence and something that can only be experienced right in the place it is grown. The more time that passes after takenoko has been dug up, the more astringent and bitter it becomes, so to enjoy the flavor at its best, the astringency needs to be removed the same day it is purchased. To do this, the outer two or three layers are peeled away and the toughest parts around the base and the tip cut off. After making a slit in the skin, the takenoko is placed in a pan with enough water to cover it, along with rice bran and chili, and then heated. It needs to be simmered from between thirty minutes to one hour, depending on the amount of bamboo shoots. The heat is then turned off and the takenoko left in the pot to cool. (© Pixta) (© Pixta) Once the astringency has been removed, the takenoko is peeled and stored in a container of water in the refrigerator. While it can be kept for around a week if the water is changed every day, the bamboo shoots soon begin to lose their flavor, so are best eaten as soon as possible. (© Pixta) There is a reference to takenoko in the eighth-century chronicle Kojiki . One of the myths tells of Izanagi being chased by fearful hags through the realm of the dead. When he throws down a bamboo comb he had been wearing in his hair, bamboo shoots grow up from it, and he is able to make his escape while the hags stop to devour them. Clearly, there has been a custom of eating takenoko in Japan since ancient times. However, the most common type of takenoko eaten these days are from mōsō bamboo, which was brought to Japan in the mid-Edo period (1603–1868), while the bamboo that appears in the myths is thought to be hachiku , or black bamboo. Takenoko in the Heart of Tokyo Shimazu Yoshitaka, the fourth daimyō of the Satsuma Domain (now Kagoshima Prefecture), is thought to have been the first to import mōsō bamboo from China via the Ryūkyū Islands (now Okinawa) around 1736, planting it at the family villa. It was brought to Edo (now Tokyo) in the late eighteenth century. Until the early twentieth century, bamboo groves grew all around Meguro in central Tokyo, with takenoko regarded as a locally sourced vegetable. One restaurant is said to have attracted visitors to the nearby temple Ryūsenji every spring with its special rice dish, takenoko gohan . (© Pixta) (Originally published in Japanese on May 25, 2025. Banner photo © Pixta.)
SoraNews24
09-05-2025
- SoraNews24
Here are five incredible places to add to your itinerary on a visit to Shimane's Izumo City
Not sure what to do in the area besides visiting one of Japan's most ancient shrines? Here are our recommendations to make the most of your visit. Along with Mie Prefecture's Ise Jingu, Shimane Prefecture's Izumo Taisha ('Izumo Grand Shrine') is one of the two most ancient and important Shinto shrines in all of Japan. No one knows exactly when it was originally constructed, but since it was referenced in the Kojiki ('Records of Ancient Matters'), Japan's earliest surviving written work compiled in the 8th century CE, it was likely built well before then. As a place of incredible significance in Japan's mythological origin story, it's one of the most popular shrines in all of Japan to visit. However, not everyone is familiar with other attractions in the city of Izumo to plan alongside their visit, so we'd like to offer up these five recommendations of places and things to do that made our trip as enjoyable as possible. Enjoy this itinerary in the land of the gods! 1. Inasa Beach We actually suggest beginning your visit not at Izumo Taisha, but instead at Inasa Beach, about a 20-minute walk away from the shrine's main entrance. Once you're there and see the stunning scenery in person, you'll understand why this land plays such an important role in so many Shinto myths. The rocky outcropping by the shore, known as Bentenjima, serves as a sort of entryway for the approximately eight million Shinto gods to descend upon the beach during the tenth month of the lunar calendar every year, when Shinto priests conduct rituals after sunset to then guide them safely to the nearby shrine. We recommend starting here because there's a unique custom of taking a small scoop of sand from Inasa Beach and then exchanging it with sand in a place next to Izumo Taisha, which we'll cover shortly. A local guide advised us to take fully dry sand and not wet sand found next to the water. Besides this custom, the beach is also a generally relaxing place to take a stroll while being accompanied by the gentle lapping of waves in the background. If you're someone who strives to always 'ground' yourself in the moment, there's no better place to do so than at this convergence of the mortal and spiritual worlds. ▼ Inasa Beach Inasa Beach / 稲佐の浜 Address: Izumo-shi, Taisha-cho, Kizuki-kita Inasa / 出雲市大社町杵築北稲佐 Website 2. Izumo Taisha Now it's time to move on to the 'gathering place of the gods' itself: Izumo Taisha. A short walk from Inasa Beach will take you to the main entrance of the shrine, which is dedicated to the Shinto god of marriage, good relationships, and connections (making it a popular destination for matchmaking). Indeed, it's in order to discuss the destinies of individual humans concerning these topics that the gods gather in Izumo for the weeklong stretch every year. On the topics of 'matchmaking' and 'good relationships,' many people might tend to think of romantic love when they hear those terms, but that's not the only kind of connection-building that's happening here. Walking from Inasa Beach to Izumo Taisha, more than anything, we sensed a deeper connection to the natural world, the gods, and the country itself than we had ever felt. As a result, we felt like we were able to reset our spirits and focus on the important things in life. After passing through the massive torii gate (please remember your shrine etiquette as you go), first cleanse your spirit at the purification shrine ('harae no yashiro') found shortly thereafter on the right-hand side and then your hands and mouth at the subsequent cleansing fountain before making your way to the innermost sacred space. One important thing to note is that the custom for praying at Izumo Taisha differs from that of most other Shinto shrines throughout Japan where you typically bow twice, clap twice, pray, and then bow once in front of an alter. Instead, at Izumo Taisha, you should bow twice, clap four times, pray, and then bow once. At one of the major festivals held annually at the shrine, you actually need to clap eight times–but for the rest of the year, half of that number will suffice. Once you've finished praying at the main hall, head off to the side to find a series of ancillary shrines. Locate the one directly behind the main hall called Soga Shrine ('Soga no Yashiro'). It's here where you should exchange the sand from Inasa Beach with the sand next to this shrine. This final sand that you take home with you can then be added to your garden or distributed to others for good fortune. On a side note, there's also a rock surface behind Soga Shrine that's in a very quiet location and is cool to the touch. In fact, if you put your hand on it, you may even feel some kind of mystical energy welling up. Izumo Taisha's shrine grounds are expansive, and you should take some time to explore everything to be found there. Many things you'll see are of a big scale, including Japan's largest shimenawa straw rope which functions as a protective barrier between the sacred and the mundane. It makes sense that this one needs to be large since a section of the grounds hosts such a massive meeting of all of the Shinto deities once per year. Finally, to end on a fun note, you should also look for the various rabbit statues decorating the shrine grounds that are connected to the important myth of 'The White Rabbit of Inaba.' The mismatch between the overall solemn atmosphere of the shrine and the whimsical statues is somehow endearing. ▼ Inasa Beach to Izumo Taisha Izumo Taisha / 出雲大社 Address: Shimane-ken, Izumo-shi, Taisha-cho, Kizuki-higashi 195 / 島根県出雲市大社町杵築東 195 Website 3. The Gift Izumo After walking around Izumo Taisha, you may be ready to take a small breather and grab something to eat. Luckily, a shop called The Gift Izumo–a short hop from the main entrance of the shrine–offers the chance to try making small, decorative shimenawa wreaths out of makomo wild rice plants (which are believed to house the gods). These function as talismans to purify your home and are also used in the rituals at Izumo Taisha. Making one of these decorations is a great activity for anyone who likes using their hands. Better yet, it requires no prior knowledge to participate. The instructions are thorough and you get a decent amount of leeway in deciding how big you want your wreath and the extending rope to be. The rope was pre-woven in the workshop that we signed up for (30 minutes at 2,000 yen [US$13.98]), so the focus was mainly on customizing its look–but the store also offers another longer workshop in which you can experience braiding the rope as well. By this point you'll have probably worked up an appetite, so you'll want to move on over to the on-site cafe with a menu that specializes in medicinal herbs native to the local region, Japanese and western herbs, as well as local seafood and mountain products. On this particular day, we enjoyed a salad topped with chicken and Izumo herb tea for lunch. Everything was delicious, healthy, and left us feeling very satisfied. We even ended up asking for extra hot water to brew more tea. All in all, it was a perfect place to relax after visiting the shrine. ▼ Izumo Taisha to The Gift Izumo The Gift Izumo / ザ・ギフト・イズモ Address: Shimane-ken, Izumo-shi, Taisha-cho, Kizuki-minami 861-1, 2nd floor / 島根県出雲市大社町杵築南 861-1 2F Website 4. Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo Getting to our next recommended destination will likely require a car or another form of public transportation as it's located in downtown Izumo, only a five-minute walk from the main Izumo-shi Station. However, it's well worth a visit to continue building on the theme of forging new connections. Also–we hope you saved room for dessert! Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo ('Fermentation Culture Laboratory') is a unique cafe and rental space with a concept of 'enjoying fermentation (chemical changes) from person to person.' The space from the entrance of the building to the cafe area is decorated in a modern Japanese style, while the area farther in the back transforms into a more traditional Japanese-style room from which you can view a lovely courtyard. We were shown into the Japanese-style room on the day of our visit, but we could hear the happy chattering of voices coming from all around us. It seems to be a place where both the locals and tourists can enjoy a brief respite. Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo's menu features small dishes including pastas and plenty of fermented foods such as sake lees (a by-product in the production of sake) cheesecake, amazake zenzai (read bean soup with fermented rice), and tea made from wild plants collected in Unnan, Shimane Prefecture. Everything we tried was delicious–especially the zenzai, with its gentle sweetness. We ended up buying two kinds of the wild plant tea as souvenirs. ▼ The Gift Izumo to Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo / 醗酵文化研究所 Address: Shimane-ken, Izumo-shi, Imaichi-cho 1374-1 / 島根県出雲市今市町 1374-1 Website 5. Asahi Shuzo Our final itinerary item, a whole one-minute walk away from Hakko Bunka Kenkyujo, is Sake brewery Asahi Shuzo, which dates back to 1869. The mineral-rich water used in the production process here comes from the Kitayama Mountains in the north of Izumo. Furthermore, the brewery's 'Yachi-hoko' brand of sake is used as a sacred drink in ritual offerings to the gods at Izumo Taisha. By drinking it yourself, you can feel more connected than ever with the deities. Tours of the facility may be reserved in advance, but we were happy simply visiting the brewery's store to check out all of the products on sale. Visitors can also sample six kinds of sake for a small fee from automated tasting machines. Of special note is a sake called 'Wan Nyan Project' (pictured in the bottom right below) from which proceeds are donated to Izumo's animal rescue groups. There's no better way to end the day than with a smooth drink and an opportunity to help some local furry friends. ▼ Hakko Bunka Kenkyusho to Asahi Shuzo Asahi Shuzo / 旭日酒造 Address: Shimane-ken, Izumo-shi, Imaichi-cho 662 / 島根県出雲市今市町 662 Website We hope you've enjoyed this sample itinerary from Japan's 'gathering place of the gods' that's full of nature, ancient history, hands-on activities, and fermented delights. It's easy to see why the Shinto deities continue to gather in Izumo year after year when it has so much to offer. Even so, we're still left with one major question: Which Starbucks do you think the gods prefer when visiting the most sacred of Shinto shrines? Is it the one near Izumo Taisha, or the one near Ise Jingu? We hope that they'll leave us some kind of sign to let us know. All images © SoraNews24 ● Want to hear about SoraNews24's latest articles as soon as they're published? Follow us on Facebook and Twitter! [ Read in Japanese ]
Japan Times
31-03-2025
- Entertainment
- Japan Times
Attempting the classics: The world of waka poetry
They are the words you're bound to hear at graduation ceremonies and sporting events: 君が代は、千代に八千代に、さざれ石の、巌となりて、苔のむすまで (Kimi ga yo wa, chiyo ni yachiyo ni, sazare ishi no, iwa to narite, koke no musu made). And though no official translation of the Japanese national anthem, '君が代' ('Kimigayo'), exists, a literal attempt might be 'O, may your reign go on, for a thousand years and thousands more years, until what now are pebbles, form great boulders, grown over with moss.' The anthem is one of the shortest in the world, and that is because its single verse constitutes a 和歌 (waka) poem. 和歌 are some of Japan's most enduring pieces of culture. To be able to read and understand them is to not only have access to incredible works of art but also to reach into the dawn of Japanese history and feel just as the artists and poets of yore once lived and loved. At first glance, analyzing 和歌 may seem like an intimidating task because of their use of 古文 (kobun, classical Japanese) — the language as it was spoken and written more than a thousand years ago. While a lot of words and kanji are mutually intelligible with modern Japanese, grammatical forms can differ drastically, making 古文 a challenge for even fluent speakers of the language. Fortunately, to be able to read and enjoy 和歌 isn't as difficult as mastering 文語 (bungo, written literary language). With a few hacks, it turns out that 和歌 can be for everyone. The origins of 和歌 stretch back to at least the seventh century. Nukata no Okimi, the wife of one of the emperors around this time, composed 和歌 at court ceremonies. Old poems included in the eighth-century 古事記 (Kojiki, Record of Ancient Matters) are also often credited as 和歌. These poems differentiate themselves from 漢詩 (kanshi), which are poems composed in the Chinese classical style by Japanese court poets, by using 大和言葉 (Yamato kotoba), which are words of Japanese origin. The power of China's Tang Dynasty (618-907) was waning as literary culture began to flourish in ancient Japan, leading poets here to turn inward to native styles of poetic expression. By the early Heian Period (794-1185), 和歌 had become the dominant form of poetry, playing a central role in court life, art and even politics. The ability to compose and recite 和歌 was more than an artistic talent — it was a gateway to knowledge and cultural refinement, first among the elite and later among the common people. What exactly is a 和歌? As a forerunner to the more widely known 俳句 (haiku, haiku) style of poetry, certain features may sound familiar: The syllabic rhythmic structure of 5-7-5-7-7 went on to be used in modern 短歌 (tanka) poems (a shortened 5-7-5 structure would come to define 俳句). The 31 syllables are centered around what scholar Earl Miner (1927-2004) described as an 'occasion' or 題 (dai): a real or fictional event that happened and occasioned the writing of poetry. Examples of such 題 include a court festival, the viewing of flowers or autumn leaves, or even a moonlit journey to the home of a lover. Consider one of the most famous 和歌, written by the legendary Sugawara no Michizane (845-903): 東風吹かば、にほひおこせよ、梅の花、主なしとて、春な忘れそ (Kochi fukaba, nioi okoseyo, ume no hana, aruji nashitote, haru na wasureso, When the east wind blows, send me your scent, plum blossoms. You may have lost your master, but do not forget the spring). This poem is tied to a specific 題 in that Michizane was banished from the imperial court of Kyoto to Dazaifu, Fukuoka Prefecture, forcing him to leave behind his beloved 梅の木 (ume no ki, plum tree). Legend tells it that after this heart-wrenching poem was written, the plum tree itself went flying all the way to Kyushu to join him. Readers must become accustomed to differences from current Japanese, such as the use of different kana — ほ (ho) and ひ (hi) instead of お (o) and い (i) — in the word におい (nioi, smell/scent), and 吹かば (fukaba, when [it] blows) instead of the modern conditional form, 吹けば (fukeba). Aiding the modern reader, however, are familiar kanji such as 東風 (kochi, east wind), 梅の花 (ume no hana, plum flowers) and 春 (haru, spring). Common subjects for 和歌 include the 四季 (shiki, four seasons), wishes for longevity and prosperity, romantic love and travels across Japan. 和歌 often include technical poetic devices, such as 掛け言葉 (kakekotoba, pivot words) that make use of homonyms in the language. By using a word that sounds like it could have multiple meanings — such as まつ, which can mean 'pine tree' (松) and 'to wait' (待つ), or ふる, which can mean 'to fall' (降る) and 'old' (古) — 掛け言葉 richly layer a poem with multiple meanings. As is the case with other publications of classical Japanese writings, modern books do everything they can to help readers plumb the depths of 和歌. This would include the 1996 Shogakukan edition of the '万葉集' ('Manyōshū'), the oldest-known anthology of Japanese poetry, which was compiled sometime after 749. Any first glance at a page in one of these sorts of collections may seem overwhelming. Take poem #496, written by poet Kakinomoto no Hitomaro: み熊野の、浦の浜木綿、百重なす、心は思へど、ただに逢はぬかも (Mikumano no, ura no hamayufu, momohe nasu, kokoro wa omohedo, tadani awanu kamo, Like faraway Kumano's, back-inlet lilies, in countless folds, my heart yearns, yet still we cannot meet). Between place names like み熊野 (Mikumano, Kumano), unfamiliar flowers like 浜木綿 (hamayūmen, crinum lily), and strange grammar like 思へど and なす, it's not the easiest poem to penetrate. But right above the poem, we get comprehensive 注釈 (chūshaku, annotations) giving us important information. They explain that み is an honorific and み熊野 refers to what is today 熊野 in Wakayama Prefecture; that 浜木綿 is a flower species related to the spider lily; that なす means のように (no yō ni, like... /as if...), and so on. Then below the original poem, we get a 現代語訳 (gendai goyaku, modern translation) into standard Japanese, laying out the meaning nice and clear. But even with a toolkit to grasp the surface-level meaning of the poem, there are more layers of the poem. Is the comparison of 'my heart' to the flower itself, or to the weaving of the 浦 (ura, inlets) of remote Kumano? うら, after all, is a 掛け言葉 that means both 'inlet/seashore' and 'back/underside.' And what is the symbolism of the 浜木綿? Still, all of these depths are easily accessible thanks to 注釈 and 現代語訳. There are also easy-to-read books like the '百人一首 解剖図鑑' ('Hyakunin isshu kaibō zukan,' 'Anatomical Field Guide to the 'Hyakunin Isshu''), which breaks down everything there is to know about one hundred of the most famous 和歌 with fun illustrations and charts. Next time the national anthem plays, you'll be just a little closer to the ancient spirit of Japan. やはり、和歌は誰でも楽しめるものだ (Yahari, waka wa dare demo tanoshimeru mono da, Waka is something everyone can enjoy after all).
