A Little Taste Of Japan
There's no misbegotten run-ins with females in this one- just my first good look at Japan.
I had a brief stopover in Japan in the summer of 1999. I was flying back to the U.S. from Taiwan, and as luck would have it, the cheapest fare went via Narita airport, which serves Tokyo. This little adventure influenced me in a positive way.
I Get-Off the Flight from Taipei
I wanted to get real cheap tickets, so I had to take flights at inconvenient times... Normally one can fly directly from Taiwan to the U.S., but on this occasion, the cheapest seats happened to have been via Japan. I arrived around 5 AM at Narita and I had about a 7-hour wait until I had to catch my connecting flight to Los Angeles. I remember reading that there was a big Buddhist temple in Narita city: Naritasan Shinshoji. It's also a place that a lot of foreigners see because it's so close to the airport. Well, I'd love to see something that doesn't have any foreigners, but I really don't have any time to go anywhere else. I grab a pamphlet at the airport, sure enough I had enough time to catch a bus there for a quick look.
Buddhism is a simply awesome religion; it rocks. If I ever turned religious, I'd choose Buddhism hands-down.
I took a little bit of Japanese in college, and it'll be fun if I so much as try to use it. I put my carry-ons in a locker and I go through customs without incident. I step outside the airport; it's pissing-down rain like a sonofagun. It's about 6 AM.
I go-up to an attendant. He's wearing some kind of short-sleeved, blue airport uniform. I ask him: 'Ano, sumimasen. Naritasan shinshoji wa doko desuka?" (Um, excuse me. Where is Naritasan Shinshoji?) Note: all translations are as approximate as my own limited Japanese ability allows.
"Naritasan!" He studies me and squints. He pointed me in the direction of the buses with an outstretched hand. "Num-bah seben-teen!" He says, looking slightly unsure of his pronunciation. Lightning flashes.
"Seventeen, desune? Domo!" (Seventeen, right? Thanx!) I say. I dodge between the raindrops in the direction of the buses and hop-on number seventeen. I plunk some Yen into the meter, grab a map and look-up Naritasan Shinshoji... Yup, it seems that the bus goes by the right neighborhood.
The bus rolls-out of the airport, and into Narita city. It is early morning, and the streets are relatively clear of traffic. We're driving on the left side of the road, and this'll take a little bit of getting used to.
Good lord. I can barely make-out any of these signs
I can recognize the Chinese meanings of the characters, but on Japanese signs, they're taken totally out of context and largely make little sense. The Japanese characters for 'company', for instance, mean 'society' in Chinese. My six years of studying Chinese are nearly useless here; and I've forgotten much of the two semesters of Japanese I took in college. Bah, I hope I'm not getting lost; I have to get back to the airport in a few hours.
The bus stops in what looks like a small terminal. There is an elevated train line off to one side, and there's a loop of asphalt for the buses to turn-round in. The loop is hemmed-in by a variety of low-rise office buildings on all sides. There are flapping banners hanging-off many of the stores and I can't comprehend a single bit of them except for the characters for 'store' or 'bank' or such. I hop-off the bus and check the pamphlet I have on the temple.
There should be a street off to the side... I re-orient the map... ah, there we are. There was a twisting, curving two-lane street down a block. The rain hasn't decreased in intensity one iota; my hair is sopping wet. I walk-down the street and check a nearby clock. 6:45 AM. None of the shops appeared to be opened yet; they were all shuttered.
The rain starts pelting my head in cold, heavy drops; big ol' fat-rain. I need to do something to keep dry. There seems to be a trash-can on one side of the street that is sheltered by an awning; and there's a dry, folded newspaper on top. I grab it, and hold it over my head. Sheesh, hope no one saw me. That would be embarrassing, me rummaging around in a garbage bin.
The road slopes downhill, and I dash from storefront awning to storefront awning. There's a little rivulet of water flowing down the street along the gutter. Hmm... shouldn't I be there by now? Up ahead, I see a suited fellow with a briefcase who was in the process of unlocking a door leading into a bank. I come-up, holding my soggy newspaper over my head.
"Ano, sumimasen. Naritasan shinshoji wa doko desuka?" (Um, excuse me. Where is Naritasan Shinshoji?)
He replies with a stream of rapid-fire Japanese that I don't understand, but I can see he is indicating down the street. Indeed, I am going in the right direction. I thank him curtly and continue on my way. I'm sure I must've looked amusing.
Ten Minutes of Foot-Slogging Later
I get-down to what looks like the temple gate on the left side of the road. Hmm.... yup, the characters appeared to say Naritasan, and the gates were quite closed. There appeared to be a two-story tea-house immediately on the right side of the street.
I stepped-in to the tea-shop; I shook the water from my hair; there was a girl behind the counter in an apron. She appeared to be setting-up for the day; she looked to be about eighteen and had her back turned to the entrance. I don't think they'd officially opened the tea-room yet.
She saw me, bowed with a quick "Irasshaimase!" (Welcome to the shop!) I bowed back.
"Ohayogozaimasu!" (Top o' the mornin' to ye!) And, I asked, "Ano, donogurai Naritasan Shinshoji wa akimasuka?" (Okay, I KNOW I said this all wrong, but it was perhaps something along the lines of: 'Um, as for Naritasan Shinshoji, how much time opening?') I made a universally-understood 'opening' gesticulation with my hands.
She pointed at her watch and held-up five fingers. Okay, five minutes. I stood in the doorway, looking mournfully out at the rain.
After a few minutes, I felt a tap at my sleeve. I turned-around, and the salesgirl appeared to be handing me an umbrella, she said something that I didn't understand but was gesturing for me to take it. I was very pleasantly surprised.
"Oh, domo. Domo arigato!" I thanked her, and the temple gates appeared to open. Wow, that was nice of her.
I walked in
I walked between the gates. There were carved stone lamps along either side of the walkway. The first building of the temple complex sat ahead. Very graceful.
I stepped-up closer to it. My God, that's nice. No, not nice, beautiful. I've been to Chinese-style temples in Taiwan before, but they weren't like this. Basic building types within a Chinese-style temple were symmetrical, unified by their common elements: patchy burgundy walls and saffron roof-tiles, bracketing, stone platforms and modular bays constructed of wooden posts and lintels. The entire color scheme was towards vivid contrast; Qing-dynasty paint-schemes are almost gaudy.
Those temples had character in their own right and were interesting to look-at, but this particular example of Japanese architecture was a different creature altogether. The temple lay-out was asymmetrical. The coloring was subdued; it was more monochromatic and subtle. The vertical structures weren't blocky-looking; the lines and curves of the roofs seemed to flow into each other smoothly. The eaves spread-out widely and gracefully, like wings. Less was definitely more in this case.
I know it sounds kind of funny, but I got a lump in my throat. People can be emotionally moved by poems or photographs or movies; but this was the first time I'd ever been emotionally moved by architecture. These buildings were very gorgeous. I walked-around the compound, gawking. Each building seemed nicer than the last.
The wooden columns seemed to be covered with a red lacquer; they looked like they were candy-coated. Some columns had a brown lacquer the color of milk-chocolate; they almost looked good enough to eat. There were bonze bas-reliefs along the size of one temple showing a bunch of monks walking-off down a long road; the bronze had been polished to a bright sheen.
This has to be the most beautiful cluster of religious buildings I've ever seen. And I've been to more than a few. It was positively breathtaking. The attached gardens are just as nice.
I walk for two hours in the rain, gawking.
I Head Back to the Tea Shop
I've looked at many things but still hadn't seen everything there was to see; there was an attached art museum that I wouldn't have had time to walk-through. But I still have this girl's umbrella. I head-in to the tea-house, sneakers dripping wet. I recognize the woman who gave me the umbrella. I walk-up and hand it back to her with both hands.
"Domo arigato." I say. That's pretty much the only thing I can say with any certainty. She shook her head.
"Dozo." She indicated that I keep it. Wha? No way, I can't keep this.
"Domo arigato gozaimasu." (Thank you very much.) I once again handed-back the umbrella, saying "De mo, kore wa watashi-no ja nai!" (But, this isn't mine!) And I bowed my head slightly, even though I said that sentence wrong, too. Am I doing anything right today?
She flashed a bright, toothy grin and took the umbrella back
"Ja, ja. Dooitashimashite!" (Okay, you're welcome!)...
I walk back to the bus-station, darting between the raindrops. Once I get there, I wait for the right bus to come by again. In the meantime, I buy a Coke from a vending machine. Maybe it's just me, but it tastes a little better than usual.
On the Plane, Three Hours Later
The 747 takes-off from Narita and swings-out over the rolling, grey Pacific. My eardrums clack as they adjust to the cabin pressure. What a great experience that was this morning. My sneakers are still sopping-wet and my hair looks like I combed it with an egg-beater, but what a great little bonus adventure that was. I could've spent the whole time waiting around the darned airport rather than getting a glimpse of such a gorgeous place.
I look-down as the plane passes-over a container ship heading on the long journey across the ocean.
Yessir, I promise myself, I've got to go back to Japan one day...
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"Women, at times, can get away with behavior that we wouldn't tolerate from men -- and many of us exploit the inequalities that are said to work against us." -- Tracy Quan, www.salon.com
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