Treasure ships that brought goods, wealth, and culture

When I visited the port of Shukunegi on Sado Island a couple of years ago, I spent time at a disused elementary school that had been repurposed as a folk museum. I was fascinated by the relics that filled the old classrooms from floor to ceiling and the plentiful information about a lucrative trade route that flourished in the 18th and 19th centuries.

That trade had been quite a bit more than a difficult get-rich-quick enterprise. It changed history.

Kitamaebune Trade

From the mid-Edo Period until the 1880s, Kitamaebune ships were both conduits for trade and, as a consequence, widespread cultural interchange. These sturdy wooden vessels, with their distinctive square sails, were not just cargo vessels — they were floating trading houses.

The shipmasters would buy and sell goods at ports along their extensive voyages, which spanned from remote Hokkaido, along the coastal regions of western Honshu, and around Shimonoseki to the bustling city of Osaka. This trade route, as well as the ships themselves, became known as Kitamaebune.

“Kitamae” was the word used by people in Osaka and the Inland Sea area for the “Sea of Japan side” of Honshu. Thus, ships arriving from the Sea of Japan were referred to as Kitamaebune, or “Sea of Japan ships.” On the Japan Sea coast, they were generally known as Sengoku-bune, although some referred to them as “Bai-bune” or “Double ships,” reflecting the potential for shipowners to double their profits in a single journey.

Such profits were made possible because of the lack of rapid communication. Before the advent of telegraphs, savvy merchants realized that they could capitalize on regional price variations to earn substantial profits. By buying goods at lower prices in one area and selling them at higher prices in another, they took advantage of price differentials to maximize their earnings.

The origin of the Kitamae sea route can be traced to Maeda Toshitsune, the third lord of the Kaga Domain, now Ishikawa Prefecture. At that time, Osaka served as the economic center and a major trading hub, and each domain had a warehouse in the area. To transport rice from Maeda’s domain to Osaka, the Kaga clan had previously unloaded the cargo at the port of Tsuruga and transported it overland and via Lake Biwa to Otsu, Kyoto, and Osaka. However, this process was laborious and inefficient.

In the early 1600s, Toshitsune decided to ship 15,000 kilos of rice from the Sea of Japan southward around Shimonoseki through the Seto Inland Sea to Osaka. In 1672, this route became official when the Tokugawa shogun ordered Edo merchant Kawamura Zuiken to chart the Sea of Japan passage connecting Hokkaido and Osaka, and the Kitamaebune route was born.

The Ships

The early Kitamaebune were small, single-sail, oared vessels that could carry up to 75,000 kilos of cargo. Due to the limitations of their design and the challenging conditions of the sea, they could only complete one round trip between northern Japan and Osaka per year, from spring to autumn. In winter, when the sea was rough, the ship would be moored near the harbor and the sailors would return home on foot. With the arrival of spring, they would reunite at the harbor and prepare to set sail.

By the beginning of the 18th century, the first 24-meter-long Sengokubune were built. Sengokubune means “1,000 koku ships.” In traditional Japanese measurement, one koku equals 150 kilos. 150 kilos of rice was considered the amount needed to feed one man for a year. Taxes were calculated in terms of koku, samurai received their wages in koku, and the wealth of daimyo lords was measured by the number of koku of rice their domains produced. Thus, a Sengokubune, 1,000 koku ship, could carry an impressive 150 tons of cargo.

These new vessels boasted solid hulls, sharp bows designed to cut through the waves, and large, single-piece square sails. With these advancements, Sengokubune could complete the journey between Hokkaido and Osaka in just 12 to 13 days, marking a vast improvement in efficiency and transportation speed. Because they could sail without the need for oarsmen, these large robust vessels could be operated by a crew of just a dozen people.

Upon arrival at a port, the shipmasters had to provide a document detailing the purpose of their voyage, the number of crew members, and proof that no Christians were on board. This paper, along with inventory lists, receipts, and other essential documents were kept in specially designed waterproof chests that would float in the event of a shipwreck.

And shipwrecks were not uncommon. Before setting out, sailors would visit Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples to pray for safety. Pictures of ships offered as votive tablets, called ema, can still be seen in shrines and temples along the Kitamaebune route. These were offered both as prayers for safekeeping and as tokens of thanksgiving. In some cases, shipwreck survivors even cut off their hair and attached it to ema tablets in gratitude to the gods.

The Cargo

The Kitamae route encompassed over 100 ports along the Sea of Japan coast, primarily in the Hokuriku region. These served as home ports where shipowners resided, and from there, the ships sailed to Osaka. After loading necessities such as sugar and sake in Osaka, the ships started on their journeys to Hokkaido, stopping at ports along the way to stock up on items to sell. 

The shipmasters purchased specialty items from each area. In the ports along the Seto Sea, they bought salt from the numerous salt farms that dotted the coast. From Shimane, they bought iron. In Fukui, paper and knives. To ensure stability, granite slabs were used as ballast, and on top of that, the hulls were filled with an eclectic mix of goods including vinegar, tobacco, candles, pottery, cotton, textiles, indigo, dolls, and sweets. 

Upon reaching each port, the shipmasters would sell whatever goods they had in store that would make a handsome profit. Continuing their journeys further north along the Honshu coast, they would replenish their cargo. From the Hokuriku ports, they bought buckwheat, medicine, and especially rice and straw products to sell in Hokkaido where it was too cold for rice to grow.

From Hokkaido, the Kitamaebune mainly carried marine products to Osaka and ports along the way. This included valuable commodities like kombu kelp, herring, dried sardines, dried sea cucumber, salmon, and cod. The ships would set out in August, stopping at ports to sell and pick up more goods. Aside from their main cargo of rice, other items included sand iron, kozo mulberry stalks (the raw ingredient of Japanese paper), pots, agricultural equipment, salt, and copper Buddhist implements, incense burners, and vases — and safflower, a popular item in Kyoto where it was used to make lipstick and dye.

The abundant herring from the Hokkaido seas served for decades as a crucial source of fuel and fertilizer. The fish were processed to extract the oil and the remains were fermented. This nutrition-rich mash was used as fertilizer for the rapidly developing cotton industry in domains along the Seto Inland Sea. Its sales brought in five to ten times its purchase price.

The profits from a single Kitamaebune voyage could amount to 60-100 million yen in today’s currency (US $450,000-$706,000). Some shipowners amassed fleets of as many as 200 large and small ships, making some families billionaires. The Honma’s of Sakata, in present-day Yamagata Prefecture, were one such family who, through scrupulous trade, grew from lowly merchants to become the largest landowners in Japan. Their wealth surpassed that of feudal lords.

An expression of the day was, 本間さまには及びもないが、せめてなりたや殿様に, Honma-sama ni ha oyobi monai ga, semete naritaya tono-sama ni. “Becoming a Honma is too far out of reach, but let me become a lord, at least!” This phrase encapsulated the ambitions of the merchant class, whose dreams of financial success focused on the Kitamaebune trade.

The Sailors

The allure of working on these treasure ships attracted many young men, but the job had its difficulties. Sailors faced demanding work, braving the perils of shipwrecks and enduring six-hour shifts through the night. Their salaries were low, around ¥200,000 to ¥300,000 per year in today’s terms (US $1,500-2,000), yet people still clamored to work on these ships because the job also had its perks.

Shipwrights were allowed to load and sell private goods, keeping the profits for themselves. Other crew members received a bonus known as kiridashi, which amounted to 5 to 10% of the ship’s sales. It’s easy to imagine how this incentivized the crew to handle the cargo with great care. On a Kitamaebune carrying 15 tons of goods, a sailor’s bonus could reach a remarkable 10 million yen in today’s value (US $70,500). It’s no wonder that these jobs were popular.

A prerequisite for employment was that prospective crew members had to be from the same village as the shipowner, or else they had to provide a guarantor. Given the substantial profits at stake, having a trustworthy and capable crew was paramount. Hiring crew from the same region engendered trust, fostered camaraderie, and strengthened bonds.

Individuals could start their career on a Kitamaebune as an apprentice ship’s cook at the age of 14 or 15 and gradually progress to become a mariner. Although it took around 30 years to advance through the ranks, the hope was that eventually, a sailor could save enough money to buy his own ship and become a millionaire. 

Cultural Impacts

The far-reaching impact of the Kitamaebune trade cannot be understated. The numerous ports along the route served as centers of shipbuilding and trade, giving rise to unique local cultures and industries. As the ships traveled, they transported not only goods, but also ideas, customs, and knowledge, contributing to the exchange and spread of cultural influences.

One noteworthy area is pottery and ceramics. The Kitamaebune trade introduced distant pottery styles from Arita and Seto to ports along the Sea of Japan coast. This allowed the people in those regions to incorporate these styles into their evolving pottery tradition.

Food culture also experienced significant transformations through the Kitamaebune trade. The introduction of kombu kelp from Hokkaido led to a thriving industry of kombu-based products in the Kansai region, such as kombu-maki rolls and umami-rich dashi broth. The popularity of kombu dashi spread throughout the country, and today it is an essential ingredient in Japanese cuisine. 

The trade also facilitated the dissemination of wagashi, exquisite Japanese sweets that originated in Kyoto to accompany bitter green tea. These artistic confections added a touch of class and sophistication to the shops that served them in the northern regions.

A lesser-known Kyoto specialty called imobo, or “potato stick,” owes its origin to the Kitamaebune. This curious dish, which is not actually made from potatoes, was created using affordable dried cod from Hokkaido and a local variety of taro root. In an attempt to imitate the new, exotic, and expensive Satsuma sweet potatoes, the fish and taro were cooked together for days until they blended, resulting in a texture and look somewhat resembling boiled sweet potato sticks.

Architectural influences also spread through the Kitamaebune trade. Construction techniques that were prevalent in Kyoto were transmitted to the northwest coast of Honshu, leaving a lasting imprint on the region’s architectural landscape.

Construction materials, such as a valuable stone called shakudani-ishi, were carried on the Kitamaebune ships. This light blue volcanic tuff, mined in Fukui Prefecture, was highly sought after for crafting Buddhist statuary and building shrine foundations. Even the granite stones that served as ballast were repurposed for building bridges and roads. 

Music traveled with the sailors on the Kitamaebune, resulting in the transformation and adaptation of folk songs along the route. The Kyushu song “Haya-bushi” journeyed north and evolved into local folksongs still sung in Niigata and Aomori prefectures. Similarly, a popular song originating from Sakata port near Osaka made its way to Niigata, where the lyrics were adapted to depict the people and experiences associated with the Kitamaebune ships. This constant flow and transformation of cultural elements enriched the regional societies throughout Japan.

The port towns along the Kitamaebune route bustled with restaurants, inns, and teahouses catering to the boatmen. Diverse populations were drawn by the lure of the trade and the prosperity it brought, from geisha to master carpenters. Boatmen became known not only for their navigation and trade expertise but also for their refined appreciation of poetry and the arts. As they returned to their respective regions from the Osaka-Kyoto area, they brought back the vibrant culture they had experienced.

Fashion was another area influenced by the trading ships. During the Edo Period, cotton cultivation began in the Kansai area, but the northwestern coast of Honshu was too cold for it to grow. To acquire this coveted and versatile fabric, people in those regions purchased discarded cotton garments from Osaka, transported via the Kitamaebune ships. They recycled the cloth using a method called sakiori — tearing the cloth into strips and reweaving it with thread. This technique created a uniquely textured material. Sakiori eventually gave rise to sashiko, a renowned form of Japanese embroidery.

The Kitamaebune boatmen were easily recognizable. They wore garments of sakiori cotton, used a rope instead of an obi belt, and carried a portable brush and ink case attached to their belts. This clothing was not just practical, but it revealed their identity and role in trade.

The End of an Era

As the Meiji Period (1868-1912) unfolded, technological advancements such as railroads, steamships, and telegraph communication brought about the gradual decline of the Kitamaebune trade. The rapid dissemination of commodity prices throughout the country reduced the shipowners’ ability to capitalize on price variations, impacting their profits. The majestic Kitamaebune sailing vessels were soon replaced by more efficient steamships, and the era of these iconic ships gradually faded.

Furthermore, in 1885, a government regulation banned the construction of Japanese-style ships exceeding 500 koku. This dealt a severe blow to the shipbuilding industry along the Kitamaebune route, forcing many businesses to shut down. Some shipbuilders chose to emigrate to Hokkaido, a newly opened frontier, where they could utilize their skills in the development of the burgeoning territory.

The legacy of the Kitamaebune trade, however, endures in the economic and cultural aspects of the regions along its route. Its influence can be seen in the local traditions, culinary practices, and architectural styles that were shaped by this dynamic era of maritime commerce.

One can only imagine the anticipation felt by the locals eagerly watching the horizon for the white sails of these treasure ships. The arrival of each ship surely brought with it a wave of excitement and wonder, as the communities knew that within their hulls lay a wealth of goods from distant lands. The joy of being connected to worlds they could only dream of must have been an extraordinary experience for the people along the Kitamaebune route.

The post Kitamaebune— The Trade that Made Shrewd Shipowners into Millionaires first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Sado Island’s lesser-known treasure

Last month I had the opportunity to visit the fascinating island of Sado, off the coast of Niigata Prefecture in northern Honshu. It felt like a land that time forgot, so charmingly rustic and old-fashioned were its buildings.

Located in the Sea of Japan, Sado was once home to mines that flourished from the early 17th century until the last one closed in 1989. Together, these mines produced an astounding 78 tons of gold and 2,300 tons of silver. That’s a lot of precious metals!

Nevertheless, I was surprised to learn that during those same years, 30% of the island’s wealth was concentrated in the quiet port town of Shukunegi.

Naturally, I had to explore.

Shukunegi

Shukunegi is on the southeast coast of Sado Island, an easy drive from my inn on the southwest coast. During the Edo era (1603–1867), the port bustled with trade. Hundreds of Sengoku-bune, a type of Japanese wooden sailing ship, were either based there or stopped by on their way to and from the port of Sakata, in the north, to Osaka on the far side of Honshu. 

The name, Sengoku-bune, means “1,000 koku ships.” Koku is a Japanese measurement that had long been used for rice. One koku equals 150 kilos. Rather than in currency, taxes were paid in numbers of koku of rice. Samurai received a set number of koku as their yearly wages. And Daimyo lords were judged wealthy by the number of koku of rice their domains produced.

These impressive sailing ships, the Sengoku-bune “1,000 koku ships,” carried 150,000 kilos of rice from the great rice-producing areas of northeastern Japan down to Osaka, stopping at ports along the way. They returned with pottery, various other goods, and remarkably, stones to replace the weight of the rice and provide necessary ballast for the ships.

You can spot these stones around the town, used in roads, foundations for buildings, monuments, and the like. One bridge in Shukunegi is made from stones carried on one of the Sengoku-bune all the way from Onomichi City, in what is today Hiroshima Prefecture.

Shukunegi is situated on a small piece of land surrounded on three sides by hills. In the late Edo era, the town along with the surrounding countryside consisted of 120 households and 500 residents. There were peasants, shipowners, captains, sailors, shipbuilders and carpenters, blacksmiths, and bucket makers. As well, there was a continuous stream of men who came and went on the Sengoku-bune.

People still live there today.

To fit the population in, architects had to be creative, fitting the buildings into small and irregularly shaped patches of land between streams and roads. They also made good use of any leftover wood from shipbuilding and from old, dismantled ships.

Prosperity threatened

In December of 1802, a 6.5 to 7.0 magnitude earthquake occurred that nearly put an end to Shukunegi’s prosperous trade. The land and sea levels along the coast were raised by two meters. The Sengoku-bune could no longer harbor in the small port. The sea had become too shallow.

Thankfully, one resourceful man came up with a solution.

Tarai-bune

Miso making requires fermenting soybeans with saltwater and rice koji — yes, the same koji that is used in making sake — in huge barrels made from cedar and bamboo. 

The story is told that a miso maker was gazing at his big barrels and struck upon an idea. He cut one in half and found that it made a fine shallow-bottomed boat. It was big and stable enough to haul freight to and from the Sengoku-bune anchored offshore.

That innovative miso-maker had made the first han-giri, or “half-cut.” The idea caught on. People started building these boats and adapting them, making them smaller and then oval-shaped. They came to be called tarai-bune, “washbasin boats.” They are controlled by using one long oar.

Fishermen use tarai-bune even today from which they hook abalone and flatfish from the shallow seafloor. Their small size makes them easy to navigate through the narrow waterways and coves of the Sado coast.

After being ferried about in a tarai-bune and seeing a surprising number of baby fugu pufferfish in the crystal-clear water, I headed off to explore the town’s museum.

Ogi Folk Museum

In 1920, an elementary school was built in Shukunegi. Due to population decline, the school was converted into a museum in 1972. 

A faithful reproduction of a Sengoku-bune nearly fills its auditorium, surrounded by a collection of old coins, beautiful ceramics, lacquerware, old chests, and other relics.

Each classroom is dedicated to a different category of objects. They are filled nearly to overflowing, giving me the impression that many grandmothers must have donated the contents of their many storerooms.

I was captivated by this amazing treasure trove of ancient and curious items, from old ema tablets, saddles, toys, shoes…

…to pipes, pottery, masu measuring boxes, toilets, fishing tools, bamboo products, and more. According to the gentleman who works there, who, incidentally, graduated from that elementary school, the building houses more than 30,000 items.

Yet, of all the hundreds of pieces of pottery in the museum, not one was made on Sado. All of it was brought in through trade, including Jomon era (14,000–300 BC) pots from neighboring Niigata.

After nearly being overwhelmed by the huge variety and amount of items to look at, I asked the fellow at the museum about a collection of Buddhist Jizo statues I had heard about. He knew what I meant. 

Since there was no one else at the museum, he left and led me down a long staircase into the heart of Shukunegi Town to a small graveyard. He told me the Jizo were behind a collection of statues.

We gingerly climbed up over the ancient statues and, indeed, the Jizo were there, grown over by grass and weeds. I guess there just aren’t enough people to get everything done in that small town.

This kind man then suggested that I might like to visit a cave nearby. After walking together back to the museum, I thanked him and then followed his directions to a staircase that led up from a narrow road.

Iwaya Cave

What I found up that stone staircase was a large sea cave created hundreds of thousands of years ago. Iwaya Cave is 70 meters above sea level, the rise in elevation is thought to have been caused by the major uplifts in the earth’s crust that occur about every 1,000 years in this area.

In this cave, archeologists have discovered ceramics dating from the Jomon era (14,000–300 BC) clear through to recent years, carvings from the middle ages, coins, ironware, and more. It is still a remarkable place, although questionably looked after.

Buddhist images carved into the cave walls are attributed to Kōbō Daishi, who founded Shingon Buddhism in the early 9th century. 

In the far back of the cave, in pitch dark, is an image of the Eleven-Faced Kannon, goddess of mercy, who sailors prayed to for safekeeping. My camera flash allowed me to capture its image.

In front of the cave are 88 stone Buddhas, representing the 88 sites of the pilgrimage on Shikoku island, established by Kōbō Daishi.

There are small towns like Shukunegi all over Japan, filled with interesting stories and hidden treasures. Fortunately for the people of Shukunegi, their town was declared an “Important Preservation District for Historic Buildings” in 1991. It is one of 126 such areas scattered across Japan that are being preserved, and they are well worth searching out.

Although we tend to think of the past as remote and distant, much of it lives on in rural Japan — in towns like Shukunegi. 

The post Shukunegi, Japan — The Town Where People Fish from Barrels first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Walking Amid Michelin Green Guide Star-Winning Beauty

I recently had the privilege of climbing Mount Haguro in northeastern Japan. The forest walk has been given 3 stars by the Michelin Green Guide, and it did not disappoint. Please allow me to share my journey with you.

Background

Mount Haguro is one of three sacred mountains known as the Dewa Sanzan, 出羽三山, meaning the three mountains of Dewa — the old name for Yamagata and Akita Prefectures. Climbing these mountains has been considered a pilgrimage of spiritual rebirth for centuries.

Each mountain in the Dewa Sanzan represents an aspect of cosmic time that pilgrims face. Mount Gassan is where we ask forgiveness for past wrongs and encounter our ancestors. Mount Haguro is where we overcome the troubles of the present world. And Mount Yudono is where we confront our future selves.

A little history

In the 6th century, Prince Hachiko, the son of the 32nd emperor of Japan, left the capital in Nara. His father, Emperor Sushin, had been assassinated, and his cousin, the influential and powerful Shotoku Taishi, advised him that discretion was the better part of valor. Hachiko accepted this advice and, difficult though it must have been, quietly left the capital.

Legend tells us that Hachiko then traveled the country, healing those wherever he went by magically absorbing their sufferings. The more hardships he took upon himself, the more disfigured he became. Yet Prince Hachiko, without concern for his earthly appearance, kept on.

Eventually, he was led to Mount Haguro by a three-legged crow. 

In a quintessential mix of Buddhism and Shinto, Prince Hachiko set up a monastery to practice Buddhism and to worship the Shinto kami of the three mountains. There he remained, teaching and healing, until his death in 641.

From the time Buddhism reached Japan in the 6th century, there was a peaceful syncretism of Buddhism with Shinto. Buddhist gods were considered manifestations of Shinto kami, and many temples and shrines shared the same grounds — some buildings even served as both Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines.

In 1868, as a means of weakening the wealth and power of Buddhist sects and to bring greater respect to the authority of the newly installed Emperor Meiji, himself a Shinto god, the government ordered the division of Buddhism and Shintoism. Temples, statues, bells, and sutras were destroyed in a frenzy of attack by Shinto nationalists. Many Buddhist priests were forced to leave the priesthood; others chose to become Shinto priests.

From that time, Buddhist images were removed from Mount Haguro. 

Climbing Mount Haguro

After consulting bus and train schedules, I took an 8:22 train from Niigata City and reached the charming city of Tsuruoka, in Yamagata Prefecture, in plenty of time to catch the 10:41 bus. The next bus was 90 minutes later, so careful planning was essential.

I had a pleasant ride past beautiful countryside with the awesome snow-covered Mount Chokai to the north providing the backdrop. After about 40 minutes, the bus drove through an enormous torii gate, along a narrow road fronting Shukubo shrine lodgings, and arrived at the foot of Mount Haguro.

My lodging for the night was easy to find.

I rang the bell at the shrine where I was going to stay and dropped off my bag. The innkeeper, the Shinto priest’s wife, visibly relaxed when she realized that the foreigner staying with her that night could speak Japanese. I thanked her for keeping my suitcase, bid her goodbye, and headed to the hiking trail.

It was 11:30 and the weather was glorious.

I bowed and passed under the torii gate, symbolizing my entry into the sacred realm of Mount Haguro, a Shinto kami. Then I approached the next gate.

The vermillion Zuishinmon Gate was previously guarded by two Buddhist Nio warriors and had been called the Niomon Gate. These statues were moved to safety and hidden during the anti-Buddhist frenzy. Today, they can be viewed at the Shozen-in Temple, a 15-minute walk from their former home. 

This gate marks the beginning of the 2,446 stone steps that lead to the summit.

In 1648, the 50th chief priest of the Dewa Sanzan, Tenyu Betto, laid the thousands of stones that lead from the vermillion gate to the mountaintop Sanjin Gosaiden shrine. It took him 13 years. Along the way, he carved 33 different Buddhist symbols into the stones. If you can find them all, it is said your prayers will assuredly be answered.

I think I found a few.

The path first leads downhill to a group of simple wooden shrines.

Then it takes us across the red, arched Shinkyo Bridge that had marked the border across which no women could pass until the 19th-century changes. To the right is the 400-year-old, man-made Suga-no-Taki waterfall, also credited to Tenyu Betto.

Soon, I meet the 1,000-year-old cedar tree affectionately called Jiji-sugi, or “Grandfather Cedar.” This majestic tree stands near the 600-year-old Go-jū-no-toh, or Five-Story Pagoda. This amazing work of architecture was originally built by none other than Taira no Masakado in the 930s. You may remember Masakado as one of Japan’s Three Most Infamous Vengeful Ghosts. 

The Go-jū-no-toh was built without using any nails. It features a large earthquake-resistant pendulum in the center which allows the building to gently and loosely sway like a snake during tremors. Its design has inspired modern techniques for constructing earthquake-proof buildings and towers, such as the 634 meter Tokyo Sky Tree. 

The current pagoda dates from 1372 when it was rebuilt by Daihoji Masauji, the chief priest of Mount Haguro. It is all that remains of a temple complex that surrounded it until the 1870s when the buildings were destroyed. Fortunately for us, the Go-jū-no-toh was rechristened as a Shinto shrine before then.

As Yamagata is deep in Japan’s snow country, each winter workers climb up inside the pagoda to sweep off the snow that accumulates on the roofs. 

After taking time to admire these awe-inspiring sights, I head up the long staircase sided by hundreds of 400-year-old cryptomeria cedar trees.

Walking through this beautiful forest, filled with the fragrance of cedar trees and joyous birdsong, I cannot think of a nicer way to spend a day.

I pass many small wooden shrines, then come upon unusual trees wrapped in a shimenawa rope, signifying that they are sacred. 

Originally two trees, through the years they reached out to each other and are now collectively known as Meoto-sugi, “The Couple Tree.” A wooden sign nearby tells us that those who hug this tree will be blessed with children.

There are three slopes along this path, each marked by a stone monument, and I have reached the third. 

I pass a shrine dedicated to the kami, Haniya-Hime no Mikoto, who was created from the feces of the creator goddess, Izanami-no-Mikoto. (I’m not making this up.) Those looking for the divine blessing of lasting relationships come here to pray.

Soon, I reach the top of the mountain, welcomed by another torii gate.

Exploring the mountaintop

I’ve climbed the 2,445 stone steps that lead from the Zuishinmon Gate to the 414 meter-high summit of Mount Haguro. I bow and enter the grounds where all three deities of the Dewa Sanzan are enshrined.

The first thing that catches my eye is a magnificent wooden shrine, a marvel of craftsmanship. It is the Itsukushima Shrine dedicated to the three deities of Munakata (in Fukuoka), and was once shared with Benzaiten, their Buddhist equivalent. These deities are incarnations of the god of water and all that flows, and they are crucial to this island nation as providers of the bounties from the sea. 

Among myriad intricate carvings are two dragons, one adorning each front pillar. Unlike the Western concept of dragons, these are helpful and wingless creatures. One is climbing up the pillar, symbolizing our struggles to attain Buddhahood through the continuous cycle of birth, death, and rebirth.

The other dragon descends, signifying its intention to come to earth and help aid the salvation of all living things.

No one knows when this building was constructed.

I pass the shrine to Prince Hachiko, then go up a few steps to pay my respects at the Sanjin-Gosaiden Shrine. This striking cedar structure was built in 1818, and it has an impressive 2.1 meter thick thatched roof, the thickest in Japan.

The gods of each of the Dewa Sanzan — Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono — are enshrined within. This is the only mountaintop accessible all year round, so pilgrims can pay homage to all three deities here.

In front of the shrine is a pond called Kagami-ike, Mirror Pond. Although it beautifully reflects the shrine, this is not the source of its name.

In the early 20th century, the pond was drained. Over 600 ornate, bronze mirrors were recovered from its muddy bottom. Worshippers are thought to have used the mirrors as vehicles for their prayers and tossed them into the pond. Today, those mirrors have traveled as far as the British Museum and the Smithsonian Institute. Nearly 200 are on display in the nearby Dewa Sanzan Historical Museum, which, unfortunately, was closed when I visited.

Beside the pond is an ancient bell. As Shinto shrines do not usually have bells, this one is clearly a remnant of the days when Buddhism flourished in Dewa Sanzan.

The bronze bell weighs 10 tons, the 3rd largest in Japan. It was donated by the regent Hojo Tokimune as thanks for prayers offered for victory during the Mongol invasions of 1274 and 1281.

The thatched roof belfry was built in 1617, replacing the former structure that was destroyed during a typhoon.

This bell is rung only once a year, on December 31. Imagine the reverberations that echo across the mountains.

Among the other shrines on the mountaintop is Tōshō Shrine, dedicated to the deified first shogun of the Edo era, Tokugawa Ieyasu.

Another is the Reisaiden, a shrine built to house ancestral spirits. There is a spectacular painting of a dragon on the ceiling of its entranceway and a collection of Buddhist sculptural masterpieces in the building beside it. No photography is allowed.

Beside Reisaiden is a small cemetery with some unusual clothed gravestones.

Along the east side of the mountaintop, sits a row of small shrines. One of these stood out because of its collection of footwear. It is the Kensumimi Shrine, dedicated to Kamo-Taketsu-Numi no Mikoto, who, according to legend, is the kami who was incarnated as the three-legged crow.

People visit the shrine and offer footwear imbued with prayers for safe travels and healing and strength for their legs.

The climb down

After paying my respects at the modest imperial grave of Prince Hachiko, I head back to the torii gate to begin my descent.

Along the way is a sign tempting me to explore the Minami-Dani, which means southern valley. Despite the “Watch out for Bears” sign, I brave the unused trail. About 500 meters into the woods I come to a clearing that once held a temple where the great poet, Matsuo Basho, stayed while on his famous “Narrow Road to the Deep North” poetic journey in the 17th century.

There was not much left of the pond or the gazebo, but the walk is beautiful.

Back on the main path, I come across construction at a tea house. I peek into the grounds before one of the workers kindly tells me he would “appreciate me not entering.” I see enough to know that the rebuilt tea house will afford a fantastic view of the vast Shonai plains below.

Shukubo shrine stay

The innkeeper greets me at the door of the shrine lodging and shows me to my room. It is a huge 12 mat room, twice the size of a typical single room.

“Wow, this room is huge!” This is an unexpected surprise.

“You’re a foreigner, so I thought you would like a big room.”

I do!

She takes me down the hall to show me the shared bath and toilets, then back to show me the small room where my meals would be served. We agree on a 6:00 dinner, and she leaves me to wash up and relax.

Innkeepers in Japan prefer to serve dinner early, as the meals are rather elaborate, and they appreciate having plenty of time to clean up before they go to bed.

I bathe, put on the yukata robe the innkeeper provided, and before I know it, dinner is served.

It’s a feast of wild mountain vegetables and various types of tofu, including a house specialty, sesame tofu. This type of cuisine was developed in the Kamakura era by Zen monks and is called shojin-ryori.

Although Dewa Sanzan became Shinto in 1869, shojin-ryori continued to be served and adapted. Enjoying shojin-ryori is an important part of any visit to the Dewa Sanzan.

After a peaceful sleep in that quiet room between comfortable and warm futons, I wake up refreshed.

I again visit the Jiji-sugi “Grandfather Cedar” and the Go-jū-no-toh. I see many people cleaning, and learn that the mountain is cleaned one day each year.

I visit the two shrines between my inn and the Zuishinmon Gate. One is called the Tenchikon Shrine. This iteration was built in 1779 and is decorated with remarkable carvings.

The other shrine is dedicated to “The Tofu Jizō.”

With a name like that, it had to have an interesting backstory.

Before the late 19th century, this Jizō statue held pride of place on temple grounds, bringing prosperity to the worshippers on Mount Haguro and protecting pilgrims.

Sadly, when its temple compound was destroyed, this Jizō statue was cast into a ravine and forgotten.

Many years later, a mason was searching the forest for stone. He came upon the Jizō and mistook it for mere smooth stone. It seemed to him a perfect find to fashion into a stone used in making tofu. It was his lucky day — or so he thought.

The moment he struck the stone, he fell over unconscious. For three days and three nights he lay in a stupor, his mind filled with dreams.

In his dreams, Jizō appeared to him and warned him to repent of his disrespect.

When he awoke, repent, he did!

He moved the Jizō to its current position near the Zuishinmon Gate, built a shrine for him, and gave him the name “Tofu Jizō.” Today, people visit this Jizō to pray for long life, safe childbirth, and for help in raising children.

I go next door to the inn and partake of a wonderful shojin-ryori breakfast. I notice one of the dishes is a triangular chimaki, a type of rice dumpling wrapped and cooked in bamboo leaves and topped with soybean powder. It is a popular dish served on Children’s Day and one of my favorites.

After this delicious meal, I bid farewell to the kind innkeeper.

My time at Mount Haguro is up. I catch the 9:18 bus to Tsuruoka Town, satisfied after a perfect stay and looking forward to new adventures.

Mount Haguro embodies many of the reasons I write about rural Japan. Though off the beaten path, it truly is a treasure trove of culture and beauty for those who take the time to visit.

For what it’s like to stay at a Buddhist Temple, please see my article, “Shukubō — Tranquil Temple Stay in Japan.”

The post Mount Haguro—Experiencing its Rustic Magnificence first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The only double-helix wooden structure in the world

Nestled on a hillside overlooking the small city of Aizuwakamatsu in Fukushima Prefecture is an extraordinary shrine. Constructed in 1796, this architectural marvel bears the official name Entsu Sansōdō, 円通三匝堂, which translates to “the temple of three turns around.”

Above the entrance of this entirely wooden structure, an intricately carved dark wood lintel showcases two lighter-colored dragons entwined as protectors of this sacred space. But that remarkable sight pales in comparison to the building itself.

Sazaedō’s Unique architecture

Upon entering the building, visitors turn left and begin an uphill climb. The interior reveals a continuous ramp winding its way up, before passing over an arched bridge, and then descending back down. This unique double-helix design earned the shrine its popular name, Sazaedō. Sazae means spiral turban shell, and dō refers to temple or shrine.

The windows and eaves follow the incline of the ramps, tracing the spiraling path upwards and downwards. The sloping walkway maintains an unbroken course without any overlaps.

Remarkably, Sazaedō’s design did not come from the genius of an architect but rather from the ingenuity of the head priest of the nearby Shōsōji Temple, Ikudō, whose statue graces the entrance of the shrine. 

The exact source of his inspiration remains a mystery. Yet, it is believed that renewed access to Western books in 1720, thanks to Tokugawa Yoshimune lifting a long-standing ban, provided Ikudō with valuable scientific knowledge that likely influenced his design. Some speculate that he may have seen drawings of Leonardo da Vinci’s double-helix staircase at Château de Chambord in France, but there is no way to know.

One-stop pilgrimage

Sazaedō was built at a time when pilgrims undertook journeys across western Japan to visit 33 temples dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy. These pilgrimages required a significant investment in time and money. Nevertheless, people were driven by their piety to visit all the temples, offering prayers and purchasing protective amulets at each one. Sazaedō offered a revolutionary alternative.

Within its walls, all 33 Kannon statues were placed in alcoves along Sazaedō’s one-way spiral hallway, condensing the entire pilgrimage into one temple. This innovative idea made Sazaedō immensely popular, transforming it into a convenient one-stop pilgrimage destination. The success of this design inspired the construction of other spiral temples throughout Japan, although none rivaled the impressive three stories of Sazaedō.

Its official name, Entsu Sansōdō, not only alludes to its “three turns around” design but also refers to the Buddhist etiquette of walking three times clockwise around an image of the Buddha, a practice observed by all pilgrims who visit Sazaedō.

The building’s ceiling and interior walls are covered with thousands of paper stickers called senjafuda, which pilgrims used to affix to mark their visit to shrines and temples. These stickers typically display the person’s name and sometimes their place of residence. The multitude of senjafuda in Sazaedō provides a window into bygone days when visiting temples was not only a spiritual endeavor but also a popular recreational activity.

In 1868, the Meiji government ordered the separation of Buddhism and Shinto. This decree triggered the widespread destruction of Buddhist temples and statuary. During this difficult time, the 33 Kannon statues were removed from Sazaedō, and the building was redefined as a Shinto shrine.

Today, Sazaedō stands as a testament to its rich history and remains the only double-helix wooden structure in the world. Instead of statues of Kannon, the alcoves hold illustrations of moral teachings compiled by Matsudaira Katataka, the 8th lord of the Aizu clan, who ruled the area during the first half of the 19th century.

Although Aizuwakamatsu is quite far off the beaten track, it’s well worth a visit to see the amazing Sazaedō for yourself.

And while you are there, take a moment to visit the nearby shrine to the young samurai who committed seppuku, ritual suicide, during the close of the Boshin civil war in 1868.

References:

http://www.sazaedo.jp/, 朝日新聞1972年11月20日, signs.

The post Sazaedō—The Strikingly Unique Spiral Temple of Aizu, Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The rise and fall of the Northern Fujiwara family

Three generations of glory

Vanished

In the space of a dream

So wrote Japan’s most famous Haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, upon visiting Hiraizumi in 1689.

Located in Iwate Prefecture, Hiraizumi is a place you may never have heard of. But it was once the capital of northern Japan, rivaling Kyoto for size, splendor, and wealth. 

The famed explorer Marco Polo described what he heard about it while in China:

They have gold in the greatest abundance, its sources being inexhaustible… The entire roof [of the sovereign’s palace] is covered with a plating of gold… The ceilings of the halls are of the same precious metal; many of the apartments have small tables of pure gold, of considerable thickness; and the windows also have golden ornaments. So vast, indeed, are the riches of the palace, that it is impossible to convey an idea of them. — The travels of Marco Polo, written 1300

This marvelous city of gold was founded by a member of the powerful Fujiwara clan, whose daughters married emperors and influenced the government in Kyoto for generations. The branch of the family that ruled in Hiraizumi is known as the Northern Fujiwara.

In order to appreciate the magnitude of what Hiraizumi once was, we need a little history.

Setting the stage

During the Heian Era (794–1185), the emperor in Kyoto ruled the area from southern Kyushu to the southern border of what now is Fukushima Prefecture. (Shown in green on the map.) 

Northern Honshu was referred to as Michinoku, “beyond the road.” It was considered wild country, the home of Emishi “barbarians.” 

Understood to have migrated from northeastern Asia, the Emishi were ethnically different from the main population of Japan. Historians theorize the name is a collective term for the various northern tribes who resisted the rule of the Japanese state. Some of the Emishi are likely the ancestors of the Ainu people, today considered the indigenous people of Hokkaido.

During the 12th century, the Emishi of northeastern Honshu were ruled over by a powerful and wealthy family, the Abe. 

Like the Kumaso and Hayato, “barbarian” people of southern Kyushu before them, the Emishi were expected to pay tribute to the court. And just like their southern counterparts, this task became so onerous that they stopped.

Because of this failure to pay tribute, Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, as Chinjufu-shōgun, “Defender of the North,” was tasked with subjugating the Emishi Abe clan. He received reinforcements from Kiyohara no Takehira, the leader of nearby Dewa Province. 

A relative of the Kyoto Fujiwara family, Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo, who had married an Emishi and moved to the hinterland, joined the Abe clan in their defense of Michinoku. 

After fighting that spanned 12 long years, the powerful Minamoto and Kiyohara allies defeated the Abe clan and Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo, who, because of his Kyoto roots, was considered a despicable traitor to the emperor.

Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, the Chinjufu-shōgun, personally exacted revenge on Tsunekiyo by publicly decapitating him — using a blunt and rusty sword to prolong the agony.

Fujiwara no Tsunekiyo left behind his Emishi wife and their son, and it is to this son that we now look.

Fujiwara no Kiyohira — the first of the Northern Fujiwara

Fujiwara no Kiyohira’s Emishi mother was taken as a concubine by one of the victors in the war, Kiyohara no Takehira, who had been named the new Chinjufu-shōgun. 

Kiyohira’s grandfather, father, and uncle had all been killed in the war. His mother’s Emishi brothers were banished to Kyushu. He was raised in a strange land in the house of his father’s enemy.

When he was 28, he found himself embroiled in another war, a vicious power struggle among his adopted family as to who would be the next to rule. Kiyohira emerged victorious, although he lost his wife and son who were viciously killed in their home by his younger half-brother.

With a heavy heart at such a tragic loss, this son of a Fujiwara and an Emishi became the next Chinjufu-shōgun, Defender of the North, ruler of the vast northern Michinoku frontiers — a land rich in gold, silver, and fine horses.

Kiyohira, whose entire life had been beset by violence, resolved to use his power to bring peace to Michinoku by turning it into a Buddhist realm.

In 1105 he moved to Hiraizumi and rebuilt Chūson-ji, 中尊寺, a temple that had been established by a Tendai Buddhist monk in 850. He wished for a Buddhist sanctuary where all people could be welcome, and he had Chūson-ji rebuilt as a place for the repose of the spirits of all those lost in the recent wars, regardless of loyalties or status.

He built Daichojuin, 大長寿院, a 15-meter-high temple that housed a 9-meter golden statue of Amida Nyōrai, the Buddha of the Pure Land. Some years later, when Japan’s first shogun, Minamoto no Yoritomo, saw Daichojuin, he was so impressed with its grandeur that he modeled Yofuku-ji temple in his capital of Kamakura after it.

Among the over 40 Buddhist temples and pagodas that Kiyohira had built, only one remains today.

It is the Konjikidō, 金色堂, Golden Hall, which was built to house a gold statue of Amida Nyōrai. Not only are the statue and altar decorations made of gold, but both the temple’s interior and exterior walls are covered with gold leaf. The pillars, altars, and beams are inlaid with jewels and mother-of-pearl, have engraved gold fittings, and are covered with makie — black lacquer sprinkled with powdered gold.

The entire temple is a glorious work of late Heian-era artistry. Today, it is housed within a protective concrete building. No photos are allowed to be taken within its walls.

When Kiyohira died in 1128, he was succeeded by his son Motohira.

Fujiwara no Motohira — the second Northern Fujiwara

As well as continuing his father’s work of expanding the Chūson-ji temple complex, Motohira also built the nearby Mōtsū-ji, 毛越寺, temple and its gardens, said to have even surpassed Chūson-ji for size and splendor.

The main hall was constructed of precious wood overlaid with gold and silver and inlaid with jewels and mother-of-pearl. It held an enormous statue of Yakushi Nyōrai, the Healing Buddha, surrounded by the Twelve Heavenly Generals, protective deities — all realistically carved with crystal eyes, the latest innovation. These statues were created by the master sculptor, Unkei. 

Amid the temples of Mōtsū-ji was a Pure Land Garden — the only part of the once-breathtaking temple complex that remains to this day.

The garden is centered on a pond and was created in the classic Heian style. It includes a magatama jewel-shaped island, peninsulas, rocky coastlines, bridges, mountain-like boulders, and a feeder stream. All these elements are in accord with Japan’s oldest garden manual, the Sakuteiki, 作庭記, “Records of Garden Making,” dating from the 11th century. Its beauty remains unchanged.

Motohira died in 1157 and was succeeded by his son, Fujiwara no Hidehira.

Fujiwara no Hidehira — the third Northern Fujiwara

Hidehira constructed the elaborate Muryōkō-in, 無量光院, modeled after the Phoenix Hall of the Byōdō-in, 平等院, just south of Kyoto. His temple in Hiraizumi, though, was said to be larger and far more grand.

Although things were peaceful in Hiraizumi, it was not the case in Kyoto. The power of the emperor was waning, the Taira and Minamoto samurai clans were growing strong and feuding, and there was great unrest in the capital.

After the first major skirmish, the victorious Taira killed the Minamoto leader and banished his sons. Young Minamoto no Yoshitsune, at age 10, ended up in a temple on Mount Hiei, where he studied Buddhism, swordsmanship, and strategy. His older half-brother, Yoritomo, was exiled to Izu (in Shizuoka). A third brother disappeared from the historical record until many years later.

In 1174, Minamoto no Yoshitsune, age 15, left the temple and traveled to Hiraizumi where he came under the protection of the Chinjufu-shōgun, Fujiwara no Hidehira. 

This seemingly small act of sheltering Yoshitsune turned out to be the spark that would lead to the downfall of the Northern Fujiwara and the eventual destruction of the architectural and artistic treasures of Hiraizumi.

The Genpei War and its aftermath

In 1180, word came that Prince Mochihito, fearing the power of the Taira clan, had asked the Minamoto clan to gather forces against them. Yoshitsune left at once for Kyoto where he joined his older half-brother, Minamoto no Yoritomo, in what came to be called the Genpei War.

This five-year epic war of the Minamoto against the Taira is filled with dramatic tales of tragedy and heroism and has become the subject of countless ballads and kabuki plays. Far too long a story to tell here.

Yoshitsune had become an expert swordsman during his years on Mount Hiei and then excelled in horsemanship in the land of the Northern Fujiwara. With his skills and cunning, Yoshitsune emerged from the Genpei War a victorious general, well-known and loved for his legendary heroics. 

Although Yoshitsune was rewarded with lands and honors by retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa, his jealous and suspicious older half-brother Yoritomo revoked them and instead tried to kill Yoshitsune.

Again, Yoshitsune sought refuge in Hiraizumi, along with his pregnant wife and his valiant friend and protector, the warrior monk, Benkei. 

Two years later, in 1187, Fujiwara no Hidehira died. Before his death, he entrusted Yoshitsune’s protection to his son, Fujiwara no Yasuhira.

Fujiwara no Yasuhira — the final Northern Fujiwara

After his victory in the Genpei War, Yoshitsune’s older half-brother, Minamoto no Yoritomo, became Japan’s first shogun. He established his capital in the natural fortress of Kamakura, just south of present-day Tokyo. 

Although firmly entrenched in power, Yoritomo was still suspicious of his younger brother. He sent word to Fujiwara no Yasuhira to have him killed.

At first, Yasuhira resisted, but his fear of Yoritomo prevailed. His soldiers surrounded Yoshitsune’s estate, his archers killed the noble Benkei, and Yoshitsune, along with his wife and child, chose suicide rather than be captured.

Yoshitsune’s head was sent to Yoritomo, yet his death and that of his household were not enough to appease the shogun. 

For the “crime” of sheltering his younger half-brother, the shogun Minamoto no Yoritomo sent forces after Yasuhira who pursued him all the way to Hokkaido. The shogun’s samurai beheaded Yasuhira, packed his head in sake, and sent it to Kamakura.

Yoritomo had Yasuhira’s head displayed publicly, like that of the worst criminals. Afterward, it was packed in a bucket and returned to Hiraizumi.

Today, Yasuhira’s head, along with the mummies of Kiyohira, Motohira, and Hidehira, are preserved within the golden Konjikidō of the Chūson-ji temple.

Lotus seeds found in the bucket in which Yasuhira’s head was sent have been planted and now bloom each year behind Chūson-ji, a fitting reminder of the glories of the peaceful Buddhist land that Kiyohira had tried to create.

The remains of the magnificent structures built by the Northern Fujiwara, as well as Chūson-ji temple, are included in the UNESCO heritage site, “Hiraizumi — Temples, Gardens and Archaeological Sites Representing the Buddhist Pure Land.”

Although Hiraizumi is off the beaten track, it is well worth a visit to have a glimpse of the fantastic glories of its bygone years.

Sources:

https://www.motsuji.or.jp/, https://hiraizumi.or.jp/index.html, 前九年の役, 前九年・後三年の役, 藤原泰衡, UNESCO website.

The post Hiraizumi — Once a Fabulous City of Gold, Now a Quiet Home of Mummies first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Origins of Keirō no Hi

The third Sunday in September is a special holiday in Japan, Respect for the Aged Day, or Keirō no Hi. On this day, children and adults give flowers, cards, and various presents to their elders in a show of appreciation. Local communities stage performances, hold festivities, and provide special meals for their senior citizens. TV shows search out the oldest people to ask for longevity advice.

How it all started

Respect for the Aged Day traces its roots to tiny Nomotani Village in the mountains of Hyogo Prefecture, to the west of Osaka and Kyoto. In 1947, the people of Nomotani christened September 15th as Old Folks’ Day. This was done to celebrate the elderly — defined as those over age 55 — for their endurance and fortitude in surviving the difficult years of the worldwide Great Depression and the enormous upheavals and tragedies of World War II.

At that time, there were 8.4 million people over the age of 55 in Japan, of which 3.7 million were over age 65. A mere 55 people were over age 100. Disease, poverty, and war were powerful obstacles to longevity in early 20th century Japan.

As the years passed, Old Folks’ Day gained in popularity, and the practice of honoring the elderly spread. In 1963, the national government began awarding centenarians solid, 10.5 cm diameter, sterling silver sake cups in thanks for their many years of contribution to society. That year, there were 153 people who were over the age of 100.

Elderly population growth

Old Folks’ Day became a national holiday in 1966, renamed Respect for the Aged Day. The number of elderly, now defined as those over age 65, continued to climb until today they make up 30% of the population. Because the population of Japan has been declining since 2009 and the number of elderly is continuing to rise, the over-65 population is expected to reach 40% of the total population by 2055.

Due in part to the country’s extraordinary economic growth and improved healthcare, the number of centenarians has grown from the 55 identified in 1947 to 90,526 in 2022. That’s a lot of silver cups.

Apparently, the government thought so, too. In 2009, in order to cut costs, the diameter of the cups was decreased to 9 cm. Since 2016, the cups have been made from silver-plated nickel alloy.

Happy Monday

Following the passage of legislation to create Japan’s “Happy Monday System,” which moved holidays to Mondays to give workers more three-day weekends, Respect for the Aged Day was moved to the third Sunday in September beginning in 2003.

Longevity

As of 2021, the average life expectancy in Japan was the second highest in the world, being ever so slightly edged out of first place by Hong Kong. In Japan, women can expect to live 88.1 years, and men 81.9 years with an average of 85.03 years. In contrast, life expectancy in the UK is 81.77 years, and 79.11 years in the US.

Local Commendations

Prefectures across Japan have joined the national government in honoring their elderly. In Kagoshima Prefecture, in the south of Japan, newly minted 100-year-olds are visited by representatives of the city government who present them with 50,000 yen ($455 USD) and a large certificate. Kashiwa City, in Chiba Prefecture, gives 30,000 yen ($274 USD), while wealthy Tobishima Village, in Aichi Prefecture, awards each of its centenarians with 1 million yen ($9116 USD).

Could all this attention and respect be another contributing factor to the remarkable longevity of the Japanese? We’ll have to leave that one to the sociologists to figure out.

Sources:

https://nationaltoday.com/respect-aged-day/, government site on state of elderly, https://worldpopulationreview.com/, health checks, https://www.worldometers.info/demographics/life-expectancy/, https://population.un.org/, Kagoshima City homepage, Nikkei news, https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/, https://www8.cao.go.jp/kourei/whitepaper/w-2017/zenbun/pdf/1s1s_01.pdf, http://demography.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-6221.html

The post Respect for the Aged Day—Japan’s Unique Holiday for Honoring the Elderly first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

The Obon Festival of Japan

Each year, families across Japan welcome home the spirits of their ancestors during the three-day festival of Obon. It is most widely observed in mid-August, although the timing and type of celebrations vary by region and local customs.

Some areas in northeastern Honshu follow the lunar calendar’s date for this holiday and hold their Obon festivals in July. Some areas of southwestern Honshu, Shikoku Island, and Okinawa celebrate Obon in September.

Obon’s origin

The Obon festival traces its origin to Buddha’s disciple, Mokuren, whose mother had fallen into the world of the hungry ghosts, an unpleasant realm in the afterlife. His heart ached to imagine her suffering.

In answer to his appeal for help, the Buddha instructed him to make an offering to his fellow disciple monks of a wide variety of food, and not only his mother, but also the last seven generations of his ancestors would be saved.

Mokuren obeyed the Buddha, placing his offerings of food on a tray, or obon, which is said to give the festival its name. He then danced a dance of joy, filled with a mix of newfound gratitude toward his mother, and the joy of knowing that she and his other ancestors had been released.

So Mokuren gave us three important Obon traditions:

• Offerings
• Gratitude towards mother
• Dance of joy

Now we’ll see how these have developed into today’s Obon festivities.

Welcome home, Spirits!

Families return to their ancestral homes to welcome the spirits of their departed ancestors on August 13th. Many people go to their family’s graves to accompany the spirits back to their houses, some lighting fires to guide the way. At the threshold of the house, water is set out for the spirits to wash their feet before entering.

Inside the house, a shelf is constructed with a frame of bamboo or chestnut, laid with a board. This is called a Bon-Dana, and it will hold offerings to the ancestors’ spirits. Traditionally, a rush mat is placed on the shelf, upon which are placed flowers, incense, rice dumplings, noodles, vegetables, fruit, and most importantly, water. Front and center is placed a mortuary tablet —a stone tablet inscribed with the names of the family’s deceased—like a place-marker at a banquet. Behind all this is hung a decorative scroll.

The recently deceased are honored with elaborate bamboo and cedar leaf decorations placed in the front yard or under the eaves of the house. They have not yet joined the collective ancestral spirit of their family, or Sorei. After 33 or 50 years, depending on the tradition, they will finally lose their individuality and merge with the Sorei.

Each family’s Sorei visits them four times a year, at Obon, at New Year’s, and at the spring and fall equinoxes.

But what of Homeless Spirits?

Muenbotoke are spirits of those who have died an unnatural death, at sea, along the road, or those who have no family to look after their graves. If left to themselves, it is believed that they will bring harm, so these spirits, too, are honored at Obon.

Although these strangers have no place on the family’s Bon-Dana, people may build a simple shelf and lay out food, such as eggplants and cucumbers wrapped in leaves, for the Muenbotoke. Others may lay big taro leaves upon the floor beneath the family’s Bon-Dana, upon which offerings of food are placed.

Gratitude to the living

Obon is not just about the dead. Elderly parents are given gifts of special food and drink in a show of appreciation and filial affection.

Dancing

Hearkening back to Mokuren’s dance of joy, Bon-Odori are dances held during the Obon holidays. People dress in colorful summer yukatas and dance a synchronized dance through the streets or in circles around a raised platform at shrines. Besides sending the spirits on their way to the realm of the dead with gratitude and joy, the dances also serve as prayers to ward off potential haunting or curses.

Until we meet again

On the night of August 16th, many families walk to their family graves to send their ancestors back to the spirit world. But there are other customs.

Perhaps because people in days past felt the world of the dead was across the sea, or above the sky, various traditions developed. Some people wrap offerings in lotus leaves or reeds and send their ancestors off in these makeshift boats down the river. Others form boats from straw and release their ancestors’ spirits into the sea, while others place paper lanterns on the water for their ancestors’ spirits to ride back to the spirit realm.

Most famously, the Kyoto Gozan no Okuribi is held to send the spirits off to the heavens. Five great fires are lit on five mountains surrounding Kyoto City, one by one starting at 8pm on August 16th, each forming a different Japanese character.

In some sections of the country, people prepare Shōryō-uma, horses and cows made from cucumbers and eggplants, for the spirits to ride back into the realm of the dead.

There the spirits will continue learning and growing until their next, not so widely celebrated, visit during the autumn equinox.

All photos ©Diane Tincher, unless otherwise noted.

Sources:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 雄, kotobank.jp, http://www.shingon.org/, and many more Japanese webpages.

The post Obon—The Happy Homecoming of the Ghosts first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Oni are supernatural beings in Japanese folklore that can embody both benevolence and monstrosity. The name “oni,” often translated as “demon” or “ogre,” is believed to have originated from the word meaning “hidden.” Some oni are giant spirits who protect Shinto kami, deities, and bestow good fortune and wealth. These benevolent oni are sometimes depicted holding a wish-granting mallet. However, other oni are just the opposite, bringing harm and destruction.

Throughout Japanese history, inexplicable events were often attributed to the work of oni. Among the many stories of oni in Japan, the legend of Shuten-dōji is by far the most well-known. It has been rendered in countless works of traditional arts, including picture scrolls and ukiyo-e, jōruri storytelling, and noh, kabuki, and bunraku theater performances.

The Legend of Shuten-dōji

In the mountainous borderland of the former provinces of Tango and Tanba, which made up Kyoto Prefecture until the late 19th century, lived a band of oni. Their chief was called Shuten, meaning “Boozer,” due to his exceptional love of sake. His palace was hidden in a cave on Mount Oe.

During the reign of Emperor Ichijyō in the late 10th century, aristocratic maidens began to mysteriously disappear from the Japanese capital of Heian, now Kyoto City. The royal diviner, Abe no Seimei, used his mystical arts to determine that the culprit was Shuten-dōji, the strongest of all the oni, who resided on Mount Oe to the west.

To end this terror, the emperor called upon the valiant warriors Minamoto no Yorimitsu and Fujiwara no Hōshō, along with four of their most loyal retainers. These he sent to seek out Shuten-dōji and put an end to his horrendous crimes. Although renowned for their bravery, even they were apprehensive about the task ahead, for oni possess supernatural powers and can completely alter their appearances. The men knew they must remain vigilant to avoid being misled.

Traveling along the road to the mountain, the warriors visited four Shinto shrines to seek the help of the kami. As they pressed on, they encountered four yamabushi, ascetic mountain priests. The priests advised the warriors to disguise themselves and shared their extra robes.

Now garbed in priests’ clothing, Yorimitsu, Hōshō, and their retainers continued with their newfound allies. Soon, they reached a river where they met a ragged washerwoman. From her, they learned the path to Shuten’s palatial cave and the horrors endured by the kidnapped maidens. Once taken, the oni and his followers forced the young women into servitude, or when the fancy struck, sliced them open to eat their raw flesh and quaff their fresh blood.

As they spoke with the washerwoman, they realized she was the only daughter of a noble councilor who had disappeared months before. Incensed by her words, Yorimitsu and Hōshō were filled with renewed determination to avenge this assault upon the maidens of Heian. 

The men approached Shuten-dōji’s impressive cave and told the oni guard that they were a band of lost yamabushi in need of lodging. Inside, Shuten-dōji questioned the men, as he had been warned by his spies in Kyoto that Minamoto no Yorimitsu and Fujiwara no Hōshō had been sent to vanquish him. However, their answers eased his suspicions, and Shuten-dōji invited the disguised warriors to his table. 

As they sat together, eating unfamiliar flesh and sipping a foul beverage, the oni regaled them with stories from his past. Having spent many years on Mount Hie, he was banished when Saicho built Enryaku-ji Temple, so he made his new home in this spacious cave on Mount Oe. As he lifted his cup, he laughed that his name came from his insatiable thirst for sake.

One of the priests offered Shuten-dōji some of his sake, a gift, he said, from the Bodhisattva Hachiman. The oni eagerly drank it, and he quickly fell into an inebriated stupor and staggered off to his bedchamber.

After Shuten-dōji retired, a group of beautiful women arrived to entertain Yorimitsu and Hōshō, but the warriors were not deceived. Yorimitsu fixed a piercing stare upon the women, and as they fled, they transformed back into the oni they were. Next, a troupe of musicians came to play for them, and again, Yorimitsu’s fierce glare sent the masquerading oni running. It was now time to confront the chief himself, Shuten-dōji.

Yorimitsu, Hōshō, and their party approached Shuten-dōji’s bedchamber only to be stopped by a heavy and impenetrable iron door. The priests chanted incantations that dissolved the door, revealing the drunken Shuten-dōji lying upon his bed reverted to his true hideous form. He was over 15 meters (50 feet) tall, with a five-horned head, a red body, one white leg, one black leg, one yellow arm, and one blue. 

While the four priests pinned down each of the huge oni’s limbs, Yorimitsu pulled out his sharp sword and with one powerful cut, severed Shuten-dōji’s head. As the giant was decapitated, he bellowed, “I’ve been betrayed! Kill these enemies!” His head flew through the air with his demonic mouth snapping at the noble Yorimitsu—but to no avail, as the wise warrior had not only donned his own helmet but also that of his comrade.

The men made quick work of the remaining oni and freed the surviving captives. Before departing, the yamabushi revealed their true identities. They were the same four deities to whom Yorimitsu and Hōshō had prayed at the shrines along their way to Mount Oe, having transfigured to human form to aid the warriors in answer to their prayers.

In triumph, Yorimitsu and Hōshō carried Shuten-dōji’s head to Kyoto, where they respectfully presented it to the emperor. After he and the fathers of the missing maidens had inspected the gruesome head, it was stored in the treasure house of Byodoin Temple in Uji, south of Kyoto City. Minamoto no Yorimitsu’s sword, which had dealt the fatal blow to the fearsome oni, earned its place as one of Japan’s Tenka Goken, Five Great Swords, and is a National Treasure.

The post The Strongest Oni — The Remarkable Legend of Shuten-dōji first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Japan’s Tanabata Festival

Tanabata, the Star Festival, is held in Japan every year on July 7 or August 7, depending on local customs. It celebrates the yearly meeting of Orihime, the Weaving Princess, embodied in the star, Vega, and her beloved Hikoboshi, the Cowherd, in the star, Altair.

The Story of Star-Crossed Lovers

Beautiful Orihime was a gifted weaver who spent her days weaving kimonos for the gods beside the Amanogawa, Heaven’s River, the Milky Way. She was so diligently absorbed in her work that there was no time in her life for love.

Yet Orihime yearned for romance. This yearning filled her with despair.

Her father, Tentei, Heaven’s King, pitied his beloved daughter. He arranged for her to marry the hard-working cowherd, Hikoboshi. It was a perfect match.

Orihime and Hikoboshi fell hopelessly in love and spent their days in blissful play — to the complete neglect of their duties.

Before long, gods were complaining to Tentei about the sorry state of their kimonos and the havoc that Hikoboshi’s cows were wreaking as they strayed across the heavens.

Furious at the lovers’ negligence, Tentei banished Orihime and Hikoboshi to opposite sides of Heaven’s River.

They returned to their duties, but Orihime’s heartbreak reduced her to tears every day.

Tentei couldn’t bear to see his daughter cry. He declared that if she and Hikoboshi continued to work hard, they would be allowed to meet once a year on the night of the 7th day of the 7th month.

On that night, a celestial magpie would spread its enormous wings to create a bridge across the Milky Way for Orihime to cross — if the skies were clear.

If it were to rain, the River of Heaven would become too full making it impossible for Orihime cross over to meet Hikoboshi.

People pray for clear skies on that night, so they can gaze up at the Milky Way and imagine the yearning lovers meeting. Rain that falls on the night of 7/7 has a special name, Sairuiu, “the tears of Orihime and Hikoboshi.”

Other Weaving-girls

The story of Orihime and Hikoboshi was brought over from China during the Nara Era (710–794). Yet Tanabata’s origin can also be traced to an ancient Japanese story that tells of a celestial weaver, Tanabata-tsume, who fashioned clothing for the gods. She would meet her lover, a kami (Shinto divinity) once a year at a hut beside Heaven’s River.

There was another festival long ago called Kikōden (乞巧奠), where women prayed to improve their weaving skills.

These stories were mixed together and passed down, forming the basis for the Tanabata festival celebrated today.

According to Japan’s old lunar calendar, Tanabata was celebrated on what is now August 7. This is close to the Obon Festival of August 13, when the spirits of ancestors are welcomed back to their homes and their family gathers to spend time with them. During these days people prayed to their ancestral spirits for good harvests. In ancient days, these two festivals were often combined.

Tanabata Festival

During the early years of Tanabata, women would pray for improvement in their weaving and sewing skills. And both women and men would pray for improvement in their calligraphy.

The Heian, or Kyoto, elite wrote their prayers on mulberry paper with special ink made by grinding an inkstone with drops of dew from taro leaves, believing this magical combination would create more effective prayers.

Tanabata moved from the aristocratic halls of the wealthy during the Heian Era (794–1185), to the streets of Edo (Tokyo) during the Edo Era (1603–1867) where it became a popular, lively festival.

Today, people of all ages continue the tradition of writing poems and wishes on thin strips of paper, called tanzaku, and hanging them from bamboo stalks — bamboo being a vehicle for divine spirits.

Colorful bamboo decorations adorn people’s houses, city streets, schools, and businesses from about a week before Tanabata until the end of the festival. Then, the bamboo and all its decorations are cast into a river or burnt, sending the prayers to the gods

Sendai Tanabata Festival—the biggest in the world

At the most fabulous Tanabata Festival, held in Miyagi Prefecture’s capital of Sendai from August 6–8, the main streets are decorated with bamboo — 10 meters tall or more — hung with wishes and elaborate paper decorations.

Each decoration has a traditional meaning:

• Tanzaku — long rectangles of paper upon which are written prayers for progress in calligraphy and academics
• Kamigoromo — kimonos for protection from calamities, for good health, and for improved sewing skills
• Orizuru — folded cranes, for safety and longevity
• Kinchaku — money purses, for prosperity
• Toami — fishnets, for bountiful catches and harvests
• Kuzukago — trash cans, for cleanliness and frugality
• Fukinagashi — windsocks, representing Orihime’s thread

There is a grand contest on the afternoon of August 6 to determine the most beautiful decorations in each area of downtown Sendai City. Every year, the competition is fierce, resulting in the creation of more and more extravagant decorations. Just one of these bamboo decorations can cost from hundreds of thousands to several million yen (~$30,000 USD)!

If the tears of Orihime and Hikoboshi threaten to fall, merchants rush to cover their valuable handiwork with plastic bags.

The Five Festivals

Tanabata is one of the five festivals, go-sekku, that celebrate the change of seasons. These are days set aside to prepare for the coming months through purification, prayers, and banishment of misfortune.

The five festivals were imported along with the Chinese lunar calendar from Tang Dynasty China in the 8th century. During the Meiji Era, the festivals were moved to coincide with Western dates that mirrored their former auspicious odd-numbered lunar months and days.

• 1/7 Jin-jitsu, Human Day, or Nanakusa-no-sekku, Seven Herbs Day. On this day people eat rice gruel made with seven wild herbs. This is the last day of New Year’s celebrations.
• 3/3 Hina Matsuri, Dolls or Girls’ Day.
• 5/5 Tango-no-sekku, formerly Boys’ Day, now Kodomo-no-hi, Children’s Day.
• 7/7 Tanabata, Star Festival.
• 9/9 Kiku-no-sekku, Chrysanthemum Festival.

Tanabata Food

A Japanese festival would not be complete without special food. Since Tanabata falls during the hot days of summer, people feast on street food and cold noodles.

Somen — thin noodles served cold with a slightly salty dipping sauce.

Yakitori — grilled chicken on skewers.

Okonomiyaki — savory pancakes filled with lots of vegetables and a little pork.

Yakisoba — noodles stir-fried with cabbage, bean sprouts, carrots, onions, pork and yakisoba sauce.

Takoyaki — grilled dough balls filled with chopped octopus.

Tanabata is just one of many wonderful Japanese festivals held during the hot summer months when people take to the streets in cool cotton yukata and geta sandals.

In fact, one of the largest holidays in Japan falls during the summer, Obon.

Sources:

Kotobank, Digital Museum, https://www.japanese-wiki-corpus.org/, https://www.sendaitanabata.com/, https://www.tohokukanko.jp/, http://www.jaodb.com/, http://renipi.com/knowledge/452/, Institute of Court Culture.

The post Tanabata, The Star Festival—A Yearly Meeting of Yearning Lovers first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

A mighty warrior race disappeared from history

Many people have heard of the Ainu, the indigenous people of northern Honshu and Hokkaido, but very few know of the Hayato who lived in southern Kyushu. Yet strong Hayato warriors guarded emperors and played crucial roles on the front lines of battles.

Who were the Hayato?

Very little is written about the Hayato, who appeared on the stage of Japanese history for just over a century overlapping the Nara era (710-794).

Some scholars believe they descended from the ancient tribes of the Kumaso, the Austronesian inhabitants of southern Kyushu who disappeared from historical records in the 2nd century.

We know there were two main groups, named for their locations in what is today Kagoshima Prefecture. The Ata on the Satsuma peninsula, named after what is believed to have been their capital city, and those on the Osumi peninsula to the east. Smaller groups lived on the islands of Koshiki off the western coast of Satsuma, Tanegashima to the south of Osumi, and in southern Miyazaki to the east.

Barbarians

Japan’s ancient imperial court was heavily influenced by China and its tributary system. Under the Chinese system, rich countries sent emissaries to the emperor bringing gold and jade, and those from poor countries, like Japan, brought slaves.

The Yamato court adopted many things from the Chinese, including this concept of civilized and barbarian. They, the civilized, labeled people living outside their territory as barbarians. Because of his lofty power and status, the Yamato emperor required the barbarians living on the edges of his realm to bring him tribute.

These barbarians were the southern islanders of Yakushima and Amami-Oshima, the Hayato, and the Emishi, or Ainu, of northern Honshu and Hokkaido.

Bringing tribute to the Yamato court

The typical currency of Yamato tribute was rice, which was difficult to grow in the volcanic soil of southern Kyushu. So, the Hayato brought other offerings: cloth, the pelts of cows and deer, and a sweetener made from ivy sap called ama-zura-sen. Little is known today of this sweetener outside of its description in Sei Shoganon’s Heian-era book of essays, The Pillow Book.

Hundreds of young Hayato men brought tribute first to Dazaifu, the “Western Capital” in northern Kyushu, and then went on to the imperial court in Nara. These young men had to pay for their own travel, and they were required to stay and work in the capital for six years.

This put their families back home under a lot of strain. Not only did they have to bear the expense of travel and tribute, but they were left to work the fields on their own. They struggled to grow water potatoes, taro, millet, and what rice they could. By and by, the Hayato in Kyushu fell into poverty.

In the Imperial Capital

Records reveal a few ways the Hayato were put to work in the capital.

The Nihon Shoki, one of the oldest histories of Japan, tells us that in the 11th year of the reign of Emperor Tenmu (684), a sumo match was held before the court between the Ata and Osumi Hayato. The Osumi wrestler won.

Some years later, crowds gathered to watch another Hayato bout on the grounds of the Asukadera, a temple that still stands in Nara.

But the Hayato did more than sumo to entertain aristocrats. When the imperial court would hold a banquet, the versatile Hayato were called upon to sing, dance, and perform. 

Their legendary dance is lost to time, but it was said to have illustrated the Hayato subservience to the emperor through a humorous reenactment of a story from the Kojiki, the ancient book of Japan’s mythical origins.

The story tells of a quarrel between two sibling gods, forefathers of the Yamato people and the Hayato people. At its culmination, the ancestor of the Yamato people raises the seawater level to drown the Hayato ancestor. 

Some historians liken the Hayato dance to the Haka dance of the Māori, another Austronesian people. At any rate, the dance is said to have been fast, leading some to speculate that the name Hayato was derived from their speed. “Hayato” can be read as “falcon people” or “fast people.”

The Hayato mystique

Hayato Rebellion

Meanwhile, back home in southern Kyushu, the Hayato were growing tired of the poverty and the onerous tribute system. When the central government started setting up local governments, enforcing registration, and allocating the land they had been freely sharing, the Hayato rebelled.

To suppress the rebels, troops were sent from Dazaifu in northern Kyushu, and central government control was strengthened through the establishment of Hyuga province (Miyazaki Prefecture) in the late 7th century, followed by Satsuma province in 702.

Yamato aristocrats were sent from the capital to rule these provinces set up on Hayato land. 

In 713, the year Osumi province was established, another, more violent, uprising occurred. This left the Osumi-Kuni no Kami, the governor of Osumi who had been sent from Nara, dead.

The emperor was not happy.

He appointed Otomo-no-Tabito, the aristocratic leader of Dazaifu, to be the “Shogun Defeater of the Hayato,” 征隼人持節大将軍. Otomo traveled south with over 10,000 soldiers.

The Hayato would not be easily defeated. Using the volcanic geography of southern Kyushu to their advantage, they had built their castles on mountaintops surrounded by sheer cliffs.

The Hayato held off the Yamato troops for a full 18 months. But by mid-721, they had been beaten. 1,400 Hayato were killed or taken prisoner.

In customary fashion, the heads of the enemy were displayed before the conquering general, and then piled into a mound.

Assimilation

To complete the work of subjugation and to dilute their bloodline, the government forced many Hayato to relocate to Kyoto and serve the court. Today, the name of the Osumi district in southern Kyoto is a quiet reminder of the Osumi Hayato who lived there so long ago.

About 9,000 people from around Kyushu were sent to live in Satsuma and Osumi. The population of the Hayato at that time was about 54,000, so 1 in 7 residents were outsiders who carried with them the customs and language of the Yamato state.

Final glory

Although a defeated people, Hayato warriors were still respected for their courage and skill. One more mention in the Nihon Shoki describes how they were central players in the defeat of Fujiwara no Hirotsugu during his 740 AD rebellion against the Nara court. 

Hayato were advance guards in both the government and rebel armies at a decisive battle in northern Kyushu. Through their cunning — and use of their own language, unintelligible to others — they brought about a speedy victory for the imperial forces.

Vanished

In 800 AD, the tribute paid by the Hayato was officially halted, and the name “Hayato” disappeared from all further records.

Today, there is little left to remember this amazing people, save a monument and tiny museum in Hayato Town, Kagoshima.

References

Hayatozuka Historical Museum, Nihon Shoki, Professor N. Nakamura.

The post Hayato—The Forgotten Ancient People of Southern Kyushu first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.