The ultimate in sacrifice for others

For centuries, some individuals in Japan willingly underwent the grueling process of sokushinbutsu, 即身仏, self-mummification. This extreme ritual was believed to lead to enlightenment and would transform the practitioner into a Living Buddha. The characters of sokushinbutsu—即 “at once,” 身 “this body,” and 仏 “Buddha”—reveal its meaning. These transcendent beings are revered for their ultimate sacrifice, having dedicated themselves to alleviating the suffering of others caused by illness, epidemics, and famines. 

Self-mummification dates back to ancient China and was later brought to Japan, where it evolved under the influence of Kūkai (774–835), the founder of Shingon Buddhism. Kūkai’s esoteric teaching emphasized that through rigorous spiritual practice, one could attain Buddhahood in their present existence — a concept known as sokushin jōbutsu. 

According to tradition, Kūkai himself achieved this state over 1,200 years ago. Today, he remains in eternal meditation within his mausoleum at Okunoin—an expansive, ancient cemetery within the Kōyasan temple complex in Wakayama Prefecture. To this day, monks continue to offer him meals each morning and night.

Dewa Sanzan

I was given the rare opportunity of visiting one of these living Buddhas in the mountains of the Dewa Sanzan, which consists of the sacred peaks of Mount Haguro, Mount Gassan, and Mount Yudono in northern Yamagata Prefecture. The Dewa Sanzan is home to the most known sokushinbutsu, with six of Japan’s 18 known mummies, although both these numbers are disputed.

I use the term “known” because, at the start of the Meiji era (1868–1912), self-mummification was outlawed, and the locations of those who had recently undergone the process were lost. Many more sokushinbutsu may remain hidden in remote mountain regions, still waiting to be exhumed. In fact, several previously unknown mummies were discovered by chance in 1959.

But sokushinbutsu are not the only mummies in Japan. Four generations of the Northern Fujiwara family were embalmed, mummified, and interred beneath the altars of the golden Konjikidō at Chūsonji temple in Iwate Prefecture. Well, only the head of the youngest.

How to become a living Buddha

Achieving self-mummification required adhering to a strict diet, sometimes for as long as ten years, to prevent decomposition after eventual death by starvation. The practitioner undertook mokujiki shugyō, “tree eating,” to reduce body tissue as much as possible. Practitioners abstained from eating gokoku-dachi, the five staple grains—rice, barley, soybeans, foxtail millet, and proso millet. Instead, they consumed the products of the forest, such as nuts, berries, pine needles, bark, resin, and the cores of bamboo leaves. As the months passed, the amount eaten was reduced.

The idea was to eliminate all fat and any substances that could contribute to bodily decay after death. The long, slow process of deliberate desiccation began with the body burning fat, which reduced subcutaneous fat and moisture levels—primary causes of decay. The practitioner would remain still, allowing the body to consume muscle as an alternate source of glucose.

To further help the body transform into a state less prone to decomposition, some practitioners were said to have drunk urushi, the sap of the lacquer tree. While the reason for this is unclear, it may have been either to induce vomiting or perhaps thought to be a preservative to deter after-death decomposition.

This tortuous lifestyle continued for 3,000 days—days filled with the chanting of sutras. When his body had withered to little more than skin and bones, the practitioner moved to an underground chamber, about three meters deep, where he was essentially buried alive. A bamboo tube inserted through the ceiling provided oxygen. 

In the complete darkness of this nyūjō-zuka, chamber of enlightenment, he sat meditating, fasting, and chanting sutras while ringing a bell. When the bell ceased to ring, it signaled he had entered metsushinjō — the extinction of the mind and attainment of stillness. His chamber was then sealed for three years.

This ritual was beyond harsh, and it was hardly foolproof. Many who attempted the process failed, dying before they achieved their goal. Or perhaps their bodies decayed even after enduring the severe 3,000-day regimen.

Shonin Honmyōkai

The sokushinbutsu that I encountered was at the Honmyōji temple in Tsuruoka, Yamagata. His name is Shonin Honmyōkai, and he entered nyūjō in 1683.

In his youth, he was a samurai named Togashi Yoshibei, who served the Shonai clan. When he was 39, his lord became deathly ill. Yoshibei and other vassals went to sacred Mount Yudono to pray for his healing. His lord was, indeed, healed.

But, instead of returning to the service of his lord, as was expected, Yoshibei stayed on Mount Yudono to continue his Buddhist prayers. Enraged by what he saw as desertion, his lord punished him by canceling his marriage and withholding his salary. Undeterred, Yoshibei entered Chūrenji Temple as a disciple and took the name Honmyōkai to mark the beginning of his new life of asceticism. The “kai” in his name is the kanji kai 海, taken in honor of Kūkai.

Moved by the hardships and recurring famines endured by the villagers living near the temple, he resolved to become a Buddha who could intercede on their behalf. He yearned to help ease their suffering and save them from their difficult lives. With this goal in mind, he began his nine-year process of self-mummification.

Honmyōkai endured a life of extreme asceticism. He slept outside, experienced countless insect bites, and ate and slept little. From a spot overlooking settlements and fields, he ceaselessly prayed for the local people’s prosperity and chanted sutras. As the years passed, his body gradually shrunk and lost strength.

When sufficiently weak, he did what he could to help prepare the chamber where he would be entombed. In the darkness of this underground crypt, he continued to pray and chant. Finally, his bell ceased to ring, and those keeping vigil knew that he had entered nyūjyō—the state of eternal meditation transcending ordinary consciousness, as Kūkai had done before him.

His tomb was sealed. 

A Living Buddha

Three years later, Honmyōkai’s tomb was opened to see if he had succeeded with mummification and had thus attained a high spiritual state. His body was completely preserved. He had become a Living Buddha and could intercede for those in need. Since then, he has been enshrined at Honmyōji temple as a Buddha. He is still worshipped today.

Every twelve years, his garments are changed in a solemn and private ritual. His old robes are cut, and small pieces are enclosed in cloth packets sold as omamori, charms believed to bring blessings and protection to those who carry them. 

As the priest of Honmyōji reminded me, the blessings and conveniences we enjoy today are thanks to the sacrifices and efforts of those who came before us — Honmyōkai and countless others. This humbling realization behooves us to follow in their footsteps, ensuring future generations inherit a world enriched by our efforts, kindness, and commitment to the greater good of humanity.

The post Sokushinbutsu—The Fascinating Practice of Self-Mummification to Attain Buddhahood first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Once served to emperors, this traditional fermented fish is quietly making a comeback

From the late 7th century, Wakasa was one of three Miketsukuni, areas designated by law to provide seafood to the emperor and imperial court. The port of Obama, nestled between mountains and the sheltered waters of Wakasa Bay on the Sea of Japan, was Wakasa’s center of supply. 

From this closest seaport to the capital, porters would carry salt, seaweed, and salted fish in baskets tied to their backs directly across the rugged mountains to Nara and Kyoto. This route, known as the Saba Kaidō, or Mackerel Highway, owes its name to the abundance of mackerel in Wakasa Bay. This bounty was due to the bay’s ideal environment, created by the convergence of the warm Tsushima Current from the south and the cool Liman Current from the north.

The 72-kilometer journey from Obama to Kyoto along the Mackerel Highway took just enough time for the preserved fish to reach its optimal flavor. Seafood from Obama was highly valued in Kyoto as “Wakasa food,” and one popular dish, saba-zushi—sushi rice pressed with a fillet of salted and pickled mackerel—is still a popular washoku today and a feature of Kyoto’s annual Gion festival.

Among the foods sent to Kyoto in bygone days, one stand-out is a unique type of preserved mackerel known as Heshiko.

Heshiko

Inland along the northern section of Obama lies the hamlet of Tagarasu, meaning “crows in the rice paddies.” In one of its quiet valleys, surrounded by green mountains and picturesque rice terraces, stands a disused elementary school. Once alive with the laughter and chatter of energetic children, its classrooms fell silent more than a decade ago. Today, its schoolyard is occasionally used by elderly locals who gather for a leisurely game of gateball.

But in recent years, the school building has gained a new purpose. Its once lively classrooms are now home to hundreds, yea, thousands, of silent inhabitants—mackerel.

Tagarasu is where I was fortunate to learn about Heshiko, an ancient technique that uses salt and fermentation to preserve fish. Born out of necessity, this method helped Obama fulfill its role as a Miketsukuni, furnishing high-quality seafood from Wakasa Bay to the imperial cities of Nara and Kyoto along the “Mackerel Highway.” It also provided a vital source of protein for people living in the mountains, ensuring they had healthy food to carry them through the harsh winter months when deep snow made fresh supplies scarce.

Today, heshiko remains a local delicacy, rich in umami. Its preservation process involves salting and fermenting fish — usually mackerel, sometimes herring — for over a year.

The process begins in autumn with a fresh catch of mackerel. The fish are gutted and cleaned, their cavities filled with salt, and then they are packed into large cedar barrels.

Once a barrel is full, the fish are covered, and a two-kilogram weight is placed on top. A day or two later, the fish are removed, packed in fresh barrels, and pressed with a heavier weight. This process continues, with the weight gradually increasing, until excess liquids are removed from the fish.

When the fish are sufficiently moisture-free, they are repacked into barrels—this time filled and layered with rice bran instead of salt. Togarashi peppers are added to deter insects, and sturdy straw ropes are tied tightly around the barrel rims to seal the containers. 

Left undisturbed for about a year, the mackerel undergoes slow fermentation. The following winter, the fish have transformed into heshiko and are ready to be eaten.

Heshiko is packed with nutrition and is a rich source of protein, calcium, iron, dietary fiber, EPA, DHA, beneficial enzymes, and vitamins B and D. The family of heshiko producers I met hope that one day, heshiko will be recognized as the superfood it is and that Tagarasu’s heshiko will become a household name.

Heshiko goes well with a cup of dry sake or beer. It can be served in all kinds of ways—thinly sliced atop a wedge of daikon radish, grilled, as sushi, or in chazuke — topping on a bowl of rice with green tea poured over it.

Narezushi

Some heshiko are fermented further and made into narezushi—the earliest form of sushi. To make this, the fish are first rinsed to remove the rice bran, then skinned and soaked in water to draw out excess salt. Next, they are filled with rice and koji mold — Aspergillus oryzae, the same spores used to make sake, soy sauce, and miso paste — and packed back into barrels with more rice and koji.

A weight is placed on top, and the mixture is left to ferment for a couple of weeks. After this, the narezushi is ready to eat.

Like many fermented foods, narezushi is an acquired taste and is best served in small portions. It is not nearly as salty as heshiko, and I can see how it would be a popular snack to nibble on with sake or beer.

If you’re in Japan but can’t make it up to Obama, you can order heshiko online from https://www.kadono-heshiko.com/. Unfortunately, Kadono-san cannot ship internationally.

The post Heshiko—Japan’s (Almost) Forgotten Superfood first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Bonfires blaze across the countryside of Japan in early to mid-January each year

Dondoyaki, どんど焼き, sometimes called Sagichō, 左義長, are great bonfires where communities gather to burn their New Year‘s pine and bamboo decorations while sending the Toshi-kami, the God of the New Year, back to the realm of the spirits. This event marks the end of the New Year’s festivities.

This custom finds its roots in the Heian Era (794-1185) ceremony of Sagichō, 左義長, where aristocrats would gather at the imperial court and burn their New Year’s decorations in a carefully constructed bonfire on the top of which were hung a folding fan or tanzaku, long narrow strips of paper upon which wishes are written. A diviner would sing as the fire raged.

The sacredness of the fire led to the belief that being touched by sparks would ensure health and vigor for the year. Burning the first calligraphy of the year was a sure way for the gods to help the writer improve their skills. And as the fire died down, eating delicious dango rice dumplings and mochi roasted on the embers would protect from sicknesses during the year.

As the centuries passed, this custom made its way to the common people, and it is how people came to celebrate Dondoyaki today.

The bonfires are usually held around January 15th, a day traditionally called Koshōgatsu, 小正月, Little New Year’s Day. Although local customs respect different dates for Koshōgatsu, that day marks the end of the New Year’s celebrations. A variety of events are held across the country on Koshōgatsu — from people dressing as demons and scaring children into good behavior to peacefully eating rice gruel mixed with adzuki beans. But the most universal is Dondoyaki.

Dondoyaki

In early January, using a wide space within the grounds of a shrine, a rice field, or an empty lot, communities gather new bamboo, straw, and branches and build a tower-like pile that will be the base of the bonfire.

On the day of Dondoyaki, people bring their new year’s decorations, noshi wrapping paper from winter gifts, and the children’s first calligraphy of the year to be tossed into the flames. Simply throwing those things away is considered to be disrespectful and terribly unlucky. Using them as a means to send off the Toshi-kami is best.

Roasting mochi

As the fire dies down, young and old alike put pieces of mochi rice cakes on sticks and roast them in the fire like marshmallows, just as the Heian aristocrats did over 1,000 years ago. Sometimes the adults are served hot sake or, as in Kagoshima in the south, sweet potato shochu mixed with hot water.

Dondoyaki is not just a way to send off the Toshi-kami, but it is a wonderful way to strengthen community bonds — and enjoy nice warm roasted mochi.

There is one more fire during this period worth mentioning, and that is done exclusively by Shinto priests.

Burning the previous year’s amulets

On New Year’s Day or shortly thereafter, people pay their first visit to a Shinto shrine, called Hatsumōde, 初詣. People flock to shrines, both small and large, to bring their fuda household protection amulets, daruma dolls, and omamori lucky charms to be ritually burned by the Shinto priest. They pray for blessing, protection, success, and prosperity in the months to come. Then they line up to buy new omamori and fuda protection amulets for a fresh start for the new year.

To read about Kagoshima’s unique version of Dondoyaki, go to Giant Bonfires Banish Demons.

References:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 暁雄, 1982, kotobank, ウェザーニュース

The post Dondoyaki—Burning New Year’s Decorations to Send off the God of the New Year first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Old and new ways to ring in the New Year

After first arriving in Japan in 1987, I quickly learned to stock up for the first three days of the New Year since all stores would be shuttered while their owners and employees spent time with their families.

Times have changed. Today most stores remain open during the holidays and 24-hour convenience stores abound.

While modern times have brought welcome changes, perhaps along the way some of the understanding of the holiday customs has been lost, cast aside amid the hubbub of TV specials and New Year’s Sales.

To understand Japan’s New Year, we need to return to the holiday’s roots, which date as far back as the 1st century. In those days, the ancient people celebrated in three main ways.

• Welcoming the toshi-kami, the god of the new year.
• Praying for bountiful harvests in the coming year.
• Expressing gratitude for another year of life.

These practices are reflected in today’s New Year’s traditions, and each of the holiday’s countless customs is imbued with meaning.

Let’s take a look at a few of the most outstanding traditions, work our way forward in time, and end with a look at those TV specials.

Welcoming the God of the New Year, the Toshi-Kami

The Shinto Toshi-kami descends from the heavens via the pine decorations that adorn each house. Around the time families break and eat their kagami mochi, the New Year’s decorations are ceremonially burned—typically around January 15th, depending on regional customs—the smoke transports the god back to the heavens, leaving behind his blessings and protection for the year ahead.

This Toshi-kami is a busy god with a wide portfolio. Besides being the god who brings bounty and blessings in the new year, he also merges with the collective spirit of each family’s ancestors, their sorei, who visits their family at this time (although the sorei’s main holiday is Obon, in the summer). The Toshi-kami then becomes a ta no kami, rice field god, in the spring, and a yama no kami, mountain god, after harvest in the fall. He is also sometimes known as the god of lucky directions.

Reflecting the importance of purity and cleanliness in the Shinto religion, a thorough house cleaning is done at the end of December. People get rid of clutter, dust behind cabinets, change the paper in the paper doors, and make their houses spotless. Once that is done, Shimenawa ropes are hung upon the doorways signifying that the house is purified and ready to welcome the Toshi-kami.

Gratitude for Another Year of Life

Long ago in Japan, in accord with the Chinese method of counting years, newborns were considered one year old, and another year of life was added to everyone on New Year’s Day, regardless of their birthdays.

Gifts of Money, O-Toshi-Dama

As a kind of birthday present on New Year’s Day, children receive small envelopes filled with money for the year from each of their older relatives. This money is called o-toshi-dama, お年玉, literally “honorable year’s jewels.” Since Christmas is a fairly recent import into Japan and not a holiday (see my brief history of Christmas here), New Year’s Day is the day children have traditionally looked forward to receiving gifts, i.e., money.

Special New Year’s Dishes, Osechi-ryori

In order to take a holiday from cooking and enjoy time with one’s extended family, special foods are painstakingly prepared in advance — or bought — to be eaten together with the Toshi-kami during the first three days of the new year. Eating these meals with the gods is said to impart spiritual power and blessings upon the mortals.

Each food has its specific meaning, and there are too many to mention, but here are a few.

Sea Bream — Tai, for an auspicious year

The traditional Japanese calendar started in spring and so New Year’s Day used to be a springtime occasion. From the image of the first sprouts appearing came the expression mede-tai, 芽出度い (pronounced meh-deh-tie), literally “the time when sprouts emerge.” From that, mede-tai came to be used to describe something happy and auspicious.

For this reason, sea bream, called tai, 鯛, is an essential part of any osechi-ryōri. It plays on the homonym tai, “happy” and “auspicious” — everyone’s sincere wish for the new year.

Herring Roe — Kazunoko, for many children

Another popular item is herring roe, called kazunoko, 鯑. Its homonym means many children, 数の子.

Shrimp — Ebi, for long life

As a wish for long life, shrimp are eaten. Shrimp, called ebi, 海老, literally “the aged of the sea,” suggest the long beards and bent frames of the elderly.

Dried Sardines — Tazukuri, for bountiful harvests

Tazukuri, 田作り, is a dish made of dried sardines and soy sauce. Its name means “making a rice field.” Sardines were traditionally used as fertilizer in rice paddies in many areas of Japan, thus the dish expresses the wish for abundant harvests.

Rolled Omelets — Datemaki, for days of blessings

Perhaps my favorite wordplay is the name for the rolled, sweet omelet mixed with fish paste. It is called datemaki, 伊達巻 (pronounced dah-te-ma-key), so named because the samurai lords of Sendai (in Miyagi Prefecture), the Date clan (dah-te), were famous for being well-dressed.

In ancient Japan, holidays were called hare no hi, ハレの日, special days, and on such days people wore their finest clothes — what we might call their Sunday best.

From this idea of fashionable Date clan style clothing being worn on special days, the Date-maki sweet omelet expresses the wish for many such special days in the coming year.

Bell Ringing

From the introduction of Buddhism in the 6th century, Buddhist customs merged with the ancient Shinto customs. As such, at midnight on New Year’s Eve, Buddhist temple bells are rung 108 times, banishing the 108 worldly desires. This marks both a prayer for forgiveness for the past year, and a prayer for steadfastness in the next.

First Shrine Visit of the Year, Hatsumōde

On the first three days of the New Year, people flock to Shinto shrines, and many to Buddhist temples, for their first visit of the year, called Hatsumōde. Meiji Shrine in the center of Tokyo traditionally receives over 3 million visitors each year during the New Year’s holidays, but even small countryside shrines get plenty of visitors.

Visitors to shrines clap, bow, and say a brief prayer for the year. People often buy omikuji, little slips of paper picked out from a box with their fortunes for the year foretold. If they are worried that not all of their fortune is good, they can tie the paper to a tree or a wire hung at the shrine, and leave that undesirable fortune in the hands of the gods, carrying the good fortune home in their hearts.

As all their previous year’s omamori (good luck charms), daruma dolls, and household protective amulets were brought to shrines to be burned at the end of December, people buy new charms for such things as safety and protection for the new year, success in studies, or safe childbirth, new daruma for setting goals for the year, and new ema upon which to write their prayers.

Nengajo, New Year’s Greeting Postcards

On New Year’s Day, bundles of postcards are delivered to each house. These are sent by friends and associates containing words of thanks for past kindnesses, well-wishes, and yoroshiku-onegaishimasu — please, and thank you in advance — for kindnesses in the new year.

People spend time during the day nibbling on osechi-ryōri, reading over the various greetings, and remembering old friends. The cards are usually themed according to the animals of the Chinese zodiac, 2022 being the year of the Tiger.

TV Specials

A big event in many households is the yearly New Year’s Eve TV specials. The most famous by far is a good-natured singing contest, Kōhaku Uta Gassen. Musicians are divided into two teams, a red team composed of females, and a white team composed of males. The red and white division of teams gives the show its name, Kōhaku, meaning red and white.

NHK, the national TV broadcasting corporation, began airing this show from the year Japan got its first TVs, 1953. Musicians are chosen by invitation only, and performing on Kōhaku is considered quite an honor and even can be the highlight of one’s career. The spectacular lighting, costumes, and set design never disappoint.

At the end of the show, the audience, together with the judges, votes on the winning team.

Competing with Kōhaku for viewers is a bizarre show that is popular among many of the younger generation, called, Dauntaun no Gaki no Sukaiyaarahende! which defies translation.

On this year-end special, serious celebrities face off against several old-school comedians who are placed in various situations — on a bus, then in a school, or whatever the theme is that year — and the celebrities do and say outrageous things to make the comedians laugh.

If they laugh, which they inevitably do, people dressed in commando camouflage jump out and spank them with rubbery batons. The absurdity of all this is considered hilarious.

Japanese TV, truly unique, has to be seen to be believed.

This is by no means a complete list of New Year’s customs. Other traditions include making and eating delicious pounded sticky rice cakes called mochi, children flying kites in the clear breezy skies of winter, and eager shoppers hunting for “lucky bags” filled with mystery discounts at their favorite stores. In a small fishing port on the Izu Peninsula, on finds a unique New Year’s decoration welcoming the god of the New Year—Shiokatsuo, and ancient type of dried bonito. Even one’s first dream of the year is significant, but I think only in Japan does one hope it contains Mount Fuji, a hawk, or an eggplant.

By January 4th, people begin to go back to their normal routines, greeting coworkers and associates by saying akemashite-omedetō-gozaimasu, “Happy New Year,” and naturally, “For this year, too, please and thank you in advance,” kotoshi-mo, yoroshiku-onegaishimasu.

Sources:

https://maminyan.com/shogatsu/know/toshigamisama.html, https://www1.nhk.or.jp/kouhaku/, https://www.ntv.co.jp/gaki/, many years in Japan.

The post Japanese New Year — Gods, Symbolic Foods, and TV Extravaganzas 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.

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.

The national holiday celebrating children and families

May 5th is Children’s Day in Japan, a national holiday with a long and amazing history.

The Five Festivals

Children’s Day is one of the five seasonal festivals, or go-sekku, brought to Japan from China in the 8th century. These five festivals marked the change of seasons and were days set aside to prepare for the coming months through purification, prayers, and banishment of misfortune. Still celebrated in Japan, they occur on odd-numbered days:

• 1/1 was eclipsed by New Year’s celebrations, so the seasonal holiday was moved to 1/7. It is called Jin-jitsu, Human Day, or Nanakusa-no-sekku, Seven Herbs Day, and is when a purifying rice gruel is eaten. 
• 3/3 Hina Matsuri, Girls’ Day
• 5/5 Tango-no-sekku, formerly Boys’ Day, now Children’s Day
• 7/7 Tanabata, The Star Festival
• 9/9 Kiku-no-sekku, The Chrysanthemum Festival

Precursors of Children’s Day

Children’s Day finds its antecedent in the Iris Festival, Shōbu-no-sekku, also called Tango-no-sekku.

In ancient China, the fifth lunar month was considered unlucky, especially the 5th day, which was called “Double Fifth.” On that day, people hung iris plants, mugwort, and garlic above the entranceways to their houses, believing that these plants would ward off natural disasters, illnesses, and evil spirits.

Centuries later, this custom was carried to Japan and came to include prayers for the upcoming rice planting season. Like the Chinese, the Japanese decorated their eaves with irises and mugwort to ward off misfortune.

As the years passed, new customs were added. People put iris leaves under their pillows to drive away evil and added finely chopped iris leaves to their sake.

Young girls would bathe in water with iris petals for purification. These girls, known as sa-otome, were central to Ta no Kami, or rice field god, festivals held on the day when the rice seedlings were transplanted into the flooded paddies.

These varied forms of purification are still practiced in some households today. Many onsens, or hot springs, across the country offer special Shōbu-no-yu baths with iris leaves on May 5th.

At the ancient imperial court in Nara, aristocratic women wore iris hair ornaments to a grand ceremony in the palace where the emperor would bestow a fragrant kusu-dama upon his vassals. This was an ornamental ball filled with medicinal herbs that opened in half when a string was pulled, dropping its contents. The herbs were for purification and to cast out evil spirits.

Samurai culture gives birth to Boys’ Day

Under the samurai rulers of the Kamakura era (1185–1333), the Iris Festival became Boys’ Day. Samurai focused on raising strong boys to become courageous warriors who would continue their family lines.

The word for iris, shōbu 菖蒲 is pronounced the same as shōbu 尚武, meaning valiant or warlike. That, and the fact that the hanging iris leaves resemble swords, is thought to have played a part in the change. 

Families visited shrines and gave offerings of armor, praying for the health and prosperity of all their sons, but most particularly, their heirs.

People began to decorate their houses with small displays of armor, helmets, swords, and arrows, symbolizing protection for their boys’ health. This custom continues to this day.

Carp streamers

During the Edo era (1603–1867), the practice of hanging koi-nobori, or windsock-like carp streamers, one for each boy in the family, began among the townspeople of Edo (Tokyo). 

Filled with strength, vitality, and adaptability, carp can survive in clear streams and muddy, in marshes and in lakes. They can persevere and struggle to swim upstream and even climb waterfalls. Koi-nobori streamers are hung with the prayer that a family’s sons will grow to be hardy, adaptable, and strong, like carp.

On the riverbanks of Edo, yet another custom began. Ishi-gasen, or stone-throwing fights, and it is exactly what it sounds like. This custom resulted in some serious injuries and even deaths among the young participants, so thankfully, the shogun soon outlawed it.

Children’s Day

In 1948, Boys’ Days was changed to Children’s Day and was christened as a day to celebrate not just children but to honor the family unit. In contrast to Girls’ Day on March 3, Children’s Day is a national holiday.

Celebratory Food

Grandparents and families gather on Children’s Day to eat a special meal, often featuring carp, rice cooked with adzuki beans, and seasonal vegetables.

Children’s day is known for two special types of sweets. Chimaki are rice dumplings wrapped in bamboo leaves, chi signifying cleverness. Kashiwa-mochi are sticky rice cakes — soft yet chewy — filled with sweet red bean paste wrapped in oak leaves. Oak leaves symbolize force, manliness, and endurance.

References:

図説民俗探訪事典 compiled by 大島 暁雄, http://www.ningyo-kyokai.or.jp/sekku/tango.html, https://www.nytimes.com/1991/05/01/garden/for-children-s-day-sweets-of-course.html, and more.

The post Children’s Day in Japan—Carp Streamers, Samurai, and Sweets first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

For centuries, daughters have been the focus of celebration on Hinamatsuri

One of the Five Seasonal Festivals

Hinamatsuri, the Dolls’ Festival, is a special Japanese day of celebration for girls in which elaborate sets of courtly dolls are displayed in all homes with daughters and in various public places. The day is also known as the Peach Festival and the Girls’ Festival. 

Hinamatsuri falls on the 3rd day of the 3rd month and is one of the five seasonal festivals, go-sekku. These were imported from Tang Dynasty China in the 8th century as days to banish misfortune and to wish for good luck and good health in the coming season.

Each of the five seasonal festivals falls on a lucky day — 1/1 (moved to 1/7 so as not to overlap with New Year’s Day), 3/3, 5/5, 7/7, and 9/9 according to the lunar calendar. With the adoption of the Gregorian calendar in 1872, these holidays were moved to Western dates that mirrored their former auspicious odd-numbered lunar months and days.

Heian Era Roots

During the Heian Era (794–1185), aristocratic children played with paper or straw dolls. Reflecting ancient Shinto thought, these dolls came to be used as vessels into which impurities were transferred. A springtime custom called nagashi-bina developed, in which dolls imbued with the children’s “sins” were placed in streams to wash out to sea, thereby purifying the children.

The third lunar month was when the peach trees blossomed. These delicate pink blossoms were thought to ward off evil spirits, and they have become an integral part of Hinamatsuri decorations.

Courtly Dolls

During the more than two centuries of peace during the Edo Era (1603–1867), the simple paper and straw dolls of the Heian children transformed into the elaborate and beautiful dolls we see today. These dolls embodied the Edo Era people’s image of the elegance and refinement of the Heian imperial court. 

Hina Doll sets originally contained only one male and one female, a Heian Era emperor and empress, which were to take upon themselves the impurities of the children. As the years passed, the number of dolls increased to include a complete royal retinue with all their accoutrements. 

The sets grew to occupy either 5 or 7 tiers. The dolls were displayed before and during the Hinamatsuri, with the prayer that they would bring good fortune and a happy marriage to the girls in the family.

Hina Dolls Today — What Is on Each Tier

Let’s take a look at a Hina Doll display. The photo above shows an elaborate, yet typical, traditional doll set.

Tier 1

The emperor and empress hold the place of honor seated in front of a gold folding screen. These dolls do not represent a specific royal couple, with the rare exception of some sets that were made in the late 1800s to represent Emperor Meiji and Empress Shōken.

As is the custom, the male doll is holding a shaku, or ritual baton. The female is holding a folding fan. They are flanked by two paper lanterns called bonbori.

Between them are vases of miniature peach branches, a decoration called sanbō kazari, which one imagines was given as an offering to the couple.

The male on the left signifies that this set is a Tokyo style set. Those of the Kyoto style have the male on the right.

Tier 2

Three ladies-in-waiting occupy the second tier, ready at a moment’s notice to pour sake for the happy couple. 

Separating the ladies are two tables holding pink and white mochi — pounded sticky rice cakes. 

The colors pink and white are often used for celebratory events. White symbolizes long life and fertility, and red or pink is traditionally used to ward off evil.

Tier 3

Musicians wait upon this level, ready to entertain the royal couple. Four men hold instruments — a flute and three different types of drums — and the singer holds a fan.

Tier 4

On this tier we have the highest ranking aristocrat, the elderly Minister of the Left, and the next highest ranking, the younger Minister of the Right.

Between the men are tables to hold festive foods and diamond-shaped tables holding diamond-shaped sweets called hishi-mochi, a specialty reserved for Hinamatsuri. 

Hishi-mochi are layered mochi cakes in pink and white, with a green layer added to represent good health, and in some areas, a yellow level symbolizing nanohana flowers, some of the first to bloom in spring.

Tier 5

Upon this level sit three guards or helpers, each with an interesting name: the quarrelsome drinker, the maudlin drinker, and the merry drinker.

True to the actual trees in the royal palace in Heian, there is a tachibana orange tree on the western side and a cherry blossom tree on the eastern side.

Tier 6

Here you will find items one needs inside the house — tiny dressers, long chests for kimono storage, chests for clothing, mirror stands, hibachi braziers, boxes of tea ceremony utensils, and even a sewing box.

Tier 7

Finally, we have things the couple would need for traveling — a palanquin in which to be carried, nested boxes for food, and an oxcart for the many chests of clothing. 

About Hina Dolls

Classic Hina dolls are still made in the traditional way. Starting with a wood, straw, and paper base, the dolls are clothed in many layers of silk, stuffed with cotton to create the form, and finally finished with a delicate face carved from wood and covered with gofun, a layer of ground oyster shell and glue to give the face a pure white finish. Long hair made from silk or real hair is attached and styled in the ancient Heian fashion.

Hina dolls and their furnishings are very costly works of fine craftsmanship. Just one doll can take up to six months to create. Some sets are considered family heirlooms and are passed down from mother to daughter through generations.

The dolls can be displayed from the first day of spring  —  the day after the demons have been vanquished on Setsubun  —  and enjoyed throughout the month and on Hinamatsuri at the beginning of March. 

Women are admonished to put all the dolls away the day after Hinamatsuri. Failing to do so was believed to result in a daughter marrying late.

Hinamatsuri Food and Drink

What would a Japanese holiday be without special food? Here are a few of the celebratory foods for Hinamatsuri.

• Hina arare — crunchy, colored, rice cracker balls.
• Hishi mochi — multi colored mochi cakes stacked in diamond shapes. The diamond shape is also considered lucky.
• Ichigo daifuku — strawberries covered in sweet azuki bean paste and mochi — have recently joined the ranks of Hinamatsuri treats.
• Sakura mochi — azuki bean paste filled pink mochi cakes, wrapped in edible cherry blossom leaves.
• Ushio jiru — a clear soup made from hamaguri clams. As clams have two connected shells, they signify the wish for a happy marriage.
• Chirashi zushi — sushi rice into which is mixed, for example, simmered carrots, mushrooms, and lotus root, then topped with shrimp and/or sashimi, egg, and nanohana florets. Probably every cook makes it differently, while sticking to the pink, white, green, and yellow motif.
• Ama zake — sweet, thick beverage made from rice koji, the fermented rice used to make sake and miso paste. It is non-alcoholic and is considered healthy.
• White sake — strong, sweet sake with a cloudy white color.

In recent years, people have started to forgo traditional sweets in favor of beautiful, store-bought cakes, but no one with daughters will ever forgo celebrating Hinamatsuri.

The post Hinamatsuri—A Joyous Day for Girls in Japan first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Ordered by my daughter at a Japanese restaurant

I realize that “strangest food” is subjective, so some of these may not be so strange to you. Nevertheless, allow me to share a few of my stand-outs.

A couple of years ago, I wrote that a rural Japanese innkeeper had served me the most exotic food I have ever eaten. That was true, but life and meals moved on, and now it’s time for an update.

Whale

In my other article, I neglected to mention whale. Yes, I have eaten whale both raw and cooked. It was even served to my children in their school lunches once a year.

School lunches are considered a part of the children’s education. There is an emphasis on eating a variety of foods with a balanced nutritional content. Once a year or so, they serve traditional foods to continue awareness. Whale was one of those.

Anyway, whale is easy to find at fish markets. Some cuts are intended to be eaten raw and others to be cooked, its fat is used to create an umami-filled broth, and even its intestines are sliced and eaten — see the circular items pictured below. Nothing goes to waste.

Speaking of whale, my daughter was gifted rice crackers, some flavored with whale, some with octopus, and some with blowfish—another delicacy in Japan that I’ve eaten both cooked and raw.

But still, these foods are not that strange, nor is my next offering.

Yuba

If you have visited Kyoto, perhaps you’ve had macha (green tea) noodles with yuba. 

Yuba is a food that developed as part of shojin-ryori, Buddhist vegetarian cuisine. It is the film that forms when soy milk is boiled. It’s gently lifted off and used in many creative ways. Its subtle flavor makes it versatile, and it’s hard to miss if you’re in Kyoto, Nikkō, or Mount Kōya.

Fermented mackerel

Now we start to veer into the exotic with fermented mackerel, called heshiko. Its production is limited to a small village in Fukui Prefecture. Heshiko is centuries old, developed to be sent on the backs of porters to Kyoto and Nara. 

Mackerel caught in Wakasa Bay is cleaned, then packed in salt and rice bran and left to ferment for six months or more. 

Heshiko is so interesting it deserves its own article. More on that later.

Monkfish liver

Monkfish are odd-looking creatures. I did not know that one could eat their livers, but having done so, I do now. 

Tasty, but not something I would go out of my way to seek out.

Wasabi ice cream

We usually think of wasabi as a condiment for sushi, sashimi, or soba, but it can be used for other things, too, like ice cream. But it must be fresh, which is completely different than the imitation wasabi made from horseradish that is sold in tubes in supermarkets.

I have had it a few times, and it’s both mildly hot and sweet. Try it, if you get a chance.

Now on to the winner of this article’s strangest food.

The strangest food

This exotic food appeared on my stage last month.

It all started when my eldest son decided to fly across the globe to visit his mother in rural Japan. One whim led to another, and one day my son, one of my daughters who was also visiting, and I, found ourselves exploring a shrine to none other than Ninigi-no-Mikoto, the grandson of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Omikami, from whom all Japanese emperors descended.

Japanese shrines are usually at the top of long staircases, and this was no exception. We were starting to feel a bit peckish.

Google Maps led us to a nearby restaurant. It was closed. A very eager-to-help woman in the parking lot drew us a map to a chain sushi restaurant, but on the way, I wanted to check out a small one.

It looked good. Old. Traditional building. We went in.

Gold and uni

Oh, but wait! I completely forgot about gold leaf! I’ve eaten that numerous times.

And uni? Uni is sea urchin. But not all of the sea urchin — only the gonads are served in Japanese restaurants and called uni.

So there’s that, too. Sea urchin gonads.

Back to the restaurant.

As we walked in, my daughter got all excited by one of the dishes listed in Japanese on the wall behind the counter.

“It’s seasonal, and they only make it this way in Kagoshima!” she enthused.

She ordered it. My son and I — not quite as “Japanese” as my red-haired and freckled daughter — didn’t pay much attention.

We ordered sushi sets, which were fresh and delicious and came with miso soup and chawan mushi, small cups of savory egg custard.

Then the dish my daughter ordered was served.

Tempura, my favorite! 

It looked delicious. But what could it be?

Cod semen

It was fish semen tempura. 

My daughter ate with gusto, and she was nice enough to share some with her brother and me.

I dare say, tempura is must be better than how it’s usually served.

Boiled, with ponzu—citrus soy sauce.

Yum.

What strange or exotic food have you eaten, that you actually liked?

The post More Exotic than Crickets — the Strangest Food I’ve Ever Eaten first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.