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.

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.

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.

Exploring culinary traditions in Izu and Kochi

While hiking in the Izu Peninsula of Shizuoka, I was lucky enough to visit an unusual shop. Tucked away up a hill in rural Tago, on the western coast, Kanesa Katsuobushi sells bonito. But not just any bonito, they are among a handful of shops that still preserve the fish using the most ancient of methods.

Bonito, sometimes called skipjack tuna, has been a dietary staple in Japan for millennia, evident from the discovery of its bones in Jomon-era (14,000–300 BC) shell middens. And if you’ve ever eaten Japanese food, you’ve likely eaten bonito. It is the foundation of dashi broth, an indispensable ingredient in Japanese cuisine. You might have even seen fish flakes, shaved from dried bonito, dance like an apparition atop tofu, rice, and other dishes.

Katsuo, the Japanese word for bonito, can also be read as “a man who wins,” giving it a favorable connotation. Similarly, the association between the celebratory dish sea bream, called tai, and something happy and auspicious — known as mede-tai — shows how symbolism may contribute to a dish’s enduring popularity.

Because bonito is a seasonal fish, ancient people devised creative ways to preserve it. The earliest documented technique is shiokatsuo, salted and dried bonito, sent from the Izu peninsula as a gift to the Imperial Court during the Nara era (710–794). That is Kanesa Katsuo’s specialty.

To make shiokatsuo, bonito are cleaned and then soaked for 10–12 days in a solution of sea salt and fresh water, drawn from a deep well. After this, the fish are hung in the shade for three weeks, allowing the wind to dry them.

The drying not only preserves but also ferments and ages the fish, concentrating its flavor — not unlike the process used in creating dry-cured ham.

Centuries ago, owners of bonito fishing boats on the western coast of Izu began offering shiokatsuo to Shinto shrines for purification, then serving it to their crews to celebrate the New Year. It was given both as a prayer for bountiful catches and as a guarantee of employment throughout the coming year. If a crew member was not given that gift, he knew he was out of a job.

As part of Shogatsu, or New Year’s celebration, people around Japan place kagami mochi, “mirror rice cakes,” on their house altars to welcome the god of the New Year. Not so in western Izu. Through the centuries, the custom of fishing boat owners offering shiokatsuo morphed into a unique tradition. Here, households and shrines hang shiokatsuo at their entrances to welcome the god of the New Year, as a prayer for bountiful fishing, and in appreciation to the bonito themselves.

This New Year’s tradition has kept alive this ancient method of preserving bonito . Each year in November, the Kanesa shop produces 400–500 shiokatsuo decorated with rice straw to be used during the New Year — called shogatsu-yo. And each year, they quickly sell out.

Kanesa Katsuo’s main product, though, is the most common form of bonito eaten in Japan — katsuobushi. Originating in the 17th century, this rocklike preserved fish is flaked and used as a topping for various dishes and is a key ingredient in dashi broth.

Known as the hardest food in the world, katsuobushi takes six months to prepare. First, the bonito is filleted, deboned, and cleaned before being boiled and left to dry on racks in a hot oven. Then the dried fillets are coated with koji mold — the same koji used in the production of sake, miso, and soy sauce — and left to mature for about four months. 

This process results in blocks of preserved fish that will later be shaved into “fish flakes.” Special heavy-duty planes are needed for shaving the rock-hard katsuobushi. Your mandoline slicer just won’t do. 

Bonito in Kochi

Each year, bonito migrate from the warm waters of southern Okinawa Prefecture along the eastern coasts of Kyushu, Shikoku, and Honshu.

To avail themselves of this bounty of the sea, fishermen in Kochi city on Shikoku island have long used a 400-year-old traditional method called ipponzuri, catching the bonito with a fishing pole. The fishermen first lure a school of these torpedo-shaped, silver-blue fish into a concentrated area and then catch them one by one. A single fish can weigh as much as 5 kilos (11 pounds).

Although fishing using large nets would be easier, this method is avoided to prevent damage to the fish and the unintentional capture of other species.

Seasonal treasures

Bonito are primarily harvested twice a year: from March to May in spring and from September to November in fall. The fish caught during these periods are renowned for their differing yet exceptional flavors.

In the early 17th century, the great haiku poet Yamaguchi Sodo extolled,

The poet was expressing his delight at the harbingers of warmer months — one of which was the first bonito of the season. 

Riding the warm Kuroshio current up from the south, these Hatsukatsuo, first bonito, or Noborikatsuo, up-bound bonito, caught between March and May were historically so valued that they were considered almost worth “pawning your wife and children” to obtain. Celebrated for their mild flavor and lower fat content, these fish are said to be best served as katsuo no tataki, or seared bonito.

Those caught from September to November are Modorikatsuo, returning bonito, or Kudarikatsuo, going back bonito. These fish have eaten heartily during their southward migration, resulting in a higher fat content that contributes to a more delicate taste and texture, making it an excellent choice for sashimi.

Kochi is also famous for its himodori katsuo — bonito eaten the same day it is caught — prized for its luxurious freshness.

Bonito is by far the most popular fish in Kochi, particularly Kochi City, where households consume an average of 5,163 grams (11 pounds, 6 ounces) per year — far more than any other city in Japan. This consumption has fostered a wide array of cooking styles.

How bonito is eaten

Aside from katsuobushi, sashimi is widely popular. But in Kochi, bonito sashimi takes a backseat to the local specialty, katsuo no tataki. 

To prepare this delicacy, the bonito is cleaned and filleted, and all bones are carefully removed. The resulting quarters of the fish are skewered and held over a fire of rice straw until the outside is seared. This rapid grilling eliminates excess moisture and any lingering fishy smell, enhances the flavor, and creates crispy skin. The seared fish is promptly plunged into ice water to halt the cooking process, then drained and sliced. Katsuo no tataki is served with condiments and sauces that vary by region and individual chef.

Shio tataki, another popular dish, features warm grilled bonito lightly sprinkled with salt. Fishermen often eat it with thin slices of fresh garlic. Other condiments include ponzu, a sauce made from soy sauce and local citrus, as well as salt and garlic, myoga (a mild type of Japanese ginger), scallions, shiso (perilla) leaves, and nihaizu, a 50/50 mix of soy sauce and vinegar.

And there are more. Tosa-maki is rolled sushi filled with seared bonito, shiso leaves, and sometimes raw garlic. Another is harambo, broiled bonito belly served with salt. Chichiko, bonito heart, is generally prepared in one of two ways — stewed in a sweet and salty broth of ginger and soy sauce or simply grilled with salt.

For the more adventurous palate, there’s shuto, written with the Japanese characters for “sake” and “theft.” 酒盗 This peculiar name comes from the dish’s perfect pairing with sake, tempting drinkers to steal the tasty dish. Shuto is a paste made from the salted and fermented organs of bonito mixed with sake, mirin, honey, and onions, resulting in, shall we say, a unique and bold flavor.

Although I traveled far to learn about this amazingly versatile fish, the largest number of bonito caught in the country is right in Kagoshima Prefecture, my home.

The post Bonito — Ancient, Essential Basis of Japanese Cuisine first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

An ancient practice on the verge of extinction

For millennia, strong women along the coasts of Japan have lived off the bounty of the sea — which they gathered from the sea floor by hand. These women are called ama.

Ama, 海女 or “sea women,” engage in the ancient practice of freediving. Sans air tanks, these women forage on the ocean floor and among reefs for sea creatures and seaweed. This tradition has endured for 3,000–5,000 years, tracing its origins to the hunter-gatherers of the Jomon Period. Unlike their ancestors, modern-day ama wear wetsuits, fins, and goggles, but the fundamental diving techniques remain unchanged.

Ama divers descend to depths of 20 meters (60 feet) in frigid water. They remain submerged for up to two minutes at a time, during which they search out and gather sea cucumbers, seaweed, abalone, and other shellfish. An experienced ama can collect as many as ten sea urchins in a single dive.

When they come up for air between dives, an ama’s forceful exhalations make a high-pitched sound called isobue, meaning sea whistle. This type of exhaling is said to cleanse their lungs of carbon dioxide to make room for the deep intake of breath they need for their next dive.

Ama divers have traditionally been women, and one suggested reason for this is that females’ subcutaneous fat layer helps them withstand prolonged periods in cold water. Fat layer or no, gathering shellfish and seaweed in freezing water without breathing equipment is challenging, yet this occupation has endured for generations. Girls learn the needed skills from their mothers to improve lung capacity, read ocean currents, and spot prime locations for high-quality shellfish.

These robust women continue to dive well into old age, with a substantial proportion of ama divers being elderly — some over 90 years old. These women love their work, are devoted to the craft, and have spent a major part of their lives in the sea.

Until the introduction of Western thought in the Meiji Period (1868–1912), the traditional bathing costume for women was a loincloth. As such, when ama went into the sea, they wore only loincloths and tied on a headscarf adorned with charms invoking the protection of the gods. The use of goggles was introduced at the dawn of the 20th century.

During Mikimoto Kokichi’s pioneering experiments that led to the development of the first cultured pearls in the 1890s, he hired ama divers to collect oysters. As the years passed and his success and renown grew, Mikimoto arranged for his ama to give diving demonstrations for the visitors who flocked to see his oyster farm. 

Noting the astonishment of foreign spectators at the scanty attire of the ama, Mikimoto devised what has become recognized as the “traditional” ama diving costume — shorts, a long-sleeved shirt, and a bonnet. To this day, the ama employed by Mikimoto wear this all-white amagi, fashioned over a century ago, as they perform pearl diving exhibitions at the Mikimoto Pearl Museum in Mie Prefecture.

Northernmost Ama

Like their sisters to the south, the northernmost ama divers of Kuji along the blustery Iwate coast used to wear a simple loincloth as they swam in waters that never exceeded 20°C (68°F). When they began to draw attention in the 1950s, they adopted their current costume — kasuri hanten (short jackets decorated with a splash pattern), along with a red obi belt, goggles, and a headscarf.

Kuji’s offshore area is one of the world’s foremost fishing grounds and is blessed with abundant high-quality seaweed. This treasure trove of urchins, abalone, and other premium seafood has been an excellent fishing ground for ama divers for centuries.

A popular 2013 NHK drama, “Ama-chan,” plunged the northernmost ama into the national spotlight by recounting the story of a beautiful young woman who traveled to Kuji to become an ama diver. However, as the years passed, the ama of Kuji have transitioned from their traditional work of gathering shellfish to becoming, well, tourist attractions.

As of 2010, based on the most recent survey conducted by Mie Prefecture’s Toba Sea-Folk Museum, there were 2,160 ama divers in Japan. This number starkly contrasts with the 9,100 reported in 1978 and the staggering 20,000 ama documented in the 1950s.

The decline in numbers persists. The enthusiasm among young women to continue the tradition of ama diving is waning. These girls have grown up observing their mothers and grandmothers engaged in diving, which, through youthful eyes, appears arduous. And perhaps it is.

Nonetheless, according to a seasoned ama, “There is hardship, but the strongest feeling I experience underwater is pure joy. The exhilarating rush I get when I find a large abalone is incomparable. I want to continue diving until the day I die.”

Would you like to try ama freediving?

The post The Ama— 5,000-Year Tradition of Awesome Female Freedivers first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Maybe both

For over 1,000 years, people in Japan have used paper name tags called senjafuda, to mark their visits to shrines and temples. I have seen these in the most unexpected places — behind the guardian statues at Yamadera, on high ceilings of shrines, and plastered all over the walls the fabulous double-helix shrine, Sazaedō. 

Yet to my ignorant eyes, they looked like ancient graffiti.

How did they get there? Why were they put there? Isn’t it disrespectful to plaster the hallowed halls of holy places with stickers? These are the questions that kept me awake at night. No one I asked about them could provide me with a satisfactory explanation. I had no idea what they were even called.

However, during completely unrelated research, I stumbled upon some answers. 

Senjafuda’s origins

Senjafuda, 千社札, meaning “1,000 Shrine Notes,” are votive slips left at shrines and temples by devout visitors. The practice dates back to the ninth century when people began carrying senjafuda during pilgrimages to the 33 temples dedicated to Kannon, the Buddhist deity of mercy, or while on quests to visit 1,000 Shinto shrines. The 千, literally “one thousand,” in the name is more figuratively used to mean “a lot of.”

Senjafuda are effectively calling cards bearing the names and addresses of the pilgrims. They are generally black on white and written in a distinctive calligraphy style using sumi ink. 

After prayers and offerings, pilgrims would leave senjafuda as proof of their visit to the sacred spot. They would attach them to the pillars, walls, or ceilings. With their names kept safely in the shrine or temple, visitors believed they would continue to receive the blessings of the sacred place even after they had physically departed.

Originally crafted from wood, copper, or brass, by the middle of the Edo era (1603–1867), they were being made from paper — and their popularity surged. The era was plagued by three severe famines, prompting the populace to grow fervent in their supplications to Inari, the Shinto kami associated with grains and prosperity. As a result, leaving your senjafuda at 1,000 Inari Shrines throughout the land became all the rage. 

The more obscure the placement, the better

The placement of these votive stickers evolved into a friendly competition among the faithful, each vying to place their senjafuda in the most obscure places. Even sacred trees were not exempt from being plastered with stickers.

As the years passed, placing the stickers in hard-to-reach spots became a point of pride. Worshippers used their walking sticks or other longer poles as tools. They would attach two brushes and a clip to the end of their sticks, use the brushes to spread the rice-based adhesive, and then affix the note using the clip.

Out of respect for others, pilgrims would refrain from placing their senjafuda on top of someone else’s. As a result, the votive slips are often squeezed together, filling every nook and cranny of the older and more popular shrines and temples. The ceiling of Sazaedō is a perfect example.

As woodblock printing evolved, more intricate and elaborate printed designs replaced traditional handwritten senjafuda.

Modern senjafuda

Towards the end of the 18th century, another type of senjafuda emerged distinct from those used for temples and shrines. Called kokan nosatsu, 交換納札, these name slips were designed exclusively for trading. While senjafuda served as “offering notes,” the trading notes took on a different character, featuring colorful patterns, intricate folds, and detailed etchings. They swiftly evolved into an independent art form, and trading clubs dedicated to kokan nosatsu proliferated — and many continue to thrive.

In the magical realm of Kyoto’s pleasure quarters, geiko (as geisha trained in Kyoto are called) developed their own version of kokan nosatsu. Called hana meishi, “flower calling cards,” these small colorful stickers bear the geiko’s name and are decorated with flowers and drawings of the willow world. Hana meishi are still exchanged and treasured as collectibles.

Today, the traditional form of senjafuda, with woodblock printed paper attached with rice-based adhesive, has been replaced by machine-made stickers. Although convenient, these modern stickers can damage ancient wood leaving unsightly marks when removed.

In recent years, a growing number of temples and shrines have prohibited the placement of senjafuda. Additionally, many of these places of worship have been designated as Important Cultural Properties. Affixing senjafuda to these treasured buildings could result in severe consequences, including imprisonment or fines, according to the 1951 Act on the Protection of Cultural Properties.

Nevertheless, ancient senjafuda still adorn the walls, ceilings, and pillars of innumerable shrines and temples throughout Japan. These votive slips provide a glimpse into bygone centuries when pilgrims traversed the land, leaving behind their “calling cards” as tokens of their devotion and spiritual journeys. 

I will never think of them as ancient graffiti again.

The post Senjafuda—Ancient Japanese Graffiti or Early Calling Cards? first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.