Homecoming - Thanksgiving in Japan (Part 3)

[read Part 1] - [read Part 2] - [see more pictures]

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Our Thanksgiving Day trip involved more trains; we were headed almost directly south from Fukuoka to the heart of Kyushu and the city of Kumamoto. Kumamoto is a well known "castle town", though the various castle structures were repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt in feudal times. The current reconstruction of the main towers dates to the 1960s, and is considered one of the best castle sites in Japan. In just the last few years, the castle celebrated a 400 year anniversary, and last December, the castle's "Inner Palace" was restored and opened for tours.

We met Mrs. and Dr. Uchino, my father's former research fellow, at the train station, and we found them to be typical Japanese hosts: energetic, warm, and gracious. Lots of bows were exchanged. We were lead into a misty rain, to cars that took us to a large hotel very near the castle. On the second level of the hotel were private dining rooms with great views of the main towers. Here we had a traditional kaiseki meal, a series of small, precious courses, meticulously prepared and presented: samples of raw fish, delicate soups, and a local rice cooked with chestnuts and served with pickles on the side. Certainly one of the most memorable Thanksgiving meals that I will ever have.

After lunch, we took a tour of the castle. We entered the outer walls past a smaller tower; the walls are famously tall, curved, and capped with rooflets to ward off rival warriors. The entry road is a kind of "maze" designed to confuse attackers, and give defenders more time to rain down destruction. No destruction for us, though there was a heavy mist, which we fought off with our colorful umbrellas; through the gatehouse and under the Inner Palace, where spotlights illuminated the heavy timbers, fresh-hewn for the reconstruction and textured like hammered copper.

Turning the corner, and walking up a ramp, we arrived at the main courtyard, where the scale and elevation of the place became apparent. We could look out to the horizon and the peaks of the surrounding buildings, but in the heart of the yard was a giant, old ginko tree. Behind the tree, a crowd of Japanese queued for the ritual storage of umbrellas and shoes. In the US, you'd never get your stuff back, even if you could find it; here, the folks carefully collapsed and stored their rain gear in large racks, and then removed and bagged their shoes before entering the Inner Palace. Guards and attendants very politely corrected my bad American manners when I stashed my shoes on an empty shelf, and did not carry them inside - I retrieved my shoes and they smiled, bowed, smiled again, and allowed me to enter.

All this silent politeness left me wondering: how did these people ever get up the nerve to attack each other. I soon found out inside, as the sparse crowd from the courtyard funneled into the confines of the hallways of the Palace (though we were all in our stocking feet, we were not allowed on the tatami). Every photo-op became a pushing session as digital cameras, on arms out-stretched, shot to every doorway and display case, and the rush of the crowd became a current that carried the tour forward. Here was a method and a madness at work, and if you did not go with the flow, say you wanted to peak out an odd corner window, you had to fight. Yes, we were the invaders, unaware of the unstated social contracts that allowed an army of photo-seekers to inhabit tight, tourist spaces - and I was pushed just about the whole way through the Palace.

Still, it was not nearly as bad as grocery shopping at the Berkeley Bowl.

Putting my shoes on, I made my way to the relative safety and space of the courtyard once again, and we began our descent back to the parking lot, to cars, and back to the trains. These were on the local Kyushu lines, but the trains were very nice. Our return tickets allowed us to sit in a private booth, with facing seats and a very sizable table with folding leaves.

During these train rides, my father told us of his connection to Kyushu and also of the famous samurai swordsman Miyamoto Musashi, who is legend in this area. Musashi spent his mid-life years in Kokura, and his last days in a cave near Kumamoto. Musashi's famous duel with Sasaki Kojiro took place on Ganryu Island, in the strait between Kyushu and Honshu - just west of the Kanmon Railway Tunnel.

Thus, our Thanksgiving Day was a thoroughly personal and Japanese affair. Arriving back at Hakata Station, we found a shop free of tobacco smoke and had some curry-rice for dinner.

[read Part 4]