As for the ceremony itself, it was highly precise. Rei, who performed it, had incredible concentration - she's been practising since she was little - and methodically performed every action with a sense of ritual, down to laying each utensil down in a specific way when it wasn't being used. There was a lot of bowing, as well. The tea itself was nothing special taste-wise, though the traditional Japanese sweets were great.
The storage shelf for various (far from all) tea ceremony tools. Photographed before the ceremony as I could do so without inconveniencing anyone.
Awesome traditional Japanese sweets. Note tatami floor and traditional electric kettle.
The takonoma. Upon entry, part of the ceremony is to look at and bow to the scroll and the flower. The scroll reads "mu-ichi-butsu", or "not one thing", i.e. "emptiness". There is probably some deep meaning in this, but though I'm fairly good with Buddhist void imagery (it was one of my best essays back in Oxford, too), I couldn't get any straight answers out of the teacher as to the ceremony's philosophical meaning.
The entrance. Note various decorations - the painting on the left was brought from the temple where the teacher's mother had studied the tea ceremony.
The house itself, by the way, is about 100 years old, but feels older inside.
Anyway, after the ceremony's conclusion (we went through it twice for me, then once more with Rei as a guest and the teacher officiating), Rei and I went for lunch. She kindly treated me to McDonalds, which was sort of odd given I hadn't eaten there for over a decade (first switching to their superior rival Burger King, then to healthy eating, then to vegetarianism). Incidentally, I hadn't realised their food varies between countries - Japanese ones are small, American ones are huge, French and Russian ones are foul. Such is the combined knowledge between myself and the Inoue family (Rei's).
Rei and I chatted - she'd done a year's study abroad in New York and wanted to practice her English, given the lack of opportunity here. I have to admit, it was really nice to have a flowing, two-way conversation with someone of my own generation for the first time in a while. Oh, and she let me have most of her chips because she was full, which was definitely a bonus. By the way, the "re" of "Rei" is an obscure kanji which means something like "the sound of tinkling jade". I don't think the Japanese get quite how lucky they are with their naming options.
Eventually, however, Hiroko arrived, and a little later Yuri, and we set off for nearby Arashiyama - "Storm Mountain", read literally (Rei, though, was due to perform at a piano concert with her mother, so didn't join us; have I mentioned how amazingly talented Japanese young people seem to be?). On the way, I talked a fair bit with Yuri - he's 15, but looks a fair bit older, and is intelligent enough that we conversed happily without worrying about the age gap. His interests include modern history and Russian, and he plans to be a jumbo jet pilot (his mother being a stewardess). He asked me many questions about Britain, and especially about how the British see Japan. I have to admit that I struggled a little with those, since the average Briton doesn't know very much about Japan (at least, of those I've met), whereas I've been taking an interest in it since I was about seventeen.
Finally, we arrived at Arashiyama and I was stunned. The sun-bathed scenery was gorgeous, to the point that trying to get it across in individual photos is like trying to describe a beautiful woman one body part at a time. The feel of the place was also very peaceful. I was totally in love, and part of me even wished I lived in a rural area like that (even though deep down I'm totally a city-dweller).
Arashiyama. Enough said.
A radiant shirasagi or white heron.
After admiring the view (a task made difficult, photography doubly so, by the fact that it's bad luck to look back on the famous main bridge), we proceeded to a very awesome exhibition hall called, I think, Shigure-ten (but the kanji had a rare reading, so I commit to nothing). The hall is dedicated to a famous Arashiyama-based anthology of 100 poems compiled in days of yore, but this is not what makes it special. What makes it special is this:
The main hall. Note, in the background, a total of 100 pillars, each with one of the anthology's poems described on them.
Upon entering the main hall, you are given a DS and 20 minutes. During those, you can walk on the floor depicted, which displays a live (or pre-recorded, but constantly updating) satellite view of Kyoto. You're walking over the Kyoto sky, and you can see cars moving and everything, and you can use the DS to zoom in on the area you're standing over, or summon a little animated bird which you can follow to any of a huge list of Kyoto landmarks. The experience is quite amazing. Also, periodically the map changes into a game where you have to find the right one of the 100 poems on the floor to match the one displayed on your DS. It's effectively a competition to see how many you can get before the screen reverts.
The spot-the-card game. The poem text is fairly illegible to me, being cursive style, so I used the much more helpful author portraits.
Follow the bird (they can sense your footsteps) to the destination of your choice. Trust the Japanese to make even that cute.
We were pressed for time, though, having a train booking, so only stayed for ten minutes. But we also saw a fun series of games where one challenges videos of the ancient authors of the poems in a traditional Japanese erudition/reflex competition. You get given the first half of one of the poems, and have to touch the corresponding second half (out of six cards) before the other person does. If you wait long enough, the relevant words will appear on the screen, but knowledgeable players can get a time advantage by recalling the second half from memory. Needless to say, I sucked (especially given that half the cards were upside down, and also that I kept forgetting to correct for right-to-left vertical column order), though Yuri was very good.
The video game. Of the authors, I must admit to recognising only Murasaki Shikibu, author of "The Tale of Genji" (argued by some to be the world's first novel). Worth noting, by the way, that the Heian Period's leading authors were all women.
Karuta, traditional Japanese playing cards (inspired by Portuguese travellers, I think). Did you know that the technology giant Nintendo started out as a humble maker of these during the Edo period?
A reproduction Heian court, complete with impressions of some of the anthology authors.
Sadly, we had to leave all too soon in the name of taking up our booking at the Sagano-Arashiyama "Romance Train". Far less tacky than it sounds, any romantic possibilities during the train ride stem solely from the incredible views one can share with a partner - in reality, it is nothing more or less than a scenic train ride (except for the oni). Once again, I may have to let the photos speak for themselves. Incidentally, I spent the journey one way taking pictures, and then the journey back relaxing and enjoying the landscape. They are different experiences.
The Romance Train. I could scarcely be less interested in trains, but I guess it was pretty.
A group photo, with Yuri in the middle. Train staff were scurrying back and forth trying to get people to pay for commemorative photos, but this one was taken by a kind neighbour.
The main draw of the Sagano-Arashiyama journey is that it runs vaguely parallel to the beautiful Hozu River.
More adventurous travellers could be seen paddling, kayaking and sailing downstream. Hiroko waved at them. They waved back.
An intermediate stop was lined with tanuki, Japanese racoon-dogs and famous mythical mischief-makers. Note their enormous testicles - these can be stretched to form a variety of useful tools up to and including a small tent. Combined with their shapeshifting powers and love of pranks, this makes tanuki somewhat of a pain to deal with.
A lanscape to die for. Yuri thinks he may have seen a bear prowling the banks, but it was inconclusive.
The oni. Ah, yes. The oni. He stomped through the carriages at one point, looking vigorously intimidating and evidently having fun with people's reactions. Notably, he periodically hid himself and the oni mask behind a smaller Hello Kitty mask to great effect (though I don't think it fooled anyone). One of the great regrets of my life is that I failed to take a photo of him doing this.
The journey's end. Over to the left lie vast stretching fields, with more hills visible on the horizon.
Like so, except prettier in real life.
But eventually the journey ended, and we were left in evening Arashiyama. We walked around for a while, investigating the draws of local snacks, and glancing into various local shops. Of note was a souvenir shop selling an enormous variety of music boxes (the Japanese use the Dutch loanword "orgel"). They played everything from "Fur Elise" to "Yesterday", and even some anime themes (I definitely saw "My Neighbour Totoro" and the new Ghibli film "Ponyo on the Cliff by the Sea", and also what might have been "Kanon").
A selection of "raw" music boxes, to be fitted with decorations before purchase as far as I can tell.
Entrance to one of Arashiyama's more famous temples, Tenryuji. Sadly, by the time we got off the train they were all closed - temples and shrines close horribly early around here. But the scenery was good.
"For those who wish their beauty to become a cherished memory. Right now."
A "pension" in this context is a kind of small hotel. Still, I admire the courage of those choosing to stay here.
For those of you who have just tuned in, do not change channels - I'm writing this from a net cafe on my last day off, so another post is to follow shortly.
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