Bringing in the Sheaves

Today I had a brand new experience. I harvested rice. I had been looking forward to this day all summer and I wasn't disappointed.

handing out sickles

It all started in May when my friend Tanakasan, a farmer and photographer in southern Tochigi asked me and a lot of other folks to help him plant his rice field. I was out of the country, unfortunately, but for the rice harvest I was free. There was another invitation in the beginning of August and I gladly jumped at the chance to do something new.

I had met Tanakasan through the Noendan, a group of young farmers in Tochigi, looking at new ways to make a living through agriculture. He impressed me with his warm and gentle manner and his curiosity. Also the fact that he was dedicated to pesticide-free farming was very attractive. So this was part of the fruit born from that meeting almost two years ago; a day of harvesting rice by hand.

the rice field

About twenty adults and ten children came to the event. Most were from Tokyo and  a smattering of Tochigi people. Tanakasan provided the tools, the rice field the know-how and the food and drinks. We provided the labor. It was a fair exchange.

a pre-rice sheaf

The harvest started at ten. I put my bike on the train at Utsunomiya and got off at Mamada station at 9:30. I rode past rice fields, over the Omoi River, past more rice fields, plant heads heavy, waiting to be harvested, until I finally reached his home in the little town of  Fujioka machi about twenty minutes later. I registered for my rice and then we left for the rice field to start harvesting.

Harvesting is a two step process: cutting and drying. Cutting is the easy part. Drying is the more difficult.

I mentioned earlier that Tanakasan provided the tools and know-how. Well, he and his dad did. First we learned how to cut the rice plants at the right height. (Not too high). Then we learned how to stack the plants. About three groups of plants are cut and laid on the ground and then two more groups of plants are cut and laid on top of that in an X. This will be bound as a sheave late to be hung to dry on a bamboo rack. Cutting took about an hour and a half to complete. Then it was our first break and treat, lunch.

Lunch was amazing. Tanakasan's mom, along with about three or four others from what I could tell, had made quite a meal for all of us. There was simmered Chinese melon, squash and sweet potatoes simmered in soy sauce, cucumber and eggplant pickles, slightly salted, but still with their vegetable sweetness in the background, inari sushi, sweet deep fried tofu skins stuffed with Tanakasan's rice, three kinds of fish, freshly cooked rice which had been cooked outside over a fire, and finally for dessert, cold pear apples, grapes and figs. Everyone was stuffed after lunch. Many of us probably would have preferred to take a nap to going back to the field, but back to the field we went.

what we gleaned

Round two took more time. We made sheaves and hung them to dry. We tied the bundles with straw which had been wetted and thus was pliable. I was the first one taught how to do this, so I wound up being the instructor for many of the Japanese. The process is quite simple. Take about five strands of straw, wrap them around the bundle and make a half-hitch. Tighten the bundle as much as possible and then bring the ends together, twist them and stuff them behind the half-hitch. It's easy.  It's efficient.  It uses materials at hand. It's ingenious. It's a dying art.

hanging sheaves to dry

After making sheaves we hung them grain side down on the rack. The aim of hanging them this way is for the sugar in the stalk to flow down into the head as it dries giving it more starch and thus more flavor. It took about two and a half hours to bundle and hang the sheaves and then we took about twenty minutes to glean the field. There were a lot of rice strands that had fallen or hadn't been cut lying about so we picked those up and added them to the sheaves. No waste is a virtue.

home grown figs

We returned to the farmhouse, had one more tea and set off for home. The Tokyo people went back home by car. The carless were chauffeured to Nogi station and I set off for Mamada station again on my bike. Back past rice fields, over the river, past people harvesting rice with machines until reaching Mamada. Then the ritual of folding my bike, wrapping my bike, putting it on the elevator, waiting on the platform for the train, tying it to a bar in the train and sitting down, sure of the fact that no one would ever touch it, then reversing the process after getting to Utsunomiya.

What a great day it was. Useful work. Mixing with nice people. Learning new skills. A great day indeed. I am a lucky guy.

Kasama

On Friday I woke up early from jet lag. Not wanting to waste my morning I decided I would got pottering somewhere outside of Tochigi Prefecture for a change. It was a beautiful morning. Not too muggy. You could tell that the worst of summer was behind us. Past those days when you didn't even want to go outside because of the heat and humidity. No, Saturday was a nice reprieve.

Threw the bike on the train and set off for the neighboring prefecture of Ibaraki. Prefectures in Japan are about the size of counties in the States, so going from one to another is not far geographically, but it can be psychologically. I shook off my cabin fever and satisfied my wanderlust by getting MOVING.

First it was off to Oyama, my transfer point about 40 minutes south of Utsunomiya. I got on the Mito Line for the first time, not really knowing what to expect. It was a very local line. About four cars, a few passengers of  mainly old and young, but not too many middle aged folks and no reader board to look at for station names. I had to listen for them over the PA system.

The train didn't take off immediately. Local lines never do. There was about a fifteen minute wait and then we set off. Oyama is near the Ibaraki border so it wasn't long before our westbound train crossed the border into Ibaraki. I passed through Chikusei, famous for its pear apples, known as "nashi" in Japan. They are at their best in September and October, with two favorites, the Hosui and the Nijuseiki.
But today wasn't for Chikusei, it was for Kasama.

On and on the train went. Through rural countryside of ripening rice fields, small sleepy villages, bamboo groves, woods and low mountains. Many of the stations along the way were unmanned. Paying or swiping one's train pass was on the honor system, a system that is scrupulously upheld here.

After an hour or so I arrived in Kasama. The area around the station was not particularly busy. I put my bike together in front of the station and was off to the old part of town. Town development in rural areas takes on a common pattern in Japan. Usually the stations in older towns and local cities are located far from the original town centers. This was done for safety reasons as in the days of steam locomotives, sparks from the train could start fires in densely packed housing areas. My guess is that Kasama is an example of such development as its station is far from the more interesting old core.

The old part of town is about a ten minute ride from the station, fifteen if you're not sure where you're going. The central part of the city has an eclectic mix of many old buildings, some of them from the feudal era such as the shrine and some from the early modern and modern periods. A lot  of these older buildings now house shops and restaurants. Antiques and accessories seem to be big businesses here.

Kasama was a castle town at one time and though it no longer has a castle, it does have many potters. In feudal times potters provided tea-ware for the nobility. Each area had its own local pottery aesthetic determined by the color of the clay, types of kilns used and tastes of the local lord and other tea ceremony aficionados.  These days of course their target audience is the tourist. Kasama-ware is light gray and very restrained as befits a style originally meant for tea ceremony culture. There are many pottery galleries in town.

I had lunch at R Hana, a cafe and accessory shop, and then walked around the central business district taking in the huge shrine to the fox god, the god of business here in Japan. The shrine is home to many homeless cats who approached me with hungry meows. In a corner of the wall a mother cat was nursing kittens. Japanese aren't very good at having animals spayed and the results can be heartbreaking.

After walking about a bit, I rode back to the station, folded my bike, threw it on the train again and headed back home. I found Kasama to be a great little town, worthy of another visit. If you have friends or family who like pottery, antiques and old buildings, Kasama is worth a stop. I also found out that they have rental cycles so that will be an option when I go again with

Much Ado About Nothing

There is a lot of road repair work going on here in Bellevue. There must be at least six or seven repaving projects going on within just a two mile radius from my house. I have noticed that the improvements are not really improvements however. In essence, all that is really happening is a repave. Two of the biggest problems in Bellevue, in my opinion, aren't addressed with these "improvements".

First, no new sidewalks are being built. In a community as rich as this one you would expect sidewalks pretty much everywhere. On the other hand, status in this community is car-centric. What you drive is who you are and those who need to walk for errands or to public transportation are invisible here. It is dangerous to walk to many places in this city.

Second, the shoulders are not being widened. As a cyclist I know what conditions are like here. Some streets are busy and shoulder-less. Others have shoulders which suddenly disappear at intersections. Making left-hand turns is an act of faith. So, seeing construction which essentially maintains the status quo is disheartening. It says a lot that nothing is being done for cyclists.

I am heartened by things that are being done for cyclists in places like Indianapolis and Davis, California. It takes time and vision to change a culture. The inertia is still on the side of the car in most of America, but I'm seeing cracks in that facade here and there. I'm not sure what it will take for the nation as a whole to get on a sensible transportation path, but when it comes I'm sure it will be fast. We can end up like the Netherlands or Mad Max. Our choice.

Paying Attention Even in the Heat

It's been very hot here in Utsunomiya for the past few days. Hot even for me. While virtually everyone around me was commenting on the summer heat, I noticed that it had been raining almost every evening for the past three weeks. This made evenings bearable until about three days ago. Since then, the heat has been oppressive even at night and I finally broke down and used the air conditioning.

I have avoided using the air conditioner for as long as possible this year. One reason is that I know that most people in the world don't have the luxury of using it. Another is to test to what extent living with it is just cultural conditioning and to what extent its an actual necessity. Also, I'm curious as to what I miss by using it. I realize that there are things I love about summer that I cannot experience if I am in an air conditioned environment. There is a certain sensory deprivation that comes from being surrounded by constant air conditioning.

Today was a good example. I came home and decided not to use the air. There was a breeze which gradually picked up. The sky became darker and a lovely rain fell which cooled things off immensely. The cicadas are singing again, sometimes on a long straight refrain, at times the pitch rising in intensity, at times falling, a natural music whose rhythms I cannot understand, but love possibly because of its unfathomable structure. So now I have the sensation of a breeze on my neck and the cicadas noisily competing with each other. Summer's lovely chorus.

Without air conditioning I have begun to think about where I'm comfortable naturally. I have begun to put together a mental map of places to avoid and places to seek refuge from the heat. Sadly there is only one street in the downtown area that is truly tree lined. It is fairly short, but the drop in temperature is noticeable when walking down it. Walking along the river is nice too. The sound of water has a cooling effect and the water mitigates the heat somewhat. It would be even nicer if there were willows or some other trees along its bank.

I hope that Utsunomiya can learn from its past to cool itself off naturally. I hope that it can use more shade trees and its river so that being outside is bearable even in summer. I hope that it can provide facilities to enjoy being outside such as cafes and benches and a bit of space between the street and people. Perhaps when fuel becomes more expensive we will rediscover some simple ancient answers to enjoying this time of the year. Japan has a summer culture born out of low-tech solutions to the problem of staying cool. It needs to take it seriously again.

The Gods Must Be Crazy

There are times I don't understand Japanese sensibilities. Today was one of those times. There was a car show at the foot of Futaarayama Shrine. It was not an ordinary car show, but rather an anime car show. There were about twenty cars all together, each painted with comic book characters. I'm not sure if the characters were actual comic book characters or if they were the creations of car owners. Obviously a lot of care and detail went into each and every paint job. In addition to the cars, the owners were dressed in costume. They had my pity as it was a beastly hot day. As is usually the case, these type of events attract a lot of people who are into this sort of thing. The cosplay crowd was out in force. There were the girls in frilly dresses and guys in anime/comic book costumes. They would pose and people would take pictures. There was a stage with girls dressed in school uniform-ish attire singing J-pop, probably something from the AKB48 repertoire. It all seemed fairly silly and innocuous. In a sense, it reminded me of how peaceful things are here. All innocent fun without a trace of irony. At least to the participants. I understood why it was on shrine premises: all events that need space are held there. It just seemed slightly...sacrilegious. It's my mid-20th century upbringing rearing its ugly head perhaps. I'll post some pics. You decide.here.

Vienna

I recently went to Vienna for a bicycle conference. The conference was great as was the city of Vienna. Of course, I expected Vienna to be a nice city with great food and palpable history. There are rows upon rows of impressive stone buildings fronted by bronze and stone statues. Vienna has a lot to commemorate. It was besieged by the Turks twice, once in 1520 and again in 1683. It was home to Mozart, Freud, Klimt and the Hapsburg dynasty. It has great beer, good food, awesome sweets and friendly people. It struck me how most Viennese spoke great English. I sometimes feel guilty that I'm not able to speak the language of the country I'm in, however, I've come to realize that it's much easier to learn other languages when you live in countries that are the size of states rather than the size of continents. Vienna is close to the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia and Hungary and most Austrians are at least bilingual if not trilingual.

Increasing pedestrian space

The street as one's living room

Protected sidewalk cafe

  As an American, I immediately begin making comparisons between American cities and European. And now that I live in Japan, I add Japanese cities to my points of reference. It's easy to get caught up in the pleasantness and beauty of European cities and forget something important about them. The reason they are so pleasant is because they are designed as if people mattered. Sidewalks are wide and tree lined. Cafes, an extension of inside to outside space and vice versa, are everywhere, the central plaza is closed to cars all year round and elsewhere, priority is given to bicycles and public transportation of which I saw a number of modes: bike-share, subway, trams, articulated buses and trains. 

 European cities are proof that city life doesn't have to be unpleasant if you put people first. I believe that it's only a matter of time before the United States wakes up to this fact as well. In fact we're already starting to see signs of it in New York and Washington D.C. with their popular bike share programs, widening space for pedestrians and cyclists and shrinking room for cars. With the Republican mayor of Indianapolis introducing a connected cycle network in just the past year, we're seeing a real sea-change, proof that people friendly transportation is possible given some foresight and the political will.

People, bikes, trams, cars layout

Bike pedestrian path

Vignette

Today I took the Nikko Line to Shimotsuke Osawa and walked to a new restaurant. The food was good, the owner was pleasant, we had a nice chat; he told me that he was moving into an old style Japanese farm house in December. He's doing all the work himself. Mentioned that he was a carpenter as well as a cook. I look forward to eating there when they open.

What struck me today was a vignette on the train home. I was seated opposite a young family of six. That in itself is unusual. Usually two children seems to be the norm for most Japanese. Four young children is unusual. As we chugged along, the oldest girl, maybe she was six or seven, was being very attentive to her little brother of perhaps one. He was motioning that he was thirsty so she gave him a drink from a sippy-cup. He beamed at her. She beamed at him. He was in a good mood and she played with him, smiling, scrunching his cheeks, mentioning to her mom how cute her little brother was. He beamed and beamed. Her little sister of about three, obviously thought I was either strange or fascinating. She slouched on her bench and looked right at me. I waved at her and said hello. She became very shy then, turning to her mom for reassurance. The whole family was so good at taking care of each other. No one seemed stressed out or cranky. Does this just happen? Did I happen to catch them at a good time? They seemed very authentic. They exuded an aura of calm and innocence. It was my balm for the day. Just what I needed.