Sleep is often a bit of a challenge for me. I was told this summer by my stepmother Jenny that I was "such a Bevington" for my sleeplessness...."Your father is up three and four times a night." I had forgotten that about my dad until we spent time with our families before our departure. But every morning in Onoda, Japan, last December, as Eric and I would wake up (sometimes as late as 9 or even 10 o'clock!), we'd sigh and watch our breath turn into fog and burrow deeper under our three comforters on the numbest of futons in Japan. Many Japanese houses are still not heated. It makes for an amazing night of sleep, once you warm up the sheets, and an ungodly shock as you get up to pee in the middle of the night.
However, our experience was warm and cozy....I can write much more about Midwestern-inspired stews, pastas, sausages, cheeses and yummy wine as well as Japanese soups, grilled fish, sushi, sashimi and sake than I can about the sights of southern Honshu, the main island of Japan. Our time in Japan with our dear pals Tim and Mari was a time to nest, reclaim a bit of the West in us (and definitely the Midwest in us) and reflect. Huddled around the dining room table with the space heater cranked, breakfast melded into individual projects...all of us still at our chairs with our endless cups of tea to warm us. Mari would write letters to some of the 33 pen friends she has worldwide, Eric would read obscure articles he's gathered along the way, Tim would restore old fountain pens, and I usually tried to catalogue the slides I had taken and attempt to stay awake. Tim and I would chatter occasionally, with Mari and Eric silent in their own worlds of words. And then it was time for lunch.
Tim, Eric and I met in college. Tim went to Japan on a study-term abroad and, in a sense, part of him has never come back. You'd never guess it by looking at him, decked out as he usually is in winter tweeds, canvas jacket, McKenzie Tartan scarf and woollen Bill-Cosby-like cap. Tim returned to Japan after college as a lay missionary, then went back to Chi-town, got his divinity degree, got ordained and headed back to Tokyo where he met the love of his life, Mari Esashi. They are both somewhat enigmatic in my mind. Mari doesn't fit my image of an average Japanese person, especially being Christian (less than 1% of Japan's population is), and being a 5th generation Christian at that. Her family isn't typical either...her father is a jazz musician and her mother works (atypical for women of her generation) as an interior designer. And in Tim's case, Swedish-Lutheran-college educated ministers generally don't trade Grateful Dead tapes internationally and have collections that rival the Dead's own archives.
This was our second visit to Japan. We traveled to see Tim when he lived in Tokyo, and for some silly reason, I thought our trip to "rural" Japan would be cheaper than Tokyo. It was in some respects, but still off the scale in terms of prices compared to most other places on Earth. There are, however, many things to admire about Japan. The Bullet train. The service (anywhere and everywhere) is also shockingly good. You walk into the local 7-11 or Sushi house and every employee within sight screams a welcome. Upon paying for your goods you are bowed to repeatedly and a chorus of thank you rings in your ears even as you head across the parking lot. Japan is also a place where people care about beauty....every postage-stamp size yard is something to care for and behold. And going to the grocery store is both unpleasant (when you get the total) and a visual treat. The food is beautifully presented. The down side is that everything has 18 wrappers on it. The paper and bows and string and plastic are all placed in a lovely bag that is taped shut.
Tim and Mari have been assigned two churches that they run between in Yamaguchi Prefecture on the southern end of Honshu Island. For reference, nearby cities are Fukuoka to the southwest, and Kobe, Hiroshima and Osaka to the northeast. While we were there, we celebrated Christmas and the New Year. Christmas isn't a national holiday, so Christians living in Japan usually celebrate on the Sunday before or after the 25th. If Christmas falls on a weekday, everyone has to work. The New Year is definitely a big holiday, and everything comes to a screaming halt for 3 or 4 days.
Our Christmas meal was about as American as you can get. Tim and Mari had ordered special food from an expatriate foodie club, and we feasted on Turkey with dressing, cranberries, mashed potatoes, green beans and a very Midwestern dish called Bobbie's Delight that included shell pasta, onions, mayo, cucumber and maraschino cherries. It was just what we needed. We had an equally traditional Japanese New Year. Mari cooked for two solid days preparing New Year's dishes (about 20 in all). We spent the afternoon of New Year's Eve doing the very traditional house cleaning that is always completed before New Year's Day to begin the year with good energy. Tim, Eric and I cleaned the house, washed the windows inside and out, and replaced paper on several rice-paper screens. Mari cooked, and cooked some more.
Starting in late December, kadomatsu start to appear on gates of houses, businesses and any public space. These are the pine, bamboo and plum branches considered a symbol of good fortune and long life. On New Year's Eve virtually everyone in the country watches a television program that is a cross between a game show, a drag-queen competition and a talent contest. Every year it is a little different, but the basic premise is that two teams of nationally known celebrities battle it out with song and dance and spectacular costumes. This year it was men vs. women (I am not sure which category the drag queens fell into), and the program got progressively louder, wilder and more bizarre until its extravagant conclusion at 11:45 p.m.
I barely had time to sip my glass of sake before the station made the most wondrous of transitions. For the next 15 minutes until the advent of 1999, NHK, the national TV station, broadcast from Shinto and Buddhist shrines all over the country. There was no commentary, just the sound and sight of monks striking bells and ringing in the New Year. Each temple was surrounded by candlelight and hundreds of worshipers - men and women - in kimonos. Many temples were blanketed in freshly fallen, glistening snow. Japan...the new and the old. It was beautiful beyond words. Happy New Year.
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