Back in Iwate
Hello again!
I have just come back from my annual study trip (called Gasshuku) with my professor and classmates; an annual trip somewhere for 2-3 days to learn about something not necessarily connected to our study. Last year we went to Nikko in Tochigi Prefecture to look at pollution from a century old mining operation and the subsequent cleanup, and this year we went to Iwate Prefecture up in the far North-East (the second most northern prefecture on the east side of Japan) to go to Rikuzentakata, which was one of the towns most hit by the 2011 tsunami.
I have had slightly bad luck with my gasshuku experiences in that this year and last were both to places I had been before - admittedly last year was to look at something new, but this year in February I had been to Rikuzentakata to do more or less the exact same thing! Obviously the tsunami and earthquake was a significant event that affected an enormous number of people, but I'm slowly beginning to think that in terms of study trips the Japanese need to look elsewhere....
Before I get into the meat of it, I wholeheartedly think that a lot of the tsunami recovery efforts are, fundamentally, a colossal waste of time and resources. Many of the towns that were devastated had tiny populations which were on a downward trajectory anyway, and the tsunami only hastened this; Rikuzentakata for example had about 2500 people in 2011, now around 1800, and in 40 years it is forecast to be 800 - over half of whom will be 65+. I have anecdotally heard from various Japanese people that they feel the efforts there are an expensive operation that serve to only draw out what will likely be a painful reduction in populations and services, and this was no different. Population and demographics aside, Iwate is an expensive place to get to from Tokyo, and at least insofar as I have seen, has few redeeming qualities. Granted, there was some annoyance at the fact I was going to the same place again (and this time paying for it - the February trip being fully funded), but honestly I did not feel much hope there; any optimism that was talked about I took with some cynicism.
It was an early start on Wednesday to get to Ueno station to take the shinkansen for two and a bit hours up north, looking out over lots of different cities, towns and farms. Emerging at the station it was abundantly clear that we were in the middle of nowhere, and so we got in our rental cars to drive for an hour east to the coast, to meet a guide who would take us around the town and explain the rebuild. I was struck by how much greener the place was; in February it was bitterly cold, snowy and as grey as a grey thing. This time round there was a lot more agricultural goings on as you would expect, so the place was a bit more pleasant to look at. Even so, it is still basically a wasteland.
Our guide took us to a building that was formerly part of the railway lines; not part of the station but something like a monitoring office. It was inundated inside by the waters but they did not reach all the way up the top, leaving about half of its exterior above the waters and thus it served as a sanctuary for a couple of days. The town is leaving four buildings that remained standing; those that had no deaths in them will be kept as memorials to the town and signifying resilience and bouncing back.
Then we had a lecture from some people from the town hall about the energy situation; they have set up a small power generation system utilising solar and biomass which is suitable given how low their energy requirements currently are (and likely will be in future). It mirrored a very similar lecture I had in February in a neighbouring town, so I imagine there is a whole network of these small plants popping up all over the place.
Following on from the lecture, we went into the centre of town to meet our host families. Japan has a concept called Minpaku, which is similar in a way to Air BnB, where you stay in a spare room of a local family, in lieu of a hotel. We met with our host mother who first took us to a temple called Fumon-ji, which serves a useful function for the town now. Being elevated, it was spared the destruction, and so many of the destroyed temples now house their relics there instead. Furthermore, it is used as the memorial location for the unidentified dead, as well as the dead parishioners of that particular temple. It was also used as a project space for family members who survived, as a collaboration between artists and psychologists. Blocks of stone were brought from an island south of Tokyo (Oshima, incidentally the island that Godzilla calls home), and with the guidance of art teachers, family members were able to carve a likeness of their dead family members, which served as a meditative and cathartic way of dealing with the grief, as well as personalising and giving a face to the dead. This was quite lovely and moving, looking at the variety of styles, skills, and demographics carved. There were men, women and children, cats and dogs, some carved in a Buddhist style, others looking very like classical European sculpture. Some were carved doing things they liked, such as karaoke, and all of the faces were positioned to the west; the direction of heaven/the afterlife (much like Ancient Egypt)
We went up to the temple itself, which had officially shut for the day, to see if the custodian priest was still available. As it turned out, he was, and invited us in. The temple itself is very much like any other, lots of gold, incense, dangling stuff and statues, but it has an annex for the tsunami victims, with all the names of parishioners carved into a wooden plaque, coloured gold. The gardens behind the temple have Buddhist, Shinto, Jewish, Christian, Islamic and secular motifs, to reflect the variety of backgrounds of the deceased, which was I thought very progressive of a house of worship. Additionally, inside there is an installation of fabric sakura cherry blossoms, made by several groups in the area. In total there are over 14,000 of them, weighing in at over 150kg, and in April this year it received a Guinness World Record for the most fabric toys in a single installation. The installation is to encapsulate the beauty of sakura, but without their fleeting existence. In Japanese culture, sakura are revered for their brief period of beauty, before they fall from the tree (Kamikaze and other suicide units in WWII were called Falling Blossoms as they were considered to be doing a beautiful thing with their short lives). In any case, Fumonji Temple was pretty, and interesting to see the rock carvings.
Our host family was a lovely older couple with their son who works in the local government, in a big house made of fragrant timbers. They seemed very sustainably minded, and so the house itself was mostly renewable in construction, and they had a massive garden in which they grew a lot of fruits and vegetables. The house itself is on a hill, so not bothered by the waters, and the family were very kind in allowing 20 people who had nowhere to go in the aftermath to stay for several weeks.
Dinner was extensive with lots of sushi, pork, vegetables, pickles and salads, coupled with beer and wine and followed with cheese and fruit - very tasty all round!
We slept on futon in a traditional Japanese style room, waking up for breakfast of fish, vegetables and rice, before going on a short walk along the coast to see Kaminari-Ishi (thunder rock), so called because the sounds of the waves mimic the sound of thunder apparently. It is regarded as one of top 100 sounds of Japan by the Ministry of the Environment - I didn't get a particular feeling of thunder, but there you go. The water was very blue though, and frothed up from the waves.
Then it was farewell to our host family and a drive to a new start up for agriculture, using elderly people to produce crops which are then turned into food for visitors. In principle this is good, local food and all, but reflects the situation of there not being many young people left, such that elderly women have to do all the work. It tasted very good, granted, but while we sat in a prefabricated hut eating, being watched eagerly by these old ladies, it was impossible to feel that there was little hope here in the mid-long term.
After lunch they took us to a house above the farm, which was half inundated and serves now as a classroom type thing. The waters reached 15 metres or so, so about my head level on the second floor. Inside were lots of photos and articles of the area before, during and after the disaster, as well as chronicles of recovery efforts.
We then headed up to our second accommodation of the trip, Hakoneyama Terrace, which is where we would have another round of lectures. We met with a guy who runs an NPO connecting families with Minpaku visitors, enabling visitors to stay with local families and have a more personalised experience than a hotel. He talked about the incentives for local families to do it, as well as some of the challenges. I inquired about how they market to international visitors, but it seemed that wasn't really on their agenda, citing language difficulties - despite that our host families were all making efforts to learn and use English. Similarly a desire to connecting with the WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) movement, which has a presence in Japan, was rebutted as being too much, so I left that lecture wondering how this movement was going to grow; it all seemed a bit insular and unambitious. Nevertheless, it was interesting to hear about how people are trying to get people to come to the place, as well as supplementing local household incomes.
Lectures and study discussions over, we went for a bit of an explore around the area, going to an observation deck, a model house showcasing traditional lifestyles of the area, and an adventure playground, before heading to dinner.
Dinner was fairly ordinary fare, and then we had the drinking party that is inextricably linked with Japanese culture - watching the professor and students getting progressively redder in the face while I wanted to go to bed (Japanese and alcohol is a complex relationship). Several hours later it was to bed (thank God), and then we woke for our last day of the trip.
Iwate has an inland town called Tono which is famous for being the location of a lot of Japanese folklore. A Japanese researcher from Tokyo interviewed a farmer's boy who came from the area about his stories, and was given a huge number of tales. This prompted the researcher, Kunio Yanagita, to visit Tono and do his own research, which culminated in the establishment of folklore studies as a branch of Japanese literature. There is a good museum in Tono with reasonable English language integration, which showed the history of the place and how the climate shaped the lifestyles of the people. Being very close to the mountains, which were often cloudy and dark, filled with bears, wolves and other creatures, and inhabited by hermit priests and the odd hunter, the townsfolk of Tono regarded them with a sense of the unknown. This in turn led to a lot of stories of ghosts, monsters and other beasts which could bring about the untimely demise of those who wandered into the hills. This part was probably the most interesting aspect of the trip; fleshing out a lot of Japanese mythology that I knew some of, but not in any great depth.
Finally we went to a castle museum which was much like any other feudal era museum, but on a far smaller scale and with no English notations; seen one sword you have seen them all at this point! We had some lunch and then drove back to the city that had our shinkansen station, before departing in the evening for our return to Tokyo. Arrived back at around 8pm, and then made my way back to the dormitory for a late dinner and some housework.
Overall the trip was much like the February one in terms of content, with some specific differences. It was far prettier this time than last, to be sure, and the minpaku experience was very good. However I could not shake the feeling that these efforts are ultimately going to only delay the inevitable, and that in 50-60 years these towns will be filled with old people and only good for remote farming operations. I cannot say that despite the extensive marketing they are pushing for foreigners to come to Iwate that I would recommend the place; it is a fairly dreary one (despite the pleasant people), and I imagine that the optimism and hope they have at the moment will eventually die.
Tonight New Zealand plays South Africa for their first games of the 2019 Rugby World Cup, so I will be going with Claire and some friends to a bar to watch that. My thesis work is going well; about 75% through my first draft, and things are ticking along nicely. Otherwise, glad to be back in Tokyo, Claire and I are going to Shizuoka in a couple of weeks to watch a RWC game live (South Africa v Italy), which will no doubt provide me some material for another blog! So until then, stay frosty out there!
Troy :)
I have just come back from my annual study trip (called Gasshuku) with my professor and classmates; an annual trip somewhere for 2-3 days to learn about something not necessarily connected to our study. Last year we went to Nikko in Tochigi Prefecture to look at pollution from a century old mining operation and the subsequent cleanup, and this year we went to Iwate Prefecture up in the far North-East (the second most northern prefecture on the east side of Japan) to go to Rikuzentakata, which was one of the towns most hit by the 2011 tsunami.
I have had slightly bad luck with my gasshuku experiences in that this year and last were both to places I had been before - admittedly last year was to look at something new, but this year in February I had been to Rikuzentakata to do more or less the exact same thing! Obviously the tsunami and earthquake was a significant event that affected an enormous number of people, but I'm slowly beginning to think that in terms of study trips the Japanese need to look elsewhere....
Before I get into the meat of it, I wholeheartedly think that a lot of the tsunami recovery efforts are, fundamentally, a colossal waste of time and resources. Many of the towns that were devastated had tiny populations which were on a downward trajectory anyway, and the tsunami only hastened this; Rikuzentakata for example had about 2500 people in 2011, now around 1800, and in 40 years it is forecast to be 800 - over half of whom will be 65+. I have anecdotally heard from various Japanese people that they feel the efforts there are an expensive operation that serve to only draw out what will likely be a painful reduction in populations and services, and this was no different. Population and demographics aside, Iwate is an expensive place to get to from Tokyo, and at least insofar as I have seen, has few redeeming qualities. Granted, there was some annoyance at the fact I was going to the same place again (and this time paying for it - the February trip being fully funded), but honestly I did not feel much hope there; any optimism that was talked about I took with some cynicism.
It was an early start on Wednesday to get to Ueno station to take the shinkansen for two and a bit hours up north, looking out over lots of different cities, towns and farms. Emerging at the station it was abundantly clear that we were in the middle of nowhere, and so we got in our rental cars to drive for an hour east to the coast, to meet a guide who would take us around the town and explain the rebuild. I was struck by how much greener the place was; in February it was bitterly cold, snowy and as grey as a grey thing. This time round there was a lot more agricultural goings on as you would expect, so the place was a bit more pleasant to look at. Even so, it is still basically a wasteland.
Our guide took us to a building that was formerly part of the railway lines; not part of the station but something like a monitoring office. It was inundated inside by the waters but they did not reach all the way up the top, leaving about half of its exterior above the waters and thus it served as a sanctuary for a couple of days. The town is leaving four buildings that remained standing; those that had no deaths in them will be kept as memorials to the town and signifying resilience and bouncing back.
Then we had a lecture from some people from the town hall about the energy situation; they have set up a small power generation system utilising solar and biomass which is suitable given how low their energy requirements currently are (and likely will be in future). It mirrored a very similar lecture I had in February in a neighbouring town, so I imagine there is a whole network of these small plants popping up all over the place.
Following on from the lecture, we went into the centre of town to meet our host families. Japan has a concept called Minpaku, which is similar in a way to Air BnB, where you stay in a spare room of a local family, in lieu of a hotel. We met with our host mother who first took us to a temple called Fumon-ji, which serves a useful function for the town now. Being elevated, it was spared the destruction, and so many of the destroyed temples now house their relics there instead. Furthermore, it is used as the memorial location for the unidentified dead, as well as the dead parishioners of that particular temple. It was also used as a project space for family members who survived, as a collaboration between artists and psychologists. Blocks of stone were brought from an island south of Tokyo (Oshima, incidentally the island that Godzilla calls home), and with the guidance of art teachers, family members were able to carve a likeness of their dead family members, which served as a meditative and cathartic way of dealing with the grief, as well as personalising and giving a face to the dead. This was quite lovely and moving, looking at the variety of styles, skills, and demographics carved. There were men, women and children, cats and dogs, some carved in a Buddhist style, others looking very like classical European sculpture. Some were carved doing things they liked, such as karaoke, and all of the faces were positioned to the west; the direction of heaven/the afterlife (much like Ancient Egypt)
We went up to the temple itself, which had officially shut for the day, to see if the custodian priest was still available. As it turned out, he was, and invited us in. The temple itself is very much like any other, lots of gold, incense, dangling stuff and statues, but it has an annex for the tsunami victims, with all the names of parishioners carved into a wooden plaque, coloured gold. The gardens behind the temple have Buddhist, Shinto, Jewish, Christian, Islamic and secular motifs, to reflect the variety of backgrounds of the deceased, which was I thought very progressive of a house of worship. Additionally, inside there is an installation of fabric sakura cherry blossoms, made by several groups in the area. In total there are over 14,000 of them, weighing in at over 150kg, and in April this year it received a Guinness World Record for the most fabric toys in a single installation. The installation is to encapsulate the beauty of sakura, but without their fleeting existence. In Japanese culture, sakura are revered for their brief period of beauty, before they fall from the tree (Kamikaze and other suicide units in WWII were called Falling Blossoms as they were considered to be doing a beautiful thing with their short lives). In any case, Fumonji Temple was pretty, and interesting to see the rock carvings.
Our host family was a lovely older couple with their son who works in the local government, in a big house made of fragrant timbers. They seemed very sustainably minded, and so the house itself was mostly renewable in construction, and they had a massive garden in which they grew a lot of fruits and vegetables. The house itself is on a hill, so not bothered by the waters, and the family were very kind in allowing 20 people who had nowhere to go in the aftermath to stay for several weeks.
Dinner was extensive with lots of sushi, pork, vegetables, pickles and salads, coupled with beer and wine and followed with cheese and fruit - very tasty all round!
We slept on futon in a traditional Japanese style room, waking up for breakfast of fish, vegetables and rice, before going on a short walk along the coast to see Kaminari-Ishi (thunder rock), so called because the sounds of the waves mimic the sound of thunder apparently. It is regarded as one of top 100 sounds of Japan by the Ministry of the Environment - I didn't get a particular feeling of thunder, but there you go. The water was very blue though, and frothed up from the waves.
 |
| The tsunami waters rose halfway up this rock |
Then it was farewell to our host family and a drive to a new start up for agriculture, using elderly people to produce crops which are then turned into food for visitors. In principle this is good, local food and all, but reflects the situation of there not being many young people left, such that elderly women have to do all the work. It tasted very good, granted, but while we sat in a prefabricated hut eating, being watched eagerly by these old ladies, it was impossible to feel that there was little hope here in the mid-long term.
After lunch they took us to a house above the farm, which was half inundated and serves now as a classroom type thing. The waters reached 15 metres or so, so about my head level on the second floor. Inside were lots of photos and articles of the area before, during and after the disaster, as well as chronicles of recovery efforts.
We then headed up to our second accommodation of the trip, Hakoneyama Terrace, which is where we would have another round of lectures. We met with a guy who runs an NPO connecting families with Minpaku visitors, enabling visitors to stay with local families and have a more personalised experience than a hotel. He talked about the incentives for local families to do it, as well as some of the challenges. I inquired about how they market to international visitors, but it seemed that wasn't really on their agenda, citing language difficulties - despite that our host families were all making efforts to learn and use English. Similarly a desire to connecting with the WWOOFing (Willing Workers On Organic Farms) movement, which has a presence in Japan, was rebutted as being too much, so I left that lecture wondering how this movement was going to grow; it all seemed a bit insular and unambitious. Nevertheless, it was interesting to hear about how people are trying to get people to come to the place, as well as supplementing local household incomes.
 |
| The room we had our lecture in also had some Kiwiana present; not sure of the story of it though |
Lectures and study discussions over, we went for a bit of an explore around the area, going to an observation deck, a model house showcasing traditional lifestyles of the area, and an adventure playground, before heading to dinner.
 |
| A traditional hearth, Iwate style |
Dinner was fairly ordinary fare, and then we had the drinking party that is inextricably linked with Japanese culture - watching the professor and students getting progressively redder in the face while I wanted to go to bed (Japanese and alcohol is a complex relationship). Several hours later it was to bed (thank God), and then we woke for our last day of the trip.
 |
| Pre-intoxication |
Iwate has an inland town called Tono which is famous for being the location of a lot of Japanese folklore. A Japanese researcher from Tokyo interviewed a farmer's boy who came from the area about his stories, and was given a huge number of tales. This prompted the researcher, Kunio Yanagita, to visit Tono and do his own research, which culminated in the establishment of folklore studies as a branch of Japanese literature. There is a good museum in Tono with reasonable English language integration, which showed the history of the place and how the climate shaped the lifestyles of the people. Being very close to the mountains, which were often cloudy and dark, filled with bears, wolves and other creatures, and inhabited by hermit priests and the odd hunter, the townsfolk of Tono regarded them with a sense of the unknown. This in turn led to a lot of stories of ghosts, monsters and other beasts which could bring about the untimely demise of those who wandered into the hills. This part was probably the most interesting aspect of the trip; fleshing out a lot of Japanese mythology that I knew some of, but not in any great depth.
 |
| The people in Tono were historically very connected to horses - these are prayer tablets from the 1700s praying for the health of their herds |
 |
| These scarcrows are not to scare birds from crops, but rather to scare away typhoons and storms |
Finally we went to a castle museum which was much like any other feudal era museum, but on a far smaller scale and with no English notations; seen one sword you have seen them all at this point! We had some lunch and then drove back to the city that had our shinkansen station, before departing in the evening for our return to Tokyo. Arrived back at around 8pm, and then made my way back to the dormitory for a late dinner and some housework.
Overall the trip was much like the February one in terms of content, with some specific differences. It was far prettier this time than last, to be sure, and the minpaku experience was very good. However I could not shake the feeling that these efforts are ultimately going to only delay the inevitable, and that in 50-60 years these towns will be filled with old people and only good for remote farming operations. I cannot say that despite the extensive marketing they are pushing for foreigners to come to Iwate that I would recommend the place; it is a fairly dreary one (despite the pleasant people), and I imagine that the optimism and hope they have at the moment will eventually die.
Tonight New Zealand plays South Africa for their first games of the 2019 Rugby World Cup, so I will be going with Claire and some friends to a bar to watch that. My thesis work is going well; about 75% through my first draft, and things are ticking along nicely. Otherwise, glad to be back in Tokyo, Claire and I are going to Shizuoka in a couple of weeks to watch a RWC game live (South Africa v Italy), which will no doubt provide me some material for another blog! So until then, stay frosty out there!
Troy :)
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