Summer in Wakayama

We had the most amazing weekend staying in Wakayama.

Wakayama is highly highly underrated in my opinion. Just an hour or so from Osaka, in the Summer, Wakayama is a lush, wild, green oasis.

We stayed in a beautiful, big house next to the river in Kinokawa, Wakayama. The house was a 2 story traditional Japanese house filled with rich-smelling cedar and open spaces. One side of the house completely overlooked the river, where koi,  cranes, and the occasional turtle passed.

The house is only 7 minutes from Kishi Station, a station famous for the Station Master cat, Tama. So after arriving in the area, we headed for Kishi station to see Tama 2, the original station master cat's replacement, after Tama passed away. When we got to the station we say a lazy, fluffy kitty, sleeping in a glass panelled cat run at the station. Apparently the original station master, Tama, saved Kishi station with his presence, attracting tourists and Japanese people alike who wanted to see the adorable fellow. Unfortunately when we visited, Tama wasn't wearing his station master hat. But he was still pretty cute.

We then checked into our lovely house and went swimming and canoeing in the river. The water was warm and deep, and we were able to spot fish swimming and splashing past us. We canoed down the river, bringing with us a few cans of cheap Japanese liquor, and a huge bottle of sake. After canoeing for a while, the water started to become shallower and shallower, our boats starting to graze the bottom of the shore. So we stopped our boats, linked our oars, and had a little "oar-ganisation" at this interlude in the river, where we sat listening to music, and drinking our cheap booze in the afternoon sun.

After we had finished our drinks, we started paddling back up the river, out of the shallows. At this point, once we were in the deeper water, with no real shores, Jason decided to flip  his canoe. When he tried to upright his canoe, he instead scooped up a whole heap of water, which resulted in his canoe completely sinking....

With no real shore in sight, we had to drag his completely submerged canoe to a bunch of slippery and jutting rocks, drag it onto some of the rocks and attempt to drain it. The weight of a completely full canoe is very very heavy so heaving it up onto the rocks was exceedingly difficult. After a lot of struggle, and we eventually got it up onto the rocks, only to find out that it was the wrong way around for draining! The hole where the water could drain was now on the high side! So we then had to try to turn the canoe around without letting it slip back into the river! During the process, I fell over onto the ricks, cutting up my thighs and bruising my legs and butt. We became covered in sweat and mud. Eventually we got it turned around and the thing slowly started to drain.

After the long process of draining Jason's canoe, our short two hour paddle had turned into a 3 hour ordeal and we wanted to get back home as quickly as possible.So we got Jason back in his canoe, paddled straight back to our river home, and heaved the canoes up the stairs to our house. That night we feasted, having earnt our weight in calories.

The next day we set off for Mt Koya. Based on what I'd read, I expected it to be a foret filled mountain with temples at random intervals. I expected to be hiking through forest for most of the journey from temple to temple. This is not the case. There is a whole, big town on mt Koya and real roads and shops line the path between temples. The drive to Mt Koya was spectacular, filled with rolling mountains and lush green valleys. We started our Mt Koya pilgrimage at the Daimon (big gate) and walked down to the Tokugawa Mausoleum, where the Tokugawa clan, who united Japan were buried.

After that we walked to Okunoin, Japan's largest grave yard, where 200 000 people were buried among the moss-filled graves. Okunoin was magical. The main path through the graveyard was paved, but you could also walk off into the surrounding forest, finding creepy areas and grave sites. It looked as if wood spirits would come out of the moss at any moment. If I had to do this again, I would have skipped the Tokugawa mausoleu,m, which was surprisingly underwhelming, and gone straight to Okunoin. We were already a bit tired when we reached Okunoin, unfortunately, so couldn't spend as much time wandering through the 2km long stretch of creepiness as we would have liked.

True Mindfulness in Japan

When you think of mindfulness, what do you think of?

If you're like most people in Western countries, you may conjure up images of meditation, deep breathing, and yoga. Zen-like ideas of mindfulness. 

In Japan, mindfulness more than an activity that you set time aside for. It's more than pausing what you're doing to take a moment to breathe. Mindfulness is an awareness of your present, a huge part of Japanese daily life, and it starts with the seasons. 

I came to Japan during the Winter. The dark, cold, gray Winter. There were no flowers, no grass. I dreaded leaving my apartment because it was so cold. But I am extremely grateful that I came over at that time.

It meant that I got to be there for the change of the season. And let me tell you, the change from Winter to Spring in Japan is one of the most wonderful things I've ever experienced. 

The change of the seasons is very quick in Japan, and very concrete. In Australia you'll often hear comments like "This is supposed to be Spring?!" "Can you believe it's Summer right now?!". But in Japan, the change of the seasons hits everyone solidly.

I was shocked by the fact that one week I was rugged up in my full winter jacket and scarf, and the next I was outdoors in a mere cardigan, reveling in my new-found freedom, the sun on my face and the cool breeze licking my collarbones. Lush green grass was suddenly springing up from places where there had previously just been brown sludge. 

Everyone in Japan is hyper aware of this change. The first part of Spring is cherry blossom season. All sorts of products are brought out celebrating the cherry blossoms.  Bakeries sell cherry blossom themes cakes, Pocky and Macdonalds and all the major food companies in Japan bring out their limted edition cherry blossom items. Trains roll out cherry blossom motifs, and you can see advertisements and reminders of Spring as Japanese people all over the country exhale a deep breath and grow lighter in the presence of this bright new season. 

The cherry blossoms are so fleeting. They last only a week. So during this time, Japanese people all take time to go out and simply be underneath them. They designate time to go and appreciate the blossoms, reminding themselves that they will soon be gone, as so many moments in our life are. They pass this time under the cherry blossoms with friends and family, aware that in doing so, they will be making memories for themselves to look back on for years to come. 

After cherry blossom season, came wisteria season, followed by hydrangea season.   I had no idea there was a wisteria or hydrangea season. I have never in my life known when these flowers bloom. But in Japan, I am acutely aware of them. I see posters, signs, and themed cakes depicting the flowers (currently hydrangea) and this makes me take special notice of the hydrangeas I can now see blooming on the sides of some streets. Every time I see them I am reminded that they soon will be gone, along with the products depicting them,  and I feel both sad and prematurely nostalgic, knowing that I will look back on this time fondly in just a couple of weeks or months once the season has changed.  I would have never thought about this in Australia. If I had seen a hygrangea I would have thought something so simple like  "nice hydrangeas"... 

 Transience is beauty in Japan. This idea of transience is constantly being reinforced by the multitude of themed seasonal products which are here for just a short time, encouraging people to buy as many as they can while they're here while also encouraging them to appreciate the ongoing march of time. By being reminded constantly of the change of the seasons and passing of time, living in Japan makes you very mindful of the present.

Every season has it's own traditions- Spring is enjoying the fleeting flowers with hanami (flower viewing parties or picnics), Summer (Rainy season) has traditions of building teru teru bozu (rain charms) and hot yukata-filled festivals, Autumn has moon-viewing traditions, autumn leaf viewing events (similar to hanami but specifically to see the autumn leaves changing), and Winter is filled with illuminations, and New Year's preparations and rituals. Each season has it's own flavours and special foods eaten only in those seasons so that people can feel both nostalgic and present when they eat these foods. 

Japanese cities always have gardens, as a haven away from the bustle. These places usually have a variety of seasonal plants and Japanese people often visit gardens or nature spots to simply be in the moment, appreciate the current season and  connect with themselves and nature. Zen rock gardens are of course the epitomy of Japanese mindful stillness, designed to aid with meditation and the contemplation about life. But even simple moss is appreciated in Japanese culture, with a gardens dedicated to moss, and a growing number of people going on outings simply to see, feel, and appreciate the beauty of moss. 

But of course, being mindful of the seasons and nature is far from the only way Japanese people are mindful. Mindfulness is a huge part of many Japanese traditional and practices. 

Before classes in Japan, students stand, bow and greet their teacher. They are also often asked to focus their energy. They are reminded to make the most of the present, this lesson. Before meals, Japanese people take a moment to be still say thank you for the food.

 When you receive a business card from a worker (a common practice any time you meet someone new in Japan) you must receive it with two hands, and then once the cards are exchanged, each person takes a moment to study and appreciate each other's business card before putting it away. This step is a crucial respectful step in Japan, and a way they be mindful. One would never carelessly and quickly stash a business card in their pocket the way we might in Australia. 

The Japanese tea ceremony is centered around mindfulness.  Each movement is slow and mindful, a form of meditation nearly, and when the tea is served, the receiver must take a moment to turn the cup slowly within their hands and notice and appreciate the artwork on the cup. It is these short, still moments that are truly the essence of Japanese mindfulness. 

The same can be said about many Japanese forms of sport and art. Kendo and karate both practice mindfulness techniques and have a calmness about them when they are being practiced, despite both being intense physical contact sports. Kendo even has a concept of zanshin, which is the mindfulness you must achieve after making a strike. It is a fluidity as you pass by your opponent, as well as a tight awareness and on-edge-ness in case you didn't make the point, in which case your opponent could issue a counter attack. 

Even bathing is an act of mindfulness in Japan. Most Japanese people usually have baths. A Japanese person even told me that he believes that the Japanese tradition of taking baths (and bathing in onsen hot springs) is one of the reasons Japanese people live so long. Japanese people have a shower first, and then soak in the tub as part of their daily ritual. This time in the tub is used as a nightly decompression. A time to take pause after the busy day and be present. As a foreigner my very first time in Japan at age 15, I did not really "get" this concept. I had my shower, did what needs to be done, and I hopped out. My host mother looked at me very strangely. "Did you take a bath?", she asked me, worriedly. When I responded that I didn't, she told me that I should. So the next day, I took a quick bath after my shower, feeling a little bored, my brain searching for some kind of entertainment. Again, my host mother was worried about the brevity of my time in the bathroom. "Was your bath long enough? You should relax!". So the next day, I tried to relax. I let my mind become slower with the growing, clinging steam. I let my face become red and my fingers become pruned as my thoughts slid away like the fat beads of water on the walls. I gave in to languor.  It was refreshing. Replenishing. I had let myself simply be. It's a hard thing for many to do, myself included, especially now that I'm an adult, and there are more pressing matters than maths tests and wondering if a boy likes you. 

So how can we, in this modern, fast-moving world where constant digital distractions are now a fixed part of our lives, be more mindful of our moment-to-moment present? It's a tricky one. Communities in Australia are not as hyper aware of the seasons or nature as people in Japan, and commercialism in Australia is just commercialism, rather than also reminding us of the brevity of each moment. Our traditions and culture are not built on moments of quiet thought. Perhaps all we can do is build our own rich seasonal traditions within our own families, and make a conscious effort to notice the small things, purposefully paying attention to and appreciating the ordinary. By doing this, we can elevate the ordinary to a thing of beauty.