This is a sequel to the first journey that I did using the Seishun-18 earlier this Spring! It has almost become a collector's hobby for me to go on trips during the three available seasons in a year, in spring, summer and winter. I love the autonomy it gives me to plan my travels, exploring places that I have not been to, connecting me to the local lines where I catch glimpses of the countryside. The scenes outside of the train windows unfold and transform as the train winds its way from the countryside into the cities and then back to the countryside again. Travelling in summer also means that you get to see fields and fields of lush greenery, mountains and buckets of sunlight filtering in through the windows. The only downside of using it though is that I have to hop onto the earliest possible train in order to maximise the day's travels, especially when I go on day trips over the weekend and there is the fact that some trains run infrequently on the local lines. Trains operate like magic clockwork in Japan. I have mad respect towards the organisation of the railway systems and schedules as well as the routines performed by the train conductors. There are also the station masters and cleaning crew designated at each station to ensure that things proceed smoothly. Having time to while away while waiting for the next train(s) that will take me to other parts of my journey also made me observe more about the goings-on. I think I can finally understand why some people find comfort in the regularity of watching trains and seeing them pull into the station. Some people take comfort in keeping notes of the train models and series that they have come across, detail them in a train-spotting notebook of some sort. Some people take photographs of the models (like me, who loves their colours), and there are some who enjoy collecting train station stamps (also, like me). Being on the same journey as others using the Seishun-18 has made me feel that I am kind of on a pilgrimage with other 'train pilgrims' on board. You know who they are simply by their behaviour and their actions. You find them at the same places you happen to be at. You notice because they remind you of yourselves. It's funny also because they make you laugh at your own train-spotting adventures. It is simply because there is that secret joy that wells up within you when you see someone else sharing the same hobby as you, isn't it? This time round, my trips centred around Tottori, Hyogo and Okayama Prefectures. I have also included some of the stopover(s) I have made en route on the overnight and day trips. Day 1: Sanda (Hyogo Prefecture) --- Tottori (Tottori Prefecture) Duration: 350 mins, 214.6 km Actual price (without using Seishun-18): 3670¥ Using Seishun-18: 2320¥ Stopover(s): Mount Daisen, Tottori Sand Dunes Overnight trip Day 2: Yonago (Tottori Prefecture) --- Sanda (Hyogo Prefecture) Duration: 400 mins, 307.3 km Actual price (without using Seishun-18): 5500¥ Using Seishun-18: 2320¥ Stopover(s): Yura town (Gosho Aoyama Manga Factory) Overnight trip Day 3: Sanda (Hyogo Prefecture) --- Uno (Okayama Prefecture) Duration: 253 mins, 235.3 km Actual price (without using Seishun-18): ~8000¥ Using Seishun-18: 2320¥ Stopover(s): Naoshima Day trip *From Uno Port, I took a ferry to Naoshima, one of the art islands, where the Setouchi Triennale is taking place this year! Day 4: Kinosaki onsen (Hyogo Prefecture) --- Sanda (Hyogo Prefecture) Duration: 241 mins, 142.3 km Actual price (without using Seishun-18): 2470¥ Using Seishun-18: 2320¥ Stopover(s): Izushi town, Toyooka Overnight trip Day 5: Sanda (Hyogo Prefecture) --- Kojima (Okayama Prefecture) Duration: 250 mins, 250 km Actual price (without using Seishun-18): ~8000¥ Using Seishun-18: 2320¥ Stopover(s): Bizen-Kataoka (South Village), Aioi Day trip **Please note that the duration includes stopover(s) and waiting time at train stations. Figures are rough estimates for easier reference. You know what is the best part of going on trips using the Seishun-18? I thought maybe it was the planning bit, or executing and watching the plans unfold. But I am sure that it is this now in my case: going on the journey for going's sake. ... the silence that reigns inside while the wheels beat in rhythm against the rails outside, the dreaminess in which we seem to stand outside our normal selves and to have access to thoughts and memories that may not arise in more settled circumstances.
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Having settled in Japan for a year now, I have been to a couple of festivals throughout the seasons. It didn't take me long to realise that there is always a festival happening somewhere, whether it is in a small town or in big cities, where they attract an international crowd. Having missed out on most of the Obon festivities last year, I found my way to Tokushima for the Awa odori festival during the Obon period this year. Obon period is the season where most people commemorate their ancestors by visiting their graves and making food offerings at altars and/or temples. Lanterns are hung in front of houses to guide the spirits home and obon dances (bon odori 盆躍り) are performed, accompanied by traditional music played on instruments. The festival took place over four days, from 12 to 15 August, with different dance groups (known as 'ren', 連) taking their dances to the grounds, in shopping streets and along the Shinmachi river. Bon odori is a dance praying for the spirits of the deceased. Tokushima Prefecture has its own unique bon odori style. This local dance received much influence from the Shoryo prayer dances in the past, in which people danced in circles together while chanting and praying. There were several types of dances in the Edo period (1603-1868). However, a particular one known as Zomeki (騒き), a lively and noisy dance, became popular because anyone could join freely in dancing. After the Meiji period (1868-1912), the Zomeki dance and rhythms started to express various changes. The dance was then transformed and has become the mainstream Bon odori style in Tokushima today. I really like how festivals are organised in Japan, involving large groups of people from all walks of life, be it volunteers who work behind the scenes, group performers as well as the street stall (yatai, 屋台) vendors.
Festivals are primarily events facilitating community bonding, seeking to create a stronger identity, and promoting tourism outside of the prefecture. It's September and that means... the next round of festivals is about to begin, celebrating the bountiful harvest received. (Well, there is always something to celebrate and be thankful for in our lives. :D) It's the peak of summer, complete with the searing heat and the blinding sunlight. In order to escape from the heat coupled with humidity, we found ourselves retreating indoors (to the world of AC), and spending time on buses getting to places. A LOT. There is this indescribable exhaustion of being outdoors for a significant amount of time in summer. By significant, I meant a duration that is less than an hour. In conclusion, summer makes me terribly fatigued and crabby. Of course, there are perks of staying indoors - and lazing around trying to beat the mid-day heat. In this photolog, I will share with you my food(ventures) in Korea. Odeng, Korean fish cake soup, is a savoury broth prepared by simmering the skewered fish cakes. At this stall, we dipped our fish cakes into a metal container of spicy bean paste and helped ourselves to the broth right in front of us. Unfortunately for us though, the spicy rice cakes (tteokbokki) were sold out by the time we got there. An extremely nutritious dish, samgyetang is prepared by stuffing a whole young chicken with garlic, glutinous rice, jujube (Chinese dates) and ginseng roots before simmering it over medium high heat. We ate it in the afternoon, perspiring in the midst of doing so, and thought how much nicer it would be if it was winter time. Maybe it is laziness on my part at home, but I love eating noodles directly from the pot! When it came cooked, piping hot in a metal pot like this, I could not help but squeal with delight. (On a completely random note, can you spot a tiny heart-shaped, chopped spring onion winking back at you?) I enjoy the wholesomeness of eating dumplings, whether they are fried or steamed. In Japan, there are gyozas. In Nepal, there are momos. In Hong Kong, dumplings come in many forms and they are collectively known as dimsum (in Cantonese, dianxin in Mandarin). In Korea, there are mandoos. I used to think that soy bean paste stews are an acquired taste. The initial thought of eating them gives rise to an inexplicable kind of anxiety. What if it tastes weird? What am I going to do? How nice can fermented beans taste? It may be probably because I am not very adventurous with food. I am afraid of the idea of throwing up upon eating something that I cannot stomach. My mind conjures up a slew of negative and discomforting scenes whenever I face a new and unfamiliar dish that I have never tried before. I have tried natto, sticky fermented beans that is a common breakfast staple in Japan, but I don't think I will ever grow a liking towards it no matter how they are mixed. Be it with a generous amount of mustard or dashi to quell the intensity on my tastebuds. I just cannot bring myself to have a second spoon of it, despite knowing that natto is a healthy 'superfood'. It's the same with sashimi, raw fish though. But I love soy bean paste stews, period. This was my favourite string of banchan we had at a family restaurant somewhere in Ewha. Starting from the front, there is odeng, pan-fried luncheon meat patties coated with egg, kimchi, and stir-fried potato strips (gamja bokkeum). That's all to my food(ventures)! From a not-very-adventurous foodie. Drenched from the pouring rain and exhausted from the hike up Mt. Daisen, I was making my way down when it hit me. Why am I on a constant pursuit of nature trails? They are physically demanding, energy consuming and a true test of endurance and perseverance. It struck like a sudden revelation. I was finding fault with myself for the decisions I made yet trying to understand why I enjoyed and embraced going on them. After all, there must be something that is spurring me forward – to seek and go on them, in a hopeful bid to search for something else. Something more, other than simply being in touch with nature. As I ascended the stone steps and headed into the forest region, I looked up at the canopy primarily covered by beech trees. Hydrangeas were in bloom. The insects danced around on the petals and butterflies fluttered from flower to flower. The clouds hovered above, shrouding the forest in a blanket of mist, resulting in a theatrical performance between light and shadow in Nature. The sun peeked through the canopy, playing hide-and-seek, and then the clouds eclipsed its rays almost seconds later. All these happened in fleeting moments. “The weather condition is extremely unpredictable. It changes very quickly,” Hiroko-san’s voice rung in my ears. She was my host in Daisen town, where I stayed in a guesthouse for 2 nights. An avid hiker who loves the mountains, she wanted her guesthouse to be a cozy shelter for those who share the same interests. It was amazing to know how committed she was to studying English in New Zealand many years ago in order to speak it well, travelled to Canada and India before returning to Japan to settle down. We even spent some time at the dinner table talking about some unusual grammatical structures. It was enjoyable listening to her perspectives about language learning and everything else in between. I really appreciated those conversations, albeit punctuated with my broken Japanese (well, I needed more speaking practice) as she navigated smoothly with English. Standing at 1729 meters, Mt. Daisen is the highest peak in the Chugoku region of Japan, located in Tottori Prefecture. Beautiful throughout the seasons, many hikers attempt the various trails around Mt. Daisen while admiring the surrounding scenes. “It is believed that gods reside in the mountains. That is why there are the presence of shrines and temples.” Hiroko-san delved into the common Shinto belief that many Japanese hold onto. It made me think about the essence of Shintoism in their daily lives, the reasons why people visit shrines, and have a deeper understanding of the significance of pilgrimage routes done by people on religious voyages. Like a daily philosophy that people carry with them, Shintoism is key in Japanese culture. There is this Japanese form of healing in nature known as ‘forest bathing’, 森林浴 (shinrin yoku). When I first came to learn about this concept, it simply meant being in touch with nature, as though it automatically has the magic to heal our hearts and minds. Perhaps it may be that nature lifts our spirits, the therapeutic sounds that echo in the forest bring some sort of respite in our hearts. There are also the greetings we have with other hikers who are on the same journey. But most importantly, I believe this is the essence of it – the mutual understanding we share with others who are embarking on the same journey of forest bathing. Granted that we are hiking together, we are going at our own comfortable paces and engaging with our thoughts. These solitary moments give us the power to heal. It began pouring in the midst of my descent. There were no huts to seek shelter at, so the only way was to keep going forward. As the rain fell, bouncing off the leaves and creating streams of water that rushed down, sounds echoed throughout the dense forest like they were produced from a bamboo flute. Like an orchestra, there were different pitches and tones created by the density of the forest from canopy to forest floor.
By then, I was thoroughly soaked – but in a way, I was also refreshed by the bath that the forest provided. I have never experienced hiking in the rain but this was one of those opportune moments that led me to discover the beauty of nature, in the rawest form. For that, I am truly thankful and inspired. Disclaimer: I am no poet in the making, but I would like to share with you what I have written in the midst of tsuyu (梅雨), the rainy period in the early summer months of June and July in Japan. So here it is, an ode to tsuyu (and hydrangeas) as well as the photographs that I have taken while admiring them! Hope you enjoy :) The cool Spring air
slowly dissipates eclipsed by the heat of early summer The humidity lingers permeating the environs I wait for the rain and its breeziness The rain although sometimes brief brings respite to the cloying heat And to the fluffy balls of hydrangeas waiting patiently for its arrival Opening their outstretched arms Multiple petals scattered in bunches as though there is strength in unison Watching them bloom together My heart flutters At their blend of colours Bluish purple Purplish pink Their petals, the keepers Of the rain drops Until they return to the atmosphere To become one with it again Rainy days are mood-dampening For those, like me Who love the sun The great outdoors and the clear blue skies But rainy days also Offer a sense of therapeutic release A kind of relief from being outdoors When the heat brings us fatigue and sometimes chaos The rain clears our minds and hearts Wipes the confusion away To a blank slate and to a fresh start I love the pattering of rain And the earthiness it brings upon touching the ground For it keeps me rooted A calmness settles within Like the hydrangeas who wait Patiently, longingly, lovingly To blossom together after the rain Thank you For teaching me how to dance in the rain For embracing the impermanence The cloudiness, moodiness And the growth it brings |
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