A JOURNEY
INTO THE RED SUN
A
2-Pager by Ajit Chaudhuri – September 2015
Much has changed from the 1970s! The days of boring English
cooking, for example, are long gone – the absorption of dishes from the
erstwhile colonies (such as chicken tikka masala) has made a visit to a typical
pub a pleasure for the food as well as the booze. And while I have no
first-hand experience of either Chinese salaries or American wives, I have not heard
adverse impressions about either.
It was the Japanese reference that particularly fascinated
me as a kid. Did Japanese women actually lie down on the floor on the man’s
side of the bed every morning so that his first step of the day would be on a
warm back? Books on medieval Japan, such as ‘Shogun’ (James Clavell, 1975) seemed
to indicate so. But how did this fit in with the narrative of sparse décor,
where there were no beds in homes?
That I got an opportunity to find out for myself has its
root cause in a parenting policy that can best be described as one of ‘benign
neglect’. When my elder child picked up a fascination for the manga style of Japanese cartooning at
about age 8 and spent all his time watching or drawing them, his mother and I
did not tell him to ‘forget this crap and concentrate on studies’. When he
evinced an interest at age 13 in becoming a manga-ka
or cartoonist, we wearily accepted the possibility of him living in our
basement as an adult, siphoning off pocket money from our pensions. We even encouraged
him to visit Japan for 5 weeks at age 16, on his own, to explore his avenues – his
mother, who is quite strategic on these matters, suggesting to me that this
might be the best way to rid him of his obsessions and return to
doctor-engineer-dom. She turned out to be right (as she always is), except that
the love for manga was replaced by one
for Japan – he even wrote a book about his visit, a 16-year-old’s view of
Japan, that I found brilliant and would strongly recommend (and whose title I
have borrowed for this note) except that the f-word is used 41 times (his
mother did a word count). He was subsequently accepted into university in
Nagoya this year, and we went with him to do the Bengali-parents thing of
dropping him off, settling him down, crying in front of his new peers, etc.
What can I say about Japan from my 10-day visit? For one,
it is the first developed country I have visited recently in which the
anti-smoking and feminist lobbies have not run riot – you could smoke where you
liked, in your room, in bars with your cold beer, in public places, and there
were ashtrays everywhere to indicate so. And women dressed so as to walk as
candy in men’s arms rather than make their own paths, so to speak, using
clothes, make-up and skin to resemble dolls rather than come across as women of
substance. For another, it was beautiful – a combination of clean, safe, friendly,
visually appealing, orderly, pedestrian-friendly, law-abiding, and with high
service standards everywhere – a must visit for those looking for a first-world
experience without going to western Europe or North America. For a third, it
was large – not India large but still large – 128 million people with very high
GDP per capita and living standards, a massive economy, and a long distance
from one end to another. And for a fourth, food and booze (though little else)
was cheap, and I would also probably have been a millionaire there, albeit in
Yen.
This paper is less about our trip and more about what my
wife and I, both seasoned and difficult-to-impress travellers, found awesome in
Japan.
The
Bullet Trains: My first sight of a Bullet Train (or Shinkansen, as they are called in Japan)
was of one pulling into Nagoya station – a large engine resembling a bull’s
head without horns followed by 16 carriages, all in white, soundlessly entering
the station at speed, coming to a halt, and then accelerating out two minutes
later. The feeling was one of unadulterated awe, like when, as a 12-year-old
seeing ‘Sholay’ for the first time, the camera first focused on Gabbar Singh.
We used the Shinkansen extensively
during our visit (Nagoya-Tokyo-Nagoya and then Nagoya-Hiroshima-Kyoto-Nagoya),
making full use of a weeklong Japan Rail (JR) Pass that allowed us unlimited
entry into the trains (which were expensive otherwise – a Nagoya-Tokyo ticket
cost the equivalent of Rs. 6,000. The JR Pass cost Rs. 29,000 per person for 7
days, available only to foreigners on limited stay tourist visas, and usable on
most trains). The trains are fast (the 552 km journey from Tokyo to Osaka takes
160 minutes, reaching 300 kmph), reliable, punctual to the minute, and very
efficient.
Japanese
Potties: The typical shitpot has a temperature control for the
seating area, forward and backward sprays with a control that enables you to
manoeuvre them and change their intensities and temperatures, and something
that provides a background noise to cover all your toilet sounds. Wow! All that’s
missing is a video game that provides a target down below for you to aim your
matter at (as kids, we used to throw in a paper ball and play ‘Bombing of
Berlin’) and rack up points.
Japanese
Gardens: I had read ‘The Garden of Evening Mists’ (Tan Twan Eng,
2012) before the visit, and so knew a little about the concept of a Japanese
Garden in which elements of nature are reduced into an artificial space and
controlled so as to produce an immaculate area for retreat and reflection. It
was therefore a pleasure to see several of them in Kyoto – the ones that
particularly impressed were in Ginkakuji Temple, in the Nijo Castle, and in one
of the residences around the Imperial Palace. They stood in sharp contrast to
the Zen Garden in the Ryoanji Temple, also very impressive but in a minimal
way; all pebble, a few rocks, no water, and not a blade of grass – the only
green coming from a little moss around the rocks.
The
small things: Not everything that impressed was about high
technology and fancy design – we also saw simple innovations that made everyday
living easier. The ladies toilets (in case you are wondering, this observation
is from the better half) have a little space upon which you can strap on a baby
and do your job in peace. Hotel receptions had barstools upon which you could
place a bag and thereby easily access your wallet or diary. Fast food joints
gave you a buzzer that alerted you as to when your order was ready at the
counter. All places where you had to take your shoes off had a long shoe horn
nearby to help you put them back on. And so on!
The
Food: The food was a revelation – cheap and excellent, but maybe
not too suitable for vegetarians, practising Muslims, and Hindutva-types, and this
is probably a reason for us seeing few fellow countrymen during the visit (no
complaints on this – the departure gate for the Shanghai-Delhi flight was full
of India’s finest; loud, manner-less testicle scratchers on their way back from
some trade fair – next time, a direct flight). New sensations flooded my taste
buds; wasabi, different types of sushi and tempura, steaks, fried chicken (so
good that KFC was comparatively bland), the more neutral sashimi, sticky rice, grills,
gyoza, and an array of sauces and powders to manipulate the flavours. We washed
stuff down with beer (the Sapporo draft was the best, Kirrin and Asahi were good)
and sake (while we had quite a bit ourselves, we didn’t see any Japanese having
any). Pictures and prices of the food would be displayed prominently on the
menus and outside the restaurant, and many places had a menu in English. And,
last but not least, no tips, anywhere!
Nagoya
Airport: The Central Japan International Airport outside Nagoya is on
an artificial island that was built specifically for this purpose. We entered
at night, and therefore only experienced its efficiency – out, a quick, pleasant
and welcoming immigration experience, collect the baggage, and into the train
for the centre of town. It was when we were leaving, in the afternoon that we
saw its viewing gallery of both the runway and the sea around it, the wide
spaces (including a giant tsunami evacuation hall), and the wide and varied
shopping, and realized that we could have also taken a speedboat into town
(albeit at three times the price of the train).
Miyajima: We
decided to do one thing slightly out of the way, and that was to spend a night
and day at this small island in the Seto Inland Sea that was said to contain
one of the three best views in Japan. This required taking a train from
Hiroshima to Miyajimaguchi and then a ferry across to Miyajima, (all covered under
the JR Pass) and spending a night in a ryokan
(a traditional Japanese Inn – expensive and requiring sleeping on the floor,
but luxurious and spacious and with a public bath facility thrown into the cost
that we both experienced). We did the 2-hour trek up to Mt. Misen (a holy
mountain that forms part of a world heritage site) the next day, through the
Ohmata Park and across primeval forests, a walk in the park for those who have
done the Kailash Yatra on foot but also the first occasion that I was glad that
I had brought my serious walking boots along, and came down using a fancy ropeway
system. This was also the only place we visited where most people spoke a
little English, where asking for directions was not an exercise in futility.
To
conclude: The brochures said that Japan mixed ‘western lifestyle
with eastern sensibilities’, and I can agree. There was much to appreciate in
this first trip, and some irritants as well; the difficulty in finding a place (nobody
knew anything about the location of any place, and would take at least ten
minutes to tell you so – we soon learnt not to ask for directions), the queues
at women’s toilets (the men, on the other hand, could just walk in, do the job,
and walk out; there was no wait-time anywhere), and the rather sorry description
of Japan’s reasons for going into WW2 at Hiroshima (apparently it was to free
their Asian brethren of colonial rule) and its depiction of itself as a victim
and not aggressor. I will go back, travel around more, and let the country
unfold itself slowly upon me. Arigatou
gozaimasu and sayonara!
