Monday, August 11, 2008
flat pics: finally!
the view. im lucky hey?
my loo
living area angle 1
living area angle 2
bedroom angle 1
bedroom angle 2
Sunday, August 10, 2008
yassa festival
mihara's big local festival is called the Yassa. Yassa literally means hurry up. The revelries date back to the 1300s i think when mihara castle was being built and the local residents would get dressed up and dance around singing hurry up - build the castle!
the castle is gone but people still get dressed to the nines on friday and saturday night. every organisation, suburb or school forms a team who parade down the main drag in the MOST garish yukata you can imagine. turqoise satin and neon yellow yukata, ANC yukata, black and white formula one yukata. each group is separated by a vehicle of sorts (nissan, lexus, ambulance) covered in paper flowers and whenever a dancer gets parched they pop into the back of their slow moving vehicle and grab a beer.
tonight is the last night of the fest and there are going to be fireworks! I have heard that a japanese fireworks display is nothing to be scoffed at. lookin forward to it.
x
the castle is gone but people still get dressed to the nines on friday and saturday night. every organisation, suburb or school forms a team who parade down the main drag in the MOST garish yukata you can imagine. turqoise satin and neon yellow yukata, ANC yukata, black and white formula one yukata. each group is separated by a vehicle of sorts (nissan, lexus, ambulance) covered in paper flowers and whenever a dancer gets parched they pop into the back of their slow moving vehicle and grab a beer.
tonight is the last night of the fest and there are going to be fireworks! I have heard that a japanese fireworks display is nothing to be scoffed at. lookin forward to it.
x
onsen
on my last night of homestay Kikawa-sensei suggested we go to an onsen - a tradtional japanese hot spring. they area all over japan. hot water is leaking out everywhere.
the mihara onsen is nothing like i imagined - which was a remote pond on a mountain top. It was like a casino!! four storeys high with separate baths for men and women. in the change room are scores of wrinkly old ladies just cruising around in the buff. i was self conscious at first, my western proportions could not have been more other.
The bathing area is divided into a dozen or so different pools. some are the onsen themselves - brown cola water bubbling into tiled pools at around 40 degrees. I sat in these for a bit and then treid the novelty pools where you can get various bubble massages and even one where electric current is passed through the water making your muscles seize up so you become temporarily paralyzed - fingers crumpled against your chest. weird but good!
we wallowed for about an hour and then went back down to the public seating area in our gowns. there are giant tvs quitely playing japanese soapies and rows upon rows of lazy boy chairs. babies on mommies chests and old men are dotted about - all uit ge pas, its so peaceful. so thats what we did too. it was dim lit and air conditioned and heavenly.
.
the mihara onsen is nothing like i imagined - which was a remote pond on a mountain top. It was like a casino!! four storeys high with separate baths for men and women. in the change room are scores of wrinkly old ladies just cruising around in the buff. i was self conscious at first, my western proportions could not have been more other.
The bathing area is divided into a dozen or so different pools. some are the onsen themselves - brown cola water bubbling into tiled pools at around 40 degrees. I sat in these for a bit and then treid the novelty pools where you can get various bubble massages and even one where electric current is passed through the water making your muscles seize up so you become temporarily paralyzed - fingers crumpled against your chest. weird but good!
we wallowed for about an hour and then went back down to the public seating area in our gowns. there are giant tvs quitely playing japanese soapies and rows upon rows of lazy boy chairs. babies on mommies chests and old men are dotted about - all uit ge pas, its so peaceful. so thats what we did too. it was dim lit and air conditioned and heavenly.
.
yukata
A yukata is a summer kimono.
Last sunday I went to my supervisors mother in law for a day of japanese culture.
It was quite remarkable!
I arrived at the house and was whisked into the shower. When I emerged I was given a beautiful midnight blue yukata with pink blooms. The family asked if I was tired, which I was and the layed a futon out for me on the enclosed porch. I lay down and fell asleep with a view of mountains and rice paddies before me. utterly idyllic.
When i woke up the family had set up all the bits and bobs necessary for a small tea ceremony in the living area - a very japanese style room with screen doors, tatami mats, a low table surrounded by cushions and, behind one door the family shrine. Above the shrine are pictures of the deceased old folk in the family.
The tea we drank is made from a lime green powder that lookslike wasabi. you place two spoons in a bowl with a long stemmed bamboo spoon and then with a larger wooden ladle you take one spoon of water from a poitjie. all the stuff is layed out on the tatami so the process is done kneeling. the tea comes out bitter and frothy like cappucino foam. to soften the flavour you eat little blocks of ssweet gritty purple jelly. kind of like that spanish persimmon stuff. tres yum.
the tea stuff was then cleared away and my supervisors sister in law brought out sheets of delicate oragami paper in an array of sorbet colours. she taught me to fold a crane. it is very complicated and the final flourish involves pulling two triangular sticky out bits that turn out to be the wings. as you pull the centre puffs up with air and all of a sudden rather than a crumpled bit of paper you have a delicate little bird. these were the cranes that Sadako folded while sick with A bomb leukemia and they have become synonymous with peace and the bomb. On the following wednesday I took my little purple crane to the Sadako memorial in Hiroshima and placed among the hundreds of thousands of others that people lay at the foot of the monument.
After craft time the family whisked me into a pair of clogs and into the car. because of the language barrier, i had to simply wait and see where it was I was going. We drove up a hill not far from the house and then walked a few hundred metres (not as hard as you would think i yukata and clogs) and arrived at what looked like a very old temple that had been decked out in swags of white cotton. makeshift wooden benches had been set up in front of an outdoor stage and surrounding the benches were little stalls - some where you could write a wish or prayer on little cards and attach them to trees outside the temple; others selling slushies; another was manned by three rather beautiful japanese boys who helped you marble thin paper that you then slipped over a frame to make little square lanterns. the boys manning the stall were not dressed in temple attire at all: they were in skinny jeans and trucker caps - the japanese juxtaposition again! they took all the lanterns that had been made an arranged them slowly and artfully around the outdoor stage, lighting them so that as the sun set on they lit up the stage. if it sounds too beautiful to be true, its because it was. a priest in big flowing pistachio pants and a crisp white shirt then took to the stage an introduced three old ladies in black pants and matchy matchy jewel coloured tops. they sat amongst the lanterns and played on three japanese stringed instuments - i cant remember what they were called but theyhave about 12 strings and multiple brigdes that the ladies would shift mid tune with their nimble plastered fingers. when they were done the pistachio pants returned and introduced a cellist (who looked about sixteen but her real age is anyone guess as everyone here looks 10-20 years younger than they really are). She wore an eloborate crimson ballgown and opened her performance with The Swan which, of course, brought me to tears.
The scene was two picturesque for my jet lagged self to comprehend: evening dusk, wooden benches crammed with old people, babies asleep in their yukaktas, boys in indie gear in front of a shimmering stage; the light dancing in the river beside us.
TOO COOL!!!
Last sunday I went to my supervisors mother in law for a day of japanese culture.
It was quite remarkable!
I arrived at the house and was whisked into the shower. When I emerged I was given a beautiful midnight blue yukata with pink blooms. The family asked if I was tired, which I was and the layed a futon out for me on the enclosed porch. I lay down and fell asleep with a view of mountains and rice paddies before me. utterly idyllic.
When i woke up the family had set up all the bits and bobs necessary for a small tea ceremony in the living area - a very japanese style room with screen doors, tatami mats, a low table surrounded by cushions and, behind one door the family shrine. Above the shrine are pictures of the deceased old folk in the family.
The tea we drank is made from a lime green powder that lookslike wasabi. you place two spoons in a bowl with a long stemmed bamboo spoon and then with a larger wooden ladle you take one spoon of water from a poitjie. all the stuff is layed out on the tatami so the process is done kneeling. the tea comes out bitter and frothy like cappucino foam. to soften the flavour you eat little blocks of ssweet gritty purple jelly. kind of like that spanish persimmon stuff. tres yum.
the tea stuff was then cleared away and my supervisors sister in law brought out sheets of delicate oragami paper in an array of sorbet colours. she taught me to fold a crane. it is very complicated and the final flourish involves pulling two triangular sticky out bits that turn out to be the wings. as you pull the centre puffs up with air and all of a sudden rather than a crumpled bit of paper you have a delicate little bird. these were the cranes that Sadako folded while sick with A bomb leukemia and they have become synonymous with peace and the bomb. On the following wednesday I took my little purple crane to the Sadako memorial in Hiroshima and placed among the hundreds of thousands of others that people lay at the foot of the monument.
After craft time the family whisked me into a pair of clogs and into the car. because of the language barrier, i had to simply wait and see where it was I was going. We drove up a hill not far from the house and then walked a few hundred metres (not as hard as you would think i yukata and clogs) and arrived at what looked like a very old temple that had been decked out in swags of white cotton. makeshift wooden benches had been set up in front of an outdoor stage and surrounding the benches were little stalls - some where you could write a wish or prayer on little cards and attach them to trees outside the temple; others selling slushies; another was manned by three rather beautiful japanese boys who helped you marble thin paper that you then slipped over a frame to make little square lanterns. the boys manning the stall were not dressed in temple attire at all: they were in skinny jeans and trucker caps - the japanese juxtaposition again! they took all the lanterns that had been made an arranged them slowly and artfully around the outdoor stage, lighting them so that as the sun set on they lit up the stage. if it sounds too beautiful to be true, its because it was. a priest in big flowing pistachio pants and a crisp white shirt then took to the stage an introduced three old ladies in black pants and matchy matchy jewel coloured tops. they sat amongst the lanterns and played on three japanese stringed instuments - i cant remember what they were called but theyhave about 12 strings and multiple brigdes that the ladies would shift mid tune with their nimble plastered fingers. when they were done the pistachio pants returned and introduced a cellist (who looked about sixteen but her real age is anyone guess as everyone here looks 10-20 years younger than they really are). She wore an eloborate crimson ballgown and opened her performance with The Swan which, of course, brought me to tears.
The scene was two picturesque for my jet lagged self to comprehend: evening dusk, wooden benches crammed with old people, babies asleep in their yukaktas, boys in indie gear in front of a shimmering stage; the light dancing in the river beside us.
TOO COOL!!!
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