Japan and Taiwan: Day 10 - Sendai

The steps leading up to the Zuihoden

Sendai 仙台. I couldn't believe I was in Sendai again. Actually, I've been having difficulty remembering exactly when and with whom I was last there. I have vague memories of a short spell in the city sometime in the early 1990's, but I can't recall if I went there with an ex-wife or a former girlfriend (or a girlfriend who later became an ex-wife). This is somewhat odd as my memories of where I've been in Japan are usually pretty clear, but for some reason the first time to Sendai is getting lost in the mists of time. Not so with this most recent trip, however, especially now that I have a blog to help keep those memories lucid as time marches on.

Sendai is the largest city in the northeast region 東北地方 of Japan's main island of Honshū 本州 and, from all accounts, is a modern metropolis and a nice place to live, with plenty of stores and a very active nightlife. For the traveler, Sendai is an important transportation center, but in terms of sightseeing, with the exception of the annual Tanabata Matsuri 七夕祭り (the Star Festival, held every August 6-8), there isn't much to keep one busy for more than a day. But it was enough on this Friday, my last full day in the country before leaving for Taiwan the next day.

Taking advantage of the city's sightseeing bus, Loople Sendai るーぷる仙台, which, as its name suggests, makes a loop of Sendai's main sights (a one-day pass was a bargain at ¥600), I had myself dropped off at the Zuihō-den 瑞鳳殿. Located on a wooden hillside, the Zuihoden is the site of three mausoleums - those for Date Masamune 伊達政宗 and his two successors. More than any other person, Masamune was responsible for making Sendai the important regional city it is today. As the feudal lord overseeing his domain, he laid out the city's original grid pattern in the 17th century, and his clan ruled Sendai for 270 years, governing from a huge, ornate castle during the Edo period 江戸時代. After Masamune died in 1636, he was interred in the Zuihoden, pictured above. Unfortunately, the original mausoleums were lost during air raids in World War II, but the modern reconstructions you can see today are faithful reproductions and are no less impressive. 

Contrary to what many people perceive as the aesthetics of traditional Japan, the mausoleums are colorful and opulent. They were originally constructed in the style of the Azuchi-Momoyama period 安土桃山時代, a time when, as Wikipedia describes it:

The ornate castle architecture and interiors adorned with painted screens embellished with gold leaf were a reflection of a daimyō's 大名 power but also exhibited a new aesthetic sense that marked a clear departure from the somber monotones favored during the Muromachi period 室町時代.

The famous shrine at Nikkō 日光東照宮 is another example of Momoyama-style architecture and design. In fact, a number of the weathered wooden buildings still standing in Japan after three or four centuries were originally built in this colorful style, only to have the paint gradually flake off over time.

The main gate of Zuihoden, made from cypress. The name of the gate, Nehammon 涅槃門, comes from the Japanese word for nirvana, nehan 涅槃.

The Kansenden 感仙殿, the mausoleum of Date Masamune's successor, Date Tadamune 伊達忠宗, who became the second feudal of the Sendai-han 仙台藩 feudal domain.

The mausoleum of the third daimyo, Date Tsunanume 伊達綱滑, is called the Zennōden 善応殿. Like the Zuihoden and Kansenden, the original was destroyed by American bombers. 

The mausoleums are located on pleasantly-wooded grounds. After spending an hour or so here, I hopped on the next Loople bus as I continued my journey uphill.

I got off at the next stop, the Sendai City Museum 仙台市博物館. The displays covered the history of the city from the Stone Age to the present, but the majority of the exhibits were naturally concerned with Date Masamune and his ilk. This portrait of Masamune, like all others made during his lifetime, depicts him with two eyes, despite the fact he lost one of his eyes during childhood.

Swords and armor used by the samurai 侍 of the Sendai-han. Note the distinctive crescent moon on the helmet.

The next bus stop was Aobayama-kōen, the site of Sendai Castle, or Aoba-jō 青葉城 as it's more popularly known (the city's main thoroughfare is called Aoba-dōri 青葉通り). The castle is long gone, but the statue of Masamune riding his horse has become the symbol of the city (and it accurately depicts him as having only one eye).

Masamune looks out over the city that still owes so much to him

While atop Aoyama-koen, I had one of Sendai's specialty foods for lunch. Gyūtan 牛タンis cow's tongue, which I grilled at the table while quenching my thirst with a beer. 

Getting on the Loople one more time, I rode the tourist bus back to the downtown area, where I took a walk through a couple of Sendai's long, covered shopping arcades.

It was soon time to get back to Tōkyō 東京 however, so I retrieved my bags and bought a ticket for the bullet train 新幹線,  my JR Pass having expired the day before. A self-portrait of the traveler waiting for his train at Sendai Station 仙台駅, reading The Japan News (formerly The Daily Yomiuri) and sipping an iced cocoa アイスココア.

I soon found myself back where I started, in Tokyo's Shinjuku 新宿 district, where I dropped my bags off at my hotel and, starving, wolfed down a bowl of katsudon カツ丼. And then I was off to meet another old friend, Jun. Kicking back with way too many bars at an izakaya 居酒屋, the two of us had some catching up to do, and catch up we did. And just as with my friend Aviva, I was so caught up in our conversation that I neglected to capture any moments on film, which was a damn shame.

And thus ended the Japan leg of my two-week vacation. In addition to some great travels in Tōhoku, this trip was made even more pleasurable by virtue of having been able to see some wonderful people again after too many years. And so to Aviva, Doug and Jun, I bid you a fond じゃまた (not さようなら), and hope to meet up with you again someday soon.

Down on Duolun Street

Today is the last day of the three days off from work I've had as a result of the Chinese National Day holiday (I could be facing more time off thanks to the shutdown of the federal government, but I am going into work tomorrow as scheduled). For the first two days we didn't do much other than go over to a dinner party one evening organized by one of the Taiwanese wives that my spouse has gotten to know at the U.S. Consulate here. So today I was determined to get out and about in the city, and decided that the Duō​lún Road Cultural Street 多伦文化名人街 in Shàng​hǎi's 上海 Hóng​kǒu 虹口 area was as good a destination as any, so off we went. 

Getting to Duolun Culture Street was amusing, to me anyway. From the Dōng​bǎoxīng Road metro station 东宝兴路站, we had to pass through a neighborhood that was obviously a holdover from the days before Shanghai became the filthy rich metropolis that it is today - cramped houses the occupants of which were spilled out onto the narrow lane to conduct their businesses, while a steady stream of horn-blaring scooters passed back and forth (in the old days it would've been bell-ringing bicycles, I'm sure). The look on my wife's face was priceless as we passed by the communal toilet. And when I suggested having lunch at one of the numerous small eateries in the area, Pamela hesitated, no doubt concerned about the hygiene (or lack of), until she relented and agreed to sit down to noodles at a Fú​jiàn 福建 hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Though my wife was born and raised in Tái​wān 台灣 and speaks the dialect fluently, she's always considered herself to be "Chinese", an identity she derives from an idealized image she has of the country (prior to our being posted in China, she had only been to the mainland once, and that was with a tour group of fellow Taiwanese). Which is why I take a sadistic form of pleasure watching her reactions when the China of her fantasies comes face-to-face with the China that exists on the ground, especially the further away you get from central Shanghai. Stay tuned...

My initial impression of Duolun Culture Street was disappointing when we finally got there. The Old Film Café 老电影咖啡馆 was closed to the public due to a movie or TV shoot that was going on, and I couldn't even get a picture of the Charlie Chaplin statue out front. And all along the street, couples were having their wedding photos taken. While they were interesting to watch at first, especially the women in their qí​páo 旗袍 dresses and 1920's style hairdos, it quickly became tiring having to step around these people while walking on the street. At one point, the three of us were standing and discussing where to go next when a man came up and asked us to get out of the way because we were in the background of a shot. It's times like that I wish I weren't a diplomat.

Further disappointment ensued when I learned that the Máo Museum 毛泽东像章馆 wasn't open today.

Things began to brighten up, however. For one thing, the street itself was interesting to stroll down, lined with traditional Shanghai houses known as shíkùmén 石库门. Many of these now operate as antique and curio shops, making them fascinating places to pop your head into and look around. 

A short walk down one of the side streets led to the Museum to the League of Left-wing Writers  中国左翼作家联盟会址纪念馆. The league was a group of radical writers who formed in this house in 1930 and ended up being persecuted by the Kuomintang 國民黨 -led Republic of China 中華民國 government before being lionized, in turn, by the Chinese Communist Party 中共. The displays inside were naturally of a political nature, but my interest lay with the building itself, a beautiful relic that was erected in 1924.

In the small garden to the side of the building, my daughter posed in front of a statue of five writers who were brutally executed by the KMT, an event crudely depicted by a diorama inside the museum. 

Back on the main street, another beautiful building was the former residence of H.H. Kung 孔祥熙, a wealthy Chinese banker and KMT politician, who married one of the Soong sisters 宋家姐妹 . His home bears some Middle Eastern influences in its design.

Having reached the end northern end of Duolun Culture Street, we reversed course and headed back down. On the way, we went into this antique shop.

"We must liberate Taiwan!" An original propaganda poster was hanging on the wall, and I wanted it, badly! At an asking price of 15,000 RMB ($2450), I had to regretfully pass on it, however. I'll have to content myself with finding a reproduction somewhere in this city. I'd like to get this, and a KMT poster calling for the liberation of the mainland, and hang them up side-by-side in my home.

This poster of Communist icon Léi​ Fēng 雷锋 was another original with a much more reasonable asking price of 500 RMB ($82). Sitting here writing this, I'm now wishing I'd bought it.

What I did pick up, though, was a 1966 first edition of Quotations from Chairman Mao Tse-tung, the infamous "Little Red Book" and a bargain at only 170 RMB ($27.75), and paid for with money earned working for the imperialist paper tiger.

The 18.2 meter (60 feet) high Xīshí Bell Tower 

From the explanatory plaque: "Uchiyama Kanzō 内山完造...native of Okayama 岡山, Japan; owner of Nèishān Bookstore 内山书店; a foreign friend to the Chinese people; and a close friend of Mr. Lǔ​ Xùn's 鲁讯 residing in Hongkou from 1916 to 1947." Lu Xun was one of the earliest and best-known of China's modern writers, and his presence can seen and felt all over the Hongkou area.

We stopped to take a look inside the 1928 Hóngdé Temple 鸿德堂, which despite its name and appearance was actually a Christian church. Inside, visitors were sitting in pews, watching a video about Jesus.

Amber suggested we go inside the Shanghai Duolun Museum of Modern Art  上海多伦现代美术馆, much to her father's pleasure. The building's architectural style, unfortunately, clashed with the rest of Duolun Culture Street, but there was a view of the surrounding area from the third floor, even if was through grimy, heavy plastic sheeting.

On the way back to the station, I stopped to have a chat with Lu Xun...

...while Pamela bought some ointment from a street vendor, and Amber posed next to a fruit stand, causing at least one local to do a double take.

Japan and Taiwan: Day 9 - Cycling with legends in the Tono Valley

I had originally planned to stay a couple of nights in the small Iwate Prefecture 岩手県 city of Tōno 遠野 so that I could rent a bike and spend at least an entire day enjoying the countryside on two wheels. Typhoon 18, however, forced a change in plans, and I ended up making overnight stays in Akita 秋田 and Morioka 盛岡 instead. I had pretty much reconciled myself to giving the scenic Tōno Valley a miss on this trip when it occurred to me that, ever since moving to Shàng​hǎi 上海 almost three months ago, I'd seen nothing but urban landscapes. Even on this trip, I'd been staying in cities, and so I decided I needed to get some fresh air and open space in some form or another before I went back to China. Since I had the foresight to get a JR Pass for this Japan trip, going from Sendai 仙台 to Tono and back again seemed a perfectly feasible thing to do. And so I left Sendai just after 8:00 on a Thursday morning for the hour-long trip on the bullet train 新幹線 to Shin-Hanamaki 新花巻, where I then caught a rapid train to Tono, alighting there just over two hours after the start of my journey.

The trusty chariot I rented for the day from the tourist office opposite the train station. Six hours of use came to a very reasonable ¥900. 

I started out by heading west from the station on Route 238. 2.5 kilometers (1.6 miles) into the trip, I stopped to visit Unedori-jinja Shrine 卯子酉神社. Dedicated to the god responsible for matters of a matrimonial nature, those who wish to get married tie red ribbons onto a tree. Having been there and done that a couple of times, I soon moved on.

Next to the shrine, an arrow pointed the way to a walking trail heading uphill. The path eventually led to a wooded valley festooned with moss-covered stones. As I kept ascending, images gradually began to appear on these rocks, and I knew that I had reached the Gohyaku Rakan 五百羅漢, five hundred Buddhist disciples whose visages had been carved into the stones by a local monk in the late 18th century.

Coming downhill from the Gohyaku Rakan, I followed a small road that led about 700 meters (0.4 miles) to a torii 鳥居 and a sign pointing to shrine somewhere up among the pine trees. A short but steep path uphill passed through a couple more gates before reaching a small Shinō shrine 神社.

This was obviously not your ordinary Shinto shrine, but one dedicated to Konsei-sama コンセイサマ, the local fertility god. This remnant of an ancient cult that was once widespread throughout Japan was (is?) the place women who wished to conceive went to in order to beseech the gods. 

Eventually making my way back downhill to my parked bike, I returned to Tono. Following lunch at a local supermarket, I proceeded to head in the opposite direction along Route 340. Here, the scenery started to open up.

I soon arrived at Jōken-ji Temple 常堅時, founded in 1490. This Buddhist temple is noted for its statue of Obinzuru-sama おびんづる様, who is said to cure illness provided you rub the statue in the afflicted area. Most visitors come here for a different reason, however.

And that reason was the kappa pool カッパ淵. A kappa 河童 is a water-dwelling creature that features prominently in Japanese folklore. Sometimes they're presented as cute cartoon characters, but other legends portray them as nasty creatures known to drown people, kidnap children and devour souls (which were believed to exist in the anus). Though it may be hard to make out in the photo, there is a fishing pole on the left bank, with a cucumber tied to end of the line in the water. Cucumbers were considered to be a kappa's favorite food.

Next to the kappa pool a local eccentric had erected a shrine to...well, himself it seemed.

As the water sprites were proving to be rather elusive, I continued on in a northeasterly direction, passing more rice fields nearing harvest time.

The house of Kyōseki Sasaki 佐々木喜善. Sasaki was the educated son of a local farmer who related to visiting folklorist Yanagita Kunio 柳田國男 some of the many legends of ghosts and gods that were part of the everyday life of the people of the Tono Valley. Yanagita went on to publish these tales in 1910, and The Legends of Tono 遠野物語 made the area famous throughout Japan.

From the Sasaki house, it was a short side trip to Dan-no-hana ダンノハナ, where it seemed somehow fitting that I should photograph the countryside from a cemetery.

This small, thatched watermill 山口の水車 represented the furthest extent of my cycling travels. From here it was 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) back to the station.

This self-portrait was taken at Dendera-no デンデラ野. What looked like an ordinary field was in times gone by a place where those who had reached the age of 60 were sent to die. Rumor has it that many ghosts continue to haunt the field to this day.

For the return ride back to the station, I skipped the main road in favor of the Tono-Towa Bicycle Path, a 8-kilometer (five miles) path that passed by golden rice fields and along the Sarukaishi-gawa River 猿ヶ石川.

My attempt to document my ride along the path

After returning the bike, I did some souvenir shopping, purchasing a copy of The Legends of Tono (of course), as well as a bottle of Zumona Beer, the local brew 地ビール. Seeing as I had a half-hour to wait for the train to Hanamaki 花巻駅 and the return trip to Sendai, and without a source of refrigeration, I had no choice but to down the contents in the plaza in the front of the station, surrounded by statues of kappa, naturally. And, naturally, I had a pleasant buzz on the train ride back.

Sunset outside Shin-Hanamaki Station 新花巻駅. I didn't get to see all I wanted to see in Tono - had I been able to stay there and thus get an earlier start, I would've been able to reach a noted 200-year-old thatched-roofed farmhouse that was 6.5 kilometers (four miles) pass Unedori-jinja, for example. I might also have had time to check out one of the three large folk museums in the Tono Valley. But I certainly couldn't complain. Typhoon be damned, I was still able to get there and spend time with some of the legends, rock carvings, shrines and phallic symbols of this ancient corner of Japan.