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Showing posts sorted by relevance for query tono valley. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query tono valley. Sort by date Show all posts

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

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.
















Saturday, January 6, 2018

Boxing Clever in Tsuwano

Taikodani-inari Jinja

It was the middle of the afternoon on Christmas Monday when we arrived in the beautiful old castle town of Tsuwano 津和野, population 7660. Our minshuku 民宿 (Miyake みやけ) was only a few minutes' walk from the train station:


My wife by this point in our trip was beginning to suffer from the effects of a bad cold and so decided to stay in our room and relax. My daughter was feeling fine, however, so I took her with me on a brief exploration of the town before dinnertime. It was a short walk to the small chapel of Otometōge Maria Seido (Chapel of St. Maria) 乙女峠マリア聖堂, located in the hills to the west of Tsuwano Station 津和野駅. In 1865 150 "hidden Christians" 隠れキリシタン were moved by the Tokugawa Shōgunate 徳川幕府 government from Nagasaki 長崎 to Tsuwano, where they were subjected to various ordeals that resulted in the deaths of 36 of them (the ban on Christianity wouldn't be lifted by the Meiji government until 1873). The chapel was built in 1951 to commemorate the victims:



Tsuwano is noted for its colorful carp swimming in roadside channels, originally bred as emergency food supplies in the event of famine and other emergencies, much to Amber's delight:


Tsuwano Catholic Church 津和野カトリック教会 was lit up for Christmas but was surprisingly locked up, considering the day (apparently there are tatami mats instead of pews inside):


Dinner in the minshuku. Just one of many delicious feasts we had on this trip:


Shu-E samples some sake 日本酒:


Boxing Day was cold and occasionally drizzly as my daughter and I set out to check out more of "Little Kyōto" (my wife elected to stay in and rest, as well as get some laundry done). The old samurai 侍 quarter of Tono-machi 殿町 is only a short walk from Miyake - the neighborhood was home to many samurai families, the houses of which still retain their distinctive black-and-white plaster walls (and now function as cafés, galleries, restaurants and shops). Among the buildings are several sake breweries, identified by the sugidama (cedar balls) 杉玉 hanging out front:







At the end of Tono-machi stands a torii 鳥居, pointing the way to our next destination:


Taikodani Inari-jinja 太鼓谷稲荷神社 was built in 1773 by the daimyō 大名 Kamei Norisada 亀井矩貞 and is one of the five major Inari shrines in Japan. Inari shrines are dedicated to the Shintō 神道 god associated with fertility, good harvests and foxes (kitsune キツネ). Inari shrines are distinguished by their vivid vermilion colors, and the approach uphill to the main hall is a stunning walk through more than a thousand bright-red torii:




Looking down over the town and the valley after reaching the top:


The colorful main hall and surrounding shrines were worth the effort to reach them:




Next, Amber and I hiked up to the ruins of Tsuwano-jō 津和野城 castle, accessed by a steep, kilometer-long trail that starts near the Taikodani Inari-jinja shrine. There is a chairlift that eliminates most of the walking, but in winter it operates only on weekends and national holidays. At one point the trail crosses under the chairlift - one look at the rickety chairs and my daughter was glad it was an ordinary weekday (in Japan anyway):


The castle stood on a commanding hilltop location on the west side of the valley. Tsuwano-jō was constructed in 1295 by Yoshimi Yoriyuki as protection against possible Mongol invaders, but the wooden structures were burned and taken down at the beginning of the Meiji period 明治時代. Today only the sturdy castle walls remain:


Great views were had from the grassy plateau at the top, though the sleet did get in Amber's eyes at times:





Time for a snack break. That glutinous sweet being consumed by my daughter is uirō ういろう:


Heading back downhill:


Amber reassured me that the bears were probably hibernating at this time of year:

ライオン, トラ and 熊. Oh my!

Back at Taikodani-Inari-jinja:


Descending through the torii tunnel:


Looking up at the tunnel before heading back into town:


Lunch at a small restaurant near the station. If I had to pick just one Japanese dish, the most likely choice would be tonkatsu 豚カツ:


The Mori Ōgai Memorial Museum 森鷗外記念館, at the southern end of Tsuwano, is dedicated to Mori Ōgai 森鴎外, a novelist, poet, surgeon and translator of the Meiji-era, and contains many of his personal effects. Truth be told, the museum served more as a place to take a break and to use the restrooms - I didn't know much about Mori, and as the displays were mostly in Japanese, they held only minimal interest for Amber:


More interesting is the Mori Ōgai Kyūtaku (Mori Ōgai Former Residence) 森鴎外旧宅, located next door to the museum (that's a bottle of Calpis Soda カルピスソーダ she's wielding, in case you're wondering):



Back in Tono-machi we stopped at a shop to sample one of Tsuwano's traditional sweets, genji-maki 源氏巻, a soft sponge cake filled with sweet red-bean paste:



The last place Amber and I visited before returning to our minshuku was the temple Kakuōzan Yōmei-ji 覚皇山永明時, dating from 1420 and used by generations of Tsuwano daimyō. It was too late in the  afternoon to see inside the thatched main hall but we could still admire the traditional garden:





Following another sumptuous meal we retired to our room to enjoy the bottle of sake Shu-E had purchased from one of the sake breweries in Tono-machi earlier that day:



Sleepy, peaceful Tsuwano was probably my favorite destination on this trip - an old castle town stretching in a narrow valley of the Tsuwano-gawa 津和野川 and presided over by a mist-covered extinct volcano to the west (Aono-yama 青野山, standing at 908 meters/2979 feet). This 700-year-old town with its ruined castle, vibrantly-colored shrine and charming samurai quarter somehow manages to bring to life all those coffee-table book/tourist literature images of Japan and is well-worth seeking out to visitors exploring the Chūgoku region 中国地方 of western Honshū 本州. If you do visit, consider staying at the Miyake minshuku - the price is reasonable, the rooms are small but comfortable, the food is delicious and the woman running the place is very friendly.

Amber, by the way, couldn't get over the fact the characters for Chūgoku are the same as those used to write the name of another well-known Middle Kingdom, and never got tired of remarking how much she liked this part of China.