November 3 Matsumoto
Castles big and small, real and reconstructed
Outside in the morning, rather frosty and very
clear, blue skies in contrast to yesterday's
rain. Not a lot of traffic about because it's a
national holiday: Culture Day. I walked down
to the castle, expecting to see it rising up
beyond its moat, but no - turns out it's a
smaller model. The moat was choked with
large, dried-out dead and odd-looking plants,
which I think must've been lotus. (Lotuses?
Loti?) Finally found the castle, and although
the hour was early and nothing was open, some
English on the informative signs indicated that
it was a reconstruction, just five years old,
built on the foundations of the original, which
burned down a long time ago. Well, no great
loss - in a couple hours I'd be in Matsumoto,
home to one of the finest
examples of the Japanese castle standing, and it's the original (unlike
the better-known Osaka castle). Visiting it
wasn't a priority, however; since I'd already
done that, in 1990. I wanted to return to
Matsumoto for the temari.
After my second trip to Japan I found a book
about this obscure
craft in LA's Little Tokyo. Seeing some
actual balls at a Japan Cultural Fair in Torrance
triggered memories of seeing them here, and I
asked the elderly lady at the fair's display
if she'd teach me how to make them, and she
did, and I stopped counting after I'd sewn
150 of them. (Examples of my work are to the
left.) Since then I've wanted to return to
Matsumoto to see what's available there
concerning this craft, maybe I could pick up some
tips. So just after my train arrived, I stowed my
bag in a coin locker and made haste for the
nearby Tourist Information Center to ask about
them. The woman running the booth was rather surprised
by my questions, and was somewhat deflating - with
a mild sneer she dismissed the subject - "just a
toy." Well! Still, all the local gift shops had
some for sale, and they showed up all over,
even on the manhole covers:
The town (small city, really) was full of people; it
was sunny and almost warm. I'd arrived at noon, and
just followed the crowd - I'd thought the scene might
be more like a neighborhood festival or matsuri,
one of those Japanese events I have yet to experience,
where they carry around the big portable shrines
called mikoshi (three of these were set up
just outside the station, just for the day). However,
this "castle festival" was more like a street fair,
with closed off streets and temporary little stalls
set up, selling food and souvenirs, with the greatest
concentration around the castle grounds. The parade
was kinda interesting, lots of participants wearing
period costumes. Those guys in the photo are shouldering
a kago or palanquin - historically, its
payload would've been some eminent personage. Look
close (underneath) and you can see how it's been
modified for modern display, which is
understandable - these people were out all afternoon.
They didn't just march a set route through town, but
instead seemed to cover certain segments at certain
times, with long intervals of standing around in
between, pausing for refreshment. Some
modern elements were also present: full-dress police
on absurdly tricked-out Harley motorcycles - I tried to
photograph them, but all my shots were thwarted (too
many people always blocking the view) and, of all
things, a native bluegrass band (singing in heavily
accented English) playing on one of the musical stages.
Eventually I'd had enough and fled, escaping to the
town's outskirts on the private Highland
Kamikochi Detetsu line. This was a brightly
painted train which slides back and forth
along a single track, stopping at a dozen
stations along the way. My destination was
perhaps a kilometer beyond the Oniwa station,
the Japanese Ukiyo-e Museum, or
JUM.
Good stuff - an artist *
named Kuniyoshi was featured in the main
gallery - he'd made some intriguing images, but
the interpretations I found in the English
captions of the oeuvre's standard pictures hanging in
the corridors outside were also enlightening - for
example I learned that
Hokusai's
Wave is actually known as "namiura" or the
"Underside of a Wave..." which is usually
translated fully as "In The Hollow of a Wave
(off the Coast at Kanagawa)" - but everybody calls
it the Great Wave.
After riding the train back into town I retrieved my
bag and walked over to the Matsumoto Tourist Hotel to
check in. (Hmmm - this ahead-of-time reserving pays
off - another almost-top floor room in this high-rise.)
Then I went out for food but found the pickings a
little slim, many places closed for the holiday (the
Festival had ended at dusk). Wound up at a mechanical
sushi bar near the station, watching the television
showing Japan beating the USA team in the World Cup
of Women's Volleyball.
Note:
*
I've also learned that the custom of giving all the
credit to a single personage (like Hiroshige) isn't
quite correct, with these wood block prints - four
separate people were actually responsible, each with
a key role in their production: the original artist,
who gave his drawings to the carver of the wood
blocks; the printer who used those, and the government
censor who approved the final product for public
sale - his stamp can be found somewhere on the
illustration, or maybe on its border.
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