Monthly Archives: November 2008

Ode to Persimmons

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autumn persimmon leaves

A Persimmon Biography

The last of the fall leaves on my persimmon tree dropped. This is what it looked like when it was in all its autumnal glory. I bought it two years ago at the neighborhood nursery. It was a skinny sapling of twigs with three persimmons hanging from the branches.

I left the fruit on the tree because it’s just a pretty sight. But once the fruit became ripe, every morning for a week, three species of birds fought over the spoils. There was a bullying crow, a pair of loud plovers or some kind of whitish bird, and a smattering of tiny songbirds that pecked at what it could from the ground. You’d think that it would be beautiful to have birds eat from your persimmon tree. But in fact it sounded like an avian riot at a heavy metal concert. It was vicious. And the balcony was a mess after each feasting.

The year after, the tree was afflicted by some white wormy scales. It didn’t have a chance. The leaves barely matured. I tried to remove them by hand, squeezing them, which left my fingers stained with a deep purple. I later found out that they were actually the insects cultivated in Mexico to produce indigo dye. Near one of the universities where I teach, there was a grove of persimmons, all afflicted by the same pest. So it must have been a nation-wide epidemic. In grocery stores, persimmons are a lot more plentiful and cheaper this year than last year.

This year, the foliage spread out nicely. So nice that somehow caterpillars found their way up to my 8th floor balcony and began eating the juicy leaves. I didn’t mind them. They were easy to remove. Unfortunately, the tree didn’t fruit this year. I was hoping that it would cross-pollinate with the big persimmon tree near the base of my apartment building. But the tiny white flowers never opened properly.

Persimmophilia

I have a special relationship with persimmon trees. I planted several in my yard at my old house. They were the fastest growing trees in my orchard. In the spring, the leaves are delicately pale green. In the summer, it provides shade with pleasing broad dark green leaves. In the autumn, the leaves turn a deep warm orange as you can see above. Then one morning in early winter, the leaves suddenly drop all at once, exposing bright orange-colored persimmons dangling like Christmas ornaments.

My dad told me how in post-war Korea, he had vivid memories of eating persimmons from the neighborhood trees when he was a kid. I never could visualize that image until I came to Japan, where persimmon trees are as common as apple trees in the Northwest. And they are huge. A mature persimmon, filled with hundreds of little round suns is a sight to behold.

Soon after I wrote this post my dad sent me this email:

We had around 10 persimmon trees in the yard. And there was a little tiny stream that flowed right next to the house. They produced the biggest persimmons in the village. It was your grandmother’s parent’s home. There was a persimmon tree near the well which was as old as I was. It was planted by your great grandfather on the occasion of the birth of his first grandson, me. I was born in that house, Aunt Jung Hee, and Uncle No Kyung, too.
Jung Hee and No Kyung couldn’t find the old house since the city was developed and the various city plan changes changed everything. Well, it was fifty/sixty years ago.
Your writing on persimmons reminded me of those good days. I was a shy kid , but a good story teller.
Love, dad

An Autumn Sunset and Other Views

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split open

This is the view from my balcony towards the west, last week. It was a particularly beautiful sunset. The big building on the right is the Ebisu Garden Tower. The one on the left is the Westin Hotel. It looks like the sun has split the hotel in the middle, but it’s just a spotlight that illuminates a corner of the building. The buildings are the two most prominent at the Ebisu Garden Place.

The Westin is a gorgeous, luxury hotel. I sometimes go there to read or write in their lush lobbies. On the second floor, there are loads of comfortable, baroque sofas, chairs, and lamps that are bolted down. I learned early in life that if you walk into any place like you belong, no one bothers you. It’s one of my things: I like walking into buildings I have no business being in.

The Tower is one of the best places in Tokyo for a great view. It’s free to go to the top, in the express glass elevators. The top two floors have restaurants, many of them very reasonable. And they are ever so romantic.

I’m really into views. Whenever I go apartment or house hunting, I instinctively go straight to the windows to see what I can see. Only then do I check out the inside of the place. The apartment could be great, but if the view is another nearby building, I feel claustrophobic. It’s no accident that I’ve lived in lots of places with great views. The following is the top 5.

1. Monterey Bay. I lived in a beach house for a couple years in Santa Cruz, California. My bedroom had sliding glass doors that opened into a balcony that faced the bay and the Pacific Ocean. There was a spectacular sunset over the waters every evening. It sounds tranquil, and it mostly was, except that I lived with anywhere from 6 to 8 other people in that huge house.

2. The Bradford City Town Hall and Clock Tower. When T and I lived in England, we had this corner apartment in a building that was newly converted from a post office. It was right across the street from the main city centre plaza. The town hall and clock tower are Gothic, Italianate works of art. It was a joy to wake up to great architecture every morning. AND we always knew what time it was. Although, the clock was anywhere from 2 to 3 minutes late. And since the whole city set its time to the clock, the entire town was always a few minutes late.

3. The Willamette River. From the balcony of this Oregon townhouse, I could see a spacious rolling lawn, a humongous tree that shaded the entire lawn, a bike path, and the forested banks of the river. This might be one of the best places I’d ever lived in. There was a pool and jacuzzi, and a community garden. There was also a lot of active wildlife. Marauding squirrels gnawed through any kind of container possibly containing food left on the balcony. And dueling raccoons often hissed through the night.

4. Tokyo City Lights. After a day jostling in the urban crowds, it’s nice to go home and rise above the fray. Sometimes, me and the missus turn off the lights, sit on the couch, and chill out, looking out over the sparkling city lights. One of my favorite household chores is hanging the laundry on the balcony while drinking a beer.

5. A Redwood Forest. When I lived on campus in Santa Cruz, I lived in these dorms that were among the redwoods. The buildings were Mondrian, post-modern, whimsical, with lots of windows. I felt like I lived in an Ewok village. Unfortunately, it was one of the worst living situations I’d ever been in. But I guess it was a typical college dorm with decomposing pizza boxes, and beer can monuments.

I have a knack for finding a place with a great view. It’s because my eyes demand that they not be aggravated by uninspiring visions, and because my mind requires a lot of space.

Gingkos, Acorns, Berries and Pampas Grass

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nuts and berries

On my last days off, I went looking for signs of Autumn, my favorite season. It was a delicious pair of days. The sun kept rapping on the glass urging me to get out of the apartment and away from the computer. It’s late November, but the leaves haven’t quite changed yet in all its glory. But my persimmon had dropped half its orange leaves. And from my balcony I could see some Fall colors over at the nature reserve.

So I headed out to the The Institute for Nature Study, which is a large tract of undisturbed forest in Meguro. About 500 years ago, it belonged to the original Lord Shirokane whose name is now used for the nearby neighborhood. Unlike the well-kept, tidy parks around Tokyo, the Center is truly a wild place. Only 300 people are allowed in at any time. On a Thursday afternoon, there were only retirees and me. And lots and lots of crows.

pondpampas grass

At the reserve, there are several ponds and marshes. I saw some egrets feeding in one. It’s sufficiently big enough that I could get away from the raucous crows, and even escape the city noise. It was great therapy. There are many places to sit and sketch, write or space out.

On the way there, I biked on the posh Platinum St. It’s lined with towering gingko trees. While the leaves haven’t turned yellow yet, many of the trees are dropping the gingko nuts. In fact, my bike made a lot of crunching sounds while I was being pelted by nuts literally showering down on me. The light bruising wasn’t so bad, but the worst thing is the smell. The nuts reek like rancid butter. Later in the park, I got shat on by a crow. But it was such an unrelentingly beautiful day, I gave in to whatever nature wanted to throw at me.

Ayako’s Wedding

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petals on the dress

This past weekend I attended the wedding of my cousin-in-law, Ayako. It was a beautiful wedding. There were both personal touches and grand symbolic gestures. I especially liked the trumpet player, and the two singers who had powerful voices.

In a country of Buddhists and Shintoists, most weddings in Japan are Christian ceremonies. It’s indicative of the eclecticism of Japanese religious attitudes. So while most weddings are Christian, funerals are invariably Buddhist events. Most cemeteries are on Buddhist temple land. Shinto shrines seem reserved for other life milestones, and to ask for good luck and fortune.

Although the weddings are Christian, the ceremony and reception have been adapted to Japanese tastes. So here are some observations contrasted with Christian ceremonies in the US.

This was the third wedding I’ve attended in Japan (not including my own which was more American in style). So I feel I can make some generalizations.

men in pantsGetting Ready

Despite Hollywood movies, most Americans to do not hire a wedding planner, but rather organize the wedding themselves. In Japan, the couple goes to a wedding place, restaurant, or fancy hotel, and the arrangements are all made by the venue, in consultation with the couple of course.

Men wear white ties. Black ties are reserved for funerals. But I usually wear a tie that matches T’s dress. I also wear cowboy boots which is probably a fashion no-no.

There’s no gift registry like in the US. Guests give 30,000 yen (or about $300) in crisp new bills in an elaborate wedding envelope. These are collected in separate reception lines for either the bride and groom. Koreans do this too, but without the elaborate envelopes. This is such a democratic way of paying for a wedding, it’s a wonder that American’s don’t adopt this.

obiThe Ceremony

In the chapel, before or after the ceremony, the fathers of the bride and groom introduce all their family members to the other family. It’s a big job since it means remembering names of 2nd cousins-in-law, their spouses and children. And rarely, does this go smoothly. But a forgotten or mispronounced name merely results in laughter. Everyone’s a good sport about it.

The minister is often a white man. They mangle a sermon in Japanese as best they can.

There are no best men nor maids-of-honor. Neither are there flower girls or a ringbearer. I think this is an improvement. The dozens of best men and bridesmaids that are now common in American weddings is out of control. Three of each should be the max. One of each is elegant. Also the politics of choosing them is an unnecessary ordeal for the couple. However, I like the idea of one best mate to keep you loose during the proceedings.

And as a former ringbearer, I would be more than happy to see this role abolished. I wore white stockings and Little Earl Fauntleroy outfits for several weddings when I was about 4 and 5, and I hated it. I think I was chosen because I never cried or fussed. All I remember from those years was that I was mortified to be dressed like that and be the center of attention while I walked down the aisle holding a lacy cushion with the rings atop. I’m still a little traumatized just thinking about this.

champagne glasses
The Reception

Family sit in the back of the reception hall. As hosts they’re expected to offer the choice seats near the couple to other guests. The closest seats are occupied by the bosses of the couple. In fact, they’re considered the guests-of-honor. Not only do they sit nearest the couple, they also give the main toasts. In my opinion, this is a terrible idea. But it shows you the importance of work in Japanese society.

Even more terrible is that there is no dancing. There’s no first dance, or any kind of dance. For entertainment, there is some elaborate skit done by friends, usually a series of inside jokes. And there’s the, now standard, slideshow. It’s cool to see the couple from infancy to them as a pair now. Still, a wedding needs drunken people dancing and making a spectacle of themselves.

No garter is thrown. But a bouquet is often tossed. In Ayako’s wedding, she gave her bouquet to her older sister, Noriko. It’s like the handing of the torch, chosen by the bride. Brilliant idea.

The most moving part of the reception is the honoring of the parents. The couple makes speeches about their parents while the parents stand by the entrance. Then they bring flowers to them. Finally the groom’s father makes a speech. At every wedding, the father cries, and that makes everyone teary-eyed. I’ve yet to see the father get through the speech unscathed.

And that’s a typical Japanese wedding. I’m not sure why or when the Japanese adopted the western wedding. Nor how the various elements got adapted into it. There are still many who get married in Shinto shrines, so there probably has been a hybridization process between the two types.

The wedding itself was as close to perfect as you can get. Like Ayako, it was a classic, but not cookie-cutter. Congratulations, Aya-chan!

entrance

Blue Man Group

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posing with the blue man

I finally got to see the Blue Man Group. T treated me and her parents for her mom’s birthday and we had a blast.

The trio has a dedicated theater in Roppongi, Tokyo, one of only two venues outside of the US. The show is multimedia avant-garde performance art at its best. The three performers are completely blue, never say a word, and never blink. They’re like mime artists from Mars on LSD. If there is a narrative (and there really isn’t) they would be a comedy troupe from some far off planet, having found themselves on earth and trying to come up with new material with objects that are as alien to them as they are commonplace to us.

Much of their act was adapted to local, Japanese, popular references. They used a popular local sweet. And some of their songs are Japanese tunes, for instance. Some of the acts are completely bizarre. Well, it’s all bizarre actually.

The set consists mostly of pvc sewage pipes that resemble scenes from the movie Alien. The pipes are sometimes played as a xylophone or a trombone. There’s painting, marshmallows, obsession with eating cereal, a massive toilet-papering, a medical exam, synesthetic drumming, and lots of audience participation.

In fact, the barrier between audience and performers was constantly broken. The audience was threatened and cajoled into participating. The eeriest moments were when they would wander in among us, one of them walking over us, stepping on the armrests. The first few rows of people were required to wear plastic raincoats because of all the spraying paint, and regurgitated food (!).

They played a lot with video art, as they went from some action on the stage to some (T thinks) pre-recorded events that were seamlessly woven into the stream of what we thought was reality. This was particularly subversive. For instance we saw them leave the stage and then on the screen we saw a video feed of them leaving the theater, catching a taxi, then taking off. Only to have them re-emerge on the stage moments later.

We could ascribe profound meanings to their dizzying antics, but in the end I’m convinced the show was all about having fun.