Folklore and Fish

Normally I'd be talking about Christmas, but I've been stuck inside with a nasty bug. Inside my head I've been returning to Akita though, in Northern Japan, so let me introduce you to the Namahage, the region's most famous folkloric characters. 

 The Oga peninsula has lots of thick forest and lovely coastline, and driving along the remote little road we suddenly came across these two giving us a friendly wave...

Well, maybe not that friendly.

Akita Prefecture is famous for its Namahage.  Or Yamahage (see later). Our friends were taking us to a museum deep in the forest, part of which is a traditional inn (below), where it's a good idea to begin your visit.

Once inside the inn, you need to imagine it's New Year and the landscape outside is deep in snow. There is nobody for miles, except..... the Namahage.  These are demonic religious figures whose job it is to make sure that people (especially the children) are working hard, being tough and enduring difficult things.  They dress in straw, have long hair and terrifying masks. 

They arrive outside the house roaring and shouting and banging at the door, upon which they must be invited in.  Once inside, they stamp about (stamping is often a way of getting rid of evil).  Then they shout at the children, demanding to see their lesson books, and fire questions around about how good everyone is being.  You see the one below shaking his finger.  

When everything is in uproar, and the children are screaming their heads off, the Namahage are offered food, drink and sake ("Kampai!" or "cheers!" - see below).  Then they go away, leaving everyone to reflect on whether or not they have been quite hardworking and strong enough lately.

I guess the tradition wouldn't get the approval of supernanny Jo Frost, though Mary Poppins might have had a shade of sympathy .... but anyway, that's what they do. Near the inn, there's a really beautiful museum giving a lot of background to this curious tradition and

also offering you the chance to dress up as a namahage yourself, in rice straw cape and shoes. Sorry it's a bit blurry, I wasn't using flash.

And when fully dressed you might look a bit like this....

Here is T. trying on a mask for size. 

and local kids had done some terrific, and terrifying murals, although, as you see the kid in the green sweater at the bottom of the picture is obviously finding the whole thing really amusing...  there's always one, isn't there?

In fact, the Namahage are the popular face of another very similar tradition, the Yamahage. Confusingly, the Yamahage, although they look and act in a similar way,  are much more rustic and are not a tourist attraction, and are more associated with having a good rice harvest.   As in many parts of rural Japan, though, the young are fleeing to Tokyo and other big cities, and the private old religious customs are struggling to survive in their pure and original form. So the Yamahage, with their simple rice straw masks are falling foul of the plain fact that you need to be young and quite serious about the rice harvest to tramp around for hours through sub-zero winter woods while dressed in straw.  It is as well that the Namahage are keeping their traditions alive.

Anyway, there are religious roots to both Namahage and Yamahage, as you can see from zigzag white streamers the creatures carry (below and first picture). 

I would love to go into this in more detail but I don't want this post to be full of my rather half-baked thoughts on Japanese folklore, so I'll just say that I bought the twins some splendid Namahage socks in the fantastic gift shop. I was also a bit tempted by this keyring of Jibanyan, "Yokai Watch"'s fire raising cat, as a Namahage.   Don't you think it's cute?

By the time we'd seen the museum it was gone lunchtime, so we drove a little further on to a fish restaurant our friends knew. We would never have found this on our own. It's a simple place, with plastic tables and a couple of Japanese style low tables, and all over the walls are pictures of the owners and their friends.  Basically they get fish from the sea each day, chop it up and cook it with vegetables in a wooden dish containing red hot stones.  It is really, really delicious, and, as always in Japan, beautifully presented with many side dishes.

The owners were so cheerful and friendly, chatting and joking with their customers. They posed for their picture.

And since we were their very last lunch customers of the day, they came out and waved us goodbye when we left, also bowing as is the Japanese custom.

We drove back via some wild, windy and unspoiled coastal scenery. By now the sun was starting to appear.  I could have stayed for far longer and taken a walk by the sea...

But we had to get back to collect our friend's son from school!

Puzzled in Tokyo

I hope you had a good Christmas.   Ours was really fun, a good mix of seeing friends and family, and down time. And finally I have had  the chance to put together a couple more posts,too, which is even better!   

It's been fun looking at our very first photos.( The one above is a Russian Christmas doll in a Shinjuku store.)  When I was taking them, there wasn't much chance to think because we were running around and seeing things. But now they bring back how charming yet bewildering Japan seemed.   Bewildering of course partly because neither of us can speak or read the language, so I had the usual type of problems-  like buying a pot of jam under the impression it was a tub of yogurt, and so on.

We were so grateful to our Japanese friends for helping us out and so some things that were initially puzzling became clear.  These small figures standing beneath a large statue, dressed in their red woolly hats, I think represent babies and small children who have either been restored to health from illnesses, or are there to represent children who have died, so that Jizo, the bodhisattva who protects travellers and children, can protect them.

 I learned that these figures in the hallway of a house I visited were not cute ornaments, but kami, representing spirits, essences of life or forces-of-nature connected with the Shinto religion.  They can bring good luck if treated right, although they not exactly gods. 

Objects to do with religion are always full of symbolism, and very fascinating to learn about, but the following photos are some of the things we saw when we arrived in Tokyo, that still baffle me. Not all of them are to do with old traditions. Some are quite modern. Others.... well, probably they are just the way that things are done.  

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First, I loved these grand looking white rabbits which were dressed up beautifully. But they don't just look like toys. It is as if they are wearing traditional fabric designs, and perhaps even traditional garments, and so I'm guessing they are something to do with Japanese folklore.   But what?

 I saw these arrays of artificial flowers lined up in an alleyway.  They are not window boxes. 

Opposite them were these circular objects. I think they have cranes on them, which is a symbol of happiness and youth? Or are those winged things some kind of insect?    I just don't know what they are or why they were kept in this side alley.

Now for a modern puzzle.  This machine explains clearly how you put your umbrella in, and then get the umbrella out again encased in plastic.  My question is, why? There is no need to encase a dry and rolled umbrella in plastic. And if the umbrella is wet, you should leave it to drain so it will be dry. If it's been kept wet inside plastic, surely it'll cover you with water when put it up again? 

Mind you, I did not have an umbrella, so I didn't try it out. Perhaps if I had, I'd have understood!

And talking of umbrellas, I wondered why people in Tokyo cycled along with umbrellas in wet weather instead of wearing wet weather gear?  It is not as if umbrellas protect you all that much from the rain when cycling, and what is more, it's very difficult to see the traffic properly if you're holding an umbrella. It's also pretty hard to steer the bike safely with only one hand. I suspect that is just the custom, perhaps one that began when traffic was lighter.

The famous Japanese toilets can cause some confusion with foreigners. This was a simple one, but some had many more buttons than this and one or two had no obvious means of flushing.  I was never quite defeated because I found that if you pressed all the buttons, then finally one would do what I wanted.  

  

It is wonderful to be in a place that is so clean.  If you do spot a piece of litter lying ahead of you in the sparkling streets, it is likely that someone will pick it up and put it in a bin before you reach it yourself.    I have never seen quite that degree of cleanliness and care anywhere else. I didn't once notice a dirty vehicle.   But even so, this concrete mixer caught my eye ...

It was making its way along the narrow street at the end of the day. I had watched the workmen on the site as I passed to and fro, and I thought I'd seen them using this very mixer earlier on.  But look at how clean it is.   Could the workmen possibly have cleaned it up after a day's work? To clean heavy machinery only for it to get dirty again the next day -  well, that would be real dedication to cleanliness!

As I said, though, I never saw a dirty vehicle. 

In the evening, walking through a district of small shops, we were confronted with a black and white inflatable dragon on a hand-drawn wagon,(you can see its open mouth from the front in this image). The dragon was accompanied by people wearing unusual clothes and black makeup around their eyes,  and carrying circular placards.

Every now and then they would stop, take out trumpets, stand in a line and play their trumpets in unison, mostly 17th and 18th century European classical music.  They were extremely good -  I would probably pay to hear them.  But what were they doing? Why had they dressed up like this and brought their music to the city?

They were followed by girls in tutus, who attracted the attention of the Marlboro Dog. 

I thought it might be an advertising parade, but nobody was giving out leaflets, and when I showed my pictures afterwards to Japanese friends, they didn't know what it was all about either.So this will remain a mystery, probably. Anyway the parade went down very well among the many people enjoying snacks in the little open-sided cafes along the way. 

We realised very quickly that we were going to like Tokyo - clean, safe, and with so much to see and so much to interest us and make us think. 

A Topping Time at Hermitage Moorings

I am sorry I haven't been around much, either posting here or commenting on blogs. It's life getting in the way. Some good news is that T's back is getting better. He's not bent over at a weird angle any more.

And we had fun last weekend, when we were invited to an event in Hermitage Moorings, near Tower Bridge. There are residential boats on the moorings. Most are large, sea-going or estuary vessels. It is a fantastic place to live, right in the centre of the city.

That was the view I clicked with my camera phone as I walked (and T. hobbled) along the gangplank which led to the pontoon on which was the sort of clubhouse where we had our get together. You see the Olympic rings hanging from Tower Bridge beneath the stormy sky.

Nigel of Bermondsey (click on the link) had organised an evening of seagoing stories and songs. There's something so good about singing with a load of other people, and a scratch band with squeezebox and guitars led the music.

Some songs were very well known, like the shanty "Drunken Sailor" to be sung when hauling up the sails. Others were unfamiliar, like "Old Maui," and Nigel had written a new song "We flow with the tide." AS it got darker, the rain began thundering down, harder than anything I've known. Soon the deck was awash, the wind was howling the boats were rocking. Full of atmosphere. As the light faded I went out to take a photo. As you see, Tower Bridge had just been illuminated. The deck was awash with water.

I was fascinated by a guy called Tony Malone who talked about sea legends. His boat, the SV Iceni, is moored on the River Medway in Kent. He told us bloodthirsty true tales of pirates, ghosts and folklore, people being walled up in bridges or encased in tar or flogged to death, all of which put me TOTALLY off living in the past.

He also added that Iceni will be leaving leafy Kent in July 2013. It will be heading for the world's most northerly city, Longveearbyen, with a mixture of able-bodied and disabled crew. He devised this idea when he was recovering from cancer, and he is also looking for virtual travellers to "accompany" him on an alternative imaginative voyage. So if you are creative and want to join in, read about it here.

When we left, it was dark. Little A admired the view as we left. (You may be able to spot him in the photo, towards the right.)

He liked seeing Tower Bridge and also the Shard, London's new highest building. "What a topping view!" he said enthusiastically. T and I cracked up. I think he's been reading too many old "Beano" books.

(For those of you who don't know "Beano, " it is a comic that's been going since the 1930s. I swear the slang used in the comic was out of date then. I don't know if the modern Beanos are still full of ancient slang, but the old "Beano" books which little A specially loves, certainly are. Full of talk about "chums," "pals" ... and indeed the word "beano" itself means having a good time.)

A. will spend half a day reading old "Beano" annuals ... but actually I don't know a kid who doesn't enjoy them. (a small part of our family collection of scruffy old annuals, acquired over many years, above). My favourite was always the "Bash St. Kids" and their long suffering teacher. Here are the kids, planning to drive Teacher off to some horrible fate. But first they must persuade him to get into the car...

What a topping jape!

Jack-in-the-Green

Signs of the past are always to be found in London if you look for them. Nigel, a close member of my extended family, is keen on the folklore of South London, and the strange beliefs that people have held over the ages. He's always finding snippets of uncommon history and he knows a lot of people who are into strange folkloric things at South East London Folklore Society

Since it's early May, I'd been wondering if Nigel was interested in Jack-in-the-Green. This old tradition was associated with chimney-sweeps (in the days when people had chimney sweeps), and essentially it involves dressing up as a bush or shrub in early May, and dancing around.

The ancient Primula variety "Jack in the Green"

Lots of old books refer to the unruly folk who used to dress up in pillars of leaves and brawl around in the streets of London scattering leaves and flowers as they went.

I was interested in this 18th century print showing a jack-in-the-green with a puffing chimney in the background. I'd guess it's a political satire, because the gold-laced, blacked-up figure in the foreground is far too grandly dressed to be a chimney sweep, although he's dancing with a very rough looking lady. My guess is that he was a politiican, but what was his crime? If you have further info about this print, let me know!

Although London had more sweeps than anywhere else, jacks-in-the-green were (and are) widespread. They still are, as you can see from this link to a big celebration in Hastings, Sussex, next weekend).

Anyway it turns out Nigel IS interested in Jack-in-the-Green, and I spotted on his blog that he followed the Deptford Jack-in-the-Green the other day. (That's a picture from his blog at the top of my post, and here's a link to the rest of it.

I doubt if any of these folk from Deptford have ever squeezed themselves up a hot chimney. But meanings of folk events are constantly changing to fit the times, and I'm glad that this old tradition still has a place in modern life.

Next year, I hope I'll remember to find a jack-in-the-green celebration. I'd go to Hastings if we didn't have house guests here in London.

PS I've put a Flower for Leontien on my other blog, better late than never.

Stories in Munich

I'll be in Bavaria over the next few days.  Every time I go to Germany, I'm struck by how often I see references to folklore, stories and fairytales. I guess there are reasons for this, and as a tourist I like it  - it helps me to remember I'm somewhere different from home.     Since I probably won't be posting during my trip, I'll share some of the random quaint creatures and odd stories I've come across in Munich in the past.
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One of the main squares in Munich is called the Marienplatz, and this is where you find the Neues Rathaus (New Town Hall).  This late nineteenth century building has a really huge musical clock, or Glockenspiel.  At 11 AM daily, its gigantic figures re-enact two stories, while the bells play on and on and on (and on). 

You can see a picture of the Glockenspiel below. It is very large indeed, so those metal figures are at least life size. This movie shows just some of the Glockenspiel's performance - a remarkable feat of clockwork, though I wish they'd made the bells more melodious :) 

The lower part of the Glockenspiel is the most interesting to me. It shows the Schäfflerstanz, or coopers' dance. The coopers are holding garlands, and the story says they are supposed to have danced through the streets in the 16th century when the town was hit by plague, to cheer everyone up and chase gloom away.  Their dance represents fortitude in the face of adversity.

The top half of the display plays first, and it depicts the marriage of Duke Wilhelm V and Renata of Lorraine. As far as I know, there's nothing tremendously significant about them, but you see the members of the court parading past, dressed in interesting costumes. This is followed by a jousting match between mounted knights dressed in the colours of Bavaria (blue and white diamonds) and Lorraine (red and white.). Who wins, you ask? Bavaria, of course, every time. This is after all a Bavarian clock!


The Neues Rathaus is in spiky, elaborate Gothic Revival style. Most times of day the square is so busy that it isn't creepy at all.  But in quiet corners, you may spot some fairly disturbing figures lurking in the shadows.....

What tragedy is going on here, for instance, with one figure wailing and the other serenely indifferent....

And who is this mischievous and not very pleasant gargoyle supposed to be?

Toy museums are always good places for stories, and Munich's toy museum is just off the square, in a Gothic-style tower - that's it in the centre right (below). The tower has many winding old steps - you do almost feel as if you'll end up meeting Rapunzel as you trudge up and up.

It's not a very large museum, far smaller than the wonderful toy museum in Nuremberg, but it is great, and contains many odd and quirky things. Germany is arguably the home of the teddy-bear and I really liked this cheerful fellow. I imagine him cooking a nice meal for his friends

There is a good collection of model figures, and I wondered what story was going on here. - the little man has a dancing bear, a peculiar toy when you think about it.




Not far from the toy museum, I found a large exhibition of art and craft work by senior citizens. It included a big display of fairy tale characters modelled from clay.  I knew some of the stories already, others were a dim memory from my childhood reading of those powerful and fascinating Grimm's Fairy Tales,  I suspect better known in Germany than here.  Here are the Wolf and two of the Seven Little Kids, (see one of the kids in the grandfather clock?)

I'd almost forgoten this tale, which tells how Mother Goat leaves her kids at home to go shopping. Of course the sly Wolf is waiting to get to the kids, and he eventually wheedles his way into their house despite the kids' weak little efforts to outsmart him.  He gobbles them up, and goes to sleep.   All seems lost, but their desperate Mother, finding her children gone, grabs a pair of scissors, cuts open his stomach, rescues the babies and fills the Wolf up with stones. The Wolf wakes up, goes to the well for a drink, but the stones unbalance him and he falls down and is drowned.

I found such a cute video of some tiny children performing it  here in elaborate costumes - they are having such fun in their fancy dress and I think that the young Wolf in particular is an amazingly talented actor.

Then I saw a model of "Hans im Glück" - (Hans in Luck)

This story tells how Hans gets a lump of gold for his good work, but he makes a series of disastrous exchanges and ends up with worse and worse bargains - a useless cow, a stolen pig and so on. They cause him so much grief, that when he finally ends up with nothing, he is delighted, because now he has no more troubles and this is best of all!

I found a good Lego film, made by some German children,  of an updated version of this story, here.  It is in German, but you don't need the words. You'll see how Hans, the businessman, gets a bonus and buys a car, but although all his exchanges come to grief, he ends up happy.

I knew the Four Musicians of Bremen because I remember seeing their statue when I was a child, and being told the story.    It's a nice tale of how four worn out old animals make their fortune, and these days I quite empathise with them! :)

I was mystified by the little creature below, who didn't have any identification. He resembles a mole or a bear in glasses.  Anyone know which he is?

On leaving the toy museum I nearly bumped into this life size lion figure, who somehow made me think of a judge, specifically the brilliant Australian singer Anthony Warlow in "Trial by Jury".  I know the lion is meant to be a Santa, but do you agree with me that he is like a comical judge?  Here's the link to Warlow as the crooked judge, who describes how he tricks his way into his job, uses the law to his own endsm and ends up marrying the lovely young plaintiff himself.

I then spotted a jewellery shop with a window display consisting of animals in a winter woodland, all sporting expensive rings and necklaces.

 It looked quite bizarre, and set me off trying to imagine a fairy tale about how the animals in the wood all thought so much of themselves, and were so proud,  that they dressed up like Kings and Queens. They wouldn't listen to the wise old owl who warned them that they were tempting misfortune. And so...

Well, I'm sure the Brothers Grimm would have found a story about it. 

I wonder if I'll encounter any strange creatures and stories in Munich this time.