Bike Culture

So, I meant to put this post up on Wednesday, but then a typhoon struck and I lost the internet at my house and then I went to Tokyo with AKP for our fall field trip. But because it's late and so many things have happened since then and Wednesday, I'm just going to put up this post for now and then update it later with all the adventures of the weekend (Tokyo, Undokai, etc.)!

On Tuesday my bus pass expired, so Wednesday was the first day I rode to school on my bike! Unfortunately,Wednesday was also the first day of the big typhoon that swept from southern Japan up to Nagoya, so I was confronted with the quandry: to ride or not to ride, which was then decided for me when I realized that Wednesday was my early class and I had already missed 30 minutes of it. Ooops. But, fortunately it hadn`t started raining too hard by that time and so I hopped on my bike and zipped to school in a whopping ten minutes, a record that beats the bus by far.

Bike culture is big in Kyoto. And, unlike me, a little bit of rain won't deter the average biker here. Every day at Doshisha, rain or shine, the curbs are jam packed with bikes. Everyone rides bikes. Kids going to school, women in high heels and skirts, and business men in suits are all part of the endless stream of bikers that zoom down the sidewalks. And they`re fearless too! They dodge effortlessly around cars and poles and pedestrians (a skill which I have yet to develop) WHILE doing crazy things like texting on cell phones, smoking cigarettes, texting on cell phones AND smoking cigarrettes, and, on rainy days like Wednesday, holding umbrellas to shield them from the rain (a skill which I`m not even going to try to develop). Speaking of umbrellas, unlike the US where a clear umbrella is few and far between, the clear umbrella is ubiquitous in Japan. Every conbini (convenience store) sells them, and men and women alike (I don`t know how this came about since there are no clear umbrellas in the states, but to Americans clear umbrellas seem to be considered effeminate) tote the clear umbrella faithfully along with their backpacks and briefcases and bikes and whip them out at the slightest hint of rain. After witnessing this phenomenon of widespread clear umbrella use, however, we have since deduced that not only do they provide a lovely view of gray skies if you`re so inclined to look up, but they also allow people to see where they`re going if it`s held low over their eyes, which would be necessary for people biking through the rain. So it's practical and not only a fashion statement.

"But what if you lack the dexterity to ride a bike in the rain and hold an umbrella at the same time? Or what if you're just plain too scared?" You may be wondering. And the answer is: The Rain Suit. As I was walking the other day, a woman (or man?) decked out in a rain suit rode by me. It was dark blue and looked like it was covered in stars and moons. Like pajamas. Rain suit style.

So enough about bikes and rain and umbrellas. Back when it was sunny (the weekend before) I went to Nara with my Buddhist art class to visit at Horyuji and Yakushiji (which are both temples). Nara is a little over an hour away from Kyoto by train and is known for its swarms of deer. And its mascot is a man-baby with antlers on its head...I understand the antler part, but the man baby? Who knows. I didn't ask. While there, we didn't gt to see any deer (we weren't at the right temple), but we did see a lot of interesting art work and afterwards went to a 月見　-Tsukimi (literally, "moon viewing")!

In the US we have nothing similar to a tsukimi (at least as far as I know), which is basically a festival where you gather together and look at the moon. It happens every Autumn on the night that the harvest moon is at its fullest and many shrines and temples will have special activities going on. The tsukimi we went to was at a pond near Kofukuji shrine. There were brightly lit food booths around the perimeter selling things like french fries, beef-kabobs, okonomiyaki (this delicious pancake-like vegetable creation that has egg and meat), squid-kabobs, and fried chicken, and the air was permeated with the sweet smell of these mini sponge cakes that were popping off the griddles by the dozen. As the darkness fell, the red and white paper lanterns strung along the perimeter and bobbing in the little wooden boats on the pond grew brighter, and it was like we were in an old fairy tale or something. By the time the procession reached the lake (there was a procession that starts from the train station full of people who are dressed as the nobility of old), the area around the pond was packed with people. Then, when the two boats filled with the procession participants starting circling around the pond, the darkness beyond the lanterns flared with the bright lights of camera and cell phone flashes.

One boat was full of musicians, and the sound of the shakuhachi (Japanese flute) and koto (stringed instrument) with the occasional solemn drumbbeat sounded somberly across the water. There was also another instrument which I couldn't identify, but sounded kind of like a bagpipe, but was much slower and melancholy.

The funny thing about it was that the two boats circled twice and then that was pretty much it. Max and I were confused because we thought it would last much longer since people were already staking out their spots over two hours before hand. But no, the second time around with the boats and pictures flashed and then the crowds dispersed into the night. Like I said, there's nothing quite like this in the U.S...

Tsukimi photos courtesy of Max!