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Al-Ahram Weekly 8 - 14 April 1999 Issue No. 424 
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Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Al-Ahram Weekly 8 - 14 April 1999 Issue No. 424
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| Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875 |
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Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Focus Profile Features Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters Cherries and chrysanthemums
By Gamal NkrumahLarge fluffy flakes of snow fell from the overcast, wintry skies. We drove around from one plush suburb to another, but could hardly see through. Now and again, we caught a whiff of the most peculiar Japanese cuisine, and a glimpse of intense colour -- invariably peach, cherry or plum -- in the blinding white of the snowstorm.
The weather was so wet we were drenched, and the rigmarole of bargaining over umbrellas with shopkeepers, who hardly spoke a word of English, made matters doubly difficult. It was not a good day for a sightseeing tour of Tokyo, but we enjoyed it all the same, hopping from one traditional souvenir stall to the next along Nakamise Street behind the imposing 1,300-year-old Asakusa Kannon Buddhist Temple in the heart of Tokyo.
The view from the Tokyo Tower is unforgettable. The Tokyo Tower (333 metres) is actually higher than the Eiffel Tower (320 metres) and the Japanese are building an even higher tower now which will be completed in 2002 and is destined to dwarf Eiffel. Most Japanese cities have their own towers, and visiting these towers is a must for Japanese tourists and foreigners alike.
Our guide, a plump and dimpled matron -- a rare exception in a country where tour guides all look like pretty little waifs -- had dyed her hair salmon, with broad streaks of silver and shocking pink. "We are now heading to Ginza, Tokyo's most celebrated shopping and amusement district. 'Gin' means silver and 'Za' an association of licensed craftsmen," she chuckled as if telling a joke. But it wasn't long before our interest in medieval Japanese guilds and precious metals fizzled out. We had stopped before the Tasaki Pearl Gallery to be treated to a pearl culture show. "One lucky participant will be presented with a pearl," our guide proudly exclaimed.
But, not all winter days in Japan are cold, wet and dreary. The sky on St Valentine's Day was clear, a piercing periwinkle, the winter sun sparkled and the clinically clean streets of Tokyo glistened in faint pastel hues. The ever-present and overpowering aromas of fresh fish of suchi and sashimi bars and seafood-based soups permeated everything. Temples were enshrouded in the sweetest of fragrances, incense. It was only when we approached the abundant temples that dot the Japanese urban landscape like butterflies in a garden, that we were spared the inviting pungency of the Japanese cuisine.
No people have a finer palate than the Japanese: they have the knack of tasting the most subtle of flavours, that we, ordinary mortals, just cannot detect. Stay away from their pickles and sweets if you have a delicate stomach, even though the Japanese insist that they are actually medicinal. The Japanese are not squeamish about food, and devour virtually every sea and land creature, poisonous ones included. If you dislike Japanese food, then you had better not visit Japan, for the only food that is reasonably priced is to be found in side-street traditional Japanese eateries. Foreign food is out of the question for those on tight budgets. American fast food joints are impossibly expensive.
Enduring the rigours of a tea ceremony in Kyoto
We were a group of 15 Third World journalists in a First World capital where the streets appeared to be paved with white gold. From atop the Seaside Top's 40th floor observatory dock of Tokyo's World Trade Centre, our salmon-haired guide pointed out seemingly endless districts and suburbs with unpronounceable names -- Akihabara, Asakusa, Azabu, Chuoku, Meguroku, Roppongi, Shinjuku, Ueno and many more. Right from the beginning I liked the sound of Roppongi, and sure enough, I later came to love it. Roppongi is a cross between the Sohos of London and New York -- essentially places where the youthful and racy, alien and arty, and increasingly rich and upwardly-mobile congregate. Roppongi is very cosmopolitan. It has not so much been taken over by foreigners, more overtaken by originality, and invariably foreign unfamiliarity and lifestyles. Roppongi is perhaps the only part of Tokyo where you can be rudely honked at, edged into one of its many fast lanes, but also ask for directions in English.
Japan is prohibitively expensive, and a travel tip if you wish to stay for over a week is to take with you about ten tinned cans of your favourite fish. I did and it saved me precious yens. Instead of dining out every evening, I'd sample the seaweed, noodle and vegetable stalls of the neighbourhood market and take my booty to the hotel. In the privacy of my room, I concocted delicious noodle soups enriched with my tinned fish and seaweed. Otherwise, I went to the many relatively inexpensive suchi eateries -- the fish was always superb. I washed down everything with green tea. But for variation, the Japanese are, like the Egyptians, very fond of fresh fruit juices. I particularly liked peach, pear and kiwi. Blends, like peach and jasmine, or pear and apricot, are irresistible.
Contrary to my preconceived ideas, Japanese cuisine is not just about raw fish and rice. There are several ancient traditions of vegetarian cuisine, and I was treated to one, Shojin Ryori. Japan, a mountainous island country of very few natural resources, has very marked seasons. Summers are hot and humid, autumn is gloriously colourful and bountiful, winters are bitterly cold and spring is simply divine. Shojin Ryori is deeply rooted in the traditions of Zen Buddhism which abhor the killing of animals, including fish and crustaceans, for food. Seasonal vegetables and wild herbs gathered from the mountains are simply prepared and served with seaweed, fresh soybean curd, seeds, nuts, fruit and wild berries. Shojin Ryori is austere, as Zen priests and monks shun alcohol, dips and rich sauces -- which are considered extravagant. Seasoning is reduced to a minimum, and nothing of the vegetable is wasted -- even the peelings of greens of root crops like carrots, radish and turnips are sautéed. Leftover rice is kept for the following day's porridges. But the secret of the popularity of Shojin Ryori is that fresh vegetables stew in their own juices, permitting the subtle natural flavours to blend and produce the delicate, but delicious, taste.
It is wrong to consider Shojin Ryori a vegetarian cuisine, my hosts explained. The Shojin Ryori tradition is strictly vegan -- no eggs, dairy products or any other animal products are used in cooking seasonal vegetables and mountain herbs.
There are no wilting spinach or flabby turnips on Japanese dinner tables. "Vegetable producers now grow vegetables in 'veggie factories' without the use of soil and sun," I was informed. I looked suspiciously at the lavish banquet of Shojin Ryori spread before me. Like many things in Japan, you are invariably treated to a memorable visual display of disarming beauty and simplicity, only to be told later of the fly in the ointment -- being the puzzling complexity of misleading simplicity and the often ugly realities behind the seemingly beautiful.
Exquisitely arranged on little red lacquered bowls and trays, the dishes looked a trifle too perfect to be edible. I toyed with the idea of just sitting and staring at this veritable feast for the eyes. "Even today in the space age, life at a Zen temple is strict and demands much physical labour. The balanced diet provided by Shojin Ryori helps to discipline both body and mind," my host ventured softly, noticing my indecision. I dug in.
Kyoto, Japan's ancient capital, with its numerous temples and, surprisingly, with more than its fair share of churches, is the jewel of Japan. Kyoto was the only Japanese city that was not levelled by American air raids during World War II. It is full of quaint little ancient houses and colourful narrow streets. Kyoto is distinguished by its strict building guidelines. Unlike Tokyo, Osaka, Nagoya, Kita Kyushu and other Japanese cities with impressive and futuristic sky-scrapers, Kyoto has a sprawling but comparatively diminutive skyline. It was in Japan's most traditional of cities that we saw a dazzling kimono fashion show. Two-thirds of Japan's geisha women also make Kyoto their home. In Tokyo there are a handful of geisha girls, the youngest being a sprightly 67-year-old -- the oldest is 98. In Kyoto, there are some 25 young geisha girls being trained annually, but it is a dying trade and the numbers of these professional entertainers are fast dwindling. It was also here that we were treated to the painfully slow rigours of a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Skip that if you have weak knees, a bad back or an aversion to bitter brews.
No trip to Japan is complete without a visit to Fukuoka, the dynamic, ultra-modern metropolis on the southern-most island of Kyushu. Fukuoka is home to Japan's largest and most vibrant red-light district. Japanese men flock to it from other parts of the country to sample the city's exciting night life. Everything, including the wild night life, is considerably cheaper in Fukuoka than in Tokyo or Osaka. However, by international standards Fukuoka is still terribly pricey. If you love fun, beaches, seafood, bars, nightclubs and the like, it is the place for you in Japan. But does money really matter if you are in a country that uniquely blends ancient culture with sophisticated ultra-modernity verging on the futuristic? I think not.
see also: Japanese tourists returning slowly
