Gateway to Japan [antikvár]

Introduction A friend from Seattle once showed us a nifty pocket compass, a compact device about the size of a bottle cap, which he always carried with him in Japan. He said it was particularly useful when he took the subway: the instrument would enable him to find his bearings when he emerged above ground. I later thought that this book should be to the traveler what that compass is to our friend. No guidebook, no matter how thorough, can anticipate the uncharted territory into which travelers will smmble. In any case, it is the litde accidents—the impromptu village festival, the nameless temple, the hospitable stranger—that are the finest rewards of travel. So, although this book suppUes an abundance of detail, its real aim is to encourage you, the traveler, to learn to find your bearings for yourself—to recognize the cultural and historical signposts by which you can orient yourself no matter where you wind up. This book may not fit into your pocket, but we hope it will be the only book you will need. When Nick and I headed for Japan to write this book, our goal was to produce the kind of guide we wished we had had when we visited Japan two years earlier. (Why else does anyone write guidebooks?) At the time, Japan's image abroad was undergoing a dramatic shift, from quaint land of cherry blossoms and Madame Butterfly to economic superpower and international trend setter in technology and fashion. The bizarreness of the contrasts delighted us, and we wanted to serve them up—Noh theater, love hotels. Comme des Garçons, and thatched farmhouses—like assorted hors d'oeuvres on a tray. But as we began to travel around the country and to delve into its past, our thinking changed. We realized that anyone can see the signs of Japan's economic achievement. What is harder to discern is the foundation on which it stands. Japan in the past century has undergone a series of wrenching transformations, having changed from an insular, agrarian state into a modem industrial nation, won military victories over China and Russia, boogied through the roaring Twenties, aspired to engulf Asia, suffered utter defeat at the end of World War II, and risen again, in five decades, to economic superstardom. Yet rather than tear apart the fabric of Japanese culture, these stresses have only exposed the strength of the threads that hold it together. Two themes in particular stand out in my mind: the love of novelty and a fierce conservatism. From the earliest recorded history, the Japanese have been eager for novelty. When novelty was in the form of swords, written language and laws, or useftil industries, it bestowed power. Like the esoteric mantras and rituals handed down by Shingon Buddhist priests to their chosen disciples, trade secrets and scholarly treaUses were transmitted by masters to their most accompUshed apprentices. For every person who eagerly pursues the latest gadget, there is another who cleaves even more fanatically to tradition. In the land of Sony Walkmans and capsule hotels, one also finds actors who devote thefr lives to perfecting medieval techniques, and tea masters who prepare their brew in a manner that originated in Sung dynasty China. This is not to say that the Japanese are adept only at mimicry and conservation. Everything that is adopted from abroad is also transformed, reinvented—and recodified. This is the singular charm of the culmre, and it is also perhaps why Japanese people often believe that their art, literature, language, cuisine, and mannerisms cannot be understood by neophytes and outsiders. A painting is unfinished until a knowledgeable viewer has written down an erudite comment in a comer of the painting. A Noh play is incomplete without the pres- •V'" ' i mm: if , .Mlii i J.' vu mm - : ' ' I '