Nikko no Koyo

It's been a long time coming, but I finally got around to processing those shots of my apartment.

                           
It's a pretty good set up: two bedrooms, one full bath, "3/4"-kitchen with an attached living room. It's a good size for two friends, a little small for three (maybe a tad small for two strangers, I guess), but workable.

And yet, as nice as it is, it's not place to spend an extended weekend! That's what Nikko's for!

–––––––––– 日光 – Nikko ––––––––––

Nikko, the home of one of Japan's lavishly decorated Toshogu Shrine, is the town at the entrance to Nikko National Park. However, it wasn't the shrines that interested me (this time, at least), but the scenic Okunikko area around Lake Chuzenji (中禅寺湖 - ちゅぜんじこ), and the seasonal autumn colors (こよ).

It was a bit of a gamble, I'll admit, as reports were mixed regarding the color density, not even to make mention of the historical unreliability of Japanese weather forecasts. At ¥1,300

¹ That's ¥$13 x 2: exorbitant in that the rail-system is the reason why every Japanese person should explore Japan more often but doesn't because it costs too much.

¹ each way–which does not include the ¥$20 transit bus fare to and from Lake Chuzenji and does not including all of the standard temple/attraction fees, local bus fees, and cost of eating–it would be quite an expensive risk to take on "50%" chance of rain, especially with the seasonally late progression in autumn coloring.

And yet there was no better opportunity to go (re: "non-weekend travel benefits") than last Monday. By all accounts, the trees around Chuzenji had reached peak-coloring, but the weekend's earlier rains had felled all of the less hardy (and more colorful) leaves from the deciduous trees, leaving a moist pallet of browns, yellows, oranges and ever-greens, with only a smattering of newly-turned bright red maples.

Nevertheless, I would not be deterred: it had taken 120 minutes by Tobu-Express and an extra 90 minutes by Tobu-bus (from Nikko). I was going to see some leaves!

Despite leaving my apartment at just before 6:30 am, I didn’t arrive at Chuzenji until a little after 11. By then, a heavy drizzle had settled into the volcanic crater, but looked to lift by mid-afternoon. Still unsure, I picked up a ¥600 umbrella, but ended up with a few stray water-spots on the lens anyway. It more-or-less cleared up on schedule, but the clouds persisted, trapped in the basin, continuing to pour over the southern side of the lake, limiting the visibility (and photographic opportunities) of the more colorful mountain-shadow trees.

Apart from the two "famous" waterfalls

² I swear, everything in Japan is "famous."

²–the Kegon (華厳の滝) and Ryuzu (竜頭の滝 - "Dragon Head") falls were quite impressive–I made it a point to walk to at least half-way around the lake past Chuzenji Temple (a nifty little stop, if not a tad expensive at ¥$5), and at least put my soles on the iconic finger-peninsula.

Actually, I don’t mean to short-shift either Kegon or Ryuzu falls, as both are seemingly a necessity for any pilgrimage to Nikko for koyo, but if I had to recommend one thing more to “truly” get the sense of a Nikko-experience, it’s the Chuzenji Temple. Built right into the mountainside with a majestic overview of the lake, Chuzenji Temple offers a synergistic contrast in nature and architecture. Besides its view, one of the main attractions of the Chuzenji Temple is its Tachiki Kannon, a centuries-old statue carved directly into the stump of an ancient tree whose roots are still burrowed deep into the mountain face.

Forgoing lunch, I completed my simple-circuit by around 4 pm, but as Japan has yet to discover the joys of Daylight Savings, I knew that with the heavy cloud cover it was going to get dark within the end of the hour, pretty much dashing any faint hopes I had of either walking the Nikko Abyss or any of the smaller shrines back in Nikko proper.

It ended up taking around 2 hours for the bus to wind its way back down the mountain (bring a good playlist: there’s a lot of bus involved along the Irohazaka Winding Road

³ Interesting to note, Japan-Guide reports that this once-48-turn road (now “just” 30) was named after an ancient acrostic poem that utilized all 48 characters of the Japanese syllabary just once.

³), so by the time I made it back to Nikko, all of the omiyage shops were closed. In fact, the only place that was opened was this mediocre yaki-tori shop called Happori Dako, which, apparently, is well featured by tourists on Lonely Planet. If I had to guess why, this is the only place in Nikko that stays open late enough for tourists on their way out of town.

Good portion sizes, but that’s about it. Certainly highly edible, but beyond that I make no guarantees.

As always, the rest of my photos from Nikko (and my apartment) can be found on my flickr.

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Post Script for you future travelers: be sure to abide by the Tobu-line timetables as the last train leaves Nikko before 8 pm

⁴ You definitely wouldn't want to be stranded there over night, that's for sure.

⁴.

Additionally, the last two "rapid" services leave from Shimo-Imaichi (下今市駅 - しもいまいち - the junction you have to use to get back to Tokyo) at 5:05 and 6:21 pm, meaning that any train you catch after that is a "limited express," which is "reservation only" (read: "¥1,000 reservation fee"). This is certainly a bit of a “gotcha” as it was pretty much me and 3 other people on the train at the time. But when they “gotcha,” they certainly got-cha.

Opening Ceremony

One of the classes I took in grad school was a course on James Joyce’s Ulysses. That’s 16 weeks on just one text. Well, technically one “text” and three “readers.”

It was most certainly one of the more involved classes I have ever been in, as Ulysses is renown for the intricate interweaving of avant-garde stream-of-consciousness narratives around a well-cataloged anchor of history.

Admittedly, I probably should have tried harder in that class, but James Joyce was so far out of my specialty that even just signing up for the class felt like I was going above and beyond the call of duty. I don’t remember much from the class

¹ Well, besides two or three chapters involving S&M “subversion play.”

¹, but what I do remember is the theme of “parallax.” The idea that multiple perspectives, despite the often disparate cacophony of voices, offer a fuller, more intriguing picture of a person or place than just one view can offer (and distort).


A bunch of the teachers went out to dinner last Friday where I got into a short conversation about how I was liking my stay at Ichikashi. When I said that I was loving it, the teacher (who is also new) gave me this look… “How about you,” I asked, interest piqued, “things aren’t going well?”

Japanese high schools, unlike American high schools, are elective. Because attendance is voluntary, there are often many reasons why a student would elect to attend high school. The most obvious reason is “continuing education,” of course, though, for many of the students, they are not planning on matriculating through to college. While a college degree may ensure at least an important introduction and a cursory glance at a “company man” position, even having a high school diploma is a marked competitive advantage over not one in such a decidedly service-oriented local economy.

Even for students who have their sights set on going to college, because matriculation is dependent upon testing into the university of their choice

² Rather than an application packet.

², there is little emphasis placed on maintaining academic rigor throughout the three years of high school, except that it may eventually improve one’s test score.

As such, very little emphasis is placed on in-class grading (or even attendance), and so there remains no “academic standard” that is required for extracurricular participation in speech contests, clubs or sports. So, while maybe disingenuous in America, the notion of academic standards does suggest, at its core, that secondary education institutions exist for the purpose of education. By requiring a minimum GPA, policy implies that the emphasis of high school is academics and that all other campus activities are subservient (and should not be a detriment) to that.

It is not uncommon, therefore, to have students attend high school for a number of purposes

³ Existential as well as teleological.

³, with vastly disparate interest in academic endeavor.

Ichikashi itself is a pretty big school. The school carries the standard three grades [grade-one—一年生 (ichi-nensei)—is the equivalent age of an American sophomore, while grade-three—三年生 (san-nensei)—students are seniors], which are divided into 10 or so home rooms ranked and sorted by test scores and “declared realms of emphasis”: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I and S

⁴ S = “sports.”

⁴.

As a special employee, contracted to teach higher-level English, I am assigned the top 三年生 and the top two classes of 二年生 (those going to North High for an exchange program).

My friend, on the other hand, spends a little bit of time with the higher level of 一年生, but also is tasked with the bulk of instructing 1-E, F, G, H, I and S in their mandatory English classes.

For the most part, they don’t appear to be unruly—that would be one thing—but, rather, they are hardly ever awake. Because their interests lie in other fields (mostly club activities, sports, and the like), and because these other interests require so much of their time, there is hardly room in their lives for academic investment. They come to school early for 6 AM practices, serve their lunch period at noon-time practice, and then stay late after school for 4 PM practice, often times not leaving school until around 6 or 7 for the one hour bike ride home.

If the sole goal of Japanese High Schools was purely academic, this would be seen as a major problem, but it doesn’t appear to be a big issue, at least in Ichikashi. After all, Ichikashi boasts one of the top baseball and soccer programs in the prefecture, one of the top high school judo competitors, the number one bowler in all of Japan (not even just “for her age group,” but amongst all of Japan), and one of the best high school brass bands in the nation:


That’s the Ichikashi Brass Band

⁵ And yes, they were playing while laying on the ground. Where’s your commitment, Aaron?

⁵. Ken says that they’ve really stepped up their game since he first arrived. In the past, they’ve always been known for being superbly technical, but in order to become nationally acclaimed, they must focus on their showmanship. Dutifully so, their last four performances (including the 4 songs they performed at Bunkasai, the one marching performance at Taiikusai, and the mini-musical performance earlier this morning before their Pirates of the Caribbean medley) have all focused on stage work and choreography, which are always just a few ounces of glitter shy of “dazzle.”

That medley was a piece performed strictly for the Opening Ceremony of Ichikashi’s new sports complex (a large two-floor gym with a pseudo-indoor track and attached pool). Who knows how many hours of practice they committed to for that 8-minute performance that was only going to be seen by the Ichikashi student body and maybe 60-odd city dignitaries. It is unlikely that they will use that piece for any regional or national competitions, but that’s how things go around here.

That isn’t to say that nobody at Ichikashi cares about academics, otherwise they wouldn’t privately contract my teaching exchange program. In fact, just yesterday, two of our students won the Kashiwa regional English Language Speech Contest, and we’ll be spending the next month helping them prepare for the prefectural level.

That being said, our 2A students are preparing for their November 15th North High Exchange. Be sure to say hi.