Category: Japan

At my daughter’s school, they told a story about how when we like something, there are usually some aspects of that “thing” that, while not pleasant by themselves, can be tolerated or even enjoyed when taken as part of the entire experience. For example, we may love our puppy, and because of that we learn to like waking up early to take him for a walk, which is a part of the experience of having a puppy.

I recently came across a similar concept in Charles Duhigg’s “Smarter Faster Better” in the context of psychology of motivation. During basic training, when faced with particularly gruelling exercises or harsh conditions, the US Marines are taught to ask each other questions containing the word “why?” This is done to focus the attention on the underlying motivation for doing the big job and to add meaning to the seemingly meaningless, tedious task at hand.

This techniques is effective in many settings, but it is particularly useful in creative endeavours. In photography, for example, the most fun part of the project might be to shoot beautiful subjects or to receive the compliments on our work. Getting to these fun stages, however, requires significant background work in terms of planning, production and post-processing. Doing many of these tedious tasks can easily snuff out the initial motivation for the project, unless we remind ourselves in the process, that it is all part of the big picture and a necessary component of getting to the really enjoyable part.

I experienced a perfect case of this during my trip to Japan a few years ago, where I had an unplanned opportunity to photograph ukai in a small historic town of Inuyama, close to Nagoya. Ukai is a fascinating traditional way of fishing that uses trained cormorants, who chase the fish underwater, catch it and then release it to their human handlers. I really wanted to see the process, take pictures, and show them to people, but in order to do this, I had to wait for several hours for the ukai tour to start. The waiting itself, in the humid heat of the Japanese summer, with heavy photo gear on my back, in the town where all tourist attractions were located within a couple of blocks (and most of which I had visited by that time) could have been quite miserable. However, I knew that it was a part of the entire experience, and in retrospect, I enjoyed it almost as much as watching the fishing itself and capturing one of my most popular photographs to date.

Another example, where the tedious part is integral to the entire experience, is travel. Dealing with pre-trip planning and arranging the logistics can be stressful. On the positive side, this preliminary stage not only makes the destination more enjoyable when we get there, but it also becomes a significant part of the travel experience itself by priming us (through anticipation) to what we are going to see, eat, and photograph. In order to appreciate this stage, we need to remind ourselves why are going on the trip as we are booking tickets, packing the bags and standing in line at the airport. Not all parts of travelling are equally fun, but all can be enjoyed if we remain conscious of the big picture.

In Japan, travel agencies promote pre-packaged trips, where everything, including every single meal are pre-determined. This level of planning, where travelers have zero choice once they have subscribed to the trip is probably unique to Japan, but there is some logic to it, as having too much choice results in wasted mental and emotional energy and, consequently, lost opportunity to actually experience the trip (the philosophical paradox of the Buridan’s Ass is an extreme example of this).

Personally, I prefer when some travel plans are set in advance (the planning process itself is an important and exciting part of the trip), but some details are left to be finalized on the spot (this certainly applies to the menu choices of each meal). The balance between giving only few prescribed options and allowing some freedom to customize the experience is tricky. In a sense, it is like selecting a watch face of an apple watch: you have many options to play with, but not enough to paralyze you with indecision.

Caucasian people stand of the crowd in Japan. This is not necessarily a bad thing, though. My wife and I have many interesting interactions with Japanese people, while we were in our tourist mode in Kyoto during my sabbatical five years ago.

Kyoto has many famous tourist attractions, and local schoolchildren, knowing that they can count on meeting foreigners there, often approached us with their their school assignments to interview foreign tourists in English. This happened to us so consistently that it quickly became a sort of entertainment. More often than not, the children did not really care about what we answered to their questions, which some of them obviously memorized phonetically, and just recited on cue. Sometimes, they would not wait for the previous question to be finished before reading their own. Still, they seemed genuinely happy and full of the sense of accomplishment by having completed their part of the “interview a foreigner” script.

Often, the children would also ask us to take a picture of them with the famous landmark in the background (and sometimes, posing together with one of us). Far from being a nuisance, these regular encounters with kids, with all their initial awkwardness, pride of having pushed the social barrier (taking to a gaijin) and delight at being understood, became a highlight of our trip to Kyoto.

(Shimogo, Fukushima prefecture)

We visited this old postal station, which is located between Aizu Wakamatsu and Tokyo, at the end of the day. At that time, it transformed from a frenzy of busy souvenir shops that were catering to the crowds of tourists to a quiet Edo period village.

From Tokyo, it takes approximately four hours to reach the Ouchi-juku by car. Consequently, most of tourist groups leave the village by approximately 5 pm to return to their homes or hotels. The life in the village slows down, shops and restaurants close. One can really feel suddenly transported back in time.

Our friends wanted to give us an authentic Japanese experience of eating soba noodles in an old restaurant located in a period building. Although that particular restaurant had already closed, the owners accommodated us and prepared a wonderful dinner of cold soba and tempura. The building itself was fascinating, with its straw roof, hibachi in the middle of the room, and centuries of black soot covering the wooden beams under the ceiling.

The thatch roofs in Ouchi-juku deserve a special note. A typical roof is very thick. It provides excellent insulation and keeps the house warm in the winter and cool in the summer. It takes a great skill to maintain a traditional roof, and people carrying this disappearing trade are highly regarded in Japan.

Later, when we returned to Canada, we saw a program on NHK about the Ouchi-juku, featuring the very same restaurant where we enjoyed our soba dinner. Apparently, the current owners of the restaurant are descendants of the original owners, who settled in Aizu area in the 17th century.

Please follow the link to see our photographs of Ouchijuku.

Photography Notes

This particular trip demonstrated once again the difficulties of combining photography with conventional sightseeing. Our non-photographer friends, at times, had different pace and sightseeing priorities compared to us.

Here are some suggestions on how to manage to take a few useable photographs while accommodating other people in the group:

1. Take every opportunity to shoot. There might not be a better angle, light, etc. than the current moment.
2. Have the camera ready at all times: on your neck, turned on, lens cap off.
3. Use a zoom lens (wide-to-short tele or normal-to-short tele).
4. Use the aperture priority mode with f>=5.6 to ensure large depth of field and a relatively high ISO setting to reduce motion blur (unless the blur is intentional).

Please share your experiences/suggestions of combining photography with vacation travel.

Visit gallery

The day trip by car to Aizu Wakamatsu from Tokyo was one of the most memorable highlights of the entire visit to Japan. Our thanks go to Toshi san for spending his time with us. It wouldn’t be the same experience without him.

The city itself is located in a valley, surrounded by mountains. After a long drive (about four hours from Tokyo), an unexpected view of the great white statue on Kannon overlooking the city leaves a surreal impression.

Aizu Wakamatsu Castle (Tsuruga Jo)

The castle contains a very nice museum, and the grounds still retain the atmosphere of samurai history. There is a kendo dojo in the castle grounds. We heard the unmistakable sounds of clashing shinai and kiai, and followed them to watch the practice. The walls of the dojo were removed, which must have made the practice in the heat of the Japanese summer at least bearable. There were mostly very young people in the dojo (probably, middle- or high school students). It was nice to see that the castle grounds are still being used for martial arts practice. I had a similar feeling of history being naturally preserved in the castles of Czech Republic.

The castle has many enclosed areas that are not apparent at first, but are a pleasure to discover. For example, if one looks out of a window from the main tower, one can see a small inner courtyard filled with bonsai trees.

In one of the halls, there are portraits of Byakkotai (“White Tiger Corps”) – young (mostly teenage) samurai, who committed seppuku when they saw smoke from the castle town and assumed that the castle had fallen during the Boshin War (1868). It was very sad to see their faces after we just observed a kendo practice inside of the very same castle walls. With all the flare of chivalry, it is definitely important not to forget the darker side of bushido.

Buke yashiki (Samurai residence)

Another excellent samurai museum is in a restored household of the chief retainer of the Aizu clan, Saigo Tanomo.

The architecture of the old buildings is fascinating, and the museum gives a glimpse into the daily activities during the Edo period.

There is also an example of a deadly resolve to protect the clan dispayed by the people who used to live there – the “blood room,” where women of the household, to avoid being taken as hostages, killed their children and themselves when the compound was overtaken by enemy troops during the Boshin War. The story is that the last woman mortally wounded herself, but was unable to deliver the mortal blow. She asked a soldier, who entered the room, to assist her, assuming that he was an ally. He was, in fact, an enemy, but he did help her to commit suicide in order to ease her suffering.

These days, the room is starkly empty. The screen paintings in the room are placed upside-down (gyaku-byobu) to indicate that there has been a death in the family.