Autumn in Japan

I have almost collected the entire set of seasons here in Japan - last year I experienced winter in Hiroshima, and since I moved here I have had spring, summer and now am moving into Autumn. Autumn here is quite marvellous, being characterised by singing insects, warm days, brilliant light, little rain, cool nights and (finally!) dry air. It is everything I remember about Northern Hemisphere autumns from my childhood, right down to the smell of burning fields, woodsmoke and cut grass. In England in Autumn one could see haystacks scattered about the countryside; here one sees little sheaves of rice drying in serried ranks in the fields, or hanging in bundles from old-fashioned wooden racks. Everything is still green but promises to turn red and yellow soon.

All the shops here have dragged out their autumn decorations and new fashions, people are wearing autumn colours, and all the beer companies have special dark beer for the season. The feeling in the air is of a coming change, and the whole country is enjoying a pleasant moment's break between the breathless heat of summer and the encroaching nastiness of winter. It is a happy time and almost universally it is Japanese peoples' favourite season. Having spent so long away from this cycle, I feel invigorated and nostalgic at the same time when I find myself once again immersed in it. Also, of course, being a big fat wimp, I am dreading the end - in just 2 months the real hell commences. I will, as they say, be making hay while the sun shines!

Matsue, International City of Culture

So here I am after 3 weeks of confusion, boredom and waiting, finally in the city which will be my home for the next 3.5 years (assuming I can past a certain examination which occurs in 6 months' time).

I moved here on the 20th, in a remarkably easy process that I can't be bothered describing (but suffice it to say that $1/kg post and same-day delivery was something of a shock after the vagaries of the Australian postal "service"). Since then I have been exploring with the Delightful Miss E, who rushed to Matsue to witness my triumphal entry to the city. The good folk of Matsue were going to have a ticker-tape parade in my honour, but they forgot. Still, nature rolled out the red carpet (as frequently happens in this country).

During our explorations we visited the castle (of 16th Century vintage, a rarity in a heavily bombed, earthquake prone country); visited Lafcadio Hearne's home (a rare gem of which Matsue is justifiably proud); did the obligatory shrine visits; went to the Louis C Tiffany memorial museum and rode along many river banks. Matsue has many cultural attractions, including some I haven't been to see yet, and is on balance a considerably better place to live than Tottori. It also has a very beautiful lake.

I'm a little shocked that until I visited the Tiffany museum I didn't even know who this man was. A stunning proponent of Japonisme, Tiffany was capable of working in almost any medium, but was particularly accomplished in glass. His lampshades, stained glass windows and glasswares are incredible, and well worthy of being given a special museum of their own. How unsurprising that such a museum can be found in a small country town in Japan (rather than, say, Australia's largest city ...) I thoroughly recommend a visit to anyone who plans on coming out here.

Also the Lafcadio Hearne house is fascinating. Lafcadio Hearne moved to Japan in 1890 and wrote some of the first books about the country by a westerner. His books are famous in Japan, still in print, and quite beautifully written. It was from Lafcadio Hearne that I learnt about insect markets and suzumushi. Japanese people are fascinated by foreigners' views of their own country, and have turned everything to do with Mr. Hearne's life into a shrine to the foreigner in Japan. Matsue seems to have the best remnants of his life, along with an intact Old City and Castle, so is the perfect setting for his a memorial to his gentle, wistful writings, his careful and loving interpretation of Japanese culture, and his reminiscences on a way of life which he thought was sure to disappear but which, strangely, seems to have survived at least partially intact.

The illustrations to the chronicle now have a section on Views of Matsue. I recommend you have a look -it is quite a splendid place.

My new aparto

Here we see two views of my new apartment in Matsue, which I picked up in a day of rather unfrantic house-hunting accompanied by my ever-patient and very helpful supervisor, Dr. Naito (visible in my new dining room window in the first photo). This apartment is going to cost me 60000 yen a month, or about 650 - 700 dollars. It has 3 rooms and a large kitchen, internal laundry, separate bathroom, toilet and washrooms, and a hallway large enough to swing a leopard in. The photo on the left is the dining room viewed through the kitchen door, and on the right is the kitchen with a view of the balcony. Having open windows in each shot has kind of ruined the light, but I think we can all see the salient details. It has Japanese style sliding window shades of rice paper, tatami mats in two of the 3 rooms, a massive balcony, heaps of storage space and 2 airconditioners (although it doesn't seem to need them). The only drawback is the hot water system, which seems a little old and idiosyncratic, but I haven't had a chance to test it. The other drawback is the set-up cost, which comes to a total of 5 months' rent including rent in advance, and 1 month of that I don't get back (plus 3 months is a dubious-sounding bond).

Strangely enough, although I'm in Japan this is the biggest and cheapest apartment I've ever rented. How does that work? Japan is meant to have ludicrously expensive real estate, a fact I'm increasingly finding to be annoyingly untrue. This place is only 5 minutes' bike ride from the university, and right across the road from a supermarket, so it's convenient too. It also (unlike a lot of places in Japan) has real walls, which is good since I am going to get my speakers shipped over here soon ...

Finally, from the window and balcony pictured here, one can look across a small river to a stretch of forest, a large hill which takes an hour to climb, and beyond that Mt. Daisen, an 1800 m tall mountain which has snow on its peak even at this time of year. So when I move to Matsue (in precisely 2 and a half weeks!) I will not lose my rural seclusion, even though I am going to be moving to a bigger town. Which means, I suppose, that I can keep my suzumushi, the night-time sounds of frogs, the tanuki and foxes and all the other things I had not expected to be able to see or hear here. Without having to get up more than 10 minutes before I go to work!!! Now that is convenience!

The Insect Man

This little chap (or chappess) is a local insect from a group called "singing insects" (suzumushi). While wandering about downtown Tottori today with a friend I stumbled on a tiny shop festooned with birdcages, and from within heard the delicate sound of bell ringing. I wandered in and found an old man, sitting in an old chair between a caged sparrow and an insect vivarium, smoking (all old men in Japan smoke, it is a law). He was very pleased to see us, and when I asked him if he had suzumushi he showed me his little vivarium with maybe 10 of the little critters inside. As soon as I evinced interest, he offered me 4. I ran away to buy some little insect homes, and upon my return I got two sets of 2 insects. Each home has a male and a female, who I have decided to christen Freddy and Britney (cage 1), and Madonna and Michael (cage 2). Their offspring will indeed be stunted and warped creatures! Although I have heard them sing in the shop I have not heard them in my home, but if they do I shall endeavour to record their sound for posperity (I don't know if I can put sound files here but I will try).

These are bell-ringing crickets, and they are famous in Japan for their beautiful sound. Japanese people even organise trips to famous listening spots, where they sit quietly listening to the insects. In the previous century it was possible to visit marketplaces where the various insects were sold, and a famous writer who lived in Matsue (my next port of call), Lafcadio Hearne, wrote an essay on the disappearing art of the insect seller. It seems that while he may have disappeared in Tokyo he remains a prominent figure in Tottori life (well, maybe not so prominent - the woman in the store where I bought the insect cages thought I was very strange for wanting insect cages for suzumushi, although she denied this opinion when I asked her).

As I write, one of my little pets has decided to start creaking. I have it on good authority that their music becomes a clear, ringing trill (which is what I heard from outside when I was lying in bed last night). Hopefully soon my room will ring with the sounds of a previous era, and once again rural Japan will have surprised me with one of its simple but enchanting practises.