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WHF2002
Recollections - Judit Vihar |
On
the Northern Paths
of the Far East
Judit Vihar
Budapest, Hungary |
 |
Lovely days . . . they pass so
quickly never to return. Now the end of December, I see this journey across the
fog of the past. We all, 14 haijin, were together for 9 days and 9 nights in
September; together when we ate Japanese foods and drank sake; when we admired
the wonderful mountains and golden-blond rice field; when we looked upon rocks
carved with 300 year-old haiku by Basho; when we walked in the fabulous sugi
(Japanese cedar) forest and in the depth of bamboo groves; when we sailed on the
Mogami River and between the islands of Matsushima on the the Pacific Ocean;
when we talked and wrote haiku together in the Japanese hotel room; and when we
slept in deep dreams on futon, laid out over tatami.
But what was the beginning? I will tell you of just a moment…
Departure
11th September
"Aren't you afraid?"
asked my family and friends. "Only one year ago today was the beginning of
terror, which could start World War III!"
"Not so," I answered.
"We are living in the 21st century. Now, fronts and hinterlands are not
separated. Terrorists may be everywhere. But life is not so simple. Unexpected
chance plays an important part."
And that was true. At the
Budapest airport, awaiting my departure to Japan, I had noticed the familiar
face of a Japanese man. "Is that him?” I wondered. Perhaps not, after
all. To my eyes, Japanese men resemble each other like two eggs. But this man
looked at me curiously, also. Yes, it was indeed Professor Kamada, my wonderful
teacher from Kyoto University. Leaving from Budapest after a linguistics
conference, he and his wife were returning to Japan. We flew to Frankfurt
together, then he continued to Kansai airport, while I went to Narita in Tokyo.
Arrival
12th September
Yes, unexpected chance plays an important part. When we waited at the passport
control in Narita, I again noticed the face of an acquaintance. But this was a
face of a lady; not Japanese lady, but a lady with blond hair. In a moment, we
were happily talking together. She was Visnja McMaster, from Croatia, leader of
the Haiku Association in Zagreb. We had met each other two years ago, August
2000 at the World Haiku Festival in London/Oxford, England. The WHF2000 was the
first World Haiku Club festival organized by its Chairman, Susumu Takiguchi. And
now, this Basho Journey and WHF2002 event was also organized by him. I was very
happy to see Visnja at the airport.
She said, "We'll wait at
the airport for Aiba-san from NHK (a Japanese TV broadcasting company), and then
go together by the express train to Tokyo. It will take 1 hour and 30
minutes."
"That’s wonderful," I answered joyfully. "I am very lucky to
find friends and acquaintances everywhere!"
As planned, the young and
lovely Aiba-san traveled with us to Shinjuku, the most modern area of Tokyo,
where we would meet the other Basho Journey participants at the Shinjuku
Washington Hotel.
I had not slept during the flight. My eyes automatically closed each minute, but
I waited for our big meeting.
"They must be good, fun
company who love haiku and Basho so much”, I thought. "There are
American, English and Japanese people -- with Visnja from Croatia and I, from
Hungary...all right, they are very interesting people!”
Susumu-san met us at the hotel.
He said, "In just a moment, we are going to the house and Museum of
Basho."
A half-hour later, we stood
before the small Inari shrine. Everywhere we looked were little stone frogs,
recalling the famous haiku of Basho:
furuike ya kawazu tobikomu
mizu no oto
stagnant pond...
a frog-leap into
water's sound
(version, D. W. Bender)
There was no pond here, but
soon we were on our way to Basho’s cottage on the riverside of Sumida. With
its banana tree (called basho in Japanese), the place was so nice and
friendly. It was from the basho-an ("banana hut"), the poet
started his Oku no hosomichi ("journey to the far north").
The Shoestrings and Nikko’s flower
13th September
I got up early in the morning at the beautiful, modern Washington hotel. After
an abundant breakfast, I had to hurry to catch the bus: our journey, starting
from the 21st century’s 40-floor hotel at Shinjuku, would travel back in time.
Yes, it was a journey through time and space as we returned to the 17th century,
the world of Basho. We would be climbing mountains, living in ryokan,
seeing temples, shrines and monasteries deep in mountain forests. Preparing my
luggage in Hungary, I had packed my sneakers, the white shoestrings having been
unlaced for washing. But on the bus, I suddenly realized --
Oh my gosh!
I forgot the laces and left them at home!
Debi Bender suggested we might
check the little hotel shop, but there were no shoestrings to be found. I became
upset about having forgotten them, but I didn't make anything of it. At that
moment, Debi had another idea: "Let's ask Brian! He carries all kinds of
unexpected things in his backpack!" Brian Selby, a gallant English lord
with long, silver hair, and who may be a later relation of Don Quixote, opened
his satchel. Presto! Like a magician, he drew out two kinds of shoestrings: a
short pair and a long pair of boot straps.
I teased him: "Don't you
have a medium-length pair?”
I was very, very happy with the
long ones. Because of Brian’s help, I walked easily through Nikko’s park and
wandered around Toshogu, home of the famous three monkeys, "Hear no evil,
See no evil and Speak no evil." The wonderful Japanese rococo style was
everywhere -- wood and stone were laced with a gaiety of colour. When I noticed
the Sleeping Cat (Nemuri Neko), a slow rain had begun falling. Each drop
was as a transparent flower. At this moment I wrote two haiku:
Nikko’s forest
I sit by myself
under the sleeping cat.
Autumn’s raindrop's
sweetly plaintive mood –
Nikko’s flowers.
At the two willows
14th September
Today we went to Ungan-ji, a Buddhist temple and monastery, where priests still
live. All around the grounds were forests and very good, fresh air. From Ungan-ji,
we went on to have a wonderful Japanese lunch on a restaurant in a Nasu
hillside, over 1900 m. high. Japanese people eat food first with their eyes. For
Japanese people, eating is also an esthetic pleasure. Japanese foods, in their
different shapes and colours are pleasing the eye -- and very tasty. Looking at
them, I remember when I was a little girl playing with sand, shaping it in a
variety of little forms which looked something like sushi.
After lunch, the next place we visited was Sesshoseki, the "murder
stone". Throughout the hills and valley was the stink of sulfurous gas.
Here were seen many jizo-sama, the guardian of children, all in the
posture of prayer, one hand folded over the other. and all wearing red bonnets.
Their prayer is to go to West Paradise, to the Buddha. Everywhere, stones were
stacked upon stones. For me, this valley was a cemetery of stones and I was glad
when we left it.
Our bus ran very quickly. Everywhere we looked, on both side of the road: golden
coloured rice fields. It was the time of the harvest, and the view was
heart-stirring. Here I saw rice bound into sheaves, not yet gold; only green. I
could never forget this wonderful spectacle. When the bus stopped beside a
golden rice field, I saw the two famous willows with memorial stones carved with
Basho’s and Buson’s haiku. At these two willows near the forest of 800 year
old sugi (Japanese cedar), we considered the force and eternity of
nature. And here were hagi bushes (bush clover), some with very small
white flowers, and others with pink. The country was so picturesque, I felt I
must write haiku:
Hagi in my hair
the heart clean and quiet
hot spring on the left.
Grandmother’s Day
15th September
Early in the morning, we started to Sendai. It is a big city overlooked by a
white Kannon statue, 100 meters high. When Sendai City reached its 100th year,
the statue of the Buddhist deity was raised as a commemoration. First, our bus
stopped at Taga Palace, built 1200 years ago. The palace was very big, 1
kilometer in length. But today, only ruins rest here. Near the castle a very
old, big stone, Tsubo no Ishibumi remains, surviving since 724,
the era of Emperor
Jinki. Sometime afterward, the stone was moved to China, but in the 17th
century, it was returned to its former place. The world is always changing; only
change is eternal. But on this stone, nothing seems to have changed. In Basho’s
time it was moss-grown. Today we may have read on the stone, the Japanese word nishi,
meaning "west”.
On this day, we visited the Japanese Venice, Matsushima, the "pine
islands". It was very good weather. The sun was shining, and the sea with
its many islands radiated happiness. God was in high spirits, I think, when He
created Matsushima. We embarked, sailing among its islands of interesting
shapes. The ferries are unusual shapes too: dragon, peacock, duck and gull.
In the city there were many, many Japanese tourists, but not many foreigners.
Everyone wanted to see the temple, Zuigan-ji, and the cave-dwellings of priests.
At the temple, a wonderful breeze drifted through tiger and lilac-coloured
acacia blooms.
In the evening, we arrived at a ryokan (Japanese style hotel) furnished
with two onsen (hot springs baths). We were very happy as we headed to
the rotenburo, an open-air onsen. There were elderly women
everywhere at the hotel. We asked why so many old women were here. The Japanese
ladies said it was Grandmother’s Day. A visit to the onsen was a gift
for them. We talked quite a bit with the Japanese families before returning to
our Japanese rooms. After we rested, we all had a fine Japanese dinner, then
circulated our haiku for an informal kukai. Patricia Hackett’s haiku took
first place. It was beautiful!
For the kukai, I too, entered a
haiku:
Fog covered mountain
a young girl behind
the onsen towel.
To be continued...
Photograph by D.W.
Bender
