The Toilets of Asia: Cafe Saint Amour, Kyoto

Today's featured toilet:

Gender: Unisex (single-stall)
Toilet type: Eastern squat toilet, aka "squatty potty"
Special features: vain attempt to conceal horrifyingness of squat toilet; world's narrowest sink

I try to be open-minded as I live overseas, and my reward for that has been discovering some ways to do things that are genuinely superior to ways back home. Korean under-floor heading ("ondol"), for instance, is so much better than anything done in North America or even in Japan or the UK, that anybody who experiences winter should just knock down their houses and start over. Chinese food is easier to eat with chopsticks, once you get good at them. Coins of actual value are fun (Japan's most valuable coin is 500 yen, or about $6 these days). Sleeping on floor mattresses solves all sorts of problems, from cleaning under the bed to keeping your covers from falling off.

But objectively, squat toilets are terrible. Simply terrible. They have no redeeming feature whatsoever. Here is how you use them:

(image from Japanory blog post located here)

Yes, I know, medical types may tell you that squatting is actually a more ergonomically sound position for, you know, getting your business done. You know what? Tell that to my knees. Especially tell that to my knees when I'm experiencing, as one does, travel-related digestive issues. (There's a reason they teach you the phrase "to have diarrhea" in 2nd-year Chinese). Nothing compounds a stomach problem quite like having to choose between another five minutes on the toilet and the throbbing pain of blood vessels exploding in your thighs.

Some squat toilets have bars in front which you can hang onto to help you keep your balance. Let me tell you how dignified that feels, squatting and dangling like you're on water skis preparing to go over a jump. Sometimes I think locals don't actually use the squat toilets, and they're acutally just a hilarious hidden camera prank on foreigners.

But alas, no. Other people do use the squatty. And not a single one of them can aim. When you share the toilet with men, they let fly from about three feet up and the splash goes everywhere. When the toilet is limited to women, you still get spray from the high-capacity flush. (Once you press the flush lever on a squatty, run like hell). The Japanese are the cleanest people alive. The word "beautiful" and the word "clean" are actually both the same word here - kirei. If the Japanese cannot make a sanitary, non-smelling squatty, then it cannot be done.

So squatties invariably smell faintly of urine, and that's if you're lucky. If you're unlucky - say, the squatty is frequented by children, or drunks, or is located on a moving train - you will find full-on puddles and non-liquid deposits flanking the toilet. I can't tell you how much fun it is to contemplate placing your nether regions two inches from that. Sure, I hear you say, what about the mess people leave on a toilet seat in the West? You actually have to sit on that! And I reply: first, you can wipe it off, which you cannot do for the five square feet of squatty space. Second, if things are bad enough, go to a different stall. There is no different stall in squatty world - they will ALL be like this. If you are a female foolish enough to wear pants, you have to roll them up before you get near that toilet, and a skirt has to be tucked up under your armpits. After you leave, I strongly recommend setting fire to your shoes.

So I honor the Cafe Saint Amour for its valiant attempt to convert the agonizing, bacteria-ridden torment of squatty usage into a charming autumnal cottage experience.

I just hope they change the flowers frequently, because you know exactly what splashes on them.

Bonus feature: Japanese toilets are often wedged into awkward, cramped spaces. Because of this, Japan has developed fabulous tiny sinks. If this bathroom had featured a normal full basin sink, you would not have been able to walk inside.

This sort of engineering is available here, and yet they still have squatties... sigh...

The Worst Christmas Present Ever, Revealed: It's a tanuki!

A couple of months back, I wrote this post notifying my brother Jim that I had found a 2011 Christmas present even worse than the fluorescent pink man-leggings I gave him in 2010. We are still on speaking terms only because Jim is a very good sport.

Well, here it is, the most horrible thing I could find in Japan: a tanuki statue. What is a tanuki?

"Among the most recognizable and ribald images in Japanese folk art is a rotund, jolly little bear-like animal, wearing a large straw hat and carrying a bottle of sake, and most unabashedly propped on top of his own enormous, dragging scrotum. This is the famous and beloved tanuki."

Tanukis do not have to be horrible. In fact, if you can get over the giant scrotum thing, many of them are kind of cute. Here's a little fellow Justin and I photographed in Kyoto, where tanukis are so popular you see them in practically every doorway:
This tanuki is odd but sort of adorable, like the Hello Kitty version of the cast of Splash Mountain. He would not look out of place on a child's bookshelf, provided you lied and told the child that he was sitting on a strangely-shaped tree stump. The tanuki I bought Jim is not cute and should not be placed anywhere near a child. The mere fact that this statue exists has Walt Disney rolling in his grave.

Jim's tanuki is cute-tanuki's derelict Appalachian moonshiner third cousin. Cute-tanuki bats his eyelashes at you; Jim's tanuki gives you a terrifying thousand-yard stare. The paint on his arms blurs into his body and his body bleeds into his alcohol bottle. Methamphetamines may have been involved.

What is tanuki sitting on? (Besides the scrotum). A research paper, of course. By yours truly, two pages single-spaced, with fifteen footnotes. I'm not sure my university envisioned me researching raccoon-dog testicles as part of my free alumni JSTOR subscription, but maybe that was a risk they were willing to take.

What's that you say? You want to read this paper? OF COURSE YOU DO, and here it is.

Disclaimer: This is probably the most off-color thing I have ever posted on one of our blogs. It only passes what Justin and I think of as the "grandma test" for blog appropriateness because Justin has exceptionally funny grandmothers. It is likely that at some point in my life I will regret having posted this. For now I will use the Muppet Christmas Carol defense: Rizzo asks Gonzo, "Say, this is pretty scary stuff. Should we be worried about the kids in the audience?" Gonzo says, "Nah, this is culture." And so are tanukis!

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The tanuki is generally called "raccoon dog" in English, although sometimes it is also translated as "badger." An "irreverant" nickname for shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu was "Furu-Tanuki," or "The old raccoon-dog," because of the shogun's "wily, patient, diplomatic" nature.¹ In Super Mario 3, Mario can put on a "tanooki suit," whereupon he can fly and turn himself into a statue.² Despite the tanuki's modern role as a bringer of luck,3 the tanuki of Japanese folklore is a trickster who uses his shapeshifting ability to commit mischief:⁴

"[A] man is duped into thinking he is spying on a badger who has transformed into a samisen [shamisen, stringed instrument] player. When the man is about to reveal the identity of the musician to onlookers, he suddenly discovers that he is staring at the buttocks of a horse."⁵

Tanuki statues are often set outside stores and homes, and have a standard appearance. [Fig. 1]

(Fig. 1: Tanuki and accessories. Shikaraki Tourist Association)

It must be acknowledged that this diagram glosses over some of the less reputable aspects of the tanuki. For instance, the document identified as "business note" is actually the tanuki's liquor bill,⁶ which "he never pays."⁷ The aspect of tanuki's physical form labeled "blob" on the diagram is more commonly known by its medical term, "scrotum."⁸

Just as the scrotum is a disproportionately large part of the tanuki's physical form, so does it dominate tanuki mythology. As illustrated in 19th-century Ukiyo-e prints by the artist Kuniyoshi, tanukis can use their testicles as fishing nets, umbrellas, tents, free weights, and boats.⁹

Image from http://pinktentacle.com/2009/06/all-purpose-tanuki-testicles-prints-by-kuniyoshi/

The testicles can even be used "as something like a bulky carpet under which to smother his enemy."¹⁰ In folklore, the tanuki's shapeshifting testicles are an important element in his repertoire of deception. In a story known as "The Tanuki's Trick," a lost mapmaker takes shelter in a mountain hut, and passes the time by "pull[ing] some loose threads from the mat and finally stab[bing] the mat with a knife." At this point, the hut disappears, and "the man discovers that he has been hosted by a [tanuki] who created an illusion of the house, using its scrotum to fashion the eight-mat floor."¹¹

Those concerned for the tanuki who has just been shanked in the nuts must recall that the tanuki's testicles are unusually durable. He has toughened them via such methods as using them as hammers¹² and playing them like a drum, hitting his testicles with a pair of sticks.¹³

Image from http://pinktentacle.com/2009/06/all-purpose-tanuki-testicles-prints-by-kuniyoshi/

Tanuki's scrotum is also immortalized in a Japanese children's rhyme:

Tan-tan-tanuki no  kintama wa Kaze mo nai no ni bura-bura Sore o miteita kodanuki ga Furumono nai node pura-pura Sore o miteita hikigaeru Shiwa kucha mancho ni tobi tsuita

The balls of the [tanuki] are swinging with a breeze. The baby [tanuki] that is watching them He can't do anything because he has nothing to swing. The toad that is watching them jumps for the wrinkled genitals."14

Why, then, does this large-scrotumed creature signify luck? Alice Gordenker, of The Japan Times, quotes an explanation from scholar Shigeo Okuwa:

"To make gold leaf... craftsmen would wrap gold in a tanuki [scrotum] skin before carefully hammering the gold ...It was said that gold is so malleable, and tanuki skin so strong, that even a small piece could be thinned to the size of eight tatami mats. And because the Japanese for "small ball of gold" (kin no tama) is very close to the slang term for testicles (kintama), the eight-mat brag got stuck on the tanuki's bag. Soon, images of a tanuki began to be sold as prosperity charms, purported to stretch one's money and bring good fortune."¹⁵

1U.A. Casal, "The Goblin Fox and Badger and Other Witch Animals of Japan." Folklore Studies, Vol. 18, 1959, 50

2"Tanooki suit." Super Mario Wiki. Accessed 25 Dec. 2011.

3Casal 58

4The tanuki can be helpful, as when a Japanese family fed a tanuki family in a time of famine, and the tanukis reciprocated by transforming into wrestlers to defend their benefactors from burglars Casal 54.

5Violet H. Harada, "The Badger in Japanese Folklore," Asian Folklore Studies , Vol. 35, No. 1, 1976, p. 4.

6Barbra Teri Okada, "Netsuke: The Small Sculptures of Japan." The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, New Series, Vol. 38, No.2, Autumn, 1980 p. 24.

7The tanuki in fact does pay his bills, but in illusory coinage which disappears not long after the tanuki does. The bill has ironically developed into a modern symbol of trust. Schumacher, Mark. "Tanuki in Japanese artwork." Onmarkproductions.com. 1995-2011. http://www.onmarkproductions.com/html/tanuki.shtml. Accessed 26 Dec. 2011.

8Tanukis rarely have penises. The scholar U.A. Casal has "never obtained a sensible explanation of this defect." This author feels that Casal's pursuit of a "sensible explanation" in any aspect of tanuki mythology is optimistic. Casal 56.

9Pink Tentacle (Blogger). "All-purpose tanuki testicles (prints by Kuniyoshi)." 23 June 2009. http://pinktentacle.com/2009/06/all-purpose-tanuki-testicles-prints-by-kuniyoshi/. Accessed 25 Dec. 2011.

10Casal 56.

11Harada 5.

12Pink Tentacle

13Casal 56.

14 The rhyme is sung to the Protestant hymn "Now We Gather at the River." Joel M. Maring and Lillian E. Maring, "Japanese Erotic Folksong: From Shunka to Karaoke." Asian Music, Vol. 28, No. 2 (Spring - Summer, 1997), p. 36.

15Alice Gordenker, "Tanuki genitals." The Japan Times. 15 July 2008. http://www.japantimes.co.jp/text/ek20080715wh.html. Accessed 26 December 2011.

Back in Fukuoka.

Or, 福岡に かえりました。

Against all odds and a healthy dose of our own stupidity, Nana and I have made it back in time from our Christmas holiday for a good night's sleep and a full day's work tomorrow.

Happy New Year!

メリークリスマス

メリークリスマス = "Meri Kurisumasu," or "Merry Christmas" in Japanese.

We're home visiting family in the US for the last week. We had some exciting (read: terrifying) moments on an excessively bouncy flight en route. I've never had a captain come over the loudspeaker before to inform the passengers that "this turbulence does not pose a threat to the safety of the aircraft."

We did plan to do some blog posts but we've been really busy. In between holiday stuff, we've been chipping away at massive piles of grading. (The answer to the song "What are you doing New Year's Eve" is much less exciting when you are a teacher). I spent a whole morning stealing clothes from my pregnant sister, which was delightful because this is the first time in history the clothing theft has ended in my favor. We were going through her wardrobe looking for stuff that doesn't fit her anymore and I swear half of it was mine in the first place.

Best holiday wishes to all of you wherever you are, and safe non-turbulent travels.

Kyoto - Nishiki Food Market & Kaiseki Dinner

It should surprise no one who knows us that the Nishiki Food Market was one of our first stops in Kyoto. This narrow covered arcade is the number-one source for all kinds of Kyoto treats.

These are basically molded sugar.

A black sesame rice cracker. These things are heavenly.

A kind of sweet brown mochi.

You know, I spent a lot of time there making this face.

 But not everything was quite so appetizing.

Whale tongues in wet clay.

A Polynesian sacrificial altar.

The work of an adolescent dolphin sociopath.

Either an anorexic squid or an eel with hyperthyroidism.

Candied octopus lollipops.

 (Actually, from the top: eggplant in miso; red snapper, dried and fried; ???; ?!?!; candied octopus lollipops.)

Obviously, Nana and I were neither hungry nor adventurous enough to try everything we saw at Nishiki, though a couple days later we did eat some pretty wild and wonderful stuff at a kaiseki (Japanese haute cuisine) restaurant near our B&B.

Just a few items on the nine-course tasting menu:

• Smoked oysters in a kind of mustard sauce
• Crab dumpling soup (basically, they use every part of the crab but the shell)
• Sashimi (slices of raw fish), including yellowtail, scallops
• Some smoked mackerel with a touch of mustard (which currently ranks among the most delicious things I've ever eaten in my life)
• A chunk of chicken liver
• A hunk of some kind of fish, vaguely mackerel-ish, marinated in that same brown miso paste you saw above
• Japanese winter stew
• Rice with poached salmon and ikura (salmon eggs)

It wasn't cheap, but it was definitely worth it. Even better, we were seated at a counter right in front of the chef, who spoke some English and was able to describe a bit of what he was up to. A lesson, a show, and a fine meal, all rolled into one! 

The aesthetics of lunch

Japan is known as a country with a passion for design. If I had more time, I could probably come up with some scholarly explanations of the principles of space and balance, but it's 8:30 and I have ten papers to grade before bed, so you can just imagine something excellent. Go revisit my sushi triumph and experience the majesty all over again.

Or don't. Because the stuff in this post makes my award-winning sushi platter look like just another pile of carbs and Omega 3.

Here is a snack Justin and I got in Kurokawa, a hot springs town. On the left, a bowl of hot frothy green tea (delicious!). On the right, rice cakes and sweet red bean.

The presentation is so balanced and lovely, except for the spoon, which I moved to eat with but then stuck back in the wrong place. Whitey has no style.

And then there's this opus from a local tempura (fried things) place. The theme of the dish (of course fried things have to have a theme; this is Japan!) was "autumn."

Decorative maple and ginkgo leaves. A mushroom with a flower carved in the top. Two edible gingko berries on what we thought were actual stems, but then found out were edible pieces of Japanese buckwheat noodle. And then the pinecone, which was a potato. Hand-carved. We saw him making some for the next day, and they took five to ten minutes each.

Which brings us to today's BBC News magazine special on lunchboxes for Japanese schoolchildren. We noticed products especially for the lunchbox crowd in our local supermarket, such as decorative plastic grass, miniature flowers, and pressed seaweed precut so that when you wrap it around rice it turns into a soccer ball, or Mickey Mouse. My immediate reaction was, "This cannot be about the kids. This has got to be competition with other mothers." And lo and behold, BBC confirms. The mothers in this special take lessons so they can make cartoon character lunchboxes, and the mother who teaches the classes has made everything from a Sony Playstation controller to Indiana Jones. She says her human character bentos (lunchboxes) take two hours. There is a reason Japan has a low rate of mothers in the workplace.

On a totally unrelated note, congratulations to the Fukuoka Softbank Hawks, purveyors of odd city tours, on their recent victory in the Japan World Series! We learned about this when we got into the subway, in which all the advertisements had been replaced by Softbank Hawk posters and banners, and then we got stuck in the crowds leaving the victory parade. On the plus side, we taught our landlord the word "ticker-tape."

Hopefully you remember that Softbank is brought to you by the White Family, in which the mother and daughter are Japanese, the father is a dog, the son is a black American guy, and Grandma has gotten remarried to a twenty-something Japanese movie star. We have recently learned that the family has an uncle, and it is Quentin Tarantino.

The same league also brings you a team called the Hokkaido Nippon Ham Fighters. They were not in the final and apparently never are, but they are relevant because according to a fan web site, the team has a "fluorescent pink mascot, Fighty, who resembles a fuzzy pterodactyl and rides a bicycle." I think we can all agree that Fighty needs to marry into the White family ASAP.

Kyoto - Eikan-do and Nanzen-ji Temples

Near the southern end of the Philosopher's Walk, on the eastern edge of Kyoto, lay the two sprawling temples of Eikan-do and Nanzen-ji. We visited each temple at the end of a different day - an unplanned bit of serendipity, as the light was perfect in the late afternoon.

Eikan-do, the more northerly of the two, came first. The temple has three claims to fame: an iconic hillside pagoda, some spectacular gardens, and a statue of a backwards-looking Amida Buddha. (A bit less of a draw these days.)

As with many of the temples we visited on this trip, Nana and I spent a lot of time just wandering - these big temples have a lot of pretty little nooks and crannies to explore. I think our favorite spot was an enclosed courtyard in the old abbot's house, filled with a swampy little koi pond and some brilliant red and yellow trees.

We sat down here to wait out a brief rain shower, but ended up staying quite a while, as the considerable crowds drifted quietly by. A whole ten minutes, at least, were spent marvelling at a strange little freshwater crab that seemed to be common in those parts.

But that little courtyard wasn't the only place we stopped and sat around a bit: this Zen garden was also a good spot for a little quiet contemplation.

After a time, we started up the hill to the pagoda, where we'd been told to expect a nice view of the eastern part of the city.

Alas, I couldn't seem to find a good angle on the pagoda itself, one of the classic Kyoto sights.

In addition to all this, Eikan-do is also known for its diverse architecture. The aforementioned pagoda, accented in red, blends Chinese and Japanese elements. Other parts of the temple are classically Japanese, all dark wood and white walls with occasional touches of gold.

While still other parts of the temple look almost Korean, exploding with vibrant colors.

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We wrapped up the following day at nearby Nanzen-ji, the head temple of the Rinzai Zen branch of the same name. While Eikan-do feels very much like a temple, Nanzen-ji feels more like a park, with buildings and sub-temples dotting its wooded expanse.

At the front of the temple is a huge ceremonial gate half-hidden by trees. For a small fee, you can climb to the second-floor balcony, which is a rare treat - most of the time, you're stuck staring up at these things from below.

 The balcony provides a great 360-degree view of the temple and its surroundings.

Nana thought that tree looked suspicious.

At the back of the temple is the abbot's house and its famous Leaping Tiger Garden.

Strangest-looking HoJo's I've ever seen.

Not pictured: leaping tigers.

You'll notice the plastic bag Nana's carrying. It's not discount luggage - it's actually her shoes. Guests at most temples in Kyoto have to tour the buildings in their socks. This is partly a nod to the Japanese custom of changing shoes when entering a house, but it's more importantly a preservation measure, as socks are a whole lot gentler on old wooden floors.

It does mean your feet get pretty chilly by the end of the day.

After exploring the abbot's house, Nana and I headed uphill, so a noted sub-temple and its little garden on the southern edge of the complex.

On the way, an eerie sight: a 19th-century aqueduct, casting a gloomy shadow over the trees.

I can't tell you if it's still in use, but the water is still running. There are even some fish in there, and at least one patient heron perched on the ledge.

The sub-temple garden itself was a fine spot to rest our legs for a bit at the end of the day.

Nana in quiet, totally un-ironic contemplation.

As we were leaving Nanzen-ji, the setting sun gave us one last glimmer on the roof of the main hall.

EDIT: I've just noticed that I described Nanzen-ji out of order - we went up the hill first, then to the abbot's house. But I'm much too lazy, and photos in Blogger are much too unwieldy, so please forgive me for leaving the post as it is.