Shigaraki 台風一過

Waking up to the mountains is a mighty fine feeling. Endless forests and creeks, tea fields and tanukis, Shigaraki is the kind of place you go to and never want to leave. Shigaraki is also home to one of the best families on this planet. The Ôtani’s live on an idyllic winding mountain road in a beautiful open air home that doubles as a studio. Tetsuya and Momoko are both potters, some of Shigaraki’s finest, and they are currently bustling about preparing orders of delicate porcelain and clay ceramics. I first met them four years ago through my great friend, Cynthea Bogel, and they’ve become my Japanese family. Ôtani Rinzi is my name around here, and it's even more amusing considering that I'm a visiting researcher at Ôtani University in Kyoto (no affiliation). :)

Their three girls, Hana (13), Fuu (11), and Midori (8), are off at school for the day, and the dog, Hachi-kun lazes by the door, deciding whom to stare at – me or a butterfly that flits about. I sit at the long wooden table, rightful centerpiece of the home, and look out across garden patches to Momoko’s mother and father’s home. How delightful that they live so close, and can share meals (as we did last evening) and enjoy life together. Yearly trips to the Ôtani’s are some of my most treasured moments. They scoop me at the station, we stop at the sake store, then wind up the mountains to their beautiful home, where we make a feast, raise a toast (several, in fact), trade stories, and deepen our bonds.

A quick train from Kyoto lands you at Ishiyama station, on the southern tip of Lake Biwa. Momoko picked me up and we headed to Ishiyamadera, famed temple where Murasaki Shikibu is said to have penned some of Genji Monogatari. We strolled about the grounds, around pagodas, through rows of plum trees, past the main hall where we were surprise serenaded by opera singers rehearsing for a performance (!). A quick stop back at the station to pick up Momoko’s parents, who had attended a wedding in Tokyo and were then delayed by the typhoon, and we were off.

Dark green peaks, brush painted clouds, a plump last-quarter moon (Momoko’s father and I agreed on the terminology in French), and golden outlines trailing the westward sun. The scenery also included flooded rice fields, fat chocolate rivers, and washed out roads – memories of the massive flooding that had just hit. Water and wind power on full display…thankful everyone is okay.

Greeting the girls! Heart smiles.

The meal! Tetsuya and I hand rolled futomakizushi (fat rolls) of unagi, Kôyadôfu (freeze dried tofu named after Mt. Kôya and its shôjin, or vegetarian, cooking for monks), carrot, pumpkin vine, mushroom, and kanpyo (gourd). Momoko slowly deep-fried globe eggplants, which she would serve in a large bowl with dashi, daikon (that Hana grated), and bonito. She also charcoal grilled long, thin eggplants that would have the most delicious, smoky flavor. In addition, the table boasted tarako, tsubasu sashimi (baby tuna), shiitake with sudachi (Japanese lime-like citrus), fresh ginger, and shiso leaves and blossoms from the garden.

Sake, beer, and smiles go without saying. Special Japanese sweets I had brought from Nara and roasted green tea sealed the night’s magic. Or maybe it was the bath and then curling up in the futon, tucked in by the mountain evening (that, and the fresh memory of a monstrous mountain centipede that waltzed in, causing quite a commotion as Tetsuya, Momoko, and I cleaned up).

I woke from vivid dreams of flooding, saddled horses missing riders, geography quizzes, and impending tidal waves – all snippets from the day’s conversations. The girls had left for school, and I ate freshly baked bread with a variety of homemade jams (orange marmalade, fig, sweetened milk with spices, black sesame cream) and drank coffee from one of Momo’s mugs. Ah.