The Meaning of Rice

by Michael Booth

  We rise early the second morning and trundle on to Kushiro on the south-east coast where we have a great donburi lunch in the intriguingly named ‘Fisherman’s Wharf MOO’, a kind of seafood mall on the harbourfront. Here, the highlight for Asger and Emil is one of those amusement arcade grabbing games which, instead of a cuddly toy or giant Toblerone, has live crabs as its prize. Nothing, though, compares to our lunch in Rausu.

  We spend the next night at a campsite located on a cliff-top overlooking the harbour of Utoro, then cross the Shiretoko Pass, 738 metres above sea level, stopping at the highest point to do a yet more open-mouthed gaping over Hokkaido’s most easterly peninsula, the Shiretoko National Park (a World Heritage Site). We have a rendezvous with a Rausu-based nature guide, whom we meet at the town’s own especially amazing Michi-no-eki, filled with stalls selling local produce like sakebushi (katsuobushi made from salmon instead of bonito), and Bihoro Butasho Marumanma (a soy sauce made out of pork).

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve never had a brown bear attack here, it’s the black bears on the mainland that cause the problems.’ Our guide, astrophysicist turned ‘Stuff Naturalist’ (according to his business card – I think it should read ‘Staff’), Shinji Sato, is doing his best to reassure us as we discuss the plan for the day. ‘The black bears tend to panic and attack humans but Hokkaido brown bears are much more shy.’

  The idea is that we will go for a trek through the forests in search of a waterfall and see what wildlife appears. As well as having the highest density population of brown bears in Hokkaido – possibly in the world – Shiretoko is home to rare eagles such as the white-tailed sea eagle and Steller’s sea eagle, plus fish owls and, off the coast, various whale species. Theoretically, this is one of the few places on earth where you can see bears and killer whales in the wild in the same day (your best chance is in June, apparently).

  Emboldened by Shinji’s reassurances about the friendly bears, I ask if, rather than actively seeking to avoid them, perhaps he might take us to see some. Shinji thinks for a moment, as if no one has ever asked this before, and pulls out his mobile phone.

  A couple of hours later, following the waterfall trek and the aforementioned, staggeringly good lunch in Rausu – of freshly cooked king crab in a fisherman’s hut by the sea (I do not say this lightly: it is one of the greatest meals of my life) – we are pulling on life jackets and crashing across white waves to the uninhabited tip of the peninsula in a sea urchin boat, basically a slender fibreglass bath tub with an outboard motor.

  Sadly, after over an hour of bucking across the Okhotsk Sea, it seems as if we are out of luck. The unseasonal heat is keeping the bears in the woods during the day, says Shinji. The uni fisherman warns a storm is brewing. The sea is growing unrulier by the second. I finger my seasickness wristbands nervously as we pass two spectacular waterfalls which cascade right onto the beach. We are now deep into bear territory but, as we approach the Shiretoko Cape, at the very tip of the peninsula – ‘The End of the Earth’ according to Hokkaido’s indigenous Ainu people – it is agreed we must turn back.

  And then, suddenly, Lissen springs up, gesturing excitedly. There on the shore is a brown shadow. It is moving, lumbering. A bear! We draw closer. According to Shinji the bear is about three years old. This muscular furball is lazily turning over stones in search of insects. We stand in the boat just a few metres offshore watching it for some minutes until, finally, it lifts its head and slopes off into the undergrowth. Amazingly, we see another bear of a similar age as we hasten back to port, the sea now transitioning into Perfect Storm mode. At one point a bucket of sea water is dumped over my head but I don’t care. It has been one of the Great Days, a day we will never forget, the day we saw wild bears.

  What did I learn about Hokkaido during our five-day road trip? That everyone should come and see it if they get the chance. That the seafood gets better the further you get away from civilisation. That no one speaks English. That you should always make sure you have a full tank of petrol before you set off. And that the bears don’t bite.

  What did I learn during my time as captain of a campervan in Japan? Well, I will never again grow impatient when stuck behind one in traffic. I now realise that the poor fellow at the wheel will probably not have slept, eaten, or washed properly for days. Also, he will not have the slightest idea that there is a queue of traffic behind him. But what I really learned about camper-vanning is this: Don’t do it. It’s awful. You will end up constantly fighting with your family, repeating the same droning mantras: ‘Don’t leave the door open or bears will come in.’ ‘Don’t leave the lights on, it will attract Jurassic insects.’ ‘Don’t use all the water brushing your teeth or there’ll be none left for the washing-up.’ ‘Turn the air conditioning off, or you’ll run the battery down.’

  I will never forget the feeling of relief we felt upon checking into the very lovely Vale Hotel at Niseko, with its mesmerising views of Mount Yotei, having finally dumped the wretched van back at the rental place. We were almost giddy with the luxury just of having some space in which to move. Proper beds! And a bath! Lissen and I looked at each other, and the penny dropped: I realise this is nothing to be proud of but it seems, in the final analysis, our family is only held together by room service and complimentary bath salts. If that’s what it takes, we agreed, it would at least be no great hardship to never, ever make the mistake of renting a campervan again.

  It says a great deal about the beauty of Hokkaido that our lust for the outdoors was not yet sated so, the next day in Niseko, we borrow some bikes and head out on a circumnavigation of Mount Yotei, the Fuji of the north. Aptly, today is Japan’s newest national holiday, ‘Mountain Day’. The view from the campervan had been panoramic, but nothing beats the silence of cycling for making you feel part of the landscape. A bike let’s you creep up on the world. At one point a large snake crosses the road in the middle of us. We stop and watch it slither into the ridiculously lush undergrowth.

  The late American-born film writer Donald Richie is perhaps the most celebrated expat chronicler of Japan. His 1971 travel memoir, The Inland Sea, is a kind of lament for the old Japan he feared was rapidly being lost to the tide of modernisation. At the beginning of his journey he writes:

  ‘I know that … right now, there are carpenters and stonecutters who take pride in their work, taxi drivers who polish their cars, salesmen who believe in the company … And I know that such things have largely vanished elsewhere. And I wondered what depths of humanity the Japanese must contain that, even now, despite everything, they remain civil to each other, remain fond of each other.’

  My family and I came to Japan because I wanted to show my children that pride in action, to present them with the evidence of that dedication and determination, but also of that civility and kindness which, like Richie, I too associate with the Japanese, and we found it all in abundance. He would, I hope, be pleasantly surprised that, for all the challenges this country faces – both self-inflicted, and acts of god – those ‘depths of humanity’ endure here in Japan.

  While we were on Hokkaido, two major, epochal events were taking place back in Tokyo. In the first, ageing boy band SMAP, whom I had met on that first visit to Japan ten years earlier, announced they would be disbanding after twenty-five years in the spotlight. In the second, the Emperor gave his abdication speech, the first time an Emperor of Japan had done so since the Meji era.fn1

  In truth, it wasn’t exactly an abdication. What he actually said was:

  When the Emperor has ill health and his condition becomes serious, I am concerned that, as we have seen in the past, society comes to a standstill and people’s lives are impacted in various ways … placing a very heavy strain on those involved in the events, in particular, the family left behind. It occurs to me from time to time to wonder whether it is possible to prevent such a situation.

  What the Emperor was doing was merely, ever so gently, introducing the notion that one day, he might wonder if, perhaps possibly, it coul
d be conceivable for him to abdicate. It was the most Japanese thing ever.

  There was something else that the Emperor touched upon in his speech which chimed more strongly with me than his tentative hints at retirement.

  In my travels throughout the country … I was made aware that wherever I went there were thousands of citizens who love their local community and with quiet dedication continue to support their community.

  I am sure that I am guilty of fetishising Japan. I realise that I will always view this country from the rosy perspective of an outsider. Of course, I don’t really know what it is like to actually live in Japan and I am aware of some of the darker aspects of Japanese culture: I am aware that there is crime and corruption, I know there is poverty and isolation, hardship, high levels of suicide and unemployment, growing economic inequality, and entrenched gender inequality, plus ‘karoshi’, the Japanese word for working yourself literally to death. And on this journey I also learned that the Japanese have been as careless as the rest of us with their natural resources: that they have poisoned their lakes, overfished their seas, saturated the land with pesticides and insecticides, and pumped their food full of additives. Furthermore, the forces of globalisation and ‘progress’, coupled with changing demographics, are endangering a precious one-thousand-year-old food culture. Many of the regional food traditions of Japan could be lost for ever within a generation due to lack of interest, impatience, changing tastes and ignorance.

  All the same, whenever I think about Japan, that sense of community to which the Emperor referred, that ‘quiet dedication’, continues to impress me. The Japanese seem to have found, if not an antidote to the rampant individualism and the age of narcissism in which we now find ourselves, then at least they are striking a better balance between the individual and the collective, between the egotistical and the altruistic.

  Ten years on from our first visit, I am only more impressed by the dedication of the food shokunin we met, even more heartened by the appreciation and understanding of the importance of quality food shown by the Japanese as a whole, and more confident than ever of the role Japan’s traditional food plays at the heart of this unique, fascinating and rewarding culture.

  Acknowledgements

  While I have tried to adhere as much as possible to the chronological order in which the various encounters and experiences detailed in these pages occurred, I have sometimes shuffled or condensed timelines, mostly to avoid unnecessary or dull exposition about who travelled where and when. The journey with my family from Okinawa to Hokkaido described in these pages took place over three visits to Japan during the course of winter, spring and summer 2016. Some of the other research for this book was gathered during solo visits in the previous year.

  Now to the thanks:

  Major ‘this book would not have happened without’ thanks go to Satoshi Gunji, Tetsuya Sugahara and Tamako Gunji of my Japanese publisher, Kadokawa. Tetsuya in particular, and Tamako most especially, gave me amazing support throughout the researching and editing of this book for which I am eternally grateful. Sorry we dragged you along to AKB48 that time, Tamako-san. That was a really weird show.

  Thank you, too, to all the people we have met along the way, especially those who generously allowed me to interview them for this book.

  Others not necessarily named to whom I am nevertheless grateful for their generosity, hospitality, time, wisdom and expertise are (in no particular order, not even alphabetical): Chieko Fujita, Kenjiro Suzuki, Takamune Yano, Takeshi Kadokami, Zaiyu Hasegawa and Noriko Yamaguchi, Melinda Joe, Hitoshi Hasegawa, Ryo Okada, Hiroko Suzuki, Tatsuya Onishi, Muneki Mizutani, Hiroshi Sakurai, Kenzo Oimatsu, Tad Shimotakehara, Toshihiro Ezoe, Atsushi Sakaida, Nobuyuki Shiki, Hideki Ito, Juni Mamitsuka, Shintaro Sumiyoshi, Masatoshi Yasuda, Yoshihiro Narisawa, Remco Vrolijk, Yukiko Fujita and Minako Ando.

  Often, there was a translator/interpreter present during my encounters with the people featured in this book. I rarely refer to their presence in the text, not to make myself seem brilliant and clever, but to streamline the narrative. So, again, thanks are overdue to: Maki Crabbe (Tokyo), Katsuko Kemanai (Hokkaido), Russell Goodall (Tokyo), Yoko Ikeda (Tokyo), Yoko Negita (Tokyo), Ruadhan Treacy and Sondey Olaseun (Matsue), Kazuyo Okudaira (Shikoku), Masumi Tsuha (Okinawa), Anthony Blair Guardia (Nagano).

  I would also like to thank those of Japan’s excellent regional tourist boards who gave us their support and guidance. First and foremost, Kylie Clarke and Hollie Mantle of the London office of the Japan National Tourist Organisation, but also Haruna Ishikawa (Okinawa); Chie Ariyoshi, Yukiko Tanaguchi, Tomoko Takae (Kyushu); Sayaka Yamane, Hideno Umebayasi, Yukio Yoshikawa (Matsue); and Mamoru Watanabe, Teddy Yamaishi (Nagano, Matsumoto).

  Thanks also to Katsunobu Suzuki, my shochu go-between; to Yukiko Yagi and Keisuke Tsuchihashi at NHK; Akira Takayama, Rarecho and the team at FanWorks; and Eri Goto at the Asahi Shimbun.

  Thank you to Dan Franklin, my publisher at Jonathan Cape, for his continued support over many years, and to my agents, Antony Topping at Greene & Heaton in London, George Lucas at Inkwell Management in New York and Miko Yamanouchi at the Uni Agency in Tokyo.

  And, finally, thanks to Lissen, Emil and Asger. I will always be grateful for our time together in Japan. Sorry again about the campervan.

  Gochiso sama deshita.

  (What a feast it was.)

  Index

  The page references in this index correspond to the printed edition from which this ebook was created. To find a specific word or phrase from the index, please use the search feature of your ebook reader.

  Abe, Shinzō, Prime Minister of Japan 215, 229

  Adams, William 13, 77–8, 79

  Adrià, Albert 93

  Adrià, Ferran 270

  agar-agar 270

  Agetateya, Kagoshima 38

  Ajimori restaurant, Kagoshima 36–7, 43

  Akai, Hidekazu 138–40

  Akashiya, Kagoshima 38

  Akihito, Emperor of Japan 329–30

  Akita 276–7

  Akita Konno Co. Ltd 276, 277, 279–81

  Kariwano 276–7

  Amakara Techo magazine 128, 133

  amazake 274–5, 280

  Ambroisi (cake) 255, 256

  America see United States

  Anpanman 61, 81

  ants 169

  Ariake Bay, Kyushu 53, 54

  Arita, Kyushu 86–91

  Aspergillus oryzae see koji

  Atala, Alex 169

  L’Atelier restaurant chain 136

  Attlee, Helena 145

  Augustus II of Saxony 88

  awamori (rice spirit) 23–9, 46, 277

  ayu (sweet river fish) 162

  bacteria 123

  health benefits 126

  Baikinman 61

  bancha tea 192, 193

  banpeiyu (fruit) 145

  baseball 19

  bears 162, 320, 326–28

  beef

  Kobe 18, 34

  Nagasaki 83

  Sasebo burgers 81–5

  Tosa 147

  bee larvae 161, 166–7, 168

  Bekuhai (drinking game) 147

  beni imo (Okinawan purple sweet potatoes) 12–16, 46

  Bird, Lady Isabella 272, 324

  Biwa, Lake 115, 117, 120–22, 125

  bluefin tuna 218

  boar 161

  Bocuse, Paul 269

  bonito 147, 287

  katsuo no tataki (bonito) 147

  katsuobushi (dried bonito fillets) 270

  Book of Tea, The (Eisai) 200

  Booth, Stanley Victor 232–3

  Bourdas, Alexandre 302

  Bras, Michel 302–3

  Britain see United Kingdom

  Brown, Nicholas 305

  burgers 81–5

  Busena Beach Terrace hotel 17

  buta no kaku ni (slow-cooked pork belly) 73

  Butler, Sam 212, 213

  cake 250–58

  Ambroisi 255, 256

  Casdous 75–
7

  Castella 67, 74–7

  Christmas cakes 256–7

  patisserie 250–51

  camping in Japan 324–5

  carp 110, 117, 121–2, 123–5

  cartoon characters 61–2, 121, 261–2

  de Carvalho, Diana 212

  Casdous (cake) 75–7

  Castella (cake) 67, 74–7

  Champon (noodle soup) 60

  Chang, David 280

  Chanponman 60, 62

  chicken 34, 238–9

  date-dori 238–9

  Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) 10, 61

  ‘Satsuma chickens’ 34

  yakitori 96–7, 234–41

  Chief City of the Province of the Gods, The (Hearn) 107

  China 13, 19, 24, 26, 34, 67, 70, 87–8, 100, 117, 145, 146, 170, 197–8, 218

  Chinese influence in Japan 72, 73

  New Year celebrations 72

  Chizo, Kozue 133

  chocolate 62–4, 257

  Chocolate House, Huis Ten Bosch 62–6

  Chubu 157–76

  Mizunami 159–60

  Nagano 164–7

  Yamanashi 170–73

  Chugoku 105–11

  clams, shijimi 109–10

  Clavell, James 78