Where the Dead Pause, and the Japanese Say Goodbye: A Journey (59 page)

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Authors: Marie Mutsuki Mockett

Tags: #Biography & Autobiography, #Personal Memoirs, #Social Science, #Death & Dying, #Travel, #Asia, #Japan

BOOK: Where the Dead Pause, and the Japanese Say Goodbye: A Journey
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TWELVE

U
NDERWORLD

I
N THE DAYS WHEN
Prince Sh
toku was championing Buddhism and K
kai was learning the secrets of esoteric Buddhism, the Shimokita Peninsula was inhabited by a people today called the Ainu. There are traces of Ainu DNA in some of the current Shimokita inhabitants, and vestiges of the old culture still remain in the place names, in folk beliefs, and in certain words. It is said that the Ainu did not fear the dead or death quite as much as the ambassadors of the Yamato clan who pushed north from Ky
t
to colonize the Japanese archipelago.

To the Ainu, one place on the Shimokita Peninsula was more sacred than any other: an extinguished volcano, believed to be the spot where beloved ancestors paused before disappearing from the visible world. There is a lake in the bed of this old volcano, called Lake Usori, a word that does not exist in Japanese. Scholars believe that
usori
was eventually transliterated into
osore
, the Japanese word for “doom” or “fear.” Today, the extinguished volcano and its surrounding environment are collectively referred to as “Osorezan,” which roughly translates to “Mount Doom.” This ancient hallowed site is one of Japan’s three most sacred places. For unlike Sai no Kawara, which is geared to only children, everyone who dies passes through Mount Doom.

The Shimokita Peninsula, as nearly every English guidebook will tell you, sticks out from the northern part of the main island of Japan, and is shaped like an axe. To reach the peninsula, you have to cross a narrow stretch of land—the handle of the axe—passing hamlets and down-at-heel inns, before the land spreads out again to form the blade of the axe, which is nearly thirty miles across at the widest point. Once you are on the peninsula, it’s hard not to feel that you are in a space that is very separate from the rest of Japan. The air there is crisper; the cherry trees routinely blossom a month later than they do in T
ky
; and Buddha’s birthday, celebrated on April 8 at most temples, is celebrated a month later so it is warm enough to go outside. There is no bamboo. Rice fares poorly. Historically, the losers of major battles were sent there to live out their days as punishment for being on the wrong side of history.

When I visit the peninsula, I always stay at the same place: a magical inn called Yagen S
, located in the Yagen Valley at the base of Mount Doom. The inn is owned and run by Hara Sanaeko, a woman in her fifties who was born and bred in the wilds of T
hoku. I like to call her the Mountain Woman. The inn reminds me of the TARDIS, the time-travel device on the British television show
Doctor Who
, because from the outside, the inn looks far too small to comfortably house more than one or two people. Inside, however, the space seems to magically open up into an inviting array of lovingly tended rooms, hallways lined with practical amenities like a washing machine, special rooms for guests traveling with dogs, and one glass case displaying a stuffed peacock that had once been a pet. Then there is the bath, which delivers pure, clear,
onsen
water into a blue-tiled tub, and which the Mountain Woman will tell you has the power to cure almost any illness. In the event that you are not ill, the water will reveal any tiredness that you have been suppressing in your body, and render you exhausted and unable to get out of
bed for twenty-four hours. After that, says the Mountain Woman, you will feel greatly refreshed.

There are actually four different inns in the Yagen Valley, and each inn has an
onsen
that draws water from the same source: the Yagen hot spring, whose name means “medicine tool.” Different historical figures are credited with finding the hot springs—and being healed by the waters. Recently, New Age fanatics have become enamored of the Yagen Valley because it is said to be home to the mischievous and mythological creature called the
kappa
. Adding to the otherworldly feel of the place is the old-growth forest, whose ancient, immense trees seem to hush the wind, so the moment you enter the valley floor, the air abruptly takes on a serene and still quality.

As a child, the Mountain Woman had stayed at Yagen S
with her family, when it was just a camping site with an outdoor
onsen
, but no facilities. She had learned from her father to forage for wild vegetables in the old-growth forest and in the hills surrounding the valley. Such delicacies are called
sansai
, or “mountain vegetables,” and the Mountain Woman still picks and serves an assortment of wild vegetables to her guests today. Over the years, her father built a cabin, then added rooms to the original structure, always preserving the bath in the center.

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