The Jous go to Tokyo

It has been too long since I've properly sat down and put in the time to do some blogging.  Part laziness and part distraction (Mandarin school was getting quite intense with the workload) attributed to what was a two month hiatus of typing my little heart out.  Time to catch up on some of the things I've been up to in the last couple of months.

For anyone who have been on my Facebook page have seen at least a post or two about my Grandma Jou.  In her mid-70s, she is the matriarch of my Dad's side of the family.  She was born in Taiwan when the island was under Japanese occupation, and was one of the few thousands of children lucky enough to get an education all the way through to high school.  Having been educated by the Japanese, she is fluent in the language, which allowed her to work as a tour guide for Japanese visitors in the 50's and 60's.  She is a woman who is fiercely independent, something I greatly admire, and when she's got an opinion on something, well, she lets you know it.  (I guess that's where I get it from.)

What's most impressive is that she raised five kids in a time when Taiwan was one of the poorest countries in the world.  Under military rule and still mostly an agrarian nation, there was little income for any family to work with.  She and my grandfather were able to send all of their kids to school and see to it that they all received university degrees.  Furthermore, they all were sent to Japan to receive Masters degrees and today, my Dad's siblings are all pretty successful - two work in business, two are doctors and one is a pharmacist.

The Family Jou in Ginza.

Recently, my grandmother has been diagnosed with lung cancer - her third time battling this disease.  Unfortunately, the prognosis doesn't look great this go around, but she has a positive outlook on the situation.  Her optimism comes from her deeply rooted belief in a branch of Buddhism called Nichiren Shoshu, something she acquired in her youth when the Japanese influence on Taiwan was still very strong.  This school of Buddhism comes from Japan from the teachings of a 13th Century Buddhist monk named Nichiren.  It's main temple is found at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan, and my grandmother was determined that her entire family was to go on a pilgrimage with her to say a prayer at the Mecca of her religion.  Of course, everyone obliged.

It is a shame we didn't get a chance to do more things in Tokyo due to our limited amount of time, but we did spend an entire day in the Ginza district, another epicentre of sorts for those who adopt shopping as a religion.  Since my grandmother has to use a wheelchair, it took us most of the day to get from one end of Ginza to another.  The street is the 5th Avenue of Tokyo, lined with shops after shops of luxury brands and department stores that rival that of Harrod's and Saks.  I could barely afford anything on this street, but I wasn't doing any window shopping - I was mostly people watching.  This is where the best dressed residents of Tokyo come and parade their fashion sense for visitors to see.  Tokyoites are much like their Parisian counterparts, due to their overwhelming appreciation for food, fashion and culture.  At one point, we were even treated to a conga line of classic cars, driven by men clearly going through midlife crises with passengers being either their daughters or second wives (cough...mistresses).   Ginza was buzzing - and to think that there's a recession still going on here.

The vintage car parade.

I have to give my grandma props - she went a whole day almost 10 hours of sitting in her wheelchair and shopping while I was about to drop from exhaustion at around three in the afternoon.  Even after this amount of shopping, she was still up to having a family party in her hotel suite - the eight of us feasted on food and wine bought at the fancy department store earlier that day.  In Japan, the premium department stores all have food stalls in the basement selling incredible looking (and tasting food).  I basically ate with my eyes walking through the various displays.

I want to go to there.

With no rest for the wicked, we headed out for the temple the next day at about 7am in the morning.  It was a three hour drive to get there, and I'm pretty sure all of us, except for my grandmother, were slightly hungover.  We get to the Nichiren temple two hours late due to the horrendous Tokyo traffic.  Like most of my traveling companions know, whenever I'm in a moving vehicle, I behave like I've just been roofied - so I was mostly passed out the entire way to the temple.

To say that the temple is nothing short of impressive is an understatement.  With Mount Fuji serving as a backdrop, three large gates lead up to the main temple - which is about the size of a football stadium.  Once inside, you are led through hundreds of pews to your seat facing a gold plated wall.  Upon the ringing of the ceremonial bell, hundreds of monks stream through the doors on either side of the altar and the panels of the gold plated wall start to fold back to reveal the most elaborate altar I've ever seen.  Standing three stories tall, there are two smaller altars that need to be manually opened by a monk before the formal prayers could begin.

The Nichiren Temple.  Incredibly big.

If this didn't impress, then the full hour of simultaneous chanting was something to experience.  Everyone had a small book of scripture that they have memorized and chanted to rhythmically for the full hour.  I had no idea what they were chanting, even though I was able to make out a few of the Chinese characters in the scripture.  With a string of beads wrapped in their hands adding in clicking sounds as they rubbed against each other, the prayers sounded like a hypnotic piece of music.

Mount Fuji appears after an afternoon hiding behind clouds and fog.

And just as it began, it ended in the same fashion, the altar doors were closed, the wall panels folded back into place and the procession of people exited quietly.  Strolling through the temple's expansive gardens and monk dormitories, the experience was enchanting.  This being the third religious holy site that I've visited in my lifetime, it was equally as breathtaking as the Vatican and the Potala Palace.  There is a sense of serenity in the gardens, plenty of places to go and meditate, away from the noises and sounds of the city.

The gardens of the temple.  Super serene.

Most of all, my grandmother was truly happy with having her family accompany her to this holy place, you could see the energy in her eyes.  I've never seen her so happy.  I was very lucky to have had the chance to travel with my family, especially my grandmother, since this will most likely be her last trip overseas.  I learned a lot about the sense of one's duty to your family, the importance of caring for those who gave you so much.  I was grateful for the lessons learned and being able to observe the interactions of this dynamic family with very different personalities.  While they didn't convert me to their religion, I could see how this faith has shaped the foundation of their life.  I am impressed with the amount of faith they have in the Nichiren - it's something that I don't think I'll be able to achieve with any religion.

Goodnight Tokyo.
Strike another item off my bucket list of things to do: this Jou family trip is something I'll treasure. 

Chapter III: Lhasa - Temples, Incense, Praying...Oh my!

After 24 hours of a sleepless journey from Western China, arriving in Lhasa was a blessing.  Taking a deep breath after taking my first step off the train and onto the platform was required - at almost 3,500m above sea level, there is a notable difference with the air you're taking in around you.  It reminds me of Thanksgiving in cottage country Ontario where the air is clean and crisp, but in Lhasa, you struggle to try to get all the air that you can.

While the air deprivation helped in the light-headedness, I was on a different kind of high.  It was the excitement of being in a place where not many tourists even get to go.  One of the reasons for that is attributable to the first of what I call the three "S"s of Tibet - Security.

The minute we stepped through the station, we were whisked to a checkpoint.  In China, there are a few realities one must embrace at any checkpoint.  There are no lines, just a mass huddle of people not only shoving each other, but also sticking their passports into the Customs Officers' faces hoping for immediate approval.  While being shoved every which way by people two, three times my age, I somehow found a moment to look around and noticed the reality that Tibetans had to live with - the constant supervision of the Chinese military.  One can count at least two to three dozen officers outside the station along with the two or three groups of patrols, their boots' perfectly syncronized click-clacking like a metronome.

One of the few pictures I was able to take of the security
posts at Jokhang Market.

The security didn't let up after we left the train station either.  During our entire stay in Tibet, convoys of military vehicles would surprisingly appear out of nowhere to remind everyone that this land is a part of China.  Tourists would be reprimanded when taking photos of or anywhere near a patrol - I nearly made this mistake when pointing my camera towards a building just as a patrol walked by.  Looking out the window of our tour bus and seeing the third convoy pass us with in a matter of 20 minutes, I wondered: How does one cope with living under this constant watch of the military eye?

The faithful on their way to temple.

And the answer is quite simple - the second of my "S"s of Tibet - Spirituality.  The Tibetan people, faces toughened by the elements and decades of Chinese occupation, escape into their deep faith of Buddhism in order to forget about the realities of the men in green uniforms.  The city is dotted with temples and shrines dedicated to their worship, incense is woven into the air and everywhere you look the faithful are spinning prayer spinners while on their knees praying to the heavens on the two kilometre devotion path around the city centre.

The Potala Palace is the Mecca of the traditional Buddhist faith.  Having only been to one other spiritual epicentre of a religion, the Vatican, the Potala Palace offered a different kind of feeling of majestic beauty.  Rather than the marble of the Vatican, stone and wood are the building blocks of the Potala palace.  Built in the 17th century, the palace is divided into three portions with the dominate colours of red, white and mustard yellow dividing each part of the palace.  Climbing this palace is not an easy feat - you're easily winded if you don't pace yourself and it's hard not to feel slightly inadequate upon seeing 70-80 year old monks passing you up the steps.

The Potala Palace.

At the top, the Potala offers you a spectacular view of Lhasa - flanked by mountains, a plateau and a large river, the sight is truly breathtaking.  Which brings me to my final "S" of Tibet - Serenity.  Now it may seem strange that I would place Serenity along side Security, but I found myself staring at landscapes and listening to the sounds of nature during my entire stay in Lhasa.  The gardens of Nobulinka certainly provided much of that serene atmosphere.  As the summer home of previous Dalai Lamas, Nobulinka is a vast swatch of gardens that you rarely see in a climate as harsh as this.  Beautiful foliage surrounds the summer palace, clearly a perfect place to meditate and collect your thoughts.

The weather here was incredible during my stay.

From the top of the Potala Palace looking at the mountains and the river.

Lhasa is a beautiful city, its traditions kept alive by the faithful and perfectly curated by the military to keep a fragile peace.  The most uncomfortable experience I had in Lhasa was at the Jokhang Market and Temple.  The oldest temple in Lhasa, it was built in the 7th century and had been the seat of the Dalais for centuries before the Potala.  This market is famous for Tibetan monks protesting the occupation of their homeland by China.  Most of these monks set themselves on fire by dousing themselves with gasoline.  Within every hundred metres or so, there are large tents with two to three dozen fire extinguishers and a phalanx of guards - all prepared to deal with the horrific situation of a man on fire.  But the people of the market go about their lives as if the guards aren't there.  The peddle every type of artifact you can think of - pots, pans, prayer beads, prayer spinners, all to make a buck that they will likely donate back to the temple.

The many things you can get at the market.

Lhasa was definitely the highlight of my Tibet trip.  While there are other points of breathtaking moments (most likely because I had very little oxygen left to breath), there were also moments of deep sadness which I will share in the upcoming posts.

Spinning the golden prayer cylinders.