Not Wholly Mackerel

The car headed north, at a pace so fast as if to go back in time.  Our driver deftly avoided the busier main road, and we moved along a country road lined on both sides with rice fields, long since harvested on this mid-October day.  Low clouds hung over the high peaks that gave definition to this broad valley, and late season dragonflies buzzed the forest of sheared stalks lined neatly in the now-dry paddies.

Obama isn't so much a place remote as a place far-off though well connected.  This small city on the Sea of Japan is indelibly tied to Kyoto by the famed Saba Kaidō, the feudal-period highway along which men would travel back to the old capital, carrying mackerel packed in brine for preservation.  A former staple of the Imperial Family, the fish eventually became a popular addition to the usual vegetarian fare of the land-locked city.  Like the Silk Road, the Saba Kaidō was never a single path, but the name refers to any of the five roads that extended southward through the mountains. The Wakasa Kaido was the most reliable, and enabled men and horses to reach Kyoto by the following morning, to ensure freshness. The brine also seasoned the fish along the journey, enhancing its flavor.

 

For the final few kilometers into Obama, the old road overlapped with another highway, the Tango Kaidō which ran along the sea.  It was here that we'd begin our visit, where that road ran through the center of Obama's old merchant quarter.  On the corner of a small street leading down from a Hachiman Shrine was an old Edo-period Suiyasu merchant house, specialists in papermaking.  A carpenter in charge of the restoration of the old house led us around its interconnected structures, one with an impressive two-story wooden facade lined with windows sunk into wooden frames.  The Edo-period kura storehouse had a unusual stepped doorway, once quite common to the Tango area. Traditionally, each region had its own unique architectural features, though the cultural streamlining that followed the feudal period sought a more universal style, as defined by legal codes. Today, most kura look the same.

 

Thankfully here, the old traditions still hold. A short walk away was Sanchome, Obama's former red-light district that has maintained a look centuries old.  A few accommodations to the modern age have been allowed, namely the small sprinklers laid into the tarmac which in winter will emit running water as a means of preventing the surface from icing over. Migawarizaru hung from the eaves along both
sides, these little cloth monkeys meant to deflect illness or bad luck. A small Buddhist hall housed a statue of the Buddhist Goddess of Compassion, unusual for its bright gold headdress.  (I would have loved to ponder the meaning at the quaint Imaarashi cafe nearby.)    

We arrived at Hōtōrō, a traditional restaurant once used exclusively by geisha.  A guide took us through this labyrinthian structure, past elaborately decorated screens, and allowed us time to peer through the intricately carved lattice windows to catch a view of the overlapped roof lines and their patchwork of grey tile.  

As Hōtōrō was closed for the day, we headed to the nearby  restaurant Miyabi, which served up a generous portion of saba, grilled beautifully.  An accompaniment of other local seafood delicacies filled out a sumptuous kaiseki lunch.  Above us hung photos of celebrities enjoying similar fare, and a large aquarium filled with the still-swimming dinner course wrapped itself around the open kitchen beyond. 

A visit to the local museum helped stave off the sleepiness that usually follows such large meals.  I was astounded to find that Obama was founded around the same time as Kyoto, though its roots go back 1300 years as a center for salt production.  From here the town grew into an important harbor for the trade ships that traced the shores of the Japanese archipelago, exchanging regional goods during the time that Japan was closed to foreign influences.  Yet its earliest role as an open port led it to become one of the doorways for the influx of ideas and technologies brought from mainland Asia.  These flowed down the Wakasa Kaidō to the old capitals and Nara and Kyoto, which grew in significance due to those very same imports.

 

Some of that culture stayed local.  Two Shinto shrines just out of town date to a time when Japan's spiritual traditions found a foothold as the Japanese were settling into a sedentary culture.  We reached these shrines by bicycle, riding past old farm houses and along quiet rural roads.  You can always tell a shrine's age by the size of its shade trees, and these of the paired Wakasahime and Wakasahiko Shrines certainly towered, one of them supposedly 1000 years old.  Smaller trees at Wakasahiko were brought here a saplings from Kyoto's Imperial Palace, now tall enough to shade a modest Noh stage in one corner of the grounds.  Dating from the early 8th Century, the shrines still look after the safety of the local fishermen.

 

Buddhism here could be found at a pair of temples further up the valley, both dating to a time not long after the introduction of the religion to Japan. (Similarly, two of the Zen temples that arrived in Obama later would take on important roles in exporting Zen to the West.)  Upon arriving at Jingu-ji, I realized I'd been here before, for the Omizu Okuri event that takes place every March, serving as a prelude of sorts to Nara's famous Omizu Tori event held 10 days later.  An old path culminated in a set of stone steps leading to the temple grounds, which included one thatch-covered teahouse of a rustic beauty that blended perfectly with leaves just beginning to take on their autumn hues.  The priest here led us to the main hall, where we sat and heard a lecture that reached the similar esoteric heights of the statuary that we looked upon.  Fitting for a temple 1300 years old, a time when Shinto and Buddhism were fused as one. 

   

One valley over, Myotsu-ji is 100 years older, but with a similar legacy.  The path up was far steeper, and by the time the visitor arrived one felt ready to settle into the silence beneath the trees that dwarfed even the 22 meter pagoda and its 800 year history.  The young priest here too gave us a lecture, but one that stayed pragmatically upon the temple itself.  

The afternoon exercise for body, mind, and spirit made more welcome the meal to cap the day.  While expecting another saba feast, I was surprised to find us pulling into La Verita, whose enthusiastic chef prepares Italian meals prepared from local produce and treasures from the sea.  The wine list was of course a wonderful addition, but his handmade cheese is the true delight of any meal here.  Many many courses later, we wandered back along the beach toward our traditional accommodation, to dreams awash with the tide of history and time.    

On the turntable:  Laibach, "An Introduction to Laibach"