Glenda Cook

Viking Orion arrived this morning at the port of Shimizu, doorway to Shizuoka. Its name means “clear water,” and with a population of 712,000 it ranks as the 22nd largest city in Japan. The fishermen here roam as far as the Indian Ocean and provide half of Japan’s annual catch of blue-fin tuna. Half of that stays here in Japan to satisfy this nation’s insatiable appetite for fish. This area also leads Japan in the production of strawberries, tangerines and green tea.

I wanted to come here today for a very personal reason. The Tomoe River empties into the ocean right by our ship. The river water is used by several paper plants that make the finest writing paper in the world. Tomoe River Paper is known worldwide by fountain pen enthusiasts as the most perfect writing paper ever made. Unfortunately the hundred-year-old machine used in its production was retired last year, and those of us who still own a few reams of Tomoe River Paper ration it out like the finest caviar.

Japan is still a male-dominated society and the notion of a female deity is unusual. Nevertheless, Fuji-san is the embodiment of a female goddess, daughter of the chief god. Konohanasakuya-hime is not only the goddess of volcanoes, she is also the goddess of blossoms. In Shinto mythology she shows up as Mount Fuji and as cherry blossoms each spring. In Japan she is a big shot.

This morning I went out on deck to photograph our sail-in, and there she was. All of her. From top to toe, and I snapped a quick shot. Today Fuji-san has no snow on her crest, though last week she had a brief flurry on her summit. At 9:00 am we started our hour-long bus ride to visit the Shinto shrine at her base, the oldest Shinto shrine in Japan, in the town of Fujinomiya. It dates from the 600’s, but it honors an event that occurred half a millennium earlier. Sometime around 50 B.C. two brothers, both shoguns, were required to avenge the death of their father. They prayed to the mountain goddess for a miracle, which she granted. Details are shrouded in the fog of history, but there may be some historical basis to the story.

Also shrouded in fog was Mount Fuji. By the time we arrived at the foot of the mountain, the summit was obscured by clouds. By the time we left, she had wrapped herself in her silvery cloak and sat on the horizon, prim and proper as a schoolmarm. The goddess is a big tease.

The combat between the shoguns actually occurred at majestic Shiraito Falls near the base of the mountain. We visited there first today. A glorious waterfall 70 feet high cascades down, fed from rain and snow melt on the mountain. It is flanked, however, by smaller cascades. Gushing from cracks in the rock, these “stream falls” ooze from a tiny crack separating the rock strata. The water takes 80 years to seep through this crack until it emerges from the cliff. The water I saw today coming out today started its journey from Fuji’s summit during World War II.

Our guide next showed us the “pool of purification” where pilgrims to the shrine must cleanse themselves before worshipping. She led us through a dense forest, up a steep hill (now a stairway) to an apse in the woods. At its base was a pool with the clearest water I have ever seen. There was not a ripple, just a crystal lens through which I could see rocks at the bottom of the pool. In a few minutes my shipmates finished making their pictures and their noise, but I hung around until everyone had left. I sat alone on a rock for ten minutes and admired one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Dim light filtering through the trees above made the green even more intense. The still water was utterly transparent. And for ten minutes. . .

I sat.

Whether you call God “Yahweh,” “Allah,” “Buddha” or “Konohanasakuya-hime,” He/She/It/They were there.

We boarded the bus again and drove to the Shinto shrine, Fujisan Hongu Sengen Taisha. Our guide was so knowledgeable about Shinto that I suspect that she is a devout worshipper. The buildings are exquisitely beautiful , and as we entered the holy precincts, she invited us to participate in the Shinto purification ritual. For those of us who chose not to wash our hands and mouth, she performed the ritual on our behalf. Very quickly we saw three young couples who had just presented their newborn babies at the shrine, asking the gods to protect them. Then we saw a young couple in traditional garb who had just been married.

A young woman and a young man emerged in traditional clothing. She wore baggy orange silk pants. His pants were sky blue. Our guide informed us that they are temple workers. Serious young adherents will sometimes undergo a period of service to the shrine and will reside in its precincts for several months.

We returned to our ship just in time to get lunch at the World Cafe onboard before it closed at 2:30 pm. Most of the tourists brought back photos and maybe a souvenir or two.

I brought back something much better.Weiterlesen