I wanted to show you a funny picture, but I couldn't find it. I was seven in the picture. I wore a new kimono and made a funny face. Probably I can show it some other time. Instead, I uploaded this photo. My mother and me at my aunt's American-style house in Tokyo.
I was three with my mother and her sister's family at Meiji Jingu. The boy is my cousin. A Chauffer drove him to Yokohama International School daily. They were rich, and we were poor although I didn't know. Mother made my kimono out of her old kimono. It was beautiful deep purple with white cherry blossoms and a golden obi sash. I love that outfit so much. Even today, I want to wear that exact designed kimono and obi.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shichi-Go-San
12 comments:
Those photos are jewels, Keiko!
I went back to look at your photos today in other blog posts because I found you look a lot like your mother: same face shape, nose etc. Isn´t it interesting how people would not smile in those old photos?
Lu,
Yes, we have egg face, and we both felt unfortuante about tiny nose. We envied the nose of grandfather and aunt.
Behind those photos, we smiled and laughed often. But it's true that we drive westerners crazy.
For CHMagazine, I'm looking for a good piece of writing by a bilingual writer in Japan. I found one American author. I admire his passion and his enormous patience with Japanese and the society. Even myself needs time to time to be away from Japan to refresh my center, so to speak. So, I'll blog about him next.
Keiko, The photos are beautiful. I like the shoes (I forgot the proper name) that are worn with the kimono. Are they difficult to walk in? Is there cultural history behind this type of shoe?
Hi Rebb!
The shoes are called Potkuri. It is made of wood, and inside is hallow and I believe a tiny bell is embedded in each. So when little girls walk in them, they make cute sounds.
Fabulous picture records. The dress was so evocative. I want to wear it too! :)
ZACL,
You, too?!!!
Oh yes...!
My cousin read this blog and said I was wrong about the chauffer driving him daily from Tokyo to Yokohama. He said his maid took him and rode in train to Yokohama International School Kindergarten to which he commuted for a year.
Well, I'm corrected, but still, that's quite luxurious in those days or even today. I guess the maid had to stay until he finished his school. And it was only kindergarten. After that, he moved to another international school in Tokyo near his house.
That is a truly fascinating and valuable note from a primary source. It is written in such a way, that I could visualise the maid's work.
Did you go to an international school Keiko?
ZACL,
Now I'm thinking about the culture, the time period, conflicts, and even about the languages. He said he got lost on the way home one time. I don't know if he got lost from the maid or perhaps he was alone taking a train. Either way, it must be a nightmare for a five year old. It probably took at least two hours one way including bus rides. My mother used to leave me at my aunt's house, and the aunt told me I cried calling my mom, but she said my mom laughed about it and did it again. I think they treated us like raising warriers. I think such a thinking is a part of the tough samurai tradition, but the time period was 1955, not 1865 which was probably the year our greatgrandfather left his mother for his samurai training. Our mothers lived with the greatgrandfather for a while. He was their god. There must be good and bad in this.
No, I never went to an international school. Not only my parent could not afford it, but also their philosophy wouldn't allow it. "Know your own history first," was their words. They felt shame for not knowing something about own country. It's funny that the word comes up to my lips nowadays. I went to the ordinary public schools closest to my home, and I didn't want to owe a lot to my parent, so I studied enough to enter a public high school. Everything is competitive in Japan. Also, high school is not mandatory although most people go. We have to pay tuition and other expenses even public.
Thank you for sharing your personal cultural memories, they are wonderful, even if they did not feel that way at the time!
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