Saturday Night Fever - Kagura Dance at the Shrine

You knew something extraordinary was up even before the dragon ended up in the audience.



The electricity in the air had been mounting for the past hour as the performers got more and more intimate with the crowd, first teasing with a shower of fortune candies then climaxing with five vividly-coloured serpents violently twirling their ways through a packed audience seated on the Tatami floor. Like a few others I received a small bruise on my thigh from a slap of a serpent's wooden tail, though I didn't think anyone seriously minded.



While it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience for a wide-eyed Canadian traveling through this remote stretch of the Western Japanese coastline, for residents of the little hotspring town it was just your typical Saturday night, when the entire community would congregate inside a 16th Century shrine to enjoy 90 minutes of a mystic ancient performing art.



It was an evening of Kagura, an archaic theatrical dance originating from Shinto rituals and evolved over the course of a millennium into popular folk entertainment, especially here in rural Japan. Tonight's programme included dueling swordsmen in extravagant armours, a Prince Charming clad in gleaming white arriving to rescue a fair maiden, and an 8-headed dragon emerging out of a dense artificial mist that would engulf the entire venue.



Despite reputations as a dying tradition elsewhere in Japan, Kagura is proudly flourishing in western Shimane where over a hundred troupes actively perform for local aficionados at regularly scheduled plays and annual festivals. We specifically tweaked our itinerary to coincide with the weekly performance at the World Heritage town of Yunotsu, where audiences young and old would cram into little Tatsunogozen shrine at 20:00 every Saturday of the year.



And the locals would continuously pack into the standing room outside the shrine's screen doors to a degree that would surely violate all fire regulations for a 400-year-old wooden heritage building. Sharply at 20:00 the overture was initiated by a Japanese quartet consisting of a bamboo flute, hand cymbals and two Taiko drums. With three out of four being percussion instruments, you'd better believe that we're getting some rocking tunes with a heavy bassline.



After several teasing minutes when parts of the actors' ornate garments occasionally pierced through the closed curtains, the performance kicked off with a bang as these two young swordsmen in exquisite gold-stitched costumes served up some intense choreographed combat scenes with multiple sets of weaponry.



It was the story of Sugawara-no-Michizane, a famous 9th century politician deified for his scholarship aptitude and revered by students across the country prepping for university entrance exams. The play itself was a dramatization of course, as Michizane and his archenemy Tokihira lacked the deadly swordsmanship skills to try to kill each other in real life.



After Michizane dispatched his archrival we moved onto the second play of the night, a short comedy depicting the jovial Ebisu, a symbol of good fortune in pop culture and particularly revered in these remote fishing communities. The presence of Ebisu isn't only popular in scheduled performances, but also in weddings and other congratulatory ceremonies here in West Japan.



You can always count on two crowd-favorite moments when Ebisu appears in a Kagura play: the catching of a giant sea bream about to be attached onto the fishing line here by his theatrical assistant, and the scattering of fortune candies, two of which landed on my lap which I passed to the grateful Obaasan behind me.



If you're wondering how I got THIS close to the action, I lucked out by arriving at the shrine just after they filled the front rows and started to open up the floor seats at the right edge of the stage. The delicate embroideries and handmade paper masks of the actors were practically withing touching distance from the audience, a level of intimacy that would have been impossible in a theatre setting.



After 45 minutes of performance for the first two plays, the troupe finally brought out the feature presentation of the evening and arguably the most representative play in the entire repertoire of Iwami Kagura. We're getting a visual treat of the swashbuckling, dragon-slaying action thriller known as Orochi.



So the story goes, an elderly couple had sacrificed seven daughters to appease the ravenous serpent over the years, and are now on the verge of offering their eighth and youngest girl in a tearful farewell.



Enter Susanoo, our mythical hero who has come up with the plan to lure the serpent with an indulgence of poisonous wine, delivered here by the father of the helpless girl.



Sure enough the legendary serpent appears in a dense fog that can only be the product of a state-of-the-art mist generator. One look at the evil crimson eyes and you know that this villain is a serious baddass.



Worse still, it turns out to be a ginormous dragon with eight heads, each with its own tendency to dash into the audience. Tonight's performance involved only five heads, each controlled by a different performer, as the shrine's tiny stage simply wouldn't fit more dancing serpents.



The serpents would creep menacingly closer and closer to the audience until they practically end up in the crowd, intimidating the kids and giving the adults a festive good time.



Whoa! Don't just offer up your neck girl as you're not supposed to be the offering!



Here's the green serpent whose wooden tail ended up bruising my thigh. The thick, glossy wrapping forming the serpent's body was actually the famed Sekishu Banshi, an extraordinarily strong handmade paper now designated by UNESCO as Intangible Cultural Heritage.



Apparently the serpents aren't very pleased with being poisoned, and threaten to devour the young maiden until our protagonist jumps into action ...



Here comes Susanoo surrounded by the five serpents, sword in hand like Link from the Legend of Zelda and ready to swashbuckle his way to rescue our lovely maiden.



Slice! Slash! Hack!



Note the severed head of the blue serpent in the hand of Susanoo, which ensures that the rest of the serpents are now really pissed off.



I guess I was one of the honoured guests of the evening as the blue serpent's severed head somehow ended up next to me on the Tatami floor. In the meantime Susanoo would dispatch several other serpents and cast their heads around the room.



At last, the dramatic showdown between Susanoo and the last serpent. By this time the entire shrine was packed to the brim with even more villagers peeking above the shoulders of the standees from the outside, hoping to catch parts of this final scene.



And it was a nice finale with some flashy choreographed moves, but of course the serpent was no match for our chivalrous champion.



What's a good dragon-slaying story without the hero marrying the maiden at the end? On top of bringing home the bride, Susanoo also uncovers from the tail of the serpent a magical sword that would later become one of the Three Imperial Regalia of Japan ... at least that's how the tale was recorded in the 8th Century chronicle of Kojiki.



A big hand of applause for tonight's performers, hailing from the nearby hotspring town of Arifuku. These were not paid professionals but ordinary townsfolk with day jobs, devoting their spare time to pass on their centuries-old traditions to future generations.



It was nearly 21:30 when the show ended and the fans took to the stage for photos with their favorite serpents and performers. For any reader planning on visiting Iwami Ginzan and the San'in Coast, try to stay overnight on a Saturday when the weekly Kagura performances are staged at Yunotsu Hotspring, Arifuku Hotspring and a few venues in Hamada and Masuda. Here in Yunotsu the performance starts at 20:00 every Saturday evening at the Tatsunogozen Jinja, for 600 yen a ticket.

Iwami Ginzan - World Heritage Site Off Japan's Beaten Paths

It was nearly ten years ago when I first heard of Iwami Ginzan, freshly crowned as a UNESCO World Heritage Site at the time which triggered a small eruption of congratulatory coverage on the Japanese media. That was the year when we planned our 15-day itinerary of Kansai and Central Japan, and this sounded like another cool place to visit, when we eventually get to West Japan.



That eventuality finally arrived last November with our 16-day circle trip based out of Hiroshima, still several hours removed from those secluded mountain valleys on the San'in Coast, one of the least-visited regions of Japan especially among international travelers.



Over the years we've visited some of Japan's charming but largely unknown destinations: obscure small towns such as Narai-juku and Takehara come to mind. While these are all worthwhile destinations, there is simply a lack of exposure outside Japan for these hard-to-pronounce places with limited English-language material.



In theory Iwami Ginzan should have fared better after its achievement of World Heritage status, propelling the town to the cutting edge of Japan's tourism machine with an English language website, printed brochures at Hiroshima Airport and even a brand new visitor centre with interpretive materials offered in four languages. But that's not how it turned out.



Of the nine World Heritage sites that we have visited so far in Japan, this was definitely the most underrated and unknown to foreigners. Distant Hagi boasts at least two train stations, and the once-inaccessible Shirakawago and Gokayama are now enjoying a surge of domestic and international visitors thanks to a new toll highway. But Iwami Ginzan remains isolated from both highways and railways even in the 21st Century, with no end in sight amidst the ongoing depopulation crisis in rural Japan.



And it's a shame as most attractions are offering 50% discounts for anyone producing a foreign passport, which shows just how desperate locals authorities are to bring in international visitors. On top of that JR also chips in with its cheapest rail pass anywhere in Japan, at a staggering 1125 yen (CAD$13) per day for unlimited travel including express trains. While this had yet resulted in substantial increases in tourist numbers, we were convinced that it was a good time to visit.



Concerns of inaccessibility proved unfounded as Iwami Ginzan fit perfectly into our itinerary along the San'in Coast, bridging the long gap between the seafood capital of Matsue to the east and the charismatic town of Tsuwano to the west, all connected effortlessly by the slow but trusty local trains. Despite the final 10km into the mountains being served only by buses, our longest bus ride took less than 30 minutes.



Our biggest dilemma was in selecting a homebase for our visit. My original plan was to spend the first night in Omori, the historic mining town at the heart of Iwami Ginzan, and a second night in Yunotsu for its hotspring baths and the convenience of a JR station for our morning train towards Tsuwano. But accommodations choices in Omori were few and slightly expensive, and when presented with an opportunity to rent our own traditional Machiya house in Yunotsu, we gladly took the offer and used Yunotsu as our base for visiting Omori on a day-trip.



Public transport to Omori town was straightforward: train to either Nima Station or Odashi Station, then local bus to Omori with the option of touring the World Heritage Centre first then catching another quick shuttle bus to Omori. From Yunotsu it was quick -- and cheap -- to catch the bus at Nima Station, taking roughly an hour each way with good train connections.



While we were surprised to be the only passengers on the 10:00 bus, our friendly driver seemed more amazed when he learned that we had come all the way from Canada. After stopping his bus at the entrance of the World Heritage Centre, he personally escorted us to the reception desk to ensure that we got our brochures and maps -- as well as the bus schedule -- in English.



The state-of-the-art interpretive facility was well-organized with hands-on demonstrations, detailed scale models and Edo Period artefacts such as the pictured silver ingot produced from Iwami's famous silver mines, all presented in Japanese, English, Chinese and Korean. We had to half-rush through the exhibits in 30 minutes before hopping on the next shuttle (different driver!) to the town centre.



Within minutes we arrived at Omori town's southern entrance and began our 4-hour stroll at one of Iwami Ginzan's iconic sights, Rakanji's Hobbits-like, half-burrowed hillside shrines and arched stone bridges. The temple itself was actually an uninspiring structure located across the road, much less popular than these mossy grottoes and the 500 Rakan statuettes hosted inside.



Starting from Rakanji, a 2.3 km trail to the southwest would eventually lead to the entrance of an medieval mining shaft, now promoted as the Ryugenji Mabu and open to tourists. Skipping the mining shaft was a tough decision, but in return we saved two well-spent hours for relishing Omori's feudal townscape at a leisurely pace.



Here we were in the midst of West Japan's Koyo season in late November, and many of the maples along the route have turned brilliantly red. The autumn foliage would become even more impressive as we reach the shrine of Kigami Jinja towards the end of the afternoon.



A short walk from Rakanji stood the locally celebrated Nakata Shoten, the village fishmonger that has become better-known for its handmade snack of Gomadofu, the sesame-flavored, tofu-lookalike that has little to do with soy beans. At the cheap price of 500 yen we should have brought a block back to our rental Machiya, if only we knew that we would have no proper dinner that evening.



While silver jewelry remains popular among tourists, the premier souvenir from Iwami Ginzan these days is designer clothing from the renowned Gungendo where a flowing linen blouse would set you back a cool 25000 yen. If you would rather pick up some luxury household goods, the adjoined shop in the basement had hard-to-find items such as traditional Wasabi graters made with real shark skin, for 6500 yen if memory serves me right.



But our main reason for visiting Gungendo was lunch at its popular cafe, serving light set-meals centred around artisanal Tsukemono and the odd westernized baked pie while its clientele sat next to the full-length windows, overlooking a brilliant red maple in the central courtyard.



What's wrapped inside the Tenugui cloth? Three Musubi rice balls with organic local harvests such as a delicious, lightly-pickled mustard green. Served with Tsukemono and a small salad of Okara or tofu pulp, this set lunch was almost vegan aside from the Shijimi clams in the Miso soup.



My wife ordered the Hayashi Rice, the omnipresent Japanese adaptation of Boeuf Bourguignon intended for the odds and ends that don't make the higher end cuts. The highlight here wasn't the beef itself, but the farm-to-table Tsukemono pickles that turned out to be some of the best of our trip.



We finished with a slice of baked pie with an unmistakeably Japanese ingredient, the street side favorite of Yaki-imo, or roasted sweet potatoes, that tends to pop up in food trucks everywhere during colder seasons. Prices were higher than I expected at 1350 yen for Hayashi Rice and 1000 yen for the minimalist Omusubi Set, though the meals did come with a good organic coffee or juice.

Bill for Two Persons

Omusubi Set with Coffee	1000 yen
Hayashi Set with Juice	1350 yen
Yaki-imo Tart with Ice-Cream	700 yen
TOTAL	3050 yen (CAD$35.9)

After lunch we continued our walk towards the northern end of Omori town, less than a kilometre away and yet took us nearly two hours amongst various sights and distractions. Compared with the Taisho- and Showa-Era architecture at our homebase of Yunotsu, Omori boasts an even older townscape from the heydays of the silver mines when Iwami was under direct rule by the Shogun. Both towns are now nationally designated as Important Traditional Architecture and protected under the umbrella of the Iwami Ginzan World Heritage Site.



One of the town's star attractions was the old Kawashima Residence, an elegant 200-year-old mansion occupied by a mid-rank Samurai serving the Shogun's local representative. As usual, foreigners like us receive 50% off the entrance fee.



Besides a series of well-preserved Tatami rooms, pantry and storehouses from the early 1800s, a surprising feature here was the immaculate collection of household goods such as tableware sets and Yukata robes, packed neatly into boxes in the attic and still ready for entertaining faraway guests at a moment's notice.



Guests venturing to the courtyard garden could borrow one of the available umbrellas -- the plastic ones please, not the classic oil-paper Wagasa handmade at the former umbrella capital of Kurayoshi, about 100 km to the east.



A quaint roadside sight was the faithfully preserved 1920s barbershop of Riyokan Arata with its antique barber chair, hairdresser's license and hand-illustrations of popular hairstyles back in Emperor Taisho's time. This was one of Omori's five hairdressers before the town's decline and depopulation after WWII -- you can't even get a haircut without traveling to the nearest city of Oda these days.



The absolutely unmissible sight in town was the Kumagai Family Residence, headquarters of 18th Century Iwami's wealthiest mercantile conglomerate that provided logistics support to the Shogun's silver mining endeavors. Compared with the small and exquisite Kawashima Residence, the Kumagai mansion was a gigantic operation complete with accounting offices, servant quarters, Buddhist and Shinto altar rooms and even a secret underground safe.



Pages of the accounting ledger still bear witness to a wide diversification of business interests from silver mining to Sake brewing to the production of Wagashi sweets. Apparently 1298 Komochi cakes were sold in the 12th Month of the 30th Year of Emperor Meiji, or Year 1897 in the Western world.



Four hours after Rakanji we finally reached the endpoint of our little stroll at the 19th century shrine of Kigami Jinja, overlooking Omori from a small mound at the town's northern edge.



Kigami Jinja's claim to fame was a vibrant, almost Manga-ish 200-year-old dragon mural on its ceiling, flanked the family crests of prominent townspeople and government officials of the day. The dragon, or rather the wooden flooring, was supposed to echo if you clap your hands while standing directly underneath the mural, though it didn't work so well for me.



This was where we stumbled upon the brightest autumn foliage in Omori, probably just a few days past peak Koyo season in these cold, misty mountains of western Shimane Prefecture. Two days later when we finally reach Hagi, another 150km further west along the San'in Coast, the maples would become practically bare.



After picking up a silver bracelet as a memento for my wife, we headed for the village bus stop where we finally met one foreigner, the only one we would encounter between Izumo and Tsuwano along this remote and windswept coastline of West Japan. The 50% foreigner discount was somewhat working after all.



It must have been our lucky day as the same friendly driver showed up again to deliver us to Nima Station. While we're still salivating over the previous night's fantastic and cheap dinner at Nima's Kameya, we had to hurry back to Yunotsu for the hottest ticket in the village. It was Saturday night and everyone was coming for the weekly Kagura Dance.