Coffee. My head was pounding out the two syllable word "cof-fee, cof-fee" over and over as we walked to MacDonalds in front the train station near my girlfirend's place in Tokyo yesterday morning. A little place called Itabshi. I went to the second floor and perched myself at the middle of the counter facing a floor to ceiling wall of glass that looked out over the area of the station, elbows and arms supporting the echo chamber holding in my brains.
I was sure it was the last single-malt on the rocks that did it. One less and I might have been okay. We had a night of Guinness, Bass Ale, cold Kirin drafts in icy mugs and, of course, the traditional double shots of Glenfiddich on the rocks with a Brit friend of mine. He and I have been doing this ritual for a decade and half, but I've been slowing down lately and my lack of training was catching up with me.
The sakura have burst into an explosion of color in Tokyo, again. Another year. White, red and a million hues in between. All year long, no one notices the trees in Tokyo. The branches just blend in against the horror of concrete, steel and glass, but once a year, for just a few weeks, you can only see the trees. The horror is blocked by the blossoms; blossoms everywhere, soon to be blown down onto the concrete and asphalt in a shower of flower.
And there in front of us, just a foot on the other side of the glass wall, stood a beautiful tree of white blossoms that arched across the sky just above our heads. We nursed our cof-fees in silence (sitting in silence is acceptable in Japan - people don't feel the need to fill every second with conversation about your 'relationship.') as we looked out across the square at the trees, the blossoms, the sunshine, the fountain, the people and the little cemetary. There, tucked beside the concrete and steel, was a small oasis of stone, dirt, moss and wood about 10 yards wide and 15 yards deep with a perfect view inside the gate of... the last samurai cemetary.
This was the place where the most famous of the last samurai, well, lost his head. Kondou Isami was beheaded there about 140 years ago and his head sent to Kyoto to be mounted at the riverside for all to see that the Emperor had consolidated his power. He was the leader of shinsengumi (newly chosen group) that defended the shogunate during the last years of all shoguns. They did it the old-fashioned way - with swords. He was the master of masters.
Just for historical accuracy, the source for the Tom Cruise character in the Hollywood thingie called The Last Samurai was a French advisor, Captain Jules Brunet. He didn't die in a hail of bullets, though. Just before the final battle of the war, Brunet deserted and climbed aboard a ship and headed back to France where he was court-martialed. No, wait... he wasn't court-martialed, he was reinstated into the French army and rose to the rank of General. Cough.
Kondou Isami was one of the most feared and fearless samurai and yet, he could easily befriend an enemy if he respected them. He was a ferocious adversary in battle, but charming when not in battle. His stare was legendary. It was said that when he was angry, no man could return his glare.
As we sipped more cof-fee, we watched a middle-aged woman go into the tiny cemetary. She first went to the stone of Kondou Isami and prayed for about a minute, then took off the bright orange backpack she was wearing. She pulled out a plastic bag of fruit (an orange, a mikan, a banana and a few apples) and placed it on the small altar in front of the 4' high marker. She clasped her hands in prayer again as she offered the fruit to his soul and bowed several times before moving to another marker. She prayed a few minutes at another marker, then headed to the gate, turning for one last bow of respect before heading out the gate and on her way to who knows where. Why she was even there, we'll never know.
As soon as she disappeared into the river of people on the sidewalk, a man inside the cemetary, who we couldn't see before, stepped out of the shadow and walked up to Kondou Isami's marker. He was about 50, with a big head of 80's stadium rock band hair (now silver) tucked under a basball cap. He was not homeless, he was dressed quite well. He snatched the bag of fruit, stuck it under his coat and scampered to the exit, looking both ways like a cartoon character before he chose a direction and blended into the crowd.
My girlfriend and I looked at each other. Hmmm. That was a crappy thing to see.
A few more sips of cof-fee got me thinking about how that guy would never dream of doing that if the samurai were alive. It was ironic because Kondou Isami started on his path to becoming one of the most famous samurai when he was just a child. A thief came into his family home when only he and his older brother were at home. The older brother wanted to attack the adult thief, but Isami said they should wait. He said the thief would be at the height of his senses as he made his way into the house, but would be most vulnerable when leaving the house, since he would be focused on escaping. They waited for the older, stronger thief outside and jumped him from either side as he left the house.
The thief managed to get away, but dropped everything he had stolen. The older brother wanted to chase him down, but Isami said no - even a mouse will try to bite a cat when cornered and they had gotten everything back and the thief would never return.
Word of his street smarts as a child got around and a samurai became his mentor at an early age. We just saw a thief steal from arguably the greatest samurai, who got his start from foiling a thief.
Another cup of cof-fee made me think that Kondou Isami would probably not be angry about it. He couldn't eat the fruit anyway and the cycle of life continues. That bag of fruit would be rotten about the same time the sakura would be gone. The sakura that Japanese revere as a reminder of how fleeting and fragile everything is.
The samurai's mind was at ease whatever he did -- killing, winning, losing, getting killed -- because of Japanese ukiyo.
"Born in the morning and dead by night, that's the way man goes, since the beginning of time, in an endless cycle. And does he know where he came from, or where he will go?"
"I think all the problems in life come from this fleeting evanescent of man and his things. If you possess some wealth, you are in a constant worry about the safety of the wealth and yourself and your family. If you have nothing, you are dying with envy. If you show compassion to others, they use you, so you feel resentment everyday and yet the burden put on you is not lessening. If you don't show compassion, they say you are a brute, and you hate them for it everyday, and you think up schemes of how to change their perception without losing anything, thus you can't rest. And you call this 'life'? Calamities pass away in time, so do worries, but so do you." - written in 1299 by fellow named Kamo.
We finished our cof-fee and went for walk on a beautiful morning through a tunnel of sakura.
