SOMETHING SWEET AND HORNY?
Have you ever tasted a sweet that has many "horns" on it, like
a star? It has a faint sugary aroma when you put it in your mouth, which
becomes more obvious when you bite it. The sweet is called konpeito.
It is said that Konpeito ("confeito" in Portugese) came to Japan
from Portugal in 1549, with the arrival of St. Francisco Xavier in Kagoshima.
ODA Nobunaga (織田信長 1534-1582, a famous lord) was given konpeito as
a gift by a Christian missionary a few years later. At that time, the nobility
and people in power appreciated it because of its visual beauty as well
as its ingredient, sugar, which had not existed in Japan before. The Imperial
Family, temples and shrines are said to have used it in celebrations and
tea ceremonies. Now, the common people in Japan love it as a more familiar
sweet than what it used to be 450 years ago.
In the 16th century, the manufacturing process of konpeito was a well-guarded
secret. The Portugese preferred to sell it to the Japanese as a rare sweet,
thus keeping its value as a coveted trading item. But in the Edo period
(1603-1867), confection artisans of Nagasaki, Kyoto and Edo (Tokyo) learnt
the secret and began to manufacture the sweet.
The tradition of konpeito-making is kept at Ryokujuan Shimizu, where the
artisans put small pieces of ground rice as kernels in a big caldron which
roasts and covers the kernels with syrup for 10 days to one month. The
artisans must know and determine many conditions: they must put more syrup
in when it runs out, how thick the syrup should be, how fast the caldron
should turn and at what angle to incline it. All of these factors are decided
by the artisan's experience and senses. They learn about the konpeito while
mixing it in the special turner every day, and see it change according
to weather. Humidity and temperature play a big role in the process of
konpeito-making.
All day, from morning to evening, the craftsmen keep putting syrup over
the kernels, making them dry and taking care so they're not broken and
not stuck together. Konpeito only growns 1mm in diameter a day, says Mr.
SHIMIZU Sei'ichi, the fourth-generation Chief Artisan. "They grow
as fast as a limestone cave", he laughs. "How fast they grow
depends on the weather, and I couldn't even tell you how long it takes
at the very beginning of the process".
"Usually, they are about 1mm in diameter on the third day, and the
horns appear on the fifth. If they haven't got horns by then, they'll never
get them. But once they get them, we have to be very careful for them not
to snap or crack. We have to treat them like our children."
While kompeito is made, the temperature of the workshop is kept at thirty
degrees Celsius or more to crystallize the sugar. There is no air-conditioning
or a fan, so in the summer the temperature goes up even higher. This patient
process has kept the taste of the kompeito unchanged for centuries.
Still, there are over 40 different flavors, ranging from cinnamon to green
tea and now coffee and vanilla. All ingredients chosen as flavorings are
natural. You can buy the sweet in almost all department stores in Kyoto,
but if you go to the main store, you can hear the sound of kompeito growing
in the caldron. Why not have a taste of one of the oldest European imports
to Kyoto?
R. Hakamada
Ryokujuan Shimizu, Tel.771-0755
Open 10:00-18:00 summer, 10:00-17:00 winter, closed some Sundays and national
holidays.
Location: Marikoji, south of Imadegawa (close to Hyakumanben intersection)
KORYO MUSEUM OF ART
I got off the bus at a quiet and beautiful residential area in the northern
Kyoto. A white signboard of 'Koryo Museum of Art' was immediately within
my sight on the opposite side of the road. After a brief walk, I noticed
a patterned fence made of stone and clay; on both sides of the entrance
gate, larger-than-life statues smiled in welcome.
This Koryo Museum of Art was founded in 1988 by Chong Cho-mum ( 鄭 詔文
) who was a Korean living in Japan. He spent forty years collecting Korean
stone figures, images of Buddha, calligraphic works, furniture, ceramics,
including the famed blue porcelain from the Kingdom of Koryo and white
porcelain from the Li Dynasty. When the total number of collected items
reached 1,700, he rebuilt his house to the two-storied building seen today
and made it a museum. His fine collection was offered to the public as
a foundation.
Chong named the museum "Koryo", from Koryo Dynasty (918-1392),
a brilliant era during which Korean Peninsula was unified. He wished for
his fellow countrymen to have pride and confidence in their ancestry and
for Japan to learn about its closest neighbors.
Earlier this century, Japan colonized the peninsula by force and tormented
its inhabitants for 36 years until World War II. The activities of the
Japanese army there were much more brutal than ordinary Japanese people
could imagine.
Mr. Chong hoped that the appreciation of art would contribute to mutual
understanding between the people of Korea and Japan. One month after the
museum's opening, Mr. Chong became ill and passed away. He seemed aware
of his condition, and was all the more eager to work prior to the opening
of the museum.
In the exhibition room, I was enticed into the unique world of refined
traditional Korean art. Pottery, furniture, carvings and other items are
shown on the first floor, while old furniture decorated with various mediums
including shell, leather and other materials is displayed along with a
model of a traditional drawing room (saranban) on the second floor. I was
struck with the delicate beauty of a blue porcelain vase from the 12th
century, and boldness of richly decorated cabinets from 19th century. They
appeared very continental to my eyes.
In a pretty garden, also on the second floor, many traditional large pots
used to store food such as kim'chi are arranged. Apparently you could tell
a rich house by the number of these pots. I remembered that I saw similar
pots in Korea on a mountain-side, used as trash receptacles. They seemed
to belong to the nature. I couldn't help thinking about the contrast with
the trash strewn along the mountainsides in Japan.
N. Suematsu
Weronika says her goodbyes to Kyoto...
Life is a state of constant change, and it is stability that is only an
illusion
Three years! With the level my English stooped to, you'd think I've been
here forever and never spoken to another foreigner.
After the initial culture shock, which wasn't helped by the smoking crowds
on Kawaramachi or the men using the subway stations as their personal spittoons,
I came to really like Kyoto and appreciate the fact that I was here during
the time of many changes: economic, social and political. And although
the fast disappearance of its architectural and natural heritage infuriates
me, Kyoto still has an ambience unmatched by any other city I have lived
in. You wouldn't be here either if it didn't, I'm sure.
I won't go into all the things that are unique about Kyoto, or the four
distinct seasons: you're bombarded by that type of jargon from all sides
already. I know though, that the experiences I have had here were one of
a kind to me, and that the people I have met have now become a part of
my personal treasure of friendships and memories. I hope you know it too:
that your time here can not be repeated. May you get the very most from
it, and take all that this city has to offer you, for certainly it has
a lot.
I hope you enjoyed reading Life in Kyoto over the past three years. I unquestionably
enjoyed making it… well, maybe not the late nights spent talking to the
computer ("behave! don't freeze on me now, I have a deadline!!!").
Writing and editing Life in Kyoto has provided me with an excuse to meet
many fascinating people and seek out places I otherwise would not have
known.
There are many "thank-you"'s I owe, but the biggest thanks must
go to the resourceful volunteers who write Life in Kyoto. I hope that the
'mag' we created together has helped to make your time in Kyoto somewhat
more entertaining, and that perhaps in some small way it has made you aware
of all the possibilities open to you here.
Best Wishes,
Weronika Anasz
Editor, Life in Kyoto, August 1996 - August 1999
A FEW WORDS FROM THE NEW EDITOR
A huge hajimemashite to all LIK readers…
As is customary in Japan, I would like to begin with a self-introduction
outlining some general facts about myself; where I am from and what I've
been doing for the past few years.
My name is Tristan Grey and I am the new incoming Coordinator of International
Relations. I will be taking over the editing role of "Life in Kyoto",
endeavoring to one day come close to filling the enormous shoes that will
be left after Weronika's departure. I come to Kyoto City as a representative
of Canberra, the bush capital city of Australia. I'm not a Canberran born
and bred however, having moved to Canberra for university studies in 1994
from a sleepy country town called Castlemaine. Castlemaine and its surrounding
district, located in central Victoria about 1 and half hours drive north
of Melbourne, were quite industrious boom towns during the gold rush era
of the 1850's. These days, the local economy is chiefly supported through
farming, tourism and local industries like the Foundry and the Bacon Factory.
It has a population of about 7500 people.
For the past 20 years my parents have owned and operated the local taxis
service, a fleet comprising of seven cars. About 6 years ago they built
a service (gas) station that is made out of mud bricks, and looks more
like a 19th Century cottage than a fuel pump station. While growing up
in Castlemaine I spent much of my time (when I wasn't manning the gas pumps)
involved in sports like Australian Rules Football, Cricket and Basketball.
I attended a co-educational high school in the neighboring town of Bendigo,
which is where I first encountered the Japanese culture and language. Apart
from marking the beginning of an eternal struggle toward mastery of kanji
(or lack of) among other elements of the language, I vividly recall meeting
the first ever Japanese exchange student to my high school.
She came from a small town somewhere in southern Kyushu and was understandably
a little overwhelmed at first at seeing so many "gaikokujin"
in one place. I was curious to find out what had motivated her to come
to Australia as I had never met an "exchange student". With her
tiny 4 ft 8 inch frame and demure look, a lack of English ability didn't
stop her communicating. I remember thinking how bold she must have been
to leave behind her friends and family to come to Australia, but it soon
seemed she had found a new group of family and friends to share her love
and laughter with. I subsequently began studying Japanese that year with
great interest, and after successfully applying for a Rotary Exchange Student
Scholarship came to Japan for the first time in 1992, aged 16.
After an amazing 12 months as an exchange student at Waseda University
High School in Tokyo, I returned to Australia to complete my final year
of high school study. This brings us back to Canberra, where, at the Australian
National University I majored in Japanese and Economic History (why ?)
from 1994 through until 1998. I returned to Japan for my second visit during
late December 1994. I traveled around the Kansai region for the first time,
where I fell in love with the subtle and not so subtle differences from
the Kanto region. During 1997, I was fortunate enough to again return to
Osaka, where I spent 12 months studying at Kansai University. I graduated
from the Australian National University at the end of 1998 with a Bachelor
of Asian Studies (Japanese).
I am very honored to be working here in Kyoto and look forward to meeting
and talking with as many of you as I can.
Yoroshiku Onegai Shimasu.
Tristan Grey