This doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but that last fable and the anime series I'm watching got me on a kick. If you look carefully about the irrigation channels, you can at least see that it's set in modern Japan.
Just a simple story. A little bit Aesop and Pom Poko. Not sure if I hit the right tone or not. Sorry for the tough vocabulary – force of habit. Anyway, been thinking a bit about frogs. I wrote it in about 20-30 minutes at Skylark in Sannomiya this evening. Enjoy.
The Wolf and the Frog
There once was a frog who lived in a rice paddy. He came from a rather average frog family with 532 siblings, and he was the 381st egg, making him something of a middle child. His pond was comfortable and near some old growth woodland where he and his pond-mates liked to play among the fallen foliage.
Things went on swimmingly for some time until a few men with machines came by and set up concrete trenches with vertical slits to sluice the water between the rice fields, replacing his old dirt ditches. When they finished, they patted each other on the back and drove off. Unfortunately, the gap in the irrigation channel was too large to leap across and those frogs caught on the other side were unable to join their friends in other paddies.
So it was that at the end of each day, when all the other frogs bellowed out to one another, the poor creature would saddle up to the concrete ledge and look off in the distance. Perhaps he wondered if they even still remembered him.
One evening as the gloam of twilight settled over his pond, he squatted down in his usual spot to listen plaintively to the chirruping croaks all cascading on top of one another. He did not even notice it when a wolf from up in the mountains came sniffing along the edge of the woodland to get a drink from the pond.
He spotted the frog at a glance and, creeping up on it from downwind, was about to snap up the plump fellow in one toothy bite when he noticed the rather sullen look on his face.
The wolf coughed into his paw. “Ahem.”
Still the frog did not seem to take much notice. Instead it bellowed out a deep, guttural sigh. “Wrruhh-kerrrooo....”
“Frog,” the wolf said. “Are you sick?”
“Oh, don’t you hear them all? I miss my friends and family so terribly. But for this giant canyon...”
The wolf was eyeing the froggy’s fleshy thighs and licked his chomps. “Your friends, you say? I see...”
“Oh, what I would give to see them again… if only… Oh, Brother Wolf, do you not love running with your pack more than anything?”
“The truth is, my kind are not so many these days.”
“And don’t you feel a certain something when you hear a howl from faraway?”
The wolf yawned. His ears perched this way and that as if the wind whispered something from behind. “Well, maybe a little hungry,” he admitted.
The frog gave a jerky start. “Oh my, oh my! I just had an idea, a revelation! Brother Wolf, would you, could you find it in your heart to carry me across to see them? I know you wish to eat me, and I can hardly argue the point, but–”
“Ride on my back?” the wolf exclaimed. “Now, now, frog. Aside from the law of creaturely camaraderie, I’m afraid we still have our dignity.” He shook his head dismissively, “No, that is quite out of the question.” His brow furrowed a little. “But since you are not sick, I will tell you what I will do. If you will hop into my mouth and not squirm around too much, I promise to carry you to the other pond to meet your friends. But after that and you’ve had your fun, I will gobble you up in one toothy bite.” He shrugged his shaggy mane. “Nothing personal.”
The frog blinked his bulgy eyes and seemed to reason this out and bellowed in a loud agreement.
So, true to his word, the wolf brought the frog across the channel and gingerly lowered him into the neighboring pond. All at once hundreds of plumb little froggies all set about leaping and laughing on top of each other with such frivolity that none of them seemed to notice the great hunter standing in their midst.
When the wolf saw how high the frog leaped with delight seeing his friends at long last and they at him, it reminded the wolf of a young pup many moons ago, gamboling around the den with the rest of the pack.
He set his ears to the wind. A company of a thousand croakings. He could not tell one from another.
After some time had passed and the moon had made its way quite high among the stars, the frog ambled over in front of him and said somewhat softly, but which a smile, “Okay, Mr. Wolf. Thank you for your patience. I’m ready.”
The wolf stood there with his keen eyes yellow in the darkness. He looked this way and then that.
“I only came for a drink of water,” he said, and trotted away into the wood.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
The Frog Returns
Here’s a different kind of post. As you know, I moved back to Japan, this time to Osaka, at the end of March of this year, smack dab on Easter actually. While I haven't posted much of my chronicles or pictures or odd anecdotes here (just on Facebook), I've gotten to do some wonderful traveling in the mountains and woodland, deep in dells and misty meadows. I have a story or two to share, but for now I thought I'd relate part of a recent adventure as a sort of tribute.
Yesterday I went hiking around the Rokko mountain range by Kobe with a good friend (though quite new). I had plans to go to Tateyama in faraway Toyama; God had better plans. It was kind of a last minute thing, but somehow or another we were able to pull it off. I think the details actually worked out perfectly, even as I was able to visit with a Japanese friend I knew in Houston at a cafe before heading off for the cable car to Mt. Maya.
The views were spectacular and we got lost more times than I can remember (always a good sign). It was plenty hot, but there shady spots to talk and even a patch of snow to play in. The sculptures you made last a few hours before melting away.
As the day winded down, we found our way to Arima Onsen, one of the three oldest hot springs in Japan (三古湯). The hot springs are spoken of being used as far back as A.D. 631 in the Nihon Shoki , the second oldest written history book (published in 720), though presumably it had been around for a while before that, possibly making this the oldest hot spring. From the mountain approach, you take a rope-way car to descend into the valley. The ticket is a bit expensive, but the view is unbelievable.
The town has a very nostalgic feel of old Japan, quaint houses nestled up along narrow, cobble-stone streets. We strolled among the festival booths that lined the river, with enka performers and quirky carnival-style games, her hair done up chasen-style (茶筅). There was a lovely sunset, followed by a marvelous moon, two days shy of being full - how's that for wabi sabi (侘寂)?
At Arima, which she strangely kept mispronouncing as Ame-something, there are two main types of water grouped according to the chemicals, called "gold spring" and "silver spring." The "silver" one has some radium in it; yes, it is "mildly radioactive." We opted for the simple foot bath one, which was also free, and, with a hearty 「かんぱい」 ("cheers!"), enjoyed the quintessential Japanese experience.
She leaves in just a few days for study abroad in Korea. 一期一会。 I don't know any suitable farewell sayings in Japanese, but here's a traditional Irish well-wishing...
"May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand."
長大息。
Now then.
As I was saying, at one point in the afternoon, wandering about on the mountaintop, we saw some frogs in a pond. Or I saw a frog among the leafy greenery on the surface and pointed it out to her for a minute before she could see it. No, not that - that's a carp. Yes, right there... see, right where I'm pointing. She likes frogs. But she needs better glasses.
Now from time to time in Japanese folk stories one finds tales of giant, ten-foot-tall toads, with rainbows shooting from their mouths and ninjas riding on their backs. These were not that sort of creature. But there is a nice play on words with frog (かえる) being pronounced the same as the word for returning home. And in this case, it's not cheesy, but rather poetic.
Recently, I've been watching an ongoing anime series called "Folktales from Japan" (ふるさと再生 日本の昔ばなし), which has some excellent voice acting in older-style Japanese (all done by only two actors). Each episode covers three stories in about ten-minutes segments. I haven't see the one "The Two Frogs" yet, perhaps because it is such a short story. You can find it in Andrew Lang's Violet Fairy Book.
I love folktales and fairy tales and story-telling in general, and this really is a nice one. This version is just slightly different from the below.
Amy Friedman did an adaption of it recently, very mono no aware (物の哀れ). Here is her version, which I think is a fine, fine story. Enjoy...
Once upon a time in Japan there lived two frogs. One frog lived in the city of Osaka in a quiet little ditch outside of town. The other frog lived in a clear, flowing stream near Kyoto. The frogs, of course, did not know each other.
One day the frog who lived in the ditch in Osaka overheard a man talking as he passed by. "There over the mountain, in beautiful Kyoto," said the man, "is the most glorious palace, the Mikado's palace. It is a place everyone ought to see."
At once the frog in the ditch came up with a plan. "I too would love to see the city of Kyoto and the glorious palace of the Mikado," she said. "I think I will climb the mountain and go there to see for myself."
At the very same time, the frog who swam through the crystal waters of Kyoto thought, "My home is lovely, but surely there is more to see in the world."
The frog from Kyoto had nothing against the Mikado, the country's emperor, but he was bored, for beauty and majesty are not everything. He had grown weary of the world around him. "I think I shall climb the mountain and visit other cities. I have heard Osaka is the place to see."
So, each frog set out to cross the tall mountain that separated the two cities. Up went the frog from Osaka, leaping and hopping with all of her might, so excited was she about her adventure.
And up went the frog from Kyoto. "Oh, to see another world," he thought as he hopped and jumped.
On and on they leapt. They grew thirsty and tired, but they did not think about their troubles. Their eyes bulged with delight as they imagined the new world they would see when they reached the summit.
At last, huffing and puffing, the frog from Osaka came to the very top of the mountain, and there she sat down in the tall grass under a flowering tree to catch her breath and rest her tired legs.
Just at that moment she felt a blade of grass beside her shiver. "Who's there?" cried the frog from Osaka.
Who indeed!? Of course it was the frog from Kyoto who had, at last, reached the mountain peak. "Hello," said he. "It is I, a frog from Kyoto."
"Ahh," said the frog from Osaka, "you must be a most distinguished explorer, my friend. So you have come from the land of the palaces, the home of the great emperor, have you?"
The frog from Kyoto harrumphed and gurgled, trying hard to catch his breath, for his journey had been strenuous. "Yes, gracious explorer, I am from the land of palaces. And you? What about you?"
"Harrumph," croaked the frog from Osaka, "I am from Osaka. I have traveled far and wish to see your land."
"That is my plan precisely," said the frog from Kyoto. I mean to see the city of Osaka, for it is a place that I have never seen."
"You needn't bother with Osaka," said the frog from Osaka. "It is a poor place, filled with ditch water. It clogs the pores, you see. I mean to go to a land of crystal-clear streams."
"Ha," said the frog from Kyoto. "Let me tell you what it's like to sit all day in a sparkling stream. Sparkle and shimmer -- all that glistening water will make your eyes ache, my friend."
At that the frogs fell silent and stared at each other.
She does not look very different from me, thought the frog from Kyoto, and the frog from Osaka thought the same. For a long while the two frogs sat silent, listening to the whistling grass surrounding them and staring at each other.
At last the frog from Kyoto sighed and said, "I have climbed up a high mountain, and I do not wish to climb all the way down to Osaka if it is as dull as you say."
"I feel the same way," said the frog from Osaka. "My journey up the mountain was a strain, you see, and now my legs are feeling very weak. If the sparkling streams are not so wonderful, I don't know that I wish to hop all the way there."
They sat and listened to the whistling grass a while longer.
At last the frog from Osaka said, "If only we were taller, we could look down from this mountaintop and see the cities of our dreams. Then we would know if we wished to go on traveling. Alas, we are short and we are stuck here in this tall grass."
The frogs both sighed sadly.
Then the frog from Kyoto puffed out his throat and said: "It is true that we are tiny and the grass is tall, but my gracious friend, we frogs of Kyoto are famous for our intelligence. I am sure I can come up with a solution. Let me think."
The frog from Kyoto closed his eyes and thought for a long while. At last he leaped into the air, so high he almost caught a glimpse of the city below. "Come, dear friend, and I shall stand upon my hind legs and turn toward you, and you shall stand upon your hind legs and turn toward me. We shall hold each other up this way. Then we shall be taller than this tall grass, and we will be able to see the cities of our dreams."
The frog from Osaka agreed. "A good plan," said she.
And so up they hopped, onto their hind legs. They held each other steady, and the frog from Kyoto looked one way, and the frog from Osaka looked the other.
The frogs, alas, made one mistake. The frog from Kyoto faced Osaka, and the frog from Osaka faced Kyoto, but as you know, frogs' eyes are set so far back upon their heads that when they looked down both frogs were actually looking at their own city. The frog from Kyoto looked out and saw the city of Kyoto, and the frog from Osaka looked out and saw the city of Osaka.
"Oh my," said the frog from Kyoto, "Osaka looks very much like Kyoto."
"My thoughts precisely," said the frog from Osaka. "Your city looks almost exactly like the city I call home."
At that the frogs let go of each other and dropped down on their four legs once again. Then they squatted very still in the tall grass and stared sadly at each other.
"There seems no point in traveling all the way down the mountain just to see a city so very like my own," said the frog from Kyoto.
"No point indeed," said the frog from Osaka. "I think I shall return back home. Farewell, dear friend."
"And farewell to you."
With that the frogs hopped down the mountain, back to their homes, happy to think that their home was as good as any other home, and almost exactly the same.
Yesterday I went hiking around the Rokko mountain range by Kobe with a good friend (though quite new). I had plans to go to Tateyama in faraway Toyama; God had better plans. It was kind of a last minute thing, but somehow or another we were able to pull it off. I think the details actually worked out perfectly, even as I was able to visit with a Japanese friend I knew in Houston at a cafe before heading off for the cable car to Mt. Maya.
The views were spectacular and we got lost more times than I can remember (always a good sign). It was plenty hot, but there shady spots to talk and even a patch of snow to play in. The sculptures you made last a few hours before melting away.
As the day winded down, we found our way to Arima Onsen, one of the three oldest hot springs in Japan (三古湯). The hot springs are spoken of being used as far back as A.D. 631 in the Nihon Shoki , the second oldest written history book (published in 720), though presumably it had been around for a while before that, possibly making this the oldest hot spring. From the mountain approach, you take a rope-way car to descend into the valley. The ticket is a bit expensive, but the view is unbelievable.
The town has a very nostalgic feel of old Japan, quaint houses nestled up along narrow, cobble-stone streets. We strolled among the festival booths that lined the river, with enka performers and quirky carnival-style games, her hair done up chasen-style (茶筅). There was a lovely sunset, followed by a marvelous moon, two days shy of being full - how's that for wabi sabi (侘寂)?
At Arima, which she strangely kept mispronouncing as Ame-something, there are two main types of water grouped according to the chemicals, called "gold spring" and "silver spring." The "silver" one has some radium in it; yes, it is "mildly radioactive." We opted for the simple foot bath one, which was also free, and, with a hearty 「かんぱい」 ("cheers!"), enjoyed the quintessential Japanese experience.
She leaves in just a few days for study abroad in Korea. 一期一会。 I don't know any suitable farewell sayings in Japanese, but here's a traditional Irish well-wishing...
"May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand."
長大息。
Now then.
As I was saying, at one point in the afternoon, wandering about on the mountaintop, we saw some frogs in a pond. Or I saw a frog among the leafy greenery on the surface and pointed it out to her for a minute before she could see it. No, not that - that's a carp. Yes, right there... see, right where I'm pointing. She likes frogs. But she needs better glasses.
Now from time to time in Japanese folk stories one finds tales of giant, ten-foot-tall toads, with rainbows shooting from their mouths and ninjas riding on their backs. These were not that sort of creature. But there is a nice play on words with frog (かえる) being pronounced the same as the word for returning home. And in this case, it's not cheesy, but rather poetic.
Recently, I've been watching an ongoing anime series called "Folktales from Japan" (ふるさと再生 日本の昔ばなし), which has some excellent voice acting in older-style Japanese (all done by only two actors). Each episode covers three stories in about ten-minutes segments. I haven't see the one "The Two Frogs" yet, perhaps because it is such a short story. You can find it in Andrew Lang's Violet Fairy Book.
I love folktales and fairy tales and story-telling in general, and this really is a nice one. This version is just slightly different from the below.
Amy Friedman did an adaption of it recently, very mono no aware (物の哀れ). Here is her version, which I think is a fine, fine story. Enjoy...
"Two Frogs From Japan"
Once upon a time in Japan there lived two frogs. One frog lived in the city of Osaka in a quiet little ditch outside of town. The other frog lived in a clear, flowing stream near Kyoto. The frogs, of course, did not know each other.
One day the frog who lived in the ditch in Osaka overheard a man talking as he passed by. "There over the mountain, in beautiful Kyoto," said the man, "is the most glorious palace, the Mikado's palace. It is a place everyone ought to see."
At once the frog in the ditch came up with a plan. "I too would love to see the city of Kyoto and the glorious palace of the Mikado," she said. "I think I will climb the mountain and go there to see for myself."
At the very same time, the frog who swam through the crystal waters of Kyoto thought, "My home is lovely, but surely there is more to see in the world."
The frog from Kyoto had nothing against the Mikado, the country's emperor, but he was bored, for beauty and majesty are not everything. He had grown weary of the world around him. "I think I shall climb the mountain and visit other cities. I have heard Osaka is the place to see."
So, each frog set out to cross the tall mountain that separated the two cities. Up went the frog from Osaka, leaping and hopping with all of her might, so excited was she about her adventure.
And up went the frog from Kyoto. "Oh, to see another world," he thought as he hopped and jumped.
On and on they leapt. They grew thirsty and tired, but they did not think about their troubles. Their eyes bulged with delight as they imagined the new world they would see when they reached the summit.
At last, huffing and puffing, the frog from Osaka came to the very top of the mountain, and there she sat down in the tall grass under a flowering tree to catch her breath and rest her tired legs.
Just at that moment she felt a blade of grass beside her shiver. "Who's there?" cried the frog from Osaka.
Who indeed!? Of course it was the frog from Kyoto who had, at last, reached the mountain peak. "Hello," said he. "It is I, a frog from Kyoto."
"Ahh," said the frog from Osaka, "you must be a most distinguished explorer, my friend. So you have come from the land of the palaces, the home of the great emperor, have you?"
The frog from Kyoto harrumphed and gurgled, trying hard to catch his breath, for his journey had been strenuous. "Yes, gracious explorer, I am from the land of palaces. And you? What about you?"
"Harrumph," croaked the frog from Osaka, "I am from Osaka. I have traveled far and wish to see your land."
"That is my plan precisely," said the frog from Kyoto. I mean to see the city of Osaka, for it is a place that I have never seen."
"You needn't bother with Osaka," said the frog from Osaka. "It is a poor place, filled with ditch water. It clogs the pores, you see. I mean to go to a land of crystal-clear streams."
"Ha," said the frog from Kyoto. "Let me tell you what it's like to sit all day in a sparkling stream. Sparkle and shimmer -- all that glistening water will make your eyes ache, my friend."
At that the frogs fell silent and stared at each other.
She does not look very different from me, thought the frog from Kyoto, and the frog from Osaka thought the same. For a long while the two frogs sat silent, listening to the whistling grass surrounding them and staring at each other.
At last the frog from Kyoto sighed and said, "I have climbed up a high mountain, and I do not wish to climb all the way down to Osaka if it is as dull as you say."
"I feel the same way," said the frog from Osaka. "My journey up the mountain was a strain, you see, and now my legs are feeling very weak. If the sparkling streams are not so wonderful, I don't know that I wish to hop all the way there."
They sat and listened to the whistling grass a while longer.
At last the frog from Osaka said, "If only we were taller, we could look down from this mountaintop and see the cities of our dreams. Then we would know if we wished to go on traveling. Alas, we are short and we are stuck here in this tall grass."
The frogs both sighed sadly.
Then the frog from Kyoto puffed out his throat and said: "It is true that we are tiny and the grass is tall, but my gracious friend, we frogs of Kyoto are famous for our intelligence. I am sure I can come up with a solution. Let me think."
The frog from Kyoto closed his eyes and thought for a long while. At last he leaped into the air, so high he almost caught a glimpse of the city below. "Come, dear friend, and I shall stand upon my hind legs and turn toward you, and you shall stand upon your hind legs and turn toward me. We shall hold each other up this way. Then we shall be taller than this tall grass, and we will be able to see the cities of our dreams."
The frog from Osaka agreed. "A good plan," said she.
And so up they hopped, onto their hind legs. They held each other steady, and the frog from Kyoto looked one way, and the frog from Osaka looked the other.
The frogs, alas, made one mistake. The frog from Kyoto faced Osaka, and the frog from Osaka faced Kyoto, but as you know, frogs' eyes are set so far back upon their heads that when they looked down both frogs were actually looking at their own city. The frog from Kyoto looked out and saw the city of Kyoto, and the frog from Osaka looked out and saw the city of Osaka.
"Oh my," said the frog from Kyoto, "Osaka looks very much like Kyoto."
"My thoughts precisely," said the frog from Osaka. "Your city looks almost exactly like the city I call home."
At that the frogs let go of each other and dropped down on their four legs once again. Then they squatted very still in the tall grass and stared sadly at each other.
"There seems no point in traveling all the way down the mountain just to see a city so very like my own," said the frog from Kyoto.
"No point indeed," said the frog from Osaka. "I think I shall return back home. Farewell, dear friend."
"And farewell to you."
With that the frogs hopped down the mountain, back to their homes, happy to think that their home was as good as any other home, and almost exactly the same.
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