Narrow Road To The Deep North 4

                                        ‘Far-off mountain peaks
                                         Reflected in his eyes:
                                         The dragonfly.’
                                                     Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828)

The wood grain on the low dark table in our minshuku room was as coarse as Sizuo’s breakfast was fine. Because Keiko was away, he was the chef, and produced nine courses, all in different-shaped porcelain. Elegant eggs and fish and squid were accompanied by pungent dishes of fermentation- sour plums, pickled vegetables, and nattō, slimy and sticky and stringy soybeans, brewed into a powerfully distinctive cheesy rancidity. Nattō was discovered by Yoritomo’s first son, Yoshiie, on a battle campaign day in northeastern Japan, when his army was attacked while boiling soybeans for their horses. They hurriedly packed up the beans, and did not open the straw bags until a few days later, by which time the beans had over-ripened. The soldiers ate it anyway, and offered some to Yoshiie, who liked the taste. In a country without cheese, this was the next best thing for breakfast. Thirty years earlier, my diary reveals I was less appreciative. We eat raw eggs, seaweed and the ferns for breakfast, and sat pondering my route- dismayed in Japan. Sizuo bowed and pointed us in the direction of Japanese history. Robyn and I followed the road down towards the mountain shrine that had defined it.

   ‘On the first day of the fourth month, we went to worship at the 
    mountain shrine. In ancient times, the name of the mountain was 
    written Ni-kō (the Mountain of Two Storms); but when the great 
    teacher Kukai built a temple here, he changed the name to 
    Nik-ko (Sunlight). He must have had the power to see a thousand 
    years beyond, for the radiance of the shrine now shines 
    throughout the heavens. Its blessings flow over the land to the 
    farthest corners, and all the people live in security and peace. I 
    was awestruck, barely able to tell it in words.’
                                                                                            Basho