Dear Diary,

Sandy and I decided to leave the group for the evening to experience Cormorant fishing. We traveled, by ourselves in the train, arriving at Sago station in 20 minutes. By 6:15, we had walked through the narrow streets of Sago and were on the Oi River in Arashiyama. The scene was spectacular with walls of evergreen mountains lining the river. The sun was setting and the mist rising from the river. Natural forces seemed to preview the mystical experience we were to have this evening.

Punctuality is a serious concept in Japan. Tickets go on sale at 7:00 PM or 19:00 hours. At 6:45, the friendly Japanese ticket seller changed the sign from Row Boats For Hire to Cormorant Fishing. People had already cued up to buy tickets. He waited. At 6:55, he took his ticket book out and jotted down a serial number. He waited again. Promptly, at seven, he sold his first ticket. In Japan, beginnings and endings have a precision that Americans find hard to comprehend.

I expected the Cormorant fishing to be a sport. It was really more of a ceremony. Approximately twelve wooden boats with Japanese paper lanterns hanging from their thatched roofs set sail. Actually, it was more of a push than a sail since the boatman used a long bamboo pole to propel the boat along the shallow river. Beneath the water's surface are small fish called Ayu. The Cormorants, or Coos as the Japanese call them, are trained to dive underneath the water and catch Ayu. A ring is placed around the coo's neck so they do not swallow the small river fish. The fisherman held six Coos tied on to leashes made of rope. Each time, a coo catches a fish, he would use the leash to hoist it into the boat and then get the coo to cough up the fish.

We were on one of 12 viewing boats. Other boats had dinner served on the river with Japanese men and women dressed in blue and white yukatas (cotton robes), drinking sake and beer as they ate. Since we were seated on the tatami mats of the boat, our dinner was a bag of potato sticks which we passed around to other fellow travelers. Occasionally an obento boat would come by selling soda, beer, grilled squid, eggs, sparklers, and souvenirs.

The river, lit by a quarter moon and the red paper cylinder lanterns from the boats, glowed peacefully. Then two crackling balls of fire each on a separate ship approached our boat. The fire was composed of burning logs suspended over the water so the fishermen and Cormorants could spot the Ayu. The sparks from the wood fire crackled over the river. Three men were on each fishing boat; one polling, one spotting the fish and one dressed in a grass-like shirt holding the six cormorant on a leash. The bamboo pole hit the side of the wooden boat rhythmically as the birds dove into the water. The deep resonant drum beats from the pole striking the side of the wooden boat echoed into the night. As the birds surfaced with fish, the embers swirled over their heads and rose into the night air until the glowing ashes encircled the fisherman.

After the first run of fishing the two boats released fifty floating lanterns on the river. These lanterns slowly drifted toward us. Each was composed of a piece of wood eight inches square with a candle in the center surrounded by a waxed paper bag. They looked mystical as they floated towards us. The moon, mountains, sky, and water reflected upon the ghosts or spirits which were in each bag. A Japanese student who had earlier eaten some of our potato sticks, explained that the candles symbolized souls in Shintoism. The beauty we were witnessing was breathtaking in its simplicity. Some Japanese children used the floating lanterns to light sparklers which added both an eerie light and smoke upon the river. One Japanese baby, no more than a year old, was transfixed as his parents held a sparkler out in front of him. His face illuminated by the glow of the sparkler was as timeless as the floating lanterns. Several more runs of the Cormorant boats took place before the fishing ended precisely at 9 P.M. Time is both eternal and exact in Japan.

Many Japanese practice Shintoism and Buddhism. Shinto deals in a more joyous approach to worship with its emphasis on simple, natural symbols. Buddhism is more somber in its approach to "life as suffering." The beauty of those floating candles helped me understand intellectually what they experienced spiritually. The ghosts are intertwined in our fortunes. Japan has taken much from China but what they borrow somehow becomes uniquely Japanese.

Finally, on our way back to Kyoto, we had another Japanese experience. We asked two teenagers for directions to our ryokan (Japanese Inn). Since they were from Nara, they didn't know where our hotel was located; however, they stopped a man from Kyoto who obviously was coming home to his family. He was unsure of the hotel address too, but half in English, half in Japanese we examined our street map under the light of a doorway. We laughed at our predicament.

Sure enough all three Japanese people insisted on helping the two lost geigin (foreigners) find their way home. They walked with us for 10 minutes trying to decipher the map. The teenagers and the man spoke to each other with respect and friendliness. We did not want these people to go out of their way. We were guests in their country. They escorted us for another 10 minutes until they were sure we could find our way home. Maybe these people extended themselves because we said we were sensei (teachers). Teachers are greatly respected in Japan. Maybe they extended themselves simply because they were Japanese. It any case, it was lovely. In walking the streets, we felt safe, secure, and cared for.

What a different experience today would have been if the locale were changed to New York City. What would a subway ride and walk through the narrow streets of New York look like? What would I see as I cruised on the rivers around Manhattan? How would strangers react if I lost my way home? The manner in which the Japanese presented themselves to me posed many paradoxes for me.