To Die in Aomori

  

I am writing this on the train home from Aomori at the most northern part of Honshu Island. In our room at the Hotel Aomori was an information folder that included capacious information about the hotel’s terms and conditions and obligations.

A section headed Provisions for Condolence Money for Hotel Guests informed us that, should we die during our stay, our family would receive ¥100,000 (roughly £500) for each death. Moreover, “depending on the circumstances,” a hotel director or employee may attend the funeral and/or the hotel may send flowers. However, condolence is not due if death is caused by an injury, the use of drugs, pregnancy or childbirth, suicide, diseases caused by nuclear radiation, or bacterial food poisoning (be careful in the hotel restaurant then).

Hotel Aomori wedding salon: weddings are big business for hotels.

Thankfully, we had no need to claim condolence money during this visit.

Figures typical of the Nebuta Festival in Aomori in August displayed in the htoel lobby.

The folder also informed us that we could be denied our room if we were an Organized Crime Group Member, or associated with an Organised Crime Group. Or if we were controlled by an Organised Crime Group, or if we were in an organization controlled by an Organised Crime Group. Or if we are considered to have violated applicable laws, public order or public morals.

Fortunately, the hotel deemed us free from the taint of Organized Crime, law breaking and immoral practices. 

We were in Aomori to visit friends. There is little other reason to visit this port city, first established in 1624. Decidedly unattractive buildings dominate the waterfront. The city is very much given over to the car: pedestrians wait patiently at the intersections of wide avenues as cars speed by. There are cycle lanes but, unlike other Japanese cities, very few cyclists.

Aomori waterfront at Gappo Park - the city could make its location attractive.

Emblematic of the lack of interest in developing an agreeable cityscape is the site of the former city hall. This was built in the early 20^th century. Akutagawa Ryūnosoke (1892-1927), Japan’s foremost exponent of the short story, once lectured here to 2,000 people. Helen Keller (1880-1968) who visited Aomori in 1937, 1948 and 1955, and spoke in the same building, charmed the audience by noting the delightful aroma of the sea that pervaded the city (if true then, it is certainly not today).

But this view is more typical of the waterfront.

 

This building survived the American bombing of the city in World War II, which destroyed 88% of Aomori, and, as an information panel outside the current building observes, it was one of the few structures with a documented history. This evidently failed to impress the authorities who demolished it in 1996.

But the pleasure of visiting places lies not in the physical environment, but in the people. We had travelled to this unlovely city to see our friends (introduced to us by our son John) Ikuko and Maro Takahashi. Ikuko welcomed us with a carefully prepared afternoon tea of green tea, a rice and bean sweet, panna cotta with strawberry and lemon sauces. Maro joined us after his day’s work at his shoe shop (he specializes in therapeutic shoes), curiously named Brian. We were joined by Yasutaka and Sachie Takeuchi for a dinner at a local restaurant. We began with the obligatory kampai and group photo. There followed a seemingly endless procession of delicately prepared fish dishes and seasonal vegetables (a green mountain vegetable that we could not identify, young bamboo shoots, and unfamiliar leaves of various shapes and textures). Particularly delicious offerings were a cube of green fish jelly, an unidentified shellfish, tiny firefly squid, sardine balls, and a sort of fishy egg custard with the thinnest of noodles. And to finish, a selection of sushi; a visual delight as well as delicious. We ended with a cup of highly-regarded sake from nearby Hachinōhe. (An aside: Japan’s most internationally famous drink is not called sake at all by the Japanese, but nihonshu, or “Japanese alcohol.” I have no idea why foreigners insist on calling it sake.)

Kampai before dinner.

The Takeuchis were able to explain to us the signs we saw all over the city announcing Aomori 2026, the national athletic competition. Yasutaka we learned is a choral singer. When he was aged 18, his high school choir travelled to Wales to perform at a choral festival. He showed us the scores of works his choir was rehearsing: a Brahms piece sung in German, Vivaldi’s Gloria, and a modern Japanese composition. Brahms, it seems, can attract an audience of 1,000 or so (in a city of 265,000 souls). Yasutaka will sing at the opening ceremony of Aomori 2026. In fact, the entire Takeuchi family (they have two teenage sons) are choral singers. Apparently, there is a lively choral tradition in all the high schools in Aomori.

We travelled home to Tokyo laden with gifts, as is customary. Aomori is apple (ringo) country and produces endless varieties of apple cakes, biscuits, jams and jellies, etc. We now have enough to feed a family for many weeks. Jan has an elegant pair of red slippers, made in Japan, from Maro’s shop. And the Takeuchis gave us some local mementos to remind us of Aomori. Even residents of not-so-lovely Aomori can be proud of their home town.