The Chiiori house In the 1970s, American expatriate
college student Alex Kerr ventured into rural Japan, seeking a refuge
from the neon lights and concrete of Japan's growing cities. His
search took him to Shikoku, one of Japan's four main islands. Hiking
there in a remote river valley known as East Iya, he discovered
an abandoned, 200-year-old farm house. Complete with a traditional
thatch-and-bamboo roof,
the house immediately got his attention.
Kerr spent the next two decades studying the history of Iya, developing
relationships with his curious neighbours and restoring the house,
including a full re-thatching of its lofty roof. This undertaking
became the subject of a chapter in his 1996 prize-winning book,
Lost Japan. A must-read for any visitor to Japan, this trailblazing
work laments Japan's disregard for its cultural heritage as it has
relentlessly pursued material modernization in recent decades.
While East Iya was barely accessible thirty years ago, it now faces
the same fate as other formerly beautiful rural areas in Japan.
Its mountains are subjected to countless haphazard road-building
projects and hideously ugly landslide-prevention barriers. Its
rivers are powerless against the pouring of concrete along their
banks and the erection of oversized dams midstream. Its formerly
quaint tourist spots are being transformed into tacky carnivals.
For most people the odds against maintaining a traditional farmhouse
and its natural surroundings would seem impossible. Kerr, however,
has energetically taken on that challenge.
In 1999, Kerr and co-owner Mason Florence, a Japan-based photojournalist
for the popular travel series Lonely Planet, opened the house to
the public as the Chiiori Project. The project aims to eventually
restore other nearby thatched-roof houses and set an example of
how to develop ecologically sustainable tourism. It hopes to encourage
the community to break with Japan's addiction to construction and
pioneer a different way of supporting the local economy.
Most guests experience Chiiori during one of two types of weekend
gatherings. Event weekends include everything from musical performances
and traditional paper lantern-making to cooking lessons featuring
local cuisine. Volunteer weekends revolve around renovating and
restoring the house and surrounding land. After reading Kerr's latest
book, Dogs and Demons, I was motivated to make the trek to Chiiori.
I opted to forgo physical labor this time in favour of a jazz performance
and guided exploration of the valley.
After a voyage involving a lengthy list of train, ferry, bus, and
car rides, I disembarked from at Japan Railways (JR) Oboke
Station with three other visitors I'd met en route. This was
our last chance to buy anything we needed for the next few days,
as Chiiori is an hour's drive from the nearest store. As we emerged
from the station, we were greeted by Yuki, a Nagasaki native who
is the project's bilingual manager and resident driver.
The ride up the valley in his 1970s era Land
Cruiser was not for the faint of heart. As we turned off from
the main two-lane highway, we made our ascent to Chiiori on a winding
half-lane road which has intermittent spaces for two cars and randomly
placed crash barriers. It was with visible relief and white knuckles
that I climbed out of the vehicle and put my feet on solid ground.
Arriving at Chiiori, I was greeted by Mary, a bubbly Scot, who
arrived one month ago as the home's caretaker. She immediately went
into hostess mode with a hug for the one returnee among us and a
cup of tea for the rest. Then along came Sean, the project's artist-in-residence
who has a Cliff Claven-like ability to dazzle guests with unending
facts and colourful stories about his past six months in the valley.
All three staff have committed to the project for at least a year,
while Sean and Yuki are looking at longer contributions. The hope
is to build relationships among the staff, visitors and neighbours,
thus nurturing the stability needed to achieve success for such
an ambitious project.
Finally, I entered Chiiori which means "house of the flute"
in its Chinese characters. The first thing that struck me after
its impressive roof was the openness inside. Quite apart from the
active clutter of the kitchen, the main room is kept completely
empty except for a few carefully located paper lanterns. Standing
on the glistening black
wooden floor, surrounded by ancient calligraphy and scrolls
on the walls, I was transported to an imaginary stage. This daydream
became a reality when we were treated to a taiko (Japanese drum)
performance the following evening.
The main room features two traditional irori, or floor
hearths, which is where the activities of the house are focussed
after dark. In the warm glow of their fires we chatted, cooked,
ate and kept warm. Occasionally, wet wood was inadvertently placed
on the fire, giving the house a splendid smoky atmosphere. Many
guests thus turned into human fans in a vain attempt to send the
smoke out the front bay windows. This entertaining spectacle aside,
the iori contributed to quite a relaxing atmosphere.
During this special event weekend, we spent most of our time outside
Chiiori, exploring the valley
and its well-hidden secrets. The featured jazz concert, held in
a 300-year-old restored samurai
house, required another precarious ascent from the main highway.
A diminutive Japanese lead the band; his irrepressible coif had
us all convinced that he had been shot directly from the '70s and
somehow landed in front of a vibraphone. It was an intimate environment
of about fifty people which provided a surprising balance of locals
and foreigners, further giving us a chance to learn about the community
and its people.
The following day Chiiori staff impressed us with their knowledge
of the valley. We began at a pair of parallel vine
bridges. Originally built over 800 years ago, they are now supported
with veiled steel cables. Not exactly the real thing, true, but
when compared to the Kazurabashi, a third bridge surrounded with
tourists, droning construction equipment, and concrete hillsides,
they are quite secluded and peaceful.
Exploring the less traveled bridges was truly a treat - the sublime
silence of the forest canopy was interrupted only by the sounds
of a gurgling river and creaking vines. Followed by a lazy picnic
lunch, I was put in a perfect mood to visit the local onsen
(hot springs). The outdoor baths there gave me a chance to lose
the tension acquired from the day's nerve-wracking drives up and
down the valley.
The weekend wouldn't be complete without giving a nod to my fellow
visitors - clearly of a different mold than the people you find
doing the obligatory rounds of Kyoto's temples or Roppongi's night
scene. From the dozen or so travellers who made the trek to Chiiori,
we had talented gourmets, an impromptu saxophone performance on
the final morning, and conversations ranging from workout tips to
US foreign policy to describing an antelope as a "horse deer"
for the benefit of a Japanese guest. Indeed it was a weekend unlike
any other I have experienced in my two years in Japan. It was a
welcome respite from the temples, shrines, and government-designated
sites that usually top a tourist's itinerary on a trip to Japan.
Getting to Chiiori:
Visitors making their way to Chiiori from the Kansai region (Osaka,
Kyoto, Nara) should take a JR train or bus to Tokushima City on
Shikoku. This will range from 3-5 hours depending on the starting
point. From there you will need to transfer to a local or express
train to JR Oboke Station. Typically you can arrange a pickup from
Chiiori staff at this point. Otherwise you can jump in a taxi with
instructions to the house written in Japanese on a piece of paper.
Alternatively, using an International Driver's License you may rent
a car at Tokushima and together with a little luck find your way
on Chiiori's doorstep. 
From Kansai:
Return trip via bus to Tokushima – approx. 7,000 yen
Travelers are encouraged to buy the JR Rail Pass prior to arriving
in Japan to take full advantage of its savings.
Train to Tokushima – approx. 12,000 yen
Train to Oboke – approx. 3,000 yen
Rob is currently surviving the petting of his arm hair and the
pulling of his goatee as he teaches English to junior high school
students in Kyoto.
For more information on the Chiiori Project, please check out www.chiiori.org. |
