Akemashite Omedeto

Welcome back! I hope everyone had a delightful holiday this past week. I certainly did, and am now making the most of a weeklong break from school activities to get in a little travel. The kids themselves aren’t so lucky: the closing ceremony for the second semester, much like the first, is an opportunity for faculty members to remind the students at length about their various responsibilities, and to exhort them to resist the temptation to have any kind of fun. Of course, they have club activities except for on New Year’s and one or two days before and after (no Christmas holiday here), so it’s not like they have much time to get up to things, anyhow. But nevertheless, I will have to shoulder the burden of interesting doings in their stead, and take lots of pictures to show them when I get back. Oh, the many hardships one has to endure as an educator.

But, as you can guess by the actual days off for the students (stingy though the Ministry of Education may be), New Year’s far outweighs its nearest neighbor in both importance and special events. Christmas has made a big splash here, to be sure, but New Year’s is something that everyone does, and these traditions are so deeply ingrained that they blend seamlessly with the traditional rhythms of the Japanese calendar. Granted, when the country formally adopted the Gregorian Calendar in 1873, it pushed forward everything on the traditional calendar by about six weeks or so. When you think about it, celebrating the New Year closer to the middle of February (like the Chinese Lunar New Year) makes more sense to welcome the spring, but people here throw themselves into the Western version with precisely the same spirit.

Before the New Year even comes, people in Japan perform a massive cleaning of both their homes and workplaces. Japanese tradition places a major focus on ritual purity, and it’s believed that crossing into the New Year with a clean household will help to welcome good fortune and to ensure continued purity throughout the year. Never mind that one has to clear out the same amount of dust and other junk every December; it’s a spiritual act of cleansing as much as anything else. Besides, it’ll only get worse if you wait longer. Luckily, the kids throw themselves into the work too, for one reason in particular: money. For the New Year, parents and other relatives give children a special allowance, known as o-toshidama, which is sometimes quite substantial. And as long as they’re keen on not getting on the family’s bad side, you can bet that the parents will just as eagerly exploit their offspring’s newfound work ethic. It’s a winning situation for all parties, really.

Once that’s done, you’ll see plenty of decorations about: elegantly decorated pine branches and sacred straw rope adorn previously bare (or previously Christmas-y) doorways, and if you are able to look inside, you can see two disc-shaped slabs of mochi (a sticky, glutinous substance made of pulverized rice) stacked on top of each other, with a bitter orange sitting on top. Once the New Year comes, the mochi is broken up and eaten, but don’t eat the bitter orange—it’s got that name for a reason.

While you’re getting into the festive spirit, it’s best to also send your friends, family, and associates New Year’s cards. Known as nengajo, you can buy them pre-made or make them yourself; they usually include images of the animal for the year’s Chinese Zodiac sign, and a set phrase wishing the recipient a happy new year (such as the title of this week’s article). The post office dutifully makes sure they arrive by January first. Don’t throw them out after that, though: if you’re lucky enough, one of the cards you receive might even have its number come up in the nationwide lottery held in late January. All the better reason to try and send—and thus receive—as many cards as possible. Charity is not solely for the sake of others….

Then there’s the specially prepared food. I spent New Year’s at a Japanese household in Tokyo during my last winter vacation, and I was completely flabbergasted at the sight of so many and varied foods that the family dutifully cooks—or perhaps orders ready-made—for the New Year. What’s really astounding is that it’s all done ahead of time, so that the family can be together and not have to bother with cumbersome culinary tasks during the holiday. So instead, everyone feasts on special o-sechi ryori (New Year dishes), featuring zoni (a soup with mochi and various boiled items, which, at the risk of confusing my audience with more foreign words, reminds me great deal of matzo ball soup; good stuff), toshi-koshi soba (noodles with which to pass into the new year), kurikinton (a chestnut/potato mixture), specially-prepared egg, and many others. They are presented in as decorative a style possible, and the sheer volume can be overwhelming. I personally find that not all of it is to my liking (many of the names are actually puns related to health and good fortune in the New Year, so perhaps the elements are not necessarily chosen for how they stimulate the palate), but the sheer effort that goes into making it all is much appreciated.

But of course, no New Year’s would be complete without the customary trip to the local Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple on New Year’s Day. Called hatsumodé, this visit allows the individual to dispose of old, used-up talismans and amulet, buy new ones to help ensure health and good fortune, and to pray for a year free of worldly troubles. The larger of these locations can have lines going on for a mile or more, so maybe bring a book for the interim.

That’s the basic New Year’s playbook for life in Japan, but I’ve only really touched on the bare bones of it here: in more modern terms, the Kohaku Utagassen (Red & White Singing Competition) is a yearly televised tradition on par with New Year’s Rockin’ Eve in the States, featuring Japanese pop artists and well-known entertainers. And no self-respecting bargain hunter would be able to resist the New Year’s fukubukuro, or lucky bag, on sale at many establishments. For a (relatively) modest fee, you’re guaranteed a randomly chosen bag filled with merchandise worth at least what you paid, and often significantly more. Not too shabby, if I say so myself.

So, while Christmas in Japan may be a comparatively modest affair, I’d say that New Year’s in the Land of the Rising Sun actually outdoes its counterpart in the US by a healthy margin. In many ways, it incorporates the same themes as Christmas does in the West, but with a decidedly unique flavor. And that’s why I’m looking forward to this week. Right now, however, I should be going—I need to finish packing for my trip. Check back next week, where I’ll hopefully be back in one piece and able to tell you about it.