On Three Days of Discussion About How to Enter the Apartment アパートに入る方法に関する3日間の議論
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Chapter 1 On Three Days of Discussion About How to Enter the Apartment アパートに入る方法に関する3日間の議論 July 14 2015 From Wikipedia: Genkan[edit] Main article: Genkan One characteristic of a Japanese home is the genkan, or entryway. It includes a small area, at the same level as the outside, where arriving people remove their shoes. As they take o their shoes, people step up onto a raised floor. They point the tips of their shoes to the outside. The rest of the residence is at the raised level of this floor. Adjacent to the lower floor is a shelf or cabinet called a getabako (geta box) in which people will place their shoes. Slippers for indoor use are usually placed there. This was causing a big problem, and discussion about it went on for days. Our entryway couldn't be too low, because of the possibility of water instrusion. A previous owner had placed some cinder blocks along the wall (or more precisely, along the bottom of what used to be the garage door) that is to become our front door. Karl's first thought was to remove the bricks, in order to keep the level of the genkan lower than that of the tatami floor. But the blocks were there for the obvious purpose of keeping water out. Water tends to collect--probably from multiple sources--right in this spot. And it isn't standing water, it seems to flow through this spot, as if we're glimpsing the top of an underground stream. (Note: We discovered weeks later that the source of the water was not an underground stream exactly, but 2 inch plactic pipe that connected to a storm drain system. Except the water was flowing up from the drain, rather than down the drain.) Removing the blocks would invite disaster. Option two was to have visitors take a giant step over the bricks into the genkan, but that didn't seem practical. Finally Karl declared that we would have to compromise: the transition from outside to inside would have to be visual, or textural, but we would not be able to have a "step up." I tried to explain this to Ann, who looked at me with a blank expression. "What do you mean, there won't be a step up?" I pointed out the logistical challenges, and the thought process that led to Karl's compromise, and she wouldn't have any of it. "Why is the step so important?" I asked. "Because without it, it wouldn't be Japanese" was the response. The next day Ann met with Karl. Within 5 minutes they had decided to build up the floor throughout the entire apartment to 6.5 inches, so that there would be a four inch step up from the genkan. That didn't leave a lot of room between floor and ceiling. Toby, slightly taller than I, stood on a 6.5 inch platform, bouncing around a little, and we all nodded approvingly. Anyone taller will have to stoop, but Toby and I are fine. As for how to handle the water accumulation near the entrance, the solution is brilliant. We embrace it. The "porch" will be a large river rock, from which you will step onto a "welcoming rock" in the genkan, from which you will step up to the tatami floor. Tomorrow we're meeting Ron, the mason, in Santa Cruz to do some rock shopping. Ann says: Embracing the water accumulation is like “lovingly reconciling your enemy”, as my dad used to say about the basic philosophy of Aikido. The character for “ai” in Aikido means harmony, and Aikido is about being in harmony with the rest of the world, rather than resisting. Rather than pushing back against an opponent, practitioners of Aikido pull their opponents in so that the opponent’s energy harmonizes with their own. The founder of Aikido said, “The secret of Aikido is to harmonize ourselves with the movement of the universe and bring ourselves into accord with the universe itself.” Chapter 2 Rocks and Woods 岩や森 July 17 2015 Yesterday we drove to Santa Cruz to meet Ronnie, the mason, to choose some rocks for the genkan. Ronnie was running late, so we had pretty much settled on something before he got there. He was happy with the choice, and thought it would work well. We all liked them so much that we decided to pave the entire genkan with rocks, instead of having just a "welcoming stone." There's a picture below. Meanwhile, Karl was spending some time at a mill in Boulder Creek. Our sleeping room is a three mat room, and there is some leftover space that will be filled in with hardwood floor. Karl was particularly happy with the fact that he had found a plank that would essentially fill the space with one piece. He proudly drove it by this morning to show it o (second piece from the top, left of the pile, on the back of his truck). You can also see, right on top of the pile, a walnut burl that will become the top of the tokonoma cabinets. On the bottom of the pile are the hefty beams that will be "matchbox" cut for the ceiling panels. And finally, while Ronnie was noisily cutting through cinder blocks and removing chunks of concrete from the bathroom floor (to move the floor drain underneath the soaking tub that Karl has constructed), I overheard this unlikely conversation: Karl: We're going to need three shojis in the sleeping room...two for the windows, and a big one for the door. Have you checked the inventory? Mark: Yes, we have enough, but some of them are going to need repair. Karl: Do we have paper? Mark: Yes, but we might need some glue. Karl; Well, that's just boiling rice, so we ought to be able to handle that! Chapter 3 A Gallery of Construction Grati 建設落書きギャラリー July 20 2015 Chapter 4 On the Garden 庭の上で July 20 2015 I'm excited about the potential for this spot, but I don't have a vision yet. Today I cleaned it up, removed the ivy that threatened to take over, raked it, and stared at it a while. I think this was a dog pen at one time, and I took out a lot of wire mesh and odds and ends that were stued into openings between the trees. I discovered a bay tree sprouting in the large stump near the center of the picture. It was hot today, and I could smell the baking bay leaves before I saw them. Chapter 5 On Meeting the Landscaper 造園家との出会い July 23 2015 Today we met with Karl and his friend Toru Kawamura. The meeting lasted about an hour, but specifics of landscaping took up only a small fraction of the converstion that drifted from Japanese to English to broken Japanese to broken English. Karl and Toru spoke of the time they met, when they were both planting rice in adjacent fields in southern Japan. Karl lamented his failed attempts to grow rice in the Santa Cruz mountains. We learned that we have an avocado tree. Toru took every opportunity to mention his new grandson, and chided Karl for his lack of grandchildren. He will be cutting down on his landscaping work so that he can babysit one day a week. They spoke of the Zen temple they built together in northern California, and of their collaboration on Jack Oneill's house in Santa Cruz. They talked of bamboo (evidently Karl is the former President of the Bamboo Society), and of red pine. They sounded like a couple of aging rock stars talking about the old days at the Fillmore. They did their best to trace the path of the sun overhead, and speculated on how that might aect the arrangement of the elements of the garden. Toru said it all starts with the rocks. Karl described the reflection of the moonlight from the rocks in his garden, and insisted that he and Toru were striving not to build a garden, but to create a poem. "We want poetry in your lives." While cleaning up the yard, I'd discovered a midden of burl chunks. It looked like someone had cut up a tree stump, and piled the pieces at the base of a redwood, where the ivy covered them up. They were interesting, and I'd wondered if there was a way to incorporate them into the landscape. Toru spotted one of them from a distance, and everyone agreed that it was reminiscent of Kannon, the goddess of mercy. Oddly enough, it was the Kannon Ryokan where Ann and I visited in 2012 that was a big part of the inspiration for this basement project. In the end we agreed to build a fence, to look for rocks, and to allow the materials to guide us. For the fence, Karl plans to use a technique that involves burning the wood, then wire-brushing the burned parts. "I've been wanting to teach the guys how to do that anyway." (Toru prefers letting nature do the carbon removal) Ann, who is prone to small world moments, had another with Karl, when they discovered that they have a mutual aquaintance with a Zen priest from the Myoshinji Temple Compound in Kyoto, and they had each recently spent time in the same temple within weeks of one another,. "Of all the gin joints and Buddhist temples..." she said. The Zen priest was a wrestler for Arizona State.