When I saw the village covered with snow, I couldn’t resist but to say, “国境の長いトンネルを抜けるとそこは雪国であった.” (“The train came out of the long tunnel into the snow country. The earth lay white under the night sky”) A famous opening sentence from Snow Country by Kawabata Yasunari. As I looked out the window of a van like a little child who had never seen snow before, I was thanking the opportunity to join an SI study tour organized by WISH to Minamiuonuma in Niigata prefecture.
The realization of being in a snow-covered village was surreal. The landscape, blanketed in white, seemed to belong to a different world altogether. Immersed in the beautiful sceneries, we were warmly welcomed to a traditional Japanese-style inn, “minshuku.” The wooden architecture and tatami floors greatly introduced Japan’s traditions. Of course, the food provided was amazing, too. The combination of traditional local cuisines and tasty Koshihikari rice originates from Niigata.
Yet, amidst the cultural delights, my favorite thing at the Minshuku was the “kotatsu.” A low table with a built-in heater and a blanket dropped over it was a savior to the freezing weather. But more than that, it was an excellent point for fostering meaningful connections with my fellow participants in the SI program. Gathering around the kotatsu, we shared stories, laughed, and bridged cultural boundaries. The bonds we formed during this SI trip are among the most cherished.
In the midst, however, the concern of Japan’s aging population stayed in the background. Throughout our initial days, I couldn’t help but notice that all the individuals we encountered were older. This concern was further stressed when we visited the traditional textile union of echigo-jofu, where we saw the beautiful art and technique of weaving textiles by hand. I was shocked when we learned only one trainee is learning the tradition this year. Such an issue where rural communities lose cultural heritage comes from both the aging population and young people leaving for urban cities. The possible solution for this occurred to me as we also visited the Sake Brewery, where, unlike the textile industry, modern technology was seamlessly implemented to create tastier sake. The factory was very active, with many younger people, too. These visits displayed how the implementation of technologies reflected how lively the places are. So, maybe people should look for ways to implement technology in traditional industries in a way that doesn’t destroy its appeal to bring back the interest of young adults. Technology does not always drive traditional cultures to extinction–it can coexist.
As our journey at the snow country drew to a close, we discussed the fundamental question: “Why is tradition even important?” Some might say that tradition is not inherently vital to our daily lives, but it is necessary to cultivate a sense of purpose and identity. Just like how we learn the history of our country during childhood to shape our sense of self, embracing the traditions of your home is essential to answer the existential question of “who you are.” The people I met at the textile union and the sake brewery genuinely enjoyed their job, inheriting the tradition. In the current era, where the question of identity occurs quite often, taking part in tradition is a clear pathway to your life. It provides a sense of belonging, leading us to a more meaningful existence.
On our final day, we left the snow country behind to return to Tokyo. The bustle of the city is back, and the tranquility of snow is gone. It is almost as if nothing has changed, but the memory of the mesmerizing snow is truly there. My first step in Tokyo is to tell everyone about this fantastic tradition at Minamiuonuma and reflect upon my own identity and the traditions of my hometown.
