The Autumn Leaves
There was no mistaking it. He must have been one
of the cooks - the white uniform, apron and headgear gave that away.
But what on earth was he doing up there on the roof of the
restaurant? It wasn't very steep, and he didn't seem to be in much
danger. He was simply walking back and forth among the tree branches
overhanging the building, carrying a small, flat basket. I wasn't
able to watch long enough to figure out what he was doing, as my
companions were too eager to get inside, and see if we could get
seats. It was 'high season', this was a very popular restaurant, and
it was obviously going to be very crowded.
A small group of former English students of mine
had suggested we do a bit of 'maple viewing', over on the Tama River
in the Okutama area. I've been up there walking any number of times,
but had never managed to make it during the season for seeing the
fall foliage. Part of this had been my desire to avoid the crowds at
that season, but the general 'busy-ness' of autumn had really been
the main reason. Over the years though, I'd heard so much about the
fabulous scenery up there, that when the suggestion was made for this
trip, I didn't hesitate to accept.
Things hadn't gone according to plan. One of the
members had cancelled, another was late, and we then found out at the
station that the trains were all off schedule, due to some kind of
problem down the line somewhere. We were thus arriving at the
restaurant nearly an hour behind our planned time, and didn't really
expect to find a place. But there must have been some cancellations
(perhaps because of the train problem), because to our surprise we
were not only given seats, but given the best seats in the house - a
corner table overlooking the river. Huge wide windows, with the warm
sun streaming across the table. And outside, spreading all the way up
the mountainside opposite, were the colours we had come to
see.
My companions were duly appreciative. "Wonderful!"
"We're here just at the right time ..." "The colours are so beautiful
this year!", etc. etc. And it was a very pleasant scene - the
sunlight reflecting off the water surface upstream providing a
sparkling highlight to the green, yellow and brown panorama. They
turned to me, "You don't have anything like this in your country, do
you?"
"We...ll, no. Not exactly ..." I tried to keep my
voice neutral. But these women know me well, and the hesitation gave
me away. "What's wrong? Don't you think our Japanese 'momiji' are
beautiful?" Now I was in the soup. They were very proud of their
beautiful scenery, and happy to be showing it to a foreigner. I
shouldn't criticize it ... But what to say about the autumn colours
in Canada? What to say about those Quebec mountainsides clothed in
fire ... the absolutely brilliant reds, oranges and yellows? What to
say about driving down a rural highway surrounded by displays of
vivid colour that completely defy description? What to say about the
crispness of the air, the unbelievable depth of the blueness of the
sky ...? How to tell them about these things without seeming to
criticize their autumn scenery? As I said though, we know each other
well, so I told them of these things, albeit a little
apprehensively.
As it happens, I needn't have been so worried.
They listened attentively to my description of the glories of autumn
in Eastern Canada, but were not impressed. It wasn't that my
description was inadequate; perhaps I even overdid things. It was
simply that to their minds, such concepts as 'brightness',
'boldness', 'vividness' and 'clarity', were not particularly positive
points. To them, the image I presented was simply too strong ... too
'noisy'. They didn't want to be 'hit in the face' with their autumn,
they rather seemed to want delicate shadings ... sublety ...
gentleness ...
It was at this point in our discussion that one of
them directed my attention to the plate in front of me (if I can use
that rather bald word 'plate' to describe such a beautiful ceramic
creation ...). Our meal consisted of a dozen or so small courses,
brought in turn by a kimono-clad waitress. The current dish was made
up of a selection of five morsels, some meat, some vegetable. My
friend pointed in turn to each one of the five, and then out the
window. At first, I didn't understand what she was trying to
indicate. One of the other women had to spell it out for me. Each of
the five items was an autumn colour - and matched exactly a colour
that we could see from our window. Our dish was a tasteful (in two
ways!) representation of the mountain scenery in front of us. I
nodded my understanding. She was too polite to ask me if we had
anything like this in my country ...
The rest of our meal became a kind of game; what
was the 'significance' of each serving? Many were fairly
straightforward - being simply seasonal vegetables. Some were more
complicated - the name of the dish had a poetic allusion to the
season. And a few of them defeated us (I should say - defeated them)
completely. But at one point during the meal, a light went on over my
head. Placed ever-so-carefully next to the food on one of the plates
was ... a curled-up orange-brown maple leaf. Of course! This was what
the cook had been doing up on the roof ... collecting ingredients for
our lunch from the overhanging tree branches!
This time my companions were not so polite.
Laughing, they started to ask me, "In your country ..." I couldn't
even let them finish the question. The idea of a restaurant cook
prowling across the roof picking brown leaves to decorate the lunch
... No, I had to admit that I didn't think this would happen in
Canada.
So we came to a sort of draw. In their minds, the
Canadian autumn is a rather brash affair; 'beautiful' yes, but
somewhat unsophisticated. And to me, the Japanese autumn is a
basically unimpressive show, for which the Japanese compensate by
playing these poetic 'games'. To each his own. And is it really a
coincidence that each of these two countries has the climate that
creates an autumn suited so exactly to the character of its people?
Or is it that the character of the people has been shaped by such
things as the colour of their autumn leaves? An interesting question
indeed ...