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Japanese Snow Monkeys!

When I first came to Japan almost exactly one year ago, I didn’t have a clear vision of what to expect – I could picture life in Tokyo, Kyoto, any of the major cities that represent Japan in the American imagination, but I really couldn’t picture what rural, Northern Japan would be like.  I had no mental images of it and had heard rumors that it was barren and isolated, and as a result I was rather scared of the life waiting for me there.  But, I held on to one hope: monkeys.  I knew Japan was home to monkeys, and, excited by the well-known images of monkeys relaxing in hot springs, I clung to the hope of someday seeing one for myself.  A monkey, I thought to myself. That will make everything better.

Flash-forward one year: over the course of three trips to Japan, Aomori has proven to be much more welcoming and beautiful than rumors led me to believe, and while it’s not always easy living here, it’s not the stark existence I feared.  In fact, its often a joy and pleasure and always interesting.  And yet, until last weekend, nothing quite felt complete because I hadn’t seen my monkey.  Though Trevor had the privilege of running across a mama monkey and some babies on his way to work last December, the monkey-sighting eluded me.  But on Saturday that all changed.

Monkey.

It was a rainy, humid morning.  Trevor and I were on our way to Goshogawara, a city about an hour away, to go shopping.  We were nearing the edge of Kodomari, driving along a road curving through a woods, when we came around a bend and saw him.  Trevor slowed the car.  I turned down the music.  We leaned forward, and peered through the rain-streaked windshield.  He came out of a little garden, lumbered across the road on all fours, and disappeared into the woods on the other side.  He was much larger than I had imagined – about the size of a medium-large dog – and to my surprise had no tail.  He had a pink little face.  We drove away beaming – me because my life was now complete, Trevor because I would shut up about seeing a monkey.

When I got home that night I researched the monkeys of Japan.  They are Japanese Macaques, also known as the Japanese Snow Monkey.  They are only found in Japan and large numbers live in Aomori, and, as I observed, they have very short tails.  But, much to my astonishment, I discovered that not everyone is so thrilled about these monkeys as I am.  In some parts of Aomori, seeing one isn’t such a rare thing.  In fact, they are often viewed as down-right pests.  According to this monkey fact site (under the section “Monkeys as Pests”), deforestation has forced troupes of monkeys into villages, where they ravage gardens, trash shrines, break into homes, steal food from children on their way to school, jump on roofs night and day.  People often kill the monkeys to get rid of them.  This saddens me.  Though it sounds like the monkeys must be quite a nuisance and problem for the people who live in these towns, killing them seems like a terrible solution.  I suppose growing up with monkeys around, the Japanese must somewhat take them for granted, but I couldn’t imagine encountering a monkey, a wild monkey, and not being in awe.  If I came home and found a monkey in my kitchen scavenging through my cupboards, I would be delighted.  If a monkey jumped on my roof night and day, I would be delighted.  Stole my lunch as I walked to school? Delighted.

A sampling of my sea glass finds

In other news, I have a hobby.  This is an unlikely development, as I’m not a “hobby” person: I either love something and immerse myself in it, or I have no interest.  I view hobbies as a sign of weakness.  And yet, here I am with my very first hobby – sea glass collecting.  It started when Trevor and I returned to the secret little Kodomari beach I mentioned in an earlier post, and while walking along the surf piece after piece of sea glass caught my eye.  I started to pick them up, and soon I had a large handful of frosted, glowing sea glass in hues of blue, white, green, and brown.  This beach seems to provide an unlimited supply of sea glass, because every time we go back, we fill up plastics bags of it, and now I have a large jar’s full and am on to a second.  I love finding pieces among the rocks and pebbles, shining and luminescent like jewels.  It’s really quite addicting, combing the beach for pieces, and it excites me to no end when I find a rare color, unusual shape, or perfectly round and frosted piece.

My sea glass jar

Sea glass is becoming more and more rare, as plastic bottles replace glass and people discover that throwing glass into the ocean isn’t such a great idea, so we’re very lucky to find a beach with a never-ending supply of it.  I’m really not sure what I’m going to do with it all.  I’ll probably take it home and fill a bottle for decoration, but that will still leave me with quite a back stock of sea glass, especially as my collection keeps growing.  If any of my dear readers know of anyone who uses sea glass for making jewelry or art, I would be glad to pass some on to them – for a small fee, of course.  In the meantime, I will keep up my sea-glassing even though there is no discernible purpose to it – because that’s what hobbies are all about, right?

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