Alas, that’s exactly where I got it.

Cafe Infidelity and The Eye of Sauron in Aotearoa New Zealand

When I was a little boy, Friday night meant one thing, and one thing only:

Aotearoa New Zealand’s staple dish:

Fish and chips!

Which for me meant chips and a pineapple fritter from a local shop in Waiwhetū. We each got one thing with our chips, and I ah, wasn’t very creative.

That was 30 years ago, I like to think I’m more creative now.

Either way, I went back to Waiwhetū recently for mum’s funeral. Due to the nature of the event we had to rush back to Aotearoa from Japan and I didn’t have time to prepare my normal coffee setup. Which was fine and all because it’s Aotearoa. These days decent coffee can be had on pretty much any street corner, including on the street corner in Waiwhetū where we used to get fish and chips.

Or, to be precise, the exact shop.

You see, our old fish and chips shop is now Rascals Espresso Bar.

There’s probably something in that: the place we used to go for sustenance on a Friday night turned into a place we currently go to for sustenance every morning. And you know what? What with their album of the week, customers’ dogs’ photos on display, and umm.. coffee? it’s a definite upgrade!

If only rural Japan turned dead shops into cafes... I mean, if a small suburb like Waiwhetū can sustain two cafes side-by-side, anything is possible.

That’s right.

The lowly suburb of Waiwhetū is home to two cafes. Contrary to popular belief, the second cafe was not in a fish and chip shop, but it is close. A mere three doors down from Rascals and you will find elph. coffee.

Oh yeah, and the eye of Sauron.

My first day back here I just went to the closest cafe to our accommodation: elph.

And it was good.

Very good.

elph. is rather compact, but it has one special trick that makes it seem much larger: windows that open with a bench so you can lean over and people watch to your heart’s content.

However, this one feature means elph. seems to have attracted the wrong kind.

You know the type.

The resident older dude with his two-hour old coffee who by now is well and truly part of the furniture.

Yet perhaps the most impressive, and terrifying, part of his whole setup is the complete lack of a smartphone.

In 2026.

I know!

Zero interest in doom scrolling. Zero interest in pretending to look important, or cool for that matter.

Just pure, unadulterated people watching. Or people judging, am I right?

Everyone knows these old dudes are lowkey judging everyone like they own the place, but no one cares because they are old dudes lowkey judging everyone.

You know, the enlightened type. They have reached 100% main-character state of uncaring even a cat would be proud of.

I’m willing to bet you’ve seen a few. I certainly have. In the past year alone I’ve seen some in as far flung places as Australia, Ireland, and of course where I live in rural Japan.

In Japan they call them Ojisan, and their natural habitat is glued to a Starbucks table.

Anyway, little did I know, this guy at elph. wasn’t simply lowkey judging everyone…

Seeing as this is espresso country, I know I probably shouldn’t, but I ask the nice people of elph. whether they have filter coffee.

Negative.

Now, what with the stress of the past six months, I’ve um, put on a bit of weight. I’m trying to watch my weight by doing intermittent fasting. Filter coffee simultaneously tastes great, has zero calories, or thereabouts, and is easy on the stomach (unlike a shot of espresso, for example).

Alas, elph. doesn’t do filter coffee, so I bear that in mind and order a flat white instead. I hadn’t had one in quite a while, and my fast can wait another day.

Like, the next day.

I want to see if anywhere else nearby has filter coffee, AKA our old fish and chips shop turned espresso bar.

Problem is though, I have to walk past elph. to get to Rascals. I know full well if I get seen walking back with a coffee cup from another shop the guilt would kill me.

So, I do the old put-on-a-hat-and-keep-your-face-low trick as I walk past.

And I’m in luck. Maybe elph. haven’t opened up shop yet or something. Their windows aren’t open, and the old dude is nowhere to be seen.

I scurry past, enter Rascals Espresso Bar, and ask whether they have any filter coffee.

Affirmative!

I order one for myself, and a mocha for my wife, but the moment the words leave my mouth I get an unsettling feeling in my stomach.

‘Must be hunger from the first day of a fast. No biggie.’ I tell myself.

Idiot.

I pick up my order once it’s ready and head out the door. The moment I step outside, though, I notice the windows are slightly ajar, and through the gap a blazing red judgmental eye locks onto the coffee cups in my hands, before slowly moving up to the shocked look of pure horror on my face.

You wouldn’t believe it unless you saw it:

The Eye of Sauron.

In Waiwhetū.

In the window of elph. no less.

You see, one does not simply walk past elph.

Now for the rest of my stay here I have to make like Frodo just to get my morning brew.

Thanks, Sauron.

Dickhead.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for September 4 to 10, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

1. Dams and Levees

2. Why us? What is?

3. Make the Most of a Good Situation

4. Force it Out

5. Plasters Out

6. You Know You Have to Do That

7. It All Adds Up

Dad died of a heart attack. Mum’s death took more than ten years. I can unequivocally confirm that dying quick is the way to go.

My parents were both in fine health up until just over 10 years ago when dad died. They were perfectly healthy at our wedding in 2015, although to be honest we did notice more than a few things with mum then.

There was a time probably around 2017 when I told mum I was going to visit her, but she had completely forgotten. I had to get myself to her house from the airport (not easy in Wellington after flying in from Japan) and even then nothing was set up. I had to get the bedding for my bed out and everything. That was quite a shock at the time, but it would have been a good surprise for mum!

I was somewhere over the Pacific when mum actually passed. Luckily we got to say our goodbyes in March. I remember wondering whether in-flight wifi was a good thing or not, flying time is ripe for catching up on reading and all. But if it means getting messages like this in transit rather than when you land, well yeah I’m still debating that. I have never stared at a message on a screen for so long.

Surprises Along The Way

There were a few things about mum’s death that surprised me, but in hindsight make a lot of sense:

First, due to the nature of mum’s disease, grief starts well before the person actually passes. What really surprised me about that was in recent weeks I was forgetting things like Japanese words I normally wouldn’t forget, or things that were just said to me a moment ago. Don’t worry, this is not dementia, it’s a survival mechanism. You only focus on the immediate things that matter, not whether it’s going to rain next Tuesday, or if little Jimmy will have a cracker but not a biscuit.

Anyway, that was weird. And it may continue for a little while. I’ve taken to keeping notes more often in the meantime.

One Step Closer to Harry Potter

Another weird thing is the realisation that I find myself as an orphan at age 38. Something like 30 to 35% of people in their late 30s have lost one parent. That number goes down considerably when you factor in losing the other (something like 5%).

Most people lose their parents sometime in their 50s or 60s. I’m about 15-20 years ahead of the curve. Let’s just say if you come to me complaining about your parents, well, don’t be surprised if I don’t care so much. It’s a survival mechanism, don’t you know.

(Use this as a push for you to thank your parents, if they are still with us. Also, ask them why they chose your name too, something I never had the chance to ask (when I cared, at least). I know Timothy is from the Bible, but that’s about it…)

Reality Hits Fast

I went to pick up mum’s stuff from the rest home in the afternoon after they took her away. A mere 5 hours after she had been moved and that room was spick and span! All of mum’s stuff had been shifted into 5 big plastic bags, although a lot of it was clothes. That was quite a shock, but I guess the rest home has ends to meet…

On that note, I helped clear out both of my parents’ houses (they lived in separate homes). I don’t think I’m a minimalist, but because of that, I don’t think I have an excess of stuff either (well, not too much). A friend of ours has been doing some Marie Kondo cleaning up at our house. Let’s just say, given my experience, I think that stuff makes a lot of sense!

If not for the Japanese culture thing behind it, it’s definitely worth looking at your stuff and seeing if it ‘sparks joy’. If it doesn’t, guess who has to clean up the stuff even you don’t like? (I sound bitter, but I’m not. Well, about mum at least. Dad on the other hand… did those old cans of dried-up paint spark joy??)

The Yamabushi Connection

I became a yamabushi largely because of my dad’s death. Then there’s the fact mum died the morning of the first day of the Aki no mine autumn’s peak ritual, my only personal yamabushi training each year.

Dad died on a public holiday. From dad I learned you can forever mar that day as a sad day, or you can flip it on its head and think of it as a celebration of a life (well) lived. The choice is yours.

Yamabushi training is one of death and rebirth, not usually literal death though. I honestly believe yamabushi training is the most practical way to grieve that exists. Plenty of Japanese people either do yamabushi training, or climb mountains in memory of loved ones as that is where our souls are said to go when we pass. (The souls of the ancestors are represented by dragonflies, coincidentally something my uncle mentioned in his speech at mum’s funeral. Did he know Mt. Gassan, the mountain of the afterlife, is covered in them?)

Motivation

I hope you use this as a reminder to be thankful to your parents. Also use it as a reminder to look after yourself, especially by getting proper sleep and eating well.

And as I’ve said before, dad’s passing was motivation that led to what you’re reading right now. I intend to continue this for the foreseeable future, and you’ll notice I have kept up the Daily Yamabushi, of course.

If you’ve gotten this far and haven’t read ’s most recent book, do yourself a favour. Despite the self-help title, Eight Million Ways to Happiness is by far the best representation of Japanese spirituality and attitudes towards grieving I have ever read.

Lastly, here’s what I wrote for my speech at mum’s funeral on Tuesday:

Because of Mum

“Thanks Tim. Here is your mother’s funeral speech fully formatted and ready to copy paste into Microsoft Word.”

The purest form of love imaginable is that between a mother and child.

I’ve known mum my whole life. I knew about her a whole nine months before I even knew about any of you lot.

There are certain things we don’t remember because we know those close to us will. We store our memories in those around us, and no one more so than our own mothers.

So when our mothers die, we don’t just lose them, we lose a huge part of ourselves, the biggest part possible.

My earliest memory is mum pushing my pram down Wyndrum Ave on the way to Waterloo Kindy.

I still, vaguely mind you, remember, as a 4-5 year old, getting out of bed at Wyndrum ave, while it’s still light outside, opening the front door, opening the gate, and going down our long driveway to be found by a neighbour trying to cross the road.

So much for ‘eyes in the back of your head’ ay mum?

Mum taught me how to drive, how to spell ‘sufficient’, what a miser was, and how to tie my shoes. She taught me how to use the toilet. Mum taught me how to use a knife and fork, but she always admitted she regretted not teaching me how to use a spoon properly (true story, I hold it like a baby if I’m not actively thinking about it).

Because of Mum I could learn how to swim, and then play waterpolo for so many years, even coming third in NZ.

Because of Mum I could study Japanese, interpret for Olympic champions, world-famous magazine reporters, local mayors and politicians.

Because of mum I could have KFC on my fifth birthday.

Because of Mum I could have peanut butter for Christmas.

Because of mum I could go galavanting around the countryside.

Because of Mum I could meet my wife, and my two daughters.

Because of Mum I could exist.

Because of Mum I could learn that the purest form of love imaginable is that between a mother and child.

So Thanks Mum,

Ka kite ano

Your beautiful blue-eyed baby boy.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for Forever (August 14 to September 3, 2026)

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

Rather than clicking on these individually, you can just read all at once here.

August 14 to 20

1. Let Them Play Their Games

2. Incremental Gains

3. Stop Not Doing

4. Just Go Slow

5. Light on a Foggy Road

6. When Do You Do?

7. When Small Things Matter

August 21 to 27

1. We Can Work it Out When We Can Work it Out

2. Defeated

3. The Smoothest Way to Go

4. Watch Your Posture

5. If it Comes to it

6. When Doing Something Means Doing Nothing

7. Make it Bearable

August 28 to September 3

1. You Panic. I Panic.

2. Fear of Falling

3. Take Away Temptation

4. What Works

5. A Function Of

6. The Real Real Training

7. What is the End Game?

I have always struggled with ANA’s app. I find it extremely unintuitive (Air New Zealand’s is great in comparison), but this time around it kind of saved my ass. There was an option in the app to book a new flight, which I did successfully, and I still arrived back home on the Tuesday, albeit closer to 10pm.

I’ve heard the Shonai flight is the shortest flight out of Haneda, or at least one of the shortest, besides one of the islands off Tokyo’s coast. I’d believe it. The whole flying time was less than 40 minutes. If only we didn’t have to wait on the tarmac for 30-odd minutes beforehand, but yeah, first world problems!

Anyway, I was originally planning for a layover of about 5 hours which turned into about 9. My original plan was to go to the Onsen (hot spring) in Haneda Airport Garden attached to terminal 3. I had to buffer that with a few strolls around the terminal, and a visit to one of the lounges (this place was perfect for me and they do drop-ins).

Before that, though, I put my luggage in a locker.

Or tried to, at least.

First, it wouldn’t fit. I had a soft-shell hybrid suitcase bag thing that I ah, had packed too much. My excuse is that clothes in Japan don’t fit me, so I tend to buy (a lot) when I go overseas. This time was no different. A few yamabushi heaves later though, and I was in.

Or so I thought.

If you look at the bottom of this picture, right under where you put the coins in there are a whole lot of logos including the coveted D-Barai. Once the luggage is in and the red lock button turns green, the screen pops up with a payment method thing. However, nowhere on the screen did it say ‘pay by QR code’, only IC card or cash. Now, I did have an IC card, and cash, but neither give me D-points. And let’s be honest, D-points are what I really wanted. I asked a random guy there who told me QR-code payment was indeed possible, but when he tried to show me…

Computer says no.

Turns out the lockers I had chosen indeed did not accept QR codes besides saying so right there.

The lockers on the other side though…

By then I was pretty ready for an onsen, even if it was quite literally 10x the normal amount we pay in Yamagata.

According to the website, it’s normally 4,800yen, but since it was Obon the price was jacked up to 6,000yen. To be honest, I just really wanted a shower of some sort, but also to kill the time in a way that didn’t make me sleep.

The onsen fit the bill.

Like, really fit the bill.

Had a steam sauna with mint fragrance, outdoor bath overlooking a river with Tokyo in the distance, and a cold pool that was actually cold (sometimes they aren’t). Almost as good as the onsen in Yamagata.

Almost.

Anyway, here are a few things I found while in transit (and before):

Chaeyongi ga johahaneun raendeom geim
Raendeom geim
Game start…

Further Reading:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for August 7 to August 13, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. All View No Visibility

2. The Old Lady

3. The Pause Before The Storm

4. As a Matter of Fact

5. My Entertainment

6. Looking in The Wrong Place

7. A Reason to be Kind

See if you can guess the things in the following passage that are cultural faux pas or otherwise impossible in Japan:

Aight. How many did you pick up?

It’s just after 7am on cool summer’s day in Cork, Ireland.

Being in Cork, Ireland is true. I’m not just a yamabushi, don’t you know? Hansei Hanzoku and all that. All of my four grandparents have some sort of connection to Ireland, and my Grandad’s family Cork especially. So I guess I could call myself an honorary Irishman? Nah, I don’t think the Irish would let me get away with that. Especially when I proudly wear my All Blacks shirt everywhere (sorry not sorry!).

Jet-lagged, I’m walking down Patrick’s Street with a croissant in one hand, and freshly brewed pour over coffee in the other.

In Ireland, as in New Zealand, you can walk around and eat or drink without feeling guilty. Sure, you can do that at festivals in Japan, but Japanese people really don’t like it around town. I suppose it’s a bit like talking with food in your mouth; common (Japanese) sense says you shouldn’t do it. Common sense also says there should be rubbish bins around, but I don’t know (more on that in a second)…

Wanting to capture this moment, I place the stuff down, whip out my phone, and snap a photo. Suddenly, I remember, ‘oh yeah, no sound’.

This is true too. Buy a phone in Japan and you can’t get rid of the sound when you take a photo. It’s to combat voyeurism, apparently. I only know this from stealthily taking photos for participants on the mountains during yamabushi training (I swear), but there’s a very easy workaround, so easy it makes me wonder why they still bother with the sound at all. It’s an app called Simple Cam. In other words, the barrier to entry for voyeurism in Japan costs about as much as a bowl of Ramen.

Once done, I throw the rubbish in a nearby bin.

This still seems to trip people up. Everyone knows rubbish bins don’t exist in Japan. Well, they do. But they’re about as few and far between as an empty seat on the Yamanote line at 8am. Once you find one it’s exactly like coming across a Kami in the flesh.

Just like in other countries how you have to be strategic about carrying a water bottle or a keep cup (not in Japan!), you have to be strategic about getting rid of your rubbish. To be honest, I’m completely used to it now. You can sneakily get rid of rubbish at cafes and the like by adding it to the outgoing rubbish on your plate, or find a Conbini and ‘borrow’ their rubbish bin instead. Either that, or wait until you catch one of the voyeurs, and put it in their bag or something (raw rubbish is best for this).

There’s a guy sitting there smoking a cigarette,

To be honest I was surprised to see so many people smoking here, but I guess that’s a European thing (?). Japan has a weird relationship with smoking, even having a third stake in a tobacco company. Creating a bizarre world where smoking on the street was banned years ago for safety and optics, but smoking indoors in a local izakaya remained sacred tradition.

shaking his leg like there’s no tomorrow.

This!

This is a cultural faux pas in Japan. You never shake your leg if you can avoid it. The call it binbo yusuri, literally ‘poor man’s shaking’. For Japanese people, this is a sign of anxiety, impatience, lack of self control, or even worse, a ‘poor’ upbringing. It comes from an old belief whereby shaking your leg is literally shaking away your wealth, luck, or good fortune, which of course leads to, well, being poor. In other words, if you’re poor, stop shaking your leg!

Since it is a little cold out, I put my hands in my pockets as I search for a public toilet.

This one was surprising for me too, it took me a few years to get over. In Japan, as much as possible you don’t walk around with your hands in your pockets. This seemingly innocent act is anything but. Walking around with your hands in your pockets changes your posture making you look slumped and defensive. Or, it makes you seem darashinai, sloppy, lazy, or otherwise unrefined. This sends a signal that you are untrustworthy, arrogant, or “too cool” to pay attention to those around you.

In the past in Japan, hiding your hands signalled potential hostility. People were unsure whether you were holding a weapon, or in other words, hiding your intentions. Japanese kids are (apparently) taught not to walk around with their hands in their pockets, mainly as a way to help them catch their fall shall they fall over (true story). As anyone who has tried running on snow or ice with their hands in their pockets could attest to, this is good advice.

In other words, everything is about looks. Like how Takaichi says they want to avoid Japan ‘looking’ like it is unkind to foreigners, AKA it’s fine to be unkind, but not look it! Kind of like the whole phone camera making a sound thing. It’s just for show.

Post-coffee poos are not to be taken lightly.

Post-coffee poos are not to be taken lightly.

Which brings us, naturally, to the mechanics of Western toilets:

A few minutes later, I wash and dry my hands, and I’m on my way.

This one. Man.

To put it lightly, even in summer a cold toilet seat is rather unpleasant. Japan has that part very right. Forget the bidets and all the gadgets, please, for the love of Kami, introduce heated toilet seats, or at least seats that are not cold to the touch!

On that note, using a urinal in Ireland left me wondering ‘why the lack of shelf?’ Japanese urinals, and toilets in general, always have a shelf behind them for you to place whatever it is you may be holding in your hand (well, besides your penis).

So, how many did you pick up? How right am I? Let me know!

Further reading:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 31 to August 6, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Cheerleaders and Coaches

2. One of Many, One of One

3. What Are The Sensations?

4. What About This Moment?

5. Get Lost

6. Life is Too Short

7. Put Some Stake in it

Step One: Go into Starbucks.

Mistake number one.

Step Two: Order a decaf.

Mistake number two.

Step Three: Expect a normal response.

Mistake number three.

I walk up to the counter to a server who was clearly sizing me up:

“Konnichi wa. Burakku dekafe hotto no toru onegai dekimasu ka?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, she holds up a finger, turns to the colleague behind her, and, as if I don’t exist, says:

“‘Juppun kakaru’ tte Eigo de nan to iun deshitakke?” (“How do you say ‘it takes ten minutes’ in English?”)

Thinking, did I stutter? I immediately say:

“Nihongo de ii desu yo” (“you can speak to me in Japanese”).

What continues is a conversation in that awkward mix of semi-confident English on one side, and, to be frank, pretty good Japanese on the other.

Off the bat I probably should have just said “it takes ten minutes, does it?”, but I copped out.

Weakling.

Now, in case you missed it, Lizard People are the sort of people who arrive in a rural Japanese town en masse in a massive multi-million dollar ship, take token photos, and then go back whence they came (belong).

You, dear reader, by reading this newsletter have proven that you are indeed not a Lizard Person.

Thank Kami for that.

Normally, Lizard People are harmless. Although, they do leave behind a dangerous footprint: wherever they lurk, a permanent, town-wide “English Panic Mode” sets in, including, but not limited to, pretty much every corporate chain in rural Yamagata (which, as I’ve explained before, is as dangerous as it sounds).

And yes, that includes Uniqlo:

The staff member sizes me up as I wait in line. When it’s my turn, I put my Airism in the self scanning box thing, and push the button that says ‘begin purchase’. Next second, out of nowhere a ninja arm swoops in and starts tap tap tapping on the screen, trying to put it into English.

Woah Nelly! Hang on a second!

“Nihongo de ii desu yo!”

But instead of the expected dogeza, the deepest bow possible where the forehead reaches the ground, I get a simple “shitsurei shimashita”, the equivalent of ‘sorry for the trouble’, but quite literally: ‘I was rude’.

Yeah, no need to tell me.

Now, where can a yamabushi get some food around here?

I mentioned every corporate chain in Yamagata seemed infected, but there was one exception:

Family Mart.

The holy grail of all things Japan and convenience (mainly because of the D-points).

I notice the old dude behind the counter sizing me up before I even reach the onigiri section. I grab my staple, konbu (kelp) and ‘sea chicken’ (a story for next time), and place them on the counter. What with my recent luck at Japanese chain stores, my mouth automatically starts to say “nihongo de ii…”

“Attamegga?”

Zero attempt at English. Not even formal Japanese. Rural, Shonai dialect for “do you want it heated?”.

My kind of guy! I seem to have found the last bastion of non-Lizard People in northern Japan, in a Family Mart of all places.

I ask if he can speak English because… just joking!

Lizard People be damned!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 24 to 30, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Attitude For Gratitude

2. Keeping The Rhythm is Keeping The Peace

3. Complaints Are Simply a Sign to Change Something

4. Get Them When You Can. Get Them Good.

5. Too Good For The All Stars

6. Your Existence is Offensive to Someone

7. Build the Block Tower Together

Haguro-san’s National Treasure Five Story Pagoda is famously shiraki (白木), literally ‘white wood’, what we would call in English ‘blank’ or ‘unvarnished’. Even after more than 650 years in brutal snow country, the tower famously still has zero paint, varnish, or unnecessary embellishments.

This is entirely on purpose.

Ask any local guide and they’ll give you the standard line ‘it was left unpainted to blend into the surrounding cedar forest.’

Cool story bro.

Or, as I like to say:

amateur.

I mean, that would make sense if the tower wasn’t built 200 years before the cedar forest was planted.

But still.

What if I told you the real reason the pagoda lacks any pigment could be political? What if I told you that leaving the massive timber structure unpainted was a 29-metre (95.1 ft.) middle finger to establishment?

Because it may well have been.

To understand this, you have to understand where we live in Japan: Literally ‘east north’, Tohoku is the north-east part of Honshu, Japan’s main island. Otherwise known as ‘bum-fuck nowhere’, ‘where the fuck is that’, or ’the deep north’, Tohoku covers 30% of Japan’s main island of Honshu.

And yet, the whole region more often than not fails to get a mention in many an ‘ultimate’ or ‘best’ Japan itinerary1.

I sound bitter.

I’m not bitter.

In fact, it’s the opposite.

I really really don’t want this area to turn into Kyoto. We don’t need your kind around here, and all that. (It’s one reason why Yamabushido has such a rigorous vetting process). Plus, I think anyone reading this newsletter is sophisticated enough to want the same.

Anyway, these ‘ultimate Japan itineraries’ aren’t exactly wrong to discount Tohoku. Well, if they were using a map that is more than 1,000 years old, that would make sense.

You see, 1,000 years ago, Tohoku was not part of Japan. In those days Tohoku was full of Emishi, Ebisu, or Ezo. Or, as those fools from the capital at the time Kyoto (or Nara) say,

‘barbarians’.

Either way, despite being on the same island in an island country, Tohoku never used to be a part of Japan. What with their “culture” and “green” tea, it took those dudes from Kyoto a looooong time to conquer this place. Like four hundred years long (to do a proper job, at least. See here).

The Emishi had been in “Japan” much longer than that. Like 10,000-15,000 years longer. It got so bad for the imperial court they had to invent a brand new military title just for the guy sent to take them over: Sei’i Taishogun, which literally translates to “Great General Who Subdues the Barbarians (referring to the Emishi, not the people in Kyoto)”.

Or in English:

Shogun.

So, what does this have to do with a centuries-old, 95-foot, 1-and-23/32-inch2 unpainted tower on Haguro-san?

Oh yeah. About that.

Purposely not using varnish or paint was on purpose.

Called shu, or vermilion in English, you may have noticed many temples and shrines in Japan are painted a specific shade of red. Why? Red represents the yang element of fire that acts as a spiritual shield against the cold, dark forces of yin.

In case you didn’t realise, yin and yang are concepts from China, part of the Taoist and Chinese Five Elements philosophy. Basically, fire is pure yang energy associated with light, warmth, and life. For the punks in Kyoto and Nara, painting things this way was a spiritual firewall to ward off evil.

Plus they had the funds to do it too.

Cool story bro.

Very cool indeed.

Now, to be fair, unpainted wood isn’t unique to Haguro-san. Not in the slightest. Shinto shrines, like Ise Jingu, were always built shiraki to honour the spirit of the wood.

But when Buddhism rolled in from China, the Japanese imperial court in Kyoto decided that “proper” spiritual architecture required slathering everything in bright, imported Chinese red. The yamabushi of Haguro were not having a bar of it. When it came to choosing which shade of red to paint the five story pagoda, the Haguro yamabushi were like ‘we don’t need your patent-pending state-approved Chinese vermilion lacquer to connect with nature’.

And so the Yamabushi of Haguro-san did what the people of Tohoku have always done: ignored the capital, backed their own mountains, and raw-dogged a National Treasure.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 17 to 23, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. A Good Coincidence

2. Real World Data

3. Dealing in Nows

4. Live With What You’ve Got

5. The Nerve of the Situation

6. Under the Bright Lights

7. It’s all Progress

Japan’s Final Boss, Bank Edition: Lord of The Passbook

An old man, old enough to be Father Time, wearing a green visor and a beaming smile leans back in his chair. Careful not to wrinkle his oversized suit, he reaches under his desk, picks something up, and places two items on top before he says:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be? The plastic cling wrap? Or the pocket tissues?”

“We’ll take the plastic wrap, thanks.” Says the mother.

“But the tissues have a cute picture on them! I want the tissues!” Yells the girl.

“Alright, alright, if you say so.”

And the girl was right. The tissues did have a cute picture on them; a cartoon picture of a jolly old man, similar to the one behind the desk.

My head turns to the woman on the other side of our table. “So you want to open a bank account? Fill this out.” She slides over a small slip of paper and a pen.

Before moving to Japan I thought it was a technological utopia, like a real-life Blade Runner.

How wrong I was.

Thinking ‘in New Zealand, we have computers for this’, I take the pen and write my full name, including both of my middle names, in English, then add the phonetic Japanese Katakana characters above.

Next up: my address. My supervisor shows me my new address, all in complex Kanji characters of course. There’s no crossing out. There’s no white-out. This is Japan. Precision is everything. Let’s just say my Japanese practice to date gets a real workout.

Three agonising attempts later and I’m finally done. Even if that means each time I screw up the lady has to give a polite bow and scurry to the back to get me another sheet. All the while I’m sitting there thinking ‘in New Zealand, we have computers for this’.

When I eventually get it right the lady says, full of relief, “now stamp your stamp here, and we’re almost done”.

“What about the Internet banking?” I ask, perplexed.

“Oh, you won’t need that. But you will need this.”

On the blue tray on the counter she delicately places a pristine bank card and passbook, the small booklets used to record transactions (in case you’ve forgotten).

I hold the passbook in both hands and examine it. My name is printed on it already, well, except for my second middle name.

“We had to write that by hand, it wouldn’t fit on our digital system.”

My second middle name is just my dad’s middle name. Obviously his legacy is irrelevant to the Japanese banks. But a passbook to record my transactions? I haven’t seen one of these since primary school! Is this some kind of joke? This is 2010 after all. Right? Where’s my internet banking?

But before I can protest the lady pipes up:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be? The plastic cling wrap? Or the pocket tissues?”

Fast forward 16 years.

I opened an SBI Securities account in 2015. Now, in 2026, I am trying to link this account to their new “NeoBank” sister bank, where I just made a new account. If I can link these two banks, I no longer have to manually send money to SBI, I can just deposit it into NeoBank at any ATM at any conbini in Japan and it’s available for investing.

Thankfully, NeoBank is a modern bank. No handwritten forms this time. However, modern banks in Japan have one fatal flaw; legacy banks. The kinds run by old dudes in green visors. In other words, when I try to link NeoBank with SBI, I hit a pretty major snag.

Much like Yamagata Bank, SBI only allows 15 to 20 half-width characters, spaces included. On their system my name is truncated, Dad’s middle name be damned. On the other hand, since NeoBank is a modern bank, my full name fits, Dad’s middle name and all.

But, and you knew there was a but, for these two systems to match, the names have to match character for character.

In other words, since I have a four-word name instead of a normal Japanese four-Kanji name,

“Computer says no.”

Being the smartarse I am, I try fixing the problem by adding my second middle name on SBI’s side, but I hit a brick wall. That character limit is a hard limit that hasn’t been updated in the past ten years. I try the reverse on NeoBank by getting rid of my second middle name. However, since that won’t match my Residence Card (alien registration card1),

“Computer says no.”

Put simply, this bank managed to anger not just any yamabushi, but the Kiwi yamabushi. So much so, I try to give them a call. But since NeoBank is a modern bank, I can’t just call them and complain. I have to book a time for them to call me just so I can complain.

Enter Tsucho Jinja

Despite all the information I gave them on the booking form, the first pleb didn’t know what was coming. They had to get their supervisor on. I had to remind them that a person with the same Residence Card and My Number Card (social security card) numbers is probably the same person. They somehow agreed and agreed to update their system on the backend.

Triumphant, I lean back in my chair, and as soon as I do my phone starts ringing.

“Buntingu Timoshee?”

“Ah, yep?”

“The limo is outside.”

Limo? I didn’t ask for this. I look outside the window and sure enough there is a black limo and a woman standing outside, the same woman who helped me open my bank account 16 years ago.

We arrive at Yamagata Bank’s Amarume branch, and the lady leads me towards the ATM.

“Put in the original card”.

I ruffle through my pockets and pull my Yamagata Bank card out of my wallet, the very same card I was given all those years ago. The next second, the ATM pops open like a refrigerator door and reveals a long dark tunnel lit with lanterns. We follow the tunnel for a few minutes and come out at giant opening in the middle of a sprawling forest of tall, skinny trees. Right there in front of us lie giant torii gates adorned with the characters 通帳神社 ‘Tsucho Jinja’ (Passbook Shrine).

As is custom, we bow before entering the torii, and follow the steps up to the shrine building at the top. The bifold doors give a long, slow creak as we pull them out towards us and walk inside.

The walls are covered in books, but at the back there is a giant round mirror. Beneath the mirror an old man is crouched down behind a desk trying to find something.

“Sir?” The bank lady clears her throat and says softly. “Sir?” Louder this time.

The man’s green visor falls off as he spins around.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice you. Please, have a seat.”

I take a seat on the tatami as instructed.

“Thank you for your dedication navigating the Japanese banking system over all these years. I am Tsucho-no-Mikoto, the Kami of Passbooks. You have proven your worth in appeasing me, and you shall be rewarded commensurate to your sacrifice.”

The old man leans back in his chair. Careful not to wrinkle his oversized suit, he reaches under his desk, picks something up, and places two items on top before he says:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be?”

The Truth

The First Section: up to ‘Fast forward 16 years’

• The handwriting part where I got it wrong three times and the lady had to get me new sheets is true. As is the part about my handwritten name on the passbook. Everything else in that section is basically a fabrication.

• I ended up getting Internet Banking with Yamagata Bank in 2015. It was a huge hassle involving sending physical letters back and forth. Part of the reason of switching to NeoBank is to stop using this bank.

The Second Section: ‘Fast forward 16 years’ to ‘Enter Tsucho Jinja’

• 100% true!

The Third Section: ‘Enter Tsucho Jinja’ onwards

• 100% fake! I still haven’t gotten the phone call! I don’t know whether I can fix this problem or not!

• Oh, the card still working part is true!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 10 to 16, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. A Healthy Dose of Not Giving a F

2. First Finish

3. Your Best Work is Always Ahead of you

4. The Right Metric

5. Emerging Unscathed isn’t the aim

6. Everything I can to Change it

7. When Otherwise Ain’t an Option

‘Continue street.’

Or my personal favourite:

‘Hid est.’

Forget my wedding or the births of my children, Wednesday was the happiest day of my life.

And, if I’m being perfectly honest, simultaneously the scariest day too.

Get this:

I was heading to Yuza. I love driving to Yuza. You can basically stare at Chokai-san the whole way there, a mountain that gives the Fooj a run for its money.

I was going somewhere unfamiliar so I asked Google Maps for directions. However, instead of the usual:

’Turn left’,

‘Continue straight’, and

‘Head east’,

I got:

‘Turn lift’,

‘Continue street’, and

‘Hid est’.

My first thought was, WTAF,

since when does Google speak my language?!

I was in heaven! What a revelation! This is better than the last day of yamabushi training! ‘Chuffed as’ doesn’t even begin to described how chuffed as I was.

Finally, my phone had gone and done it. For the first time in my life it spoke a language that truly felt like home. For the first time in my life, well, besides when I talk to my sister I guess1, my phone had used Standard New Zealand English.

Because, as anyone from a country not big enough to be acknowledged by big tech would tell you, this never happens.

None of this ‘English (US)’, ‘English (UK)’, or if we’re feeling lucky ‘English (Australia)’ being the only options bullshit.

Actual Kiwi English. With the ‘fush’ and the ‘chups’ and the ‘chur’ and the ‘bru’ and everything else.

But why does this even matter?

When I first got to Japan in 2010, people (let’s be honest, it was just the Americans2) had real trouble understanding me. I had to adjust the way I spoke to get someone to pass me my ‘flip flops’ (jandals) or a glass of warder (wai).

I needed to escape all the trauma the American words had caused, things like your ‘all y’all’s, ‘bangs’, ‘bleachers’, and ‘cracker jacks’. Whatever they are. I honestly don’t know what cracker jacks are, or why you would want them at a cricket match for that matter…

Speaking of, our Australian cuzzies aren’t much better. Whenever I go there everyone insists on calling me ‘Tem’3. I’m not ‘Tem’. That honour belongs to another Kiwi. You know, Dr. Hone Ropata, or the seemingly more well-known ‘Jango Fett’, ‘Boba Fett’ or ‘Clone Troopers’. I actually fooled a fellow Kiwi into thinking I was Australian with this. He just looked at me and said, ‘as in Temuera?’

But the worst part was when Apple brought out Siri. Even now if I don’t put on my best mid-western American accent, voice prompts on my iPhone simply will not work. If I want my phone to check the weather I practically have to unhinge my jaw and yell:

“Did all y’all cut your bangs under the bleachers with them cracker jacks or what?”4

My accent trauma got so bad I got a Masters of Applied Linguistics where I literally learned the how and why of teaching English pronunciation. Let’s just say you probably don’t want to be teaching standard New Zealand English. It’s so bad I tell my students not to copy it whenever it appears in the wild.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my students walking around saying ’wop wops’, ‘jandals’, and ‘yous guys’ (‘all y’all’ isn’t any better). Could you imagine little Hanako or Taro walking around saying ‘yeah, nah’ when asked a question, or adding ‘bru’ or ‘ay’ to the end of every sentence with an upwards inflection to boot?

Which leads us to the question: how did my phone know I was a Kiwi?

I don’t remember changing any settings. And I’m pretty sure my daughters didn’t ‘accidentally’ do it either.

The truth, it appears, is much more existential.

I had heard Google was working on getting the pronunciation of indigenous place names correct, with Māori names getting special attention, even the longest place name on earth: Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu (a little north-est of Te Awa Kairangi).

It sounds like this:

My first theory was that I had put ‘English (Aotearoa)’ somewhere in my Google settings and they had finally released these voiceovers. But then I remembered: That’s impossible. Google is an American company. America doesn’t think New Zealand exists5.

And you know what, I was half-right: Google Maps did indeed bring out a New Zealand accented voice and correct pronunciation of Maori names (suck it, David Seymour).

This is probably why:

But the second part to the answer, the ‘why me?’ part was much creepier.

After some very vigorous (Google Gemini) research, it turns out that because I first registered my Google account in Te Awa Kairangi, Aotearoa, some 20 odd years ago, Google Maps placed me in the ‘this guy is from Aotearoa, specifically Te Awa Kairangi, let’s give him some straight up proper as English’ category.

So the past 16 years of me trying to mask my accent have been for nothing. I got great jaw definition just asking about the weather, got an MA in Applied Linguistics, and even changed the ‘i’ sound in my name to Australian (shudders) so I could escape the clutches of the algorithm.

But yeah, nah. Try all you want ay. Escape to the other side of the world for all I care. Hide in the wop wops and become a literal mountain monk (yamabushi). Google’s still gonna get you ay bru.

Chur.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 3 to July 9, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Who’s Winning?

2. Change the Fans

3. The Purest Form of Wisdom

4. The Next Ten

5. Focusing on the now is the Medicine

6. The Same Momentum

7. How Prepared can you be?

Here is Japan’s weirdest vending machine, notice anything?

How about now?

At the bottom right of the products on display, in a ボス・マート Bosu Mato ‘Boss Mart’ section, it has Yoguretto and Hai remon (High lemon?), whatever they are, protein bars, Ginza Rusk, potato chips, cookies, and cup noodles.

In a vending machine.

Japanese innovation at its finest!

And you know what, this machine pulled a Penn and Teller; it fooled me.

Twice.

But first:

The Great KitKat Illusion of 2005

The first time a Japanese vending machine tricked me was waaaaay back in 2005. It was during my first time in the country, a Japanese class trip. The trip that made me fall in love with the country and the moment I decided to live here1.

But the vending machine, oh man, I remember it vividly, for such an insignificant event.

We were heading back to central Hiroshima from Miyajima and waiting at a train station when something in the vending machine caught my eye:

The KitKat Symbol!

In a vending machine!

Yes, one of those chocolate things Japan decided shouldn’t be chocolate.

I saw it and thought ‘this must be a trick. Japan has KitKat drinks’?

Wow. Such advanced.

I bought one expecting a can of chocolatey goodness in liquid form. However, what I got was very much not in liquid form.

It was a jar with a removable lid, and two KitKat bars inside.

Japanese innovation at its finest!

Still yum though, I couldn’t really complain.

Which brings me to the vending machine in question.

This one:

The one at Yu Town, an onsen (hot spring) facility in Tsuruoka.

AKA the location of:

The Great Onsen Heist of 2026

After getting out of the bath I was feeling a little peckish and I noticed the protein bars. I recalled my time in Hiroshima and thought, ‘awesome, it will probably be one or two of those bars in a jar with a removable lid’.

How wrong I was!

I put the money in, pushed the button, and then,

nothing.

At all.

Nothing happened.

The machine stole my money!

Or so I thought.

So, I tried again, I put in more money.

And the same thing happened!

Nothing!

I stood back in bewilderment and thought to myself; should I put in another coin? Should I scream out in rage? Should I call a member of the staff?

I did what any normal Japanese person would do: I voiced my concern to anyone around me willing to listen:

「あれ、出てこないなぁ」 Are, detekonai na. ‘That’s odd, nothing’s coming out’

To which an old lady sitting nearby said: ‘oh, I shall call a staff member’.

And just as she proclaimed the custom yoisho and heaved herself out of her seat I noticed it.

In fact, it’s very possible that you have noticed it too. I mean, I’ve shown you that photo twice already.

Here it is again:

Look at what’s there on the right side of the machine. I can see cup noodles, potato chips, some cookies…

That’s right, you pay using the vending machine, and then pick up the product from the shelf next to it.2

Japanese innovation at its finest.

Like those honesty boxes in the countryside, and an example of how high trust Japan is. Also, I guess, a very easy way to trick an unsuspecting (and hungry) yamabushi.3

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 26 to July 2, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Building The Engine

2. Tails Up

3. Snail’s Pace

4. Back at The Starting Line

5. Tight Corners

6. The Rest is Wit

7. The Power of Your Ideas x Your Ability to Share Them

“Buntingu Timoshee”.

“Ah, hai”.

I was led into a bright room with a what looked like a dentist's chair in the centre, a doctor at a computer, and a few people in scrubs standing around seemingly preoccupied but with gleaming eyes that followed my every move. The doctor was sitting half-looking at his computer, half waiting in anticipation for the patient with the foreign name.

I take a seat, and say to the doc, in Japanese:

”I’ve had problems with my sinuses these past few months. My left nostril and ear especially, and especially when I wake up. I went to another doctor, a few times now, but the problems kept coming back. So I’ve come to you.”

And then it happened.

I mean, I was half-expecting it, what with it being my first time in this clinic and all. But even as a 15-years-a-gaijin, it can still be a shock to the system:

“Nihongo Ojozu Desu ne” (Your Japanese is very good!)

I got Nihongo Jozued. Again.

I mean, to be fair, my Japanese has to be pretty good. What have I been speaking these past 20-odd years? The people around me seem to understand me.

And so they should.

I mean, I’ve interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi.

At least I think I have…

But still, after my second Nihongo Jozu for the week (I’m aiming for the trifecta), I made a grave mistake.

I gave the stock reply:

“Iya iya, mada mada desu”. (No, no, I’m not there yet! Not even close!)

Now, when you reach the stage of actually being Nihongo Jozu, you know the first thing to do is deny it. You know that if you say “hai, so desu”, people think you’re not actually Nihongo Jozu, and you are, in fact,

a smug asshole.

In other words, in Japanese culture, when someone compliments you, accepting the compliment at face value creates asymmetry. Asymmetry ruins the social harmony, the so-called Wa. Declining the compliment puts you all on a level playing field, right where you want to be.

Coincidentally, this is also where Nihongo Jozu’s cousin Ohashi Jozu (you are good at using chopsticks) resides. To which the only acceptable reply is: ‘you should see how I handle a fork, let alone a spoon!’

Both of these compliments (if you want to call them that) stem from the same thing: automated cultural scripts.

But, after a few years in Japan, and after being Nihongo Jozued a few thousand times, I realised something:

Nihongo Jozu is, in a way, a litmus test.

Just not in the way you think.

A few years back I was in Tokyo to meet a friend, a friend whose Japanese ability stopped at arigato. Yes, an arigato sans gozaimasu.

Now, you already know what’s coming. I don’t even need to say it. But let’s just say that when you’ve been learning a language for, I don’t know, 20-odd years, interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi, and then someone fresh off the Narita Express says but one word, a word sans gozaimasu, and the gets the exact same compliment, well, it’s only natural you start to question the compliment’s legitimacy.

Until you don’t.

Stay with me here.

When I said Nihongo Jozu was a litmus test, I meant that it’s a binary code, not a performance review. They aren’t grading your fluency. Not in the slightest. (Unless, of course, the Nihongo Jozu is decorated with a honto ni. In which case, congratulations, you’ve officially crossed into mythical territory!).

Nihongo Jozu is a simple ‘can you function in Japanese?’ versus ‘this guy has zero clue’. This is the same whether you are interpreting the philosophy of the mountains or simply dropping a lonely arigato not knowing it should probably have its best friend gozaimasu too.

You see, to a Japanese person, a foreign face screams: “English test incoming!” However, this tension is alleviated the instant a single Japanese syllable is uttered. ‘Nihongo Jozu’ isn’t praise. It simply means “thank you for making me relive my 15 years of torturous English vocabulary and grammar study while simultaneously taking away any worry I had of actually having to, Kami forbid, use the language!”.

And that’s it.

That’s why you shouldn’t get angry at someone else getting the same compliment for something they learned in a guidebook that you spent 20-odd-years trying to master. (I still distinctly remember practicing how to say arigato gozaimasu over and over, it is so much longer than its English equivalent!).

So why, then, was my stock reply to Nihongo Jozu by my doctor a mistake? Why was it a mistake to deny my Japanese ability?

Well, because the doctor took it literally.

Despite hearing me explain my symptoms in (ahem) flawless Japanese, and knowing full well that I could understand his Japanese, not to mention going so far as to compliment me on my Japanese, he insisted on speaking in English.

And not good English either. Good enough to understand, sure. But probably not passable for an English examination.

The funny thing is though, there was a clear moment I started to not understand his English, and not because of his accent. No, it was because he started to use medical terminology I couldn’t understand.

Which, to be honest, is actually much better in Japanese.

Case in point:

If you say ‘sinusitis’ in English, you know it’s something to do with your sinuses, right? Like your nose and stuff. But if you say it in Japanese, 副鼻腔炎 Fukubikuen, ‘auxiliary nose cavity inflammation’, the meaning is much clearer. I mean, I didn’t realise we had an auxiliary nose cavity, let alone inflammation of which is sinusitis.

So, I had to stop the doctor and say “Nihongo demo daijobu desu yo” (you can tell me in Japanese), to which he replied:

“I can speak English”.

Yes. Yes you can. Ok. Have it your way. But your English is too good, and I don’t mean that as a compliment!

Bonus

1. I have a white British friend who has a Japanese wife. Whenever the cashier (inevitably) only looks and talks at his wife, he stops them and says, in fluent Japanese, “Sumimasen ga, kanojo wa nihongo ga hanasemasen” (Excuse me, but she doesn’t speak Japanese).

2. I actually wrote about this exact topic 3 years ago!

3. Here’s a really good (short) video on this topic, but make sure you watch to the end! Those Kyoto people get me every time!!!

   https://youtube.com/shorts/oCOCc0105eA?si=qabWRRO2Ld7_IFfU

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 19 to 25, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Selfless. Honest. Honourable.

2. The Controllables

3. The Yellow Light

4. Trust The System

5. Start With Emotion

6. Somebody not Anybody

7. Two Eggs

Last time we established that around the year 740AD a monk named Gyoki had an encounter with purple haze, and came up with the name for the mountain in the middle of Tendo, Tendo-zan: ‘Heavenly Children’. We also established that the townspeople got sick of the name Tendo-zan, and gave it another name: Maizuru-yama, ‘Dancing Crane’.

Is that all?

Far from it.

Except, there was a period when nothing noteworthy happened for like, oh, 600 years or so.

Wow. Much Peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

The Nanboku-cho period, quite literally the Northern and Southern Courts period between 1336 and 1392, was the bloody and chaotic warm-up to the Sengoku Jidai, AKA The Warring States Period.

Why was it so bloody?

Well, because for these 60-odd years, Japan essentially had two emperors at the exact same time.

Two.

The Northern Court led and heavily backed by the military might of the Ashikaga Shogunate in Kyoto.

And, you guessed it, The Southern Court, rebel imperial loyalists led by Emperor Go-Daigo. Emperor Go-Daigo grabbed the sacred imperial treasures, fled to the southern Yoshino mountains, and declared themselves the only legitimate rulers. It wouldn’t be until the Meiji Period (1868-1912) that the legitimate emperor would take the power back.

But what does this have to do with Maizuru-yama?

Well, feeling the tide against them, the Southern Court sent an elite royal faction north to Ou, the current Tohoku region, to open up a brutal second front. Key amongst them was a young rogue prince called Kitabatake Akishige. In the mid-1350s, Kitabatake and his guerrilla fighters pushed deep into the Yamagata basin and came across Maizuru-yama (then known as Tendo-zan). He took one look at the mountain and thought:

Jackpot!

‘Screw the fact this mountain has been a spiritual stronghold for the better part of a millennium, these vertical slopes are such a tactical blessing it would be criminal not to take advantage of them.

And so Kitabatake did.

They quickly set up the first fortifications on Maizuru-yama, and with the support of the locals, and also the warrior monks of Yamadera, yes that Yamadera, defended it against the Northern Court.

For the next twenty years!

In which time the locals affectionately gave Kitabatake the name “Tendo-Maru”, akin to ‘The Boy Prince of Tendo” (this is also where that suffix of -maru for ships in Japan comes from (not Tendo-Maru specifically)).

Twenty years is a long time to hold out, so you would assume The Northern Court were kind of useless?

I mean, they kind of were.

Even though at around the same time, they set up shop just south of Tendo in Yamagata City. Specifically, in 1356, a dude from The Shiba Clan (themselves a branch of the Ashikaga Clan), named Shiba Kaneyori, was sent into the Yamagata basin with the specific task of fighting against the Southern Court. Around 1360 Kaneyori set up base in Yamagata Castle, the castle that eventually became “The Castle of The Mist”, something I touch on here,

and also here:

Now, if you’ve followed my work for a while, you undoubtedly have heard of the Mogami River. Basically, this river was the reason for the area that would become Yamagata Prefecture prospering during the Edo period specifically. Eventually becoming home to (by far the) richest family in all of Japan, The Honma Family, who literally live down the road from me in Sakata (seriously, I’ve met one of the descendants).

Anyway, for the longest time I thought that the Mogami River was named after this Mogami Clan.

It turns out I could not have been more wrong!

It turns out it was the exact opposite.

Around the time Shiba Kaneyori and co. set up shop in Yamagata Castle, they also took on the name of the river and became the Mogami Clan.

Because why wouldn’t you?

I mean, the characters for Mogami, 最上, quite literally mean ‘The Most Superior’.

You quite literally cannot get any better.

Except, they couldn’t quite get the better of Tendo-maru.

At first, at least.

Enter Shiba Kaneyori’s grandson Mogami Yorinao. Who was born a Shiba. But at this exact time was actually named Satomi Yorinao. In 1356, Yorinao was sent to be adopted into the childless Satomi Clan in the northern flatlands of the Yamagata basin, just to the northwest of Maizuru-yama.

For the next twenty-odd years, Yorinao lived in a lowland manor house called Naryu-Tate, from where he called the shots under the Satomi banner. (Naryu-Tate was located here, and is currently a tiny rural Shinto shrine called Ryūzu Gongen / O-Kokuzō Shrine (大虚空蔵神社 / 龍頭権現)).

Now, Yorinao was no idiot. And was actually quite the strategist. There were three main stages in his takeover of Maizuru-yama:

1. Convincing the locals to become loyal to him instead

Using his power at the helm of the Satomi Clan, the clan that held the land around Maizuru-yama, Yorinao used local diplomacy and tax incentives to sway the peasantry to his side. He made it clear that backing a dying Southern Court cause meant perpetual war, while backing his new Northern-supported administration meant peace and stability.

And, basically overnight, Tendo-maru’s intelligence network and food supplies dried up.

2. Stopping the Spiritual Pipeline

Besides the peasantry, Tendo-maru was receiving assistance from the warrior monks of nearby Yamadera, who were themselves stern supporters of the Southern Court. They also had immense wealth, knew many secret mountain trails, and had massive stockpiles of supplies. Shiba Kaneyori and his grandson Yorinao set up patrols around Maizuru-yama to stop these monks moving grain, weapons, or medicine into the mountain fortress.

A strategy that worked really well!

3. The Cold Realisation and Midnight Flight

When winter came around, sometime in the mid-1370s (with records saying sometime between 1372 and 1374), Tendo-maru’s forces were depleted, starving, and entirely cut off from the world.

Yorinao purposely left the northern mountain passes slightly open for Tendo-maru to escape. If he didn’t, what with being a Samurai and everything, Tendo-maru would have fought to the bitter end and taken half of Yorinao’s army with him. Give a samurai an open back door, and they will choose survival.

Give them no choice, and they will take half your men with them to hell.

Anyway, Tendo-Maru saw the writing on the wall, and under the cover of darkness took his remaining loyalists up north to Aomori, where his aristocratic bloodline survived…

Wow. Such Peaceful.

So, in 1375, Mogami Yorinao took Maizuru-yama as his own, and promptly built on what Tendo-maru had done to turn the mountain into a mountain castle.

Just in case.

What with the coming Sengoku Jidai and all that…

Luckily, Maizuru-yama is what you would call ‘perfect yamajiro mountain castle material’. The mountain is in the peculiar shape of a giant ‘C’. Plus, there are three distinct peaks: the central, eastern, and western.

Yorinao would be like:

‘If one were to fall, we could just move our army to the next, and we’d still be able to shoot the enemy from above.’

And then there are the ridges of Maizuru-yama, the ones covered in purple haze from last time. Well, these ridges were prime for carving using hand tools in a technique called Kirigishi (literally ‘cutting cliffs’) to create vertical drops enemies cannot climb.

Lastly, the mountain could also be dug to form moats using a technique called Horikiri (literally ‘moat cutting’) to create paths that lead to bottlenecks where enemies could be easily ambushed from above.

And so they went ahead and did all that.

In the meantime, to lock down his victory and prove loyalty to the locals, Yorinao dropped the Shiba, Satomi, and Mogami ties all at once. Then, he took on the name of the town that had already taken on the (original) name of the mountain. In doing so, Yorinao entered his final form: Tendo Yorinao.

And then they stood in their castle waiting for enemy forces to attack. And waited.

And waited.

Until absolutely nothing happened.

And just how long did the just-in-case castle have to wait to see some action?

202 years!

But that’s a story for next time.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 12 to 18, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. One Hundred to One

2. One Extra Point

3. When the Oven is Warm

4. For the Right Person

5. Put Your Trust in The Mountains

6. It’s Time

7. Not Built For It? Build For It.

Last week I shared what I guess would be a bit of a teaser, although I never intended for that. Well, think of this as the first part of the teaser, Maizuru-Yama in Tendo City, the next mountain on my 100 Famous Mountains of Yamagata Project (#37?). Basically, I wanted to share a report of my climb up the mountain, but I foun…

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I would have passed Maizuru-yama at least 50 or so times over the years. It just stands there, a mound of greenery in th…

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It started off very briefly.

I parked my car at the local Toichiya supermarket1, the one right next to northern Japan’s biggest Muji store.

And I was met with quite a shock:

A lizard person.

In the flesh.

Only, I didn’t know it at the time.

At first, naturally, I thought it was an invader on my Japan…

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However, it is well and truly not anymore.

Because now the building looks like this:

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I mean, how could you not?

It’s like, a fake castle office building thing? Who knows? Amarume never really had that much clout. It was stuck between the actual castles of Tsuruoka, Matsuyama, Sakata (Kamegasaki), and one in southern Karikawa.

Anyway, even now I don’t k…

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Ten years ago my Dad died. It was completely out of the blue, the doctor was surprised,

and so were we.

Then, a friend sent me a podcast episode with Brene Brown on it. It was the Tim Ferriss podcast. To be honest, I don’t remember much about the episode at all, just that it was about grief.

It’s weird how …

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In 2005, Martha Stewart, yes that Martha Stewart, organised a meeting of the Martha Stewarts of the world. She wanted the Guinness world record for the most people of the same name in the same room.

And you know what?

She got it!

164 Martha Stewarts got together in the same room and set a new Guinness World Record.

N…

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