I had an amazing photographic and cultural opportunity fall into my lap this weekend.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize it until after I got home and did a bit of after-the-fact research.

One of the mommies at Anthony's preschool has three daughters. One is four years old and in the preschool year below Anthony's, and another is a year older than Anthony, having graduated from the kindergarten in March. (Like the Japanese fiscal year, the Japanese school year ends in March.) The third is older, perhaps around 13 or so. These children are absolutely exquisite. They're cute and beautiful as can be, and have a presence... a maturity... well beyond their age. Plus, even though they don't know me (other than as “Anthony's papa”), they wave and smile pleasantly at me whenever they see me.

These children just exude photogenicity, so when I had a chance to snap some shots of the middle girl at preschool graduation in March, I did. They were just unplanned snapshots hastily taken during the hubbub after the graduation ceremony, but some came out nicely (some can be seen here, here, and here), and I later gave the mom a few 8×10s.

So, the mom, knowing that I have an interest in photography, told me about and all-day event that was to be held on Saturday (yesterday) at the Noh theater next to my place, mentioning that her oldest daughter would be performing something at 1pm. That last bit didn't surprise me, because I know that the family is some relation to a famous noh performer, or something like that.

I don't know anything about noh except that it might be called “Japanese Opera”, but I've been living right next to a noh theater for the last few years, and thought it'd be a great chance to see inside, and to photograph in a setting that I'm sure is normally “no cameras allowed.” Plus, there'd be one of the exquisite, photogenic children there.

So, I head over a bit before 1:00, and peruse the program. Even the most deeply “Japanese” writing tends to have some “English” (roman letters, or Arabic numerals, such as in page numbers, times, dates, etc.), but the inside of this eight-page program was entirely devoid of anything modern. I thought it was really interesting. (The back cover did use roman letters for a website address, and the front cover inexplicably used “TEL” before a phone number, even though the phone number itself was given in Chinese characters.)

It turns out that it's a two-day event, so I find the section for 1pm on the second day, and scan for the last name of the girl. I see that it's after a break after something that starts at 1:00, so I have plenty of time to get settled in and do some test shots.

While sitting in the lobby, I see the two younger girls, and chat with them a bit. I ask the one how she likes first grade. “It's fun.” The youngest one — four years old — looked cute enough to eat.

The atmosphere seems pretty easy-going, with people stepping in and out of the small theater, but I didn't want to be a distraction with my 6'4" of clumsiness and all my camera stuff, so I waited for a break in the program, and headed in about 10 minutes before 1:00.

As I'm stepping in, I'm shocked to hear the eldest daughter's name being announced, and seeing her walk out on stage! Doh, they're half an hour ahead of schedule!!!

I rush to a seat and get my camera stuff set up as quickly as doing it silently would allow. It doesn't feel all that dark inside, but the camera was not liking my lack of a tripod. I bump up the ISO (camera sensor light sensitivity) and quickly switch to my fastest lens – a Nikkor 85mm f/1.4 – and snap off one fuzzy shot...

I stuck around for a few more short musical performances, and for what turned out to be one somewhat longer noh play. Noh has been around for about 700 years, and even early on, I'm sure it incorporated the richness of a culture that was already over a thousand years old. That's a lot of cultural heritage, all of which is totally lost on me. I didn't understand a thing, perhaps, if at all possible, even less than I would understand western opera.

Only after I got home and looked at my pictures and did a little research did I understand more about the situation I had been in.

It turns out that the “accompanist” above is Riko-chan's dad!

It turns out that his dad turns 60 this year, and this entire two-day event is in honor of that.

And it turns out that his dad has been bestowed the incomprehensibly high honor of being named a Japanese Living National Treasure. The list of noh performers ever so named is very short, even shorter when you consider those remaining footnoted as “still living”.

And it turns out that the later performance that I thought was going to be Riko-chan – that I didn't stay for because I thought they were running ahead of schedule – was really her grandfather's (the one turning 60, for which the entire two-day event was to commemorate). Sure enough, I look back into the program now and see Riko-chan listed toward the end of the noon hour. Sigh, I should have paid more attention.

Of course, I didn't understand any of that at the time, but I was happy to be able to photograph what I did see. After Riko-chan left the stage, I pulled out my Nikkor 70-200/2.8 VR Zoom and monopod, and with the combination (VR and monopod) am able to get a few shots at very slow shutter speeds that look okay when shrunk for the web...

When the noh play thing started, after a while this guy came out and was clearly a man of importance in the context of a story I couldn't possibly understand....

Noh is extremely formal, with every slight movement (by any performer, for any reason) strictly regimented. As I said, I'm sure that there's a lot of meaning behind it all. I was proud that I could understand a few words of the chanting-like speech of the Big Man above. Mostly, I believe, it's archaic Japanese, so most native Japanese wouldn't understand it either.

During the performance, I noticed the man sitting directly behind the woman at right in the photo above....

It was clear that he was her teacher, as every so often he would gently touch her shoulder in a way that clearly indicated “you leave off here” or “you start soon”. This in itself is not particularly interesting, but the way he did it was almost moving in a way I can't really describe. His action in helping her was minimal, as if his mere presence was sufficient to guide her.

Mind you, I noticed this and felt this way while I was there, before getting home and realizing that it was Riko-chan's dad, and all the other stuff I mentioned earlier. Clearly, the guy's got something going for him besides a good pedigree.

Meanwhile, I had low light and low skill, so I tried some static “mood” shots...

So, it turns out that the Big Man really wasn't, because out came someone whose costume was much more ornate.

“More ornate” also means “more photogenic”, but it was difficult with a moving target...

And then its twin came out...

(I say “it” because I think it was a spirit of ghost of some kind, but I really have no clue.)

I don't think I'll ever understand the noh itself, but if I ever get another chance to photograph it, I'll come more prepared, with a tripod and more fast lenses, and now maybe just a bit of experience.

Day two of my camping adventure with Anthony ended pleasantly, with new friends and a nice sunset.

Day 3, however, started much earlier and much less pleasantly than I would have expected – right at midnight – when some rude family burst into the campground with loud voices and bright lights, searching for a spot to set up their tent, then setting it up.

Inconsiderate people suck.

I barely got a few hours of sleep, and was up at 5:30 or so with Anthony and daybreak. Day three was Saturday of Golden Week, meaning that now the crowds would really start to arrive for the long four-day weekend. By 7am, numerous families had shown up, and good spots were becoming scarce.

We had been invited to camp here by Arthur, the dad of 3-year-old Monet and 5-year-old May, two of Anthony's classmates. (Both were featured on this recent post.) My flexible work schedule allowed me to come a bit early to secure a good spot for both of us, and they would join us this morning.

They arrived at 7:30am (after having left their place at 4am, to beat the traffic), and it was with pride that I showed Arthur the prime spot I had secured. Unfortunately, it was a prime spot only in my world of camping naïveté, so Arthur searched for a more suitable spot, luckily finding among the quickly-dwindling locations a nice, large area right at the edge of a cliff that offered a commanding view of the beach below.

I dreaded the prospects of having to physically move all my stuff from the tent, dismantle the tent, rebuild the tent in the new location, and move all my crap back in, but the whole point of the trip was go camping with friends, so I bite the bullet and moved to the nicer spot.

The kids played in this area pretty much all day, with one parent or another keeping an eye on them. Here, the mom of the new friends seems to enjoy little May's company....

After hours and hours of play, the kids took a rest, here using the air mattress in Arthur's tent as a jumping house....

The day was extremely hazy, which made for an anemic sunset.

But the kids certainly slept well.

Continued here...

Today was our 10^th wedding anniversary.

It wasn't quite what I might have visualized 10 years ago – we were all pretty tired, and even normally robust Anthony was a bit under the weather – but Fumie and I got here together, and that's what it's all about.

Her mom invited us for Happy-Anniversary pie (a pie that Anthony felt the need to put candles in)...

Anthony was torn between wanting to put candles in, and wanting to eat the chocolate card and chocolate eye...

You may well be wondering why an apple pie for a 10^th wedding anniversary, and why in the shape of a sea bream. (You may also be wondering “what is a sea bream?”)

To answer the last question first, a sea bream is a fish that looks like the pie above.

Fumie's mom chose an apple pie because the shop she went to (near where she grew up in another part of Kyoto) is well known for their apple pie. After having eaten it, I can understand why... it was absolutely fantastic.

As to why the shape of a fish, well, it's a play on words. The name of the fish ( 鯛 – tai ) is pronounced the same as the ending of one form of the word “auspicious” ( お目出度い – omedetai ), and so in Japanese culture, the fish has somewhat become linked to auspicious events. In olden days when food was the greatest currency, one would give an actual fish. These days, fish-shaped sweets are sometimes seen.

Fish-shaped apple pies are apparently quite rare. Thanks, mom!

I was thinking to take a picture of the 10 red roses that I got for Fumie, but today happened to have run across one of the first pictures I took with my D200, and thought I'd just post it instead....

Looking around for things to take pictures of after having unboxed the camera, I didn't really know how to use it, but snapped this picture of a dried red rose sitting in a vase on the kitchen counter. I like how it came out. It was my sixth shot with the camera.

I like how the foreground light totally overshadows the background, making it unseen.

I wonder if this isn't some kind of metaphor for marriage (or any relationship), to concentrate on the bright foreground, not allowing subtle distractions in the background from, er, distracting you.

Thanks for 10 years, my honey. I'll work hard to make the next 10 even better....

Anthony's kindergarten had a field trip yesterday, so the pickup time and location were different from normal, this time near the spot in Kyoto where the Kamo river joins the Takano River to become (oddly enough) a different Kamo River.

He wanted to play more, and his friend Akiko-chan hadn't left yet, so we decided to go down to the river together to play. I didn't have my nice camera with me, but I took a few snaps of the fun with my cell-phone camera.

Akiko-chan's mom and I spent much of the time yelling “nooooo, not in the water!” as they ran around a part of the river that was usually wet, but today was (mostly) dry.

Eventually, they decided to move on...

They then moved a bit south to just north of Imadegawa St., to where huge stepping stones allow people to cross the wide river.

There are a number of places along the rivers that run down the eastern side of Kyoto where these large stepping stones allow people to cross and kids to play. They're set such that the rectangular ones are normally just out of the water. The river was really low at this point so they're all well exposed, but it rained last night and when I went this morning, they were completely submerged.

Last month I posted some shots from this area, including some of the stepping stones when the water was just a touch higher than normal.

After a while, they got tired of the stones, and played on the peninsula formed at the upper junction of the two rivers...

It started to rain lightly, so we moved under the Imadegawa Street bridge, and they had great fun throwing rocks at other rocks in the dry bed of this part of the river.

While the kids played, I couldn't help but noticed how little steel joined the various clumps of rust in parts of the bridge. Most of the underside was fine, but some parts were highly rusted.

Luckily, the bridge did not fall on us, and indeed, he slept well last night.

I ended my previous post about day 2 of camping with Anthony with the story that we'd returned from dinner in time for the sunset.

When we got out of the car at the campsite, Anthony was playing with a superhero toy of some sort that he got at the store. (Because camping is special, “we” decided that he can get a small $2 or $3 toy each day that we happen to go to a store while camping.)

A boy about his age was walking by with his mom, and made a comment about the toy. It turns out that this was all the invitation that Anthony needed to strike up a conversation and friendship. This family (with four kids and a dog) were the only others at the campground for most of the day, so I'd spent much of the day trying to get Anthony interested in playing with the two boys that were about his age, but he was shy and showed shockingly little interest, even when one emerged from the surf with a grotesque pulsing squishy sea cucumber (something that looks like a snail without a shell, but one the size of a large sweet potato).

So, finally they started talking. The mom kindly offered to take Anthony down to the beach while I put stuff away in our tent, and I used the opportunity to grab my camera as well....

The ability to make friends is a great thing about kids that adults would do well to mimic. Anthony tends to be shy until something breaks the ice, but then he's quick to make new friends.

The boy next to Anthony in the shot above is Fuuta-kun, who is about the same age as Anthony. His older brother, Hinata-kun is about a year older, and the little girl (along with her twin brother who was back at camp with his daddy) is a week shy of turning three years old.

Anthony and the two boys were inseparable for the rest of the day, and much of the next.

It was about this time that I snapped the picture of the something-fishy bird I posted last week.

Sunsets and sunrises are cliché, of course, but I still like them, and have already posted pictures of them twice in this camping story (here and here), and plenty of posts in the past:

• Sunset from a ferry
• Orange sunset in Kyoto
• Sunrise in Takamatsu
• From sunset to moonrise with Adobe Lightroom
• Sunset in Ise
• Sunset in Ise #2
• Sunrise, Malaysian Style

Of course, the kids couldn't care less, especially when there are things to poke...

As far as I could tell, there wasn't the least bit of tide here, so the only time the many pot-shaped holes in the rocks got water was when it rained or a storm blew waves into them. The stagnant, brackish mix of fresh and sea water made for interesting ecosystems with all kinds of creatures.

The kids' favorite were large coral-like polyps (flower-like animals, one to several inches across, with long tentacles all around the edges) that tried to grab whatever touched their tentacles, then completely retracted into the rock when they found it was only a kid on a stick.

(I wanted to take pictures of them, but lacking a polarizing filter, got mostly reflections)

Anyway, sunset was fast approaching, so I tried several things to snazz up the shot...

Meanwhile, the kids continued in their quest to poke. The color reflected wonderfully in the water, but it proved too elusive to capture...

I was trying to get an exposure that allowed one to see the kids in the ever-increasing contrast of dusk, but I eventually gave up and embraced the contrast for the silhouettes they allowed...

Continued here...