Fukuroda Waterfalls, Ibaraki, Japan

Today is Sunday, a “rest day” after a week-long research activities. It was a busy week, juggling two research sites while studying science teaching in a nearby elementary school in the morning and preservice science teacher preparation in a nearby university in the afternoon. Upon the invitation in an e-mail of my generous host, Professor Hitoshi Otsuji of Ibaraki University, I woke up early in the morning to prepare for a long trip, about I hour from Mito City, to a famous natural spot of Ibaraki Prefecture. With an instruction to keep myself warm because “it’s too cold up there,” I wore my usual black thermal cloth (long sleeves and underpants) and topped it with three layers of cloth. At about 9:30 in the morning, Otsuji –san arrived, ready to pick me up for a long drive to the town of Daigo.

We went to Fukuroda Waterfalls located in Daigo Town of Ibaraki Prefecture. The drive was smooth, without any tension. I enjoyed looking at scenery along the road. I noticed that, as we go farther from Mito City, the design of houses was getting traditional Japanese—intricately designed brick roof and combined wood and sliding glass walls and doors, respectively. From Dr. Otsuji, as we passed by atop a bridge, I learned that, at this time of the year, salmons are spawning their eggs. Coming from the Pacific Ocean nearby, mother salmons have been moving up the river and streams to deposit their eggs. Of course, I was able to relate to the salmon-spawning thing. First of all, last Friday, we went to an Attached School (equivalent to a laboratory school in state universities in the Philippines) to observe a science teaching demonstration. We passed by a dark room. Prof. Otsuji told me that students gathered salmon eggs and deposited them in the dark room for observations— the growth of salmon from eggs to fingerlings. In addition, last Saturday afternoon, I ate s some sushi (raw fish on top of sticky rice), topped with raw salmon eggs.

While on our way, I also mentioned that early this morning, I experienced some kind of shakings. An earthquake visited us again. We discussed the P-waves and S-waves, the primary and secondary waves, respectively. Prof. Otsuji lectured that P-waves move up and down while S-waves move sideways, back and forth. Now, the distinction between P-waves and S-waves made sense to me as I remember the jolts this morning. There was a quick, initial tremors (arrival of P-waves) followed by a longer, second tremors (arrival of S-waves). From Prof. Otsuji, I learned that if the gap or interval between the first and second tremors is short, it means that the epicenter of the earthquake is near. If the gap between the arrival of P-waves and S-waves is long, it means that the epicenter is far. Of course, the damage brought by the earthquake is also determined by another factor, the intensity of an earthquake. Higher intensity earthquake plus nearness to the epicenter may spell destruction to people and properties. Next time, when an earthquake comes, I should be conscious of the gaps between the P-waves and the S-waves. Actually, I learned this a long time ago, but it made sense when coupled with a personal experience.

Along the way, we passed by a long stretched of rice land. At this time of the year, rice paddies are virtually brown and empty. That meant, in this part of the country, they plant and harvest rice only once a year, possibly during summer and fall, respectively. The land is left barren for the next planting season. For me, this in interesting since this practice gives the land time to rest and for the rice stalks to decompose and fertilize the soil. We used to do that in the Philippines as well. I remember, in the old days, rice farming was done once a year, when rice stalks were threshed manually by foot. I know this because my father was a rice farmer.

Anyway, along the way, my attention was focused to verticals lines running along rice paddies. Prof. Otsuji quickly explained that those were pipes/small canals for the irrigation of rice paddies. To explain further his points, we stopped by the Fudoyatsu-ike dam, the source of water for the irrigation of rice farms. He told me that this irrigation system dates back in 1652, when people in the old times used weaved bamboo slats with piles of stones on both sides serving as canal for the irrigation. The current irrigation system was modernized in 1961, with a cemented canal spreading into smaller tributary in various rice paddies. A new dam was constructed in 1988. If you notice in the picture (below), the dam has blue slats that can be mechanically pulled up and down. Once the blue slats are moved down, the water level rises until it reaches to the mouth of the big canal. Since this part of the river is quite elevated, the water flows downward (of course by gravity) through various tributaries, about 23-kilometer long, irrigating about 755 hectares of land. This information was written on the information board near the dam. I listened and took down notes while Prof. Otsuji explained it to me.


We hit back the road, driving. Our conversation focused on two types of Buddhism—the Mahayana and Hinayana. From Prof. Otsuji, I learned that the Japanese practices the Mahayana type of Buddhism, which found its way from India via China to Japan. Obviously, this kind of Buddhism has been hybridized by the Chinese Confucian principles. China, Japan, and South Korea, I learned, practice this kind of Buddhism. Meanwhile, the Hinayana, also known as Thelavada, with its roots from India, is the kind of Buddhism that has influenced Thailand. I was quick to tell him, based on my 6-month stay in Thailand, that it seems like Buddhism and Hinduism, to some extent, co-exist in Thailand. I personally saw how some practices in Hinduism were hybridized in Thais’ Buddhist practices such as wedding, wake, and cremation ceremonies.

I also asked Prof. Otsuji regarding his interpretation of what I observed during my first few days in Tokyo. We talked about hatsoumode (please see my previous blog), the Japanese practice of visiting shrines after the New Year, and other accompanying rituals such as the moving around the arch made of rice straws, throwing of coins into a wooden box, clapping and bowing of hands in the temple, drawing of fortune paper and posting them on a tree near the shrine, and many more. Punctuated by conversations ranging from science to religion and many things in between, before we knew it, we arrived at the parking lot of the FUKURODA WATERFALLS.

When we arrived, I noticed a lot people on the street. We parked from a distance and walked a long stretched of road, lined with souvenir shops, restaurants, grocery stores, among others. Based on the number of people on the street, I made an impression that Fukuroda Falls is quite popular. There were so many local tourists. As we approached the foot of the mountain, the people were getting crowded. We followed the long line until we reached the entrance of the tunnel, where we paid 300 Yen each. The tunnel, under the mountain, was quite long. Inside the tunnel, the line leading to the upper observatory was very crowded. We decided to observe the waterfalls in the middle observatory, where the line was less crowded. In a short while, we reached the right-side end of the tunnel. Viola, the Fukuroda Falls was right there— right there before our very eyes!

I was stunned, mesmerized, awed, captivated , inspired—(what else are other adjectives?—by the beautiful sight in front of me. It was so beautiful. I never saw this kind of falls in my lifetime. I mean, I had been to many falls already--in Georgia, in Camiguin, and in many other places in the Philippines. But that one, my goodness, it was different. The water was frozen on top. Underneath the frozen water were small streams, where water dripped slowly down streams. So beautiful! I took lots and lots of pictures and videos. I took them from various angles. Whatever angle, Fukuroda looked stunningly beautiful—so immaculate white and cold. Please see my pictures below for more details.






We went down to the lower observatory, passing again halfway the same tunnel we passed through, where hordes of people fell in line. Upon reaching the lower observatory, I took more videos and photos. That time, I saw Fukuroda Falls from a wider angle, to include the rocky mountain as a backdrop. I also took pictures of the downstream, where boulders of rock came aplenty. Do you know what I saw? There were big boulders of sedimentary rocks, specifically, conglomerate and breccia. Well, I did recognize the difference based on the angle of stones/pebbles deposited in the sedimentary rock: Conglomerate has rounded deposits while breccia has jagged, angular deposits.

After a few minutes of observation in the lower observatory, we crossed a hanging bridge leading to the other side of the stream. We trudged a long path downward of the mountain until we reached some shops where traditional food, toys, artifacts, and many others souvenir items can be bought. That was past 1:00 P.M. We were quite hungry. We passed by a shop specializing in making noodles—specifically, soba and udon. Professor Otsuji told me the difference between the soba and odun noodles. As we observed, the chef was making soba noodles, made from a special kind of wheat he called “bac” wheat. Udon, I supposed, was made of another kind of wheat. Through a transparent window glass, I saw the chef in the middle of preparing soba noodles. What an interesting workmanship! The chef skilfully flattened the flour, fashioned it into a big, circular shape. In a short while, he folded it into layers and sliced the noodle into thin, small strips. Those were soba noodles. In addition to soba and udon noodles, the shop also made and sold sashimi-like cutlets made of taro roots. Prof. Otsuji called it sashimi conyac. Please see the picture for details.

For lunch, we decided to get inside that noodle shop and ordered soba noodle and sashimi conyac. While waiting, I took pictures inside the restaurant-shop. Visitors sat on the mat, tatami style, while waiting for their orders. With my eyes, I scanned around the restaurant, looking for anything Japanese—roof, wall, tables, chopsticks, sitting arrangement, etc. In a short while, our orders were served. After tasting it, I realized that the the soba noodle soup may have some resemblance to the Philippine Lap Paz batchoy. However, it tasted a little bit different, less salty and no vetsin-like flavor. Of course, ingredients were more healthy. I saw mushrooms, tubers of various kinds, vegetables, etc. And the sashimi conyac? We ate sashimi conyac by dipping it into soy sauce with ginger. I closed my eyes while tasting it—to savor the fullness of its flavor. It tasted like sashimi. The difference was that it was not real sashimi. It was of vegetable source, made from taro root. Look at the picture—the slices of sashimi conyac looked beautiful and appetizing in various colors—orange, yellow, green, white, and brown-gray white. I was planning to buy the skewed glutinous rice and fish (in the picture) but I felt so full. Too bad, I was not able to taste them. They looked interesting to me. The soba noodle and the sashimi were so filling. I felt I had enough for lunch.

After lunch, we bought some souvenirs and started heading toward the car. We hit the road again, back to Mito City. We arrived at Ibaraki University at about 4:00 P.M. I took a quick look in my Facebook and headed back home, at my apartment. The day was very good. Thank you very much, Professor Otsuji.