by Cecilia Luzi

After visiting a market that was organized by urban-rural migrants, I was keen to learn more about local markets. So on a Sunday morning in late November, I went to the revitalization center (kasseika sentā) in Iwaya to visit the “Small truck market” (keitora ichi). The market was held in the large parking lot across the street from the center. The green tourism group I pick vegetables with once a week ran a stall at the market where they cooked soup in a huge cauldron, and made soba balls (soba dango) and mochi with anko. The last time I worked with them in their field, they asked me if I could help at the market. Their booth was located outside the side entrance of the revitalization center and while my partner and son enjoyed a day off, I shaped flat soba dango which were then cooked and added to a soup. The members of the green tourism group were hectic, and the only one who remained calm was a man speaking a dense dialect. Every time I encountered him, I had difficulty understanding even two words in a row when he spoke to me. But he had a nice, peaceful smile on his face and exuded a sincere serenity. At the market, he sat on the side porch of the revitalization center in front of the two fountains, steaming rice for the mochi. He monitored the intensity of the fire and kept an eye on the cooking time.

Steaming rice for mochi
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

After a shared lunch, the group began to prepare the mochi. At the stand where the soup was cooking, men and children took turns pounding the rice into the stone container. Once it was ready, the dough was pushed to the next table, where the women formed beautiful round, flattened balls with their hands, which were white with potato starch. This reminded me of the making of mozzarella. The preparation process is similar, including the speed with which the balls are formed, the precision with which the mixture is worked, the texture of the dough and the color. I couldn’t help but think of my favorite cheese. As soon as the mochi were ready (half of them were filled with anko), they were sold out. At the first strike of the wooden hammer on the stone, people immediately lined up at the stall, and as soon as they were formed, the mochi were immediately sold in packs of three for 350 yen. After the mochi were sold out, we started making sweet potatoes, fried in oil and sugar and sprinkled with black sesame seeds (my next task). These also sold out in no time, but I also kept eating while weighing them out to put in the containers.

Mochi hammers
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

From our stall, I could observe the customers, who were mainly locals and elderly people, but also families who came with their children for the kagura performances (a form of music and dance dedicated to Shinto gods) or the junior high school mochi sale. The stalls in the market mainly offered local fruits and vegetables. There was also a flower and plant stall, a wood craftsman, a woman who sewed and embroidered, and a tofu sale. In addition to our green tourism group’s booth, there were also three other food stalls that sold Buzen’s specialty Onimen (spicy noodles with locally produced chili peppers), Karaage and donuts. A small stage was set up to the side of the main entrance, where Kodomo Kagura (Kagura by students from various local groups) was performed from the beginning to the end of the event. Overall, there was a pleasant autumn atmosphere at the market. Maybe it was because the day was still warm, maybe it was the chaotic nature of the event, but I could feel the Sunday air. Children played on an old toy boat that looked like it had been abandoned for decades and climbed a memorial stone.

Children playing on a memorial stone
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

A couple of days after the market, I asked one of the members of the green tourism group how long they had been organizing this market. To my surprise, she replied that this was only the second time. The first time was in the spring of 2022. I am very curious to learn more about these types of events, especially markets that seem to exist in large numbers and pop up everywhere every week. As I’ve already found out during my digital research, markets can vary greatly in terms of customers, booths, location and size. After visiting the two markets I have described here and in my previous blog posts, I visited four other markets. The only thing they had in common was that people gathered to sell things they had made themselves. Markets are fascinating places to study the relationships between members of a community while learning about people’s work, life choices and everyday lives. I hope to learn more and write about how to prepare and organize a local market soon.

by Madeline Gentz

Shirakawa-Gō is a famous historical and agricultural village in Gifu near Kanazawa and Takayama with a population of about 1,600. Due to the cold, harsh winters and heavy snowfalls, the village developed a unique architecture for its farmhouses called Gasshō. The houses, built in the Gasshō style, are characterized by three-sided, gabled thatched roofs. The houses are surrounded by fields, forests and mountains, creating a unique setting that is an expression of the local culture.
Thanks to these farmhouses, Shirakawa-Gō was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1995, making the village a thriving tourist destination. In 2019, the village welcomed over 2.15 million tourists or about 5,890 tourists per day. In other words, for every villager, there are 3 to 4 tourists per day. This phenomenon has made tourism the largest source of income for this small agricultural village. However, Shirakawa-Gō still uses its agriculture.

Farming houses in Shirakawa-Gō
Copyright © Madeline Gentz 2020

The tourist landscape includes 59 houses built in the Gasshō style. Many of them are used for tourist purposes such as accommodation, restaurants, museums and souvenir stores. There are museums about silk production, Gasshō architecture and an open-air museum showing the unique architecture. There are also numerous hot springs, ryokan and western-style hotels. For a small fee of 300 yen (≈ 2.10 euros) per house, many of these farmhouses can be visited. I had the opportunity to visit Shirakawa-Gō in January 2020 and had the chance to take a guided tour of one of the houses. These tours are usually led by the owner of each house and can give one a glimpse into life there.
Another big touristic event that takes place each year in Shirakawa-Gō and draws in thousands of tourists is the Shirakawa-Gō Winter Light-Up. On selected Sundays, in January and February, the Gasshō houses will be illuminated and can be seen from the Shiroyama Viewpoint. In the past, there have been up to 8,000 visitors per event. However, this led to some serious overcrowding and the village decided to limit the number of visitors to 5,000 per Light-Up-Event. These 5,000 come in addition to the roughly 5,890-day visitors. Usually, the lottery for this will be held in October/November before the event takes place.

Gasshō Houses are used for various purposes
Copyright © Madeline Gentz 2020

Tourism has brought numerous benefits to Shirakawa-Gō. The biggest is undoubtedly the income that tourists bring to the village. In addition, tourism helps to keep the local traditions and culture alive. Visitors come to Shirakawa-Gō to learn more about the culture and the money they spend can be used to maintain the traditional houses. Furthermore, tourism creates jobs for receptionists, tour guides, interpreters, cleaning staff and more. However, tourism can also bring some negative side effects. Shirakawa-Gō has already experienced some of these. One of the negative effects mentioned is over-tourism. It can lead to inappropriate behavior by tourists, hostility between locals and visitors, the strain on infrastructure, loss of authenticity, reduction in the quality of life for locals, and a lower experience for tourists. This was the case in Shirakawa-Gō when about 8,000 visitors came to the light-up events, but thanks to the measures put in place, further escalation was prevented.

These gasshō houses are used as minshuku (left) and as a souvenir shop (right)
Copyright © Madeline Gentz 2020

A reservation system was set up for the Light-Up events. A private company with the relevant know-how was entrusted with the organization of this system. In addition, parking fees were increased from 500 yen (≈ 3.60 euros) to 1,000 yen (≈ 7.20 euros) per car to raise additional funds for the World Heritage Site. Similarly, there is no longer any bookable private parking for visitors in the village and access to the city center by buses and cars is closed to visitors between 9 am and 4 pm.

Shiroyama viewpoint
Copyright © Madeline Gentz 2020

Tourism is also affected by uncontrollable factors such as seasonality and unpredictable disasters like COVID-19. Although Shirakawa-Gō is a year-round destination and does not have strong seasonal fluctuations, it was severely affected by the pandemic and visitor numbers dropped to 710,000 in 2020 and 420,000 in 2021. Despite this setback, Shirakawa-Gō is performing well as a tourist destination, and while other villages in Japan are shrinking and slowly disappearing, the culture and traditions of Shirakawa-Gō are being kept alive thanks to the interest of tourists.

Madeline Gentz is a BA student in Japanese Studies at Freie Universität Berlin. She completed her German-French double degree in international tourism management at the Harz University of Applied Sciences and La Rochelle Business School in 2020. After an internship at a travel agency in Tokyo, she moved to Berlin to pursue additional education in Japanese Studies.

有田観光協会に登録するガイドたち
Some of the guides registered at the Arita Tourism Association
Copyright © Arita Tourism Association 2021

1つめは「有田観光まちなかガイド」です。グループにはおおよそ30名が正式に観光ガイドとして有田観光協会に登録しています。ガイドは全員、ガイド会社に登録するプロではなく、それぞれ空いた時間で活動しているため、形式的にはアマチュアです。しかし有田と町の歴史について非常に深い知識、そしてガイドとしての高いスキルと経験をもっていることから、少なくともセミプロだと言えるでしょう。有田観光協会は毎年夏に「有田観光まちなかガイド」全員向けのセミナーを開催します。また毎月ミーティングに参加して、その時期の行事や有田の観光関連の情報をを共有します。さらにガイドたちは毎月勉強会を催し、有田と歴史について何か新しい事実を学びます。何人かのメンバーは別に2つの英語勉強会を作りました。1つは2015年発足、目標は次世代のガイド向けに英語・日本語のマニュアルを作成することです。背景として、ガイド後継者たち、また有田に興味のある一般人に、有田に関するあらゆる歴史的なテーマを学び、それを英語でどう表現するかを勉強させる目的があります。このグループは現在3冊目となる英語ガイドブックを作成しています。2つめのグループは2020年、新型コロナ感染症により、対面での英語勉強会が一時的に不可能になった時期に作られました。オンライン開催への切り替えによって、佐賀県内だけでなく全国から直接参加できない新しいメンバーを獲得することができました。オンライン英語勉強会の主な活動として、日本語を話さない観光客を有田案内する際に使用できる、やさしい英語での説明文作成に取り組んでいます。有田の歴史、とりわけ窯業の技術的な詳細は場合によっては、日本語でさえ説明しにくいです。そのため、オンライン英語勉強会が窯業や陶磁器一般について特に背景知識を持たない聞き手にとって、有田の情報を分かりやすくすることに取り組んでいます。

観光客に泉山磁石場を案内するガイド
One of the guides in action guiding tourists around the Izumiyama Quarry
Copyright © Arita Tourism Association 2017

The first is the Arita Kankō Machinaka Gaido group (Arita Tourism Town Guides). This group has about thirty members who are registered as official guides with the Arita Tourism Association. The guides are not affiliated with a professional company [2] and perform this activity in their spare time, which technically makes them amateurs. However, due to their in-depth knowledge of Arita and its history, as well as their high level of competence and experience as tour guides, they can be considered at least semi-professionals. The Arita Tourism Association holds a seminar every summer for all members of the Arita Kankō Machinaka Gaido group. In addition, the guides attend a monthly meeting to share current events and developments in tourism in Arita.  There is also a monthly study meeting [2] where the guides themselves learn new facts about Arita and its history. In addition, some members have established two separate English study groups. One was founded in 2015 and aims to create English-Japanese manuals for future generations of tour guides. The idea behind this is to give their successors, as well as people interested in Arita in general, the opportunity to study various historical topics related to Arita while learning how to express these things in English. Currently, the group is working on producing its third English guidebook. The second group was formed in 2020 during the first year of the pandemic when it had become temporarily impossible to hold English study meetings in person. The online meetings enabled the group to recruit new members from various locations in Saga Prefecture or from around the country who were unable to attend the face-to-face courses. The online group focuses on creating descriptions in easy-accessible English for tour guides to take non-Japanese speaking guests around Arita. The history of Arita and especially the technical details of the ceramics industry are often difficult to explain even in Japanese. Therefore, the group tries to make information about Arita understandable even for visitors without specific background knowledge about the ceramic industry and porcelain in general.

英語勉強会の様子
A meeting of the English Study Group
Copyright © Vincent Heuser 2022

英語勉強会のメンバーで英語マニュアルを作成
The members of the English Study Group present one of the English manuals they produced
Copyright © Vincent Heuser 2021

有田まちなか案内ジュニア隊が大公孫樹の前で話している
A member of the Arita Machinaka Annai Juniatai speaking in front of the Big Ginko Tree
Copyright © Arita Tourism Association 2022

[1] https://www.town.arita.lg.jp/main/262.html
[2] Kankou Gaido ni natte Arita no miryoku wo tsutaetemimasenka? Arita Kankou Machinaka Gaido Daiboshuu (Do you want to become a Tourist Guide and tell about the charme of Arita? Arita Tourism Town Guides big recruitment) (pamphlet published by the Arita Tourism Association)
[3] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngTMucgkyMw
[4] 2022 Nendo Arita Machinaka Annai Juniatai Daiboshuu (2022 Arita Town Guide Junior Group big recruitment) (pamphlet published by the Arita Tourism Association)
[5] https://www.arita.jp/junior/
[6] https://www.arita.jp/event/toujikimatsuri/post_71.html

Time: February 2, 2023 – February 3, 2023
Location: JDZB, Saargemünder Str. 2, 14195 Berlin
Registration and program: Urban-Rural Migration in Japan and Europe: Transnational and Comparative Perspectives | Japanisch-Deutsches Zentrum Berlin (jdzb.de)

Rural areas are struggling with economic and demographic problems in many places of the world and are often confronted with the migration of rural populations to urban centers. This is especially true for communities in rural Japan, which have been affected by declining birth rates, aging, and out-migration for decades. In the past decade, however, there has been a sharp increase in both the number of people interested in moving from urban to rural areas in Japan and those who actually relocate. Urban-rural migration of older people yearning for a more relaxed retirement or younger people seeking a more sustainable lifestyle is currently evident in many post-industrial societies. A distinctive feature of Japan is the numerous programs and subsidies initiated by various actors to encourage people to move or return to rural Japan and thereby revitalize local economies and agriculture. Although research on rural areas in Japan assumes that the immigration of educated and creative people has a positive impact on the revitalization of rural communities, there has been little empirical evidence to support this assumption.

This is the starting point of this symposium, which aims to compare empirical results from the DFG project “Urban-rural migration and rural revitalization in Japan” with urban-rural migration outside Japan, while at the same time discussing the role of transnational mobility for domestic urban-rural migration in Japan. From an interdisciplinary perspective and with the involvement of practitioners, the symposium aims to analyze connections between urban-rural migration, (local) revitalization practices and global social, political and economic structures.

Program:

Thursday, February 2

15:00 –         Registration

15:30 – 16:00   Opening

15:30 – 15:45   Tokiko Kiyota (Japanese-German Center Berlin)

15:45 – 16:00   Cornelia Reiher (Freie Universität Berlin)

16:00 – 17:00   Keynote Speeches

16:00 – 16:30   Post-Pandemic Developments in Lifestyle Migration: from Back-  to-the-Land to Urbanrural?
Susanne Klien (Hokkaido University)

16:30 – 17:00   Where are we at with Counterurbanisation in these Post-Covid Times: Rural Renaissance or Recuperation?
Keith Halfacree (Swansea University)

17:00 – 17:30   Coffee Break

17:30 – 19:00   Roundtable Discussion: Urban-Rural Migration and Rural Revitalization from a Global Perspective: Challenges for Japan and Europe
Chair: Cornelia Reiher (Freie Universität Berlin)

Susanne Klien (Hokkaido University)

Keith Halfacree (Swansea University)

Taichi Goto (Region Works LLC Fukuoka)

Annett Steinführer (Thünen Institute of Rural Studies) 

19:00 –         Reception


Friday, February 3

09:00 –         Registration

09:30 – 11:00   Session 1: Urban-Rural Migrants’ Experiences and their Contributions to Rural Areas 
Chair: Cecilia Luzi (Freie Universität Berlin)

09:30 – 09:50   The Best of Both Worlds? Experiences of Urban Migrants in Rural Aso
Wolfram Manzenreiter and Antonia Miserka (University of Vienna) 

09:50 – 10:10   Mobile Biographies of Urban-Rural Migrants in Rural East Germany: the Case of Nordsachsen District
Tim Leibert (Leibniz Institute for Regional Geography) 

10:10 – 10:30   Lifestyle Migration and Social Distinction in Rural Peripheries: Lessons from a Study on Alternative Foodscapes in Czechia’s Borderlands
Anja Decker (Czech Academy of Science)

10:30 – 11:00   Discussion

11:00 – 11:30   Coffee Break

11:30 – 12:30   Session 2: Project Introduction: Urban-rural Migration and Rural Revitalization in Japan
Chair: Lin-Yu Ng (Freie Universität Berlin)

11:30 – 11:45   Urban-Rural Migration and Rural Revitalization in Kyushu: Online, Offline and in Between
Cornelia Reiher (Freie Universität Berlin)

11:45 – 12:00   Welcoming Foreign Talent: How a Small Municipality Seeks to Revitalize itself
Tu Thanh Ngo (Freie Universität Berlin)

12:00 – 12:15   Finding Home in Rural Japan: Urban-Rural Migrants in Kyushu
Cecilia Luzi (Freie Universität Berlin)

12:15 – 12:30   Discussion

12:30 – 14:00   Lunch

14:00 – 15:30   Session 3: Urban-Rural Migration and the State: Policies and Politics
Chair: Tu Thanh Ngo (Freie Universität Berlin)

14:00 – 14:20   The Politics of Attracting Residents to Depopulating Municipalities in Japan
Ken Hijino (Kyoto University) 

14:20 – 14:40   Hamm (Sieg): Into the Future with Creative Solutions
Dietmar Henrich (Mayor of Hamm)

14:40 – 15:00   Locals and Newcomers in Remote Rural Areas: Twenty Years of Experimental Research
Angel Paniagua Mazorra (Spanish Council for Scientific Research)

15:00 – 15:30   Discussion

15:30 – 16:00   Coffee Break

16:00 – 17:30   Session 4: The Future of Rural Areas and Urban-Rural Migration
Chair: Maritchu Durand (Freie Universität Berlin)

16:00 – 16:20   A Framework for a New Creative Tourism-Based Community Development in Japan
Tadashi Saito (Yamaguchi Prefectural University) 

16:20 – 16:40   Urban-Rural Migration and Rural Futures in Germany
Annett Steinführer (Thünen Institute of Rural Studies)

16:40 – 17:00   Opportunities and Challenges in Swedish Rural Areas
Susanne Stenbacka (Uppsala University)

17:00 – 17:30   Discussion

17:30 – 18:15   Final Discussion
Chair: Cornelia Reiher (Freie Universität Berlin)

18:15           End of symposium

Our team will take a break over the holidays. The blog will be back on January 13.

Thank you for following and supporting our activities.

Happy holidays.

Seasons decoration in a fish tank in Sasebo
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2004

by Cecilia Luzi

Before I started my field research in Japan this October, I read about many local markets in Kyushu on social media. Many of them are organized by migrants who have moved from the city to the countryside. When several people I had met in Buzen told me about the 84 Marché in Nakatsu, Oita Prefecture, I was very excited to finally visit a market myself. When we left our house around noon on a sunny November day to go to the market, it was 20 degrees. The market was held in a park, and after climbing a winding road between maple trees with bright red autumn leaves, we saw a clearing with 25 stalls at the bottom of the hill. The stalls offered various products, from clothing and beauty products to coffee, honey and lunch boxes.

A map of 84 Marché
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

I spotted M-san waiting for a coffee and waving at me. She was one of the people who had invited me because she wanted me to meet one of her friends, a craftsman who builds stone walls for terraced fields and also speaks impeccable Italian. He was a left back on a Serie D soccer team in central Italy and has lived in Viterbo for four years. We strolled through the stalls sampling honey, coffee and roasted sweet potatoes. After half an hour, I had already run out of the business cards I had brought with me, expecting to be able to talk to a certain number of people about my project – which I had obviously underestimated, because there were so many urban-rural migrants at the market. And many of them had transnational migration histories, like M-san’s friend or the girl who runs an Italian restaurant in Nakatsu and lived in Rimini for three years to learn Italian cooking. We bought coffee from a man who had moved to Nakatsu from Tokushima, and cannellé from another man who was originally from Fukuoka, had lived in various cities in Japan, and then moved to Koge in Fukuoka Prefecture a few years ago. We also talked to a girl who had just moved here from Tōkyō to train as a farmer, and another man who had moved from Nagasaki to Yabakei in Oita Prefecture to open a small vegetarian restaurant. We also met a young man who had just graduated from chiiki okoshi kyōryokutai (COKT) in Sanko, Oita Prefecture, and was organizing the market. He currently lives in a share house with three other urban-rural migrants and wants to start an eco-village.

View of the market square
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

As we stood on the porch where the sweet potatoes were being grilled, amid the hot, sweet smoke rising from the coals, I asked M-san how long these markets have been around. “I would say the first ones started about ten years ago. The name ‘marché’ (marushee) is French, isn’t it? French always sounds cooler to the Japanese. There are Christmas markets now, but I’ve never been to those. Other markets in this area that have always existed are mainly fruit and vegetable markets where local farmers sell their produce.” I told her I was amazed at the number of migrants I met today, and asked her if it was normal to see so many of them at these events. “I would say it depends on who is organizing it. This event is organized by the guys from Chiiki okoshi kyoryokutai from Sanko, and I think that’s why there are so many migrants here. It’s kind of their thing.” It is their second market after a first market was held in the spring. “This year they finished the program [COKT] and I don’t know if they will organize more markets. Maybe someone else will take over, or maybe they’ll just stop.”

One of the stalls selling coffee
Copyright © Cecilia Luzi 2022

During my online research, I had already noticed that many markets took place only once or twice and then stopped. This might be due to the fact that those who organize them have a precarious job or do it in their spare time. Moreover, these markets seem to be the initiative of one or two people who are interested in bringing people together as long as they have the time to do so. In some cases, when they are no longer able to organize these events, others step in. In other cases, the markets simply cease to exist. But M-san also mentioned farmers’ markets, and the day after my visit to the 84 Marché, I had the opportunity to visit one. It was organized by local government officials and integrated into the local infrastructure, also with the help of local government employees. I have the impression that this facilitates the institutionalization of such events. In my next post, I will write more about the farmers’ market and reflect on the similarities and differences between these two different types of markets.

by Lynn Ng

“I lived three years in the countryside of Hokkaido!” This is often one of the first things I tell people. For the longest time, I prided myself a rural-experienced urbanite, for I had experienced the ups and downs of the rural life. So, as I made my way to a small village in mountainous Fukushima, I was thrilled to once again put on my rural rose-tinted glasses. Aboard one of four daily buses that travel into this village, I imagined the rolling hills, rice paddies, snow-capped mountains, clear rivers that awaited me at the destination.

What the road into the village was like, with the abundant nature I imagined myself to be immersed in upon arrival.
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2022

After an hour of romanticizing rural Fukushima in my head, I arrived at my accommodation – a former shophouse now used to host volunteers and interns of community revitalization projects. This house sits between a steep brown hill and a small rocky stream. Unruly grass grew everywhere and an ambient radiation measuring device hides itself nearby, behind tall grasses and rusted fences. Outside the dark, empty house, I shouted: “Konnichiwa!” Silence. I wondered if I had arrived too early, that the staff had not been expecting me, yet. Or had I arrived too late and the staff already went home? I attempted to check my communication history for a number to call but alas, the signal was bad. I began to realize how inexplicably ill-prepared I was.

The air radiation monitoring device nearby reads 0.189 microSieverts/h – more than double of Berlin’s ambient dose rate (0.073 microSieverts/h) [1].
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2022

After a brief moment of internal panic, an old lady came running from out of nowhere across the street (where the steep hills were) towards me. She shouted to me something I could not understand and knocked on the windows of the house. I worried how badly my Japanese comprehension had withered away after just a year. The staff popped out of the office quickly. How she had heard the two knocks on the glass but not my incessant konnichiwas, I wondered. I turned to thank the old lady but she was no longer there. “There are no locks here, anywhere here,” the staff member said. I asked about Wi-Fi. “None,” she said, and then added, “there is a convenience store about fifteen minutes on foot, but it closes in about thirty minutes.” I put down my bags and prepared to run to the store.

Within mere minutes of setting things down, however, a small earthquake struck the village. The public radio announced that everyone in unstable housing structures should go to the nearest evacuation center. I wondered if this house was structurally viable. I wondered where the closest evacuation center was. I attempted to google. There was no internet. Abandoning all thoughts of heading out at all, I crawled onto a chair and allowed myself time to reflect on these realities of my first day, and of my upcoming week here: a week of unlockable doors, no groceries in the vicinity, and no Wi-Fi. On this first day in rural Fukushima, urbanite-Lynn experienced culture shock. I sat by the kitchen table shivering in my Tokyo-appropriate clothes. My stomach growled. I stared gloomily at the portable humidifier I bought just before boarding the bus. Why hadn’t I bought food or hot packs instead? As I had decided to leave all of the day’s problems to tomorrow, the old lady from before knocked on my door with a bowl of pumpkin stew in hand. I wondered how she gained access and remembered that there were no locks in this whole place.

The heartwarmingly delicious bowl of pumpkin stew.
Copyright © Lynn Ng 2022

I wrote these reflections while chewing on bits of soft pumpkin in the dim kitchen. I pondered upon this culture shock of the vast disparity between my imagination and the realities of living in this village. The ambient radiation numbers displayed on the tucked-away measuring device had easily become a non-concern. I wondered how other rural migrants here felt on their first day – had they also met this mysterious old lady? Or had they spent the day walking around finding phone signals? How did their imaginations match up with reality? On this first night, as I headed off to bed, I tripped on the uneven tatami, pinched my fingers twice on the wooden doors, tucked my valuables under my pillow and slept to the sounds of the stream flowing softly outside while a hundred questions raced through my mind.

[1] Ministry of Environment Japan. (2019). Ta chiiki no kūkan senryō-ritsu to no hikaku [Comparison of ambient radiation to other areas]. Available at:
https://www.env.go.jp/chemi/rhm/portal/digest/dwelling/detail_003.html

by Cornelia Reiher

Two days after my arrival in Japan this September, Kyushu was hit by an “exceptionally strong typhoon”. This reminded me that the Covid pandemic was not the only reason that forced people to change their travel plans or daily lives. Typhoon No. 14 hit Kyushu on September 18, shortly after I arrived in Fukuoka, where I had planned to meet with our colleagues at Kyushu University before starting fieldwork in Arita and Taketa. Although I was safely ensconced in a high-rise concrete hotel, I was surprised to find that most stores, supermarkets, and even konbini in Fukuoka were closed. When I went to a supermarket that was still open, the shelves were quite empty, and I was lucky to buy the last obento.

On television, news of store and train closures were updated every minute, and signs in the windows of Hakata Station informed customers of temporary store closures due to the typhoon.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

Train, plane, subway and bus services in Fukuoka were also suspended, and people stranded at Hakata Station waited in long lines for information. Media coverage was quite alarming, and my emergency app recommended evacuating to a nearby gym, but hotel staff said the hotel was much safer. All people in Fukuoka were advised to stay indoors. While watching on TV as the typhoon hit the coast of Kagoshima with fierce winds, high waves, and a storm surge, I waited anxiously in my hotel room for the typhoon to hit Fukuoka. Finally, the typhoon had lost some speed as it passed Fukuoka early in the morning of September 19 while I was still asleep.

Homeowners put tape on their windows as a precaution against typhoons to prevent them from breaking.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

The next morning, television showed images of heavy storms, flooded streets and fallen trees. A report from Yufuin showed that the roads were underwater. Many highways and businesses were still closed and train service was suspended. At breakfast, I overheard a waitress telling a guest that the entire hotel staff was sleeping in the hotel during the typhoon. I texted my friends in Oita and Saga and asked them if they were okay. Some had actually spent the night with their families in a shelter, but fortunately, no one had been injured. According to NHK, the total number of injured people in Fukuoka and Saga prefectures was very low, eleven and three, respectively. However, my friends and research participants were affected in different ways. Events they had been preparing for several months had to be canceled. One friend was stuck in Kokura for two days waiting for a connecting train. Others reported that the typhoon had broken windows or blown the roof off their homes. In particular, those living in renovated former akiya reported damage. Many experienced the typhoon as frightening and said this typhoon was much worse than previous ones, but others complained about the media spreading panic. Guesthouse operators told me that people were seeking refuge in the guesthouse.

In many places in Kyushu, the strong wind had knocked over the rice plants.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

When I visited Saga and Oita after the typhoon, I could see some damage myself: In the rice fields, the typhoon had knocked over the rice plants just before the harvest. Therefore, the rice could only be harvested by hand. This cost the farmers more time and resources. In Oita, a large tree next to a local shrine was struck by lightning during the typhoon and large branches had fallen. Two weeks after the typhoon, local people were still busy cleaning up the damage. At the same time, they were also going about their usual activities, preparing for the annual Kagura performance at the shrine, which was being held for the first time in two years because of the Covid pandemic. This made me realize how resilient rural residents are to natural disasters. Instead of complaining, they cleaned up the damage and went on with their lives. Many even emphasized how lucky they were this time because, for example, the nearby river did not burst its banks. But natural disasters are always on their minds, which is reflected in damage prevention measures and visible in the rural landscape. For example, homeowners put tape on their windows to protect them from typhoons, but it is very difficult to remove. Therefore, it stays on for a while after the typhoon, and in some cases, it is not removed at all. Some people think of countermeasures when building or renovating a house and use the heavier roof tiles (kawarayane), for example, because the roof is more likely to hold up in a typhoon.

Branches of a tree struck by lightning during the typhoon.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

In summary, this experience puts the pandemic in perspective as one of many risks and disasters that the rural population of Japan faces in their daily lives. I realized that I had focused too much on the Covid pandemic because I was unable to travel to Japan due to the pandemic. However, the spatial and temporal dimensions of these different disasters as well as the different social, economic, political and cultural impacts are perceived and handled very differently by people in the countryside. It is interesting to study how rural residents deal with these different risks and disasters and manage them in everyday life.

by Maritchu Durand

There have been some changes since my last blog post. Unfortunately, my work on the project has come to an end. But this has given me the opportunity to finally dive into my master’s thesis more deeply. Focusing on the renovation of akiya in rural Japan and their role in rural revitalization, I am now approaching my research subject on two fronts. First, I am reading about the numerous case studies that have been conducted in the last few years, as well as important works on urban-rural migration. Second, I am entering the wild world of YouTube in order to find concrete cases of migrants’ representation and narratives of their experiences with DIY renovation. Since I previously have looked at videos published by a prefecture, now I want to find more personal testimonies, filmed, edited and posted by individuals. In this post, I will present my first observations from a whole new YouTube world.

A residential house from the early Shōwa period during the renovation process in Arita, Saga prefecture.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

First of all, I was quite surprised to find out that there were so many channels about DIY renovation of old houses. Interestingly, most channels combine the words inaka gurashi – life in the countryside – with anything ranging from ‘DIY renovation’ to ‘akiya’ or ‘kominka’. Although the number of subscribers to those channels ranges from only 3000 to sometimes 500 000, all of them feature highly popular videos that have up to two million views. The most popular videos are those showing houses before and after renovation or the often year-long renovation process in 10 to 20 minutes. The different channels can be divided into two groups: the ‘silent ones’ and the ‘talkative ones’. In the talkative videos, the – often quite young – house owners play a prominent role in explaining their renovation process and showing themselves during renovation work, gardening or exploring the region. They are the main actors and viewers follow them along their journey through renovation. These videos can be quite explanatory and technical, but often also present features of conventional TV programs in Japan: comical sound effects, bright and colored subtitles and comments by an out-of-frame narrator. See for example:

However, there are more videos of the ‘silent type’ where migrants rarely show their faces and do not talk. Explanations are provided via subtitles. Light and upbeat music or slow and melancholic instrumentals accompany footage of renovation work, the houses and the natural and quiet surroundings featuring insects and diverse flowers, cold mountain streams and organic vegetables in gardens behind the house. See for example:

While each channel has its own characteristics, all of them share common features and representations that are particularly interesting to observe just after reading Susanne Klien’s work on urban-rural migrants in post-growth Japan[1]. Like Klien’s many interviewees, the house owners in the videos are young urbanites who recently decided to change their lives and move to the countryside. They are lifestyle migrants who chose to leave the city and their jobs to live closer to nature in a rural environment. The videos present two main aspects of urban-rural migrants’ life in the countryside Klien has identified: while showing satisfaction and joy in their life surrounded by nature, cultivating their garden, discovering wildlife and slowing down in their everyday life, urban-rural migrants also face difficulties in their new lives. When migrants talk about difficulties and failures, it is often presented as a great opportunity to learn in the videos. Still, it cannot be ignored that their renovation enterprise takes up most of their time, energy, and money as renovating a house requires time, skills and resources. But there are also differences between the migrants in the renovation videos and those in Klien’s work. While situated in a liminal state between movement and settlement, the latter enjoyed a certain freedom of movement and did not hesitate to change locations when they wanted to. In contrast, the young migrants who bought a house and are now renovating it put all their efforts and resources into this enterprise and seem much more tied to a particular place. They cannot move away on a whim or break off in the blink of an eye.

This former public bath in Taketa, Oita prefecture was renovated and is now used as a restaurant and gallery.
Copyright © Cornelia Reiher 2022

This situation might seem like a trap for young migrants that engage in akiya renovation projects that might as well fail. However, from a more positive perspective, the migrants choose to invest in the land, the house and the place to create a future home. The renovation process also gives them the opportunity to meet many local people who help them. Finally, such renovation projects by urban-rural migrants could contribute to more sustainable migration and rural development in the long run.

[1] Klien, Susanne (2020), Urban migrants in rural Japan: Between agency and anomie in a post-growth society, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.

by Ngo Tu Thanh (Frank Tu)

October 3^rd, 2022: I’ve just returned to Tokyo before flying back to Berlin this Sunday. This is almost the end of my fieldwork in Japan! After six months, five cities, and countless memories, I know now that fieldwork can generate not only data for research but also new friendships, life experiences, inspiration and even career opportunities. As my flight back to Berlin is approaching, I can’t help but feel somewhat melancholy. “So that’s it?”, I think to myself. As a young researcher, I struggle to deal with my attachment to the field, and I also wonder if my personal bonds with several respondents may affect the objectivity of my analysis.

My fieldwork has come to an end. It was an amazing experience
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

I keep thinking back to May when I conducted my first interviews with national policy actors in Tokyo. How nervous I was back then! After these initial meetings, I came to realize that many policy actors, including even politicians and high-ranking government officials, were highly supportive and there was no reason why I had to be afraid to discuss with them. In fact, some research participants, despite their extremely hectic schedules, were kind enough to keep following up on my research progress and meet me multiple times until my very last days here. These respondents have become my friends and mentors, and we even promised to meet again in Germany next year.

I also had great experiences in Kyūshū. I was especially impressed with Fukuoka Prefecture, and more specially Buzen City – a small yet spirited municipality that has been making great rural revitalization efforts through international cooperation and digital transformation. My respondents from Fukuoka Prefecture and Buzen gave me the feeling that Fukuoka is a place of new ideas, challenges, and vitality. My respondents here are also extremely proactive and modern. Since all of them added me on social media and preferred texting to sending emails, I could contact them right away whenever a question arose. Sometimes, after our meetings, they even texted their new ideas and opinion about rural revitalization without me asking.

One of my research participants is a charismatic leader, academic, businessman
and a native of Yame City, where I attended high school
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

Compared to Fukuoka, Nagasaki seems to have a slower pace, or in other words, is more “rural”. Yet, I was able to experience the charming, relaxing life in Nagasaki. I stayed at an Airbnb in Nagasaki, and my host – a Nagasaki native – is very knowledgeable about rural revitalization and interested in the project that our research team is conducting. He also used to work in a local politician’s office. In order to help me grasp the local context, my host guided me to many historical places in Nagasaki, invited me to join local events, introduced me to other local residents, and even drove me to Hasami Town – my other main field site. He is also familiar with several of my respondents and prepped me before my interviews. For instance, he told me about the backgrounds and policy orientations of several local politicians. While in Nagasaki, not only did I get to hear the voices of policy actors, but also those of local residents. Many of them were highly critical of how the prefecture handles rural revitalization. More importantly, the people I met in Nagasaki became a part of my everyday life. We formed a close-knit community and had dinner together every other day as we lived very close to each other. One of my new friends also came to Tokyo to see me off on Sunday.

An evening picnic with my Airbnb host and new friends from Nagasaki
Copyright © Ngo Tu Thanh 2022

This is not my first time in Japan or living abroad. After having lived in six countries, I thought I was used to saying goodbye. Yet, it is still quite emotional to know “that was it”. However, I’m sure that the end of the fieldwork is not the end of these new “friendships” (if I may use this word at all… as many respondents are older and way more accomplished than I am). In the upcoming months, I will do my best to make the most out of the valuable information my respondents shared with me and finish my PhD dissertation. I cannot wait to visit Japan again as soon as possible.