My mother had wanted to contribute to Korea-Japan relations via various projects. I took up the baton after she was gone. As I got engaged in the tasks there was one thing that I lamented.
Why had my mother and father, who graduated from university and graduate school in Japan, not told me to study Japanese in addition to English? As I went to university in Seoul and studied in the U.S. for a long time, it wasn’t like I really needed Japanese.
Japanese clients of my father, who was the president of patent attorneys’ association, sometimes came to my house and I could hear them talking in Japanese, but I wasn’t interested. After finishing dinner, at my father’s command for his “daughter to sing a tune,” the young me complied and sang with the guitar.
As Pyongyang University of Education graduates had to teach 2 years at a school, my father taught music wearing a bow tie in Manchuria. He was good at singing and playing the piano in daily life, but I was responsible for entertaining.
Come to think about it, the thought that it would have been more helpful for my work and better if I had learned Japanese then comes to my mind. I still remember a few words that I later learned were Japanese that Koreans used a lot, though. Tarai, oden, yokan. That is right. Yokan, or sweet bean jelly.
Those words were more familiar to me than basin, fish cake, or sweet bean jelly. Yokan was on display at the hotel that I stayed at for the first time in Tokyo. The white cloth with thick brushes of “Toraya” and red logo of the company attracted my attention.
My father had bought them during his business trip in Tokyo.
Later, I found out there were Toraya stores only in upmarket shopping areas like Ginza, Roppongi Hills, and Midtown in addition to Imperial Hotel Tokyo. Toraya was founded in Kyoto in 1520 and its headquarters were moved to Tokyo in 1869 when the capital of Japan was moved. It has provided the Japanese imperial family with yokan and pastries for the last 500 years.
When I was studying at Kyoto, I passed by a Toraya store in front of Gosho, the old palace, near Doshisha University and thought of the Toraya that I used to see in Tokyo. I hadn’t known that Toraya was originally founded in Kyoto. The revenue from being a purveyor to the Imperial Court wouldn’t be that much, but the brand value gained from being the imperial purveyor would be something. People would think of the Imperial Court when they hear “Toraya.”
Their sales revenue is surely admirable, but their endeavor to maintain their prestigious brand image is more admirable.
They opened a branch in Paris in 1980. Also, Toraya cafes sell mixtures of the West and the East, combining oriental materials like sweet red bean and agar with Western products like ice creams or puddings. Its history is a first in its industry which is admirable, but I was more surprised when I saw ‘Toraya books’ on display. They were publishing good books on traditional confectionery.
'Tradition is a series of innovations' This cool motto often quoted by long-established shops was first coined by Toraya with its family-owned business of 17 generations. Speaking of the Imperial Court, I quietly announce the following for the first time: In March of 2011, a great earthquake and tsunami struck Japan and many lives were lost. I thought of my mother. If the poet the Japanese loved consoled Japan with powerful line of poetry, it would be of much comfort to them. And then someone called me from Japan and encouraged me, “You try it.” I laughed because that was impossible.
But the Great East Japan Earthquake was on the news not just once or twice, but every day which induced my writing one or two lines each time. They eventually mounted to 250 lines in a few days. 8 of my poems and an introduction to the mother daughter poets were published in Asahi and Sankei, and I heard a lot of people called the newspaper companies to ask for the poet’s other poems.
It was a hard task, but two books in two different forms were published – in the form of Tanka in Tokyo and in the form of modern poetry in Seoul. The ambassador to Japan and the director of Japan Cultural Center told me in 2012 that my book went through several hands and was handed to the Japanese emperor. They cautiously told me that the book was handed to the top official in Imperial Household Agency of Japan, and it looked like it was handed to the Japanese emperor from him.
I heard that the Japanese emperor had relations with several places – not only a place selling sweet bean jelly but also several places dealing with stuff like suits – and he received several gifts, but I heard he didn’t accept books as a gift.
As the imperial couple of Heisei were poets and booklovers, and as there were a lot of books being published, I heard that the couple bought the books they wanted themselves.
I feel honored that my hope of touching the Japanese, who were engrossed in the sadness of losing thousands of people due to the great tsunami, was conveyed to the Japanese emperor, who could be said to be the representative of the Japanese people.
The United States was the country that donated the most money then, and France came in the second. But some Japanese told me that they were more thankful to Korea who expressed their warm regards. It was just like the Japanese as a nation of literature lovers.
The current state of Korea-Japan relations is bleak. But thinking of the above, I have faith that our relations with Japan will improve.
It’s not like I am making money from it like Toraya is but I still cherish a hope that we will get along without conflict.
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