I’m author Thersa Matsuura and I’m here to share with you all those hidden, fascinating, and sometimes frightening corners of old Japan. Join me as I explore strange superstitions, curious creatures and cultural enigmas right here on Uncanny Japan.
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Don’t let anyone tell you Japan has four distinct seasons. You’ll hear that a lot. But it’s not true. Japan actually has five seasons. Everyone forgets Tsuyu, the Rainy Season, and all that entails. Unless you’re talking about Hokkaido, the northernmost island. They don’t have a rainy season. In that case, your friend isn’t lying to you. Four seasons is spot on.
Today let’s curl up with the sound of spring rain that we recorded early one morning on the veranda. You’ll hear the very first frogs of the year, a handful of birds, and a crow vying for attention. And while relaxing to the sounds, let’s also learn about all things rain: tsuyu and the rainy day creatures that the season gave birth to, along with a couple old wives tales.
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Tsuyu Meaning
It’s called “rainy season” in English. And “tsuyu” or “baiyu” in Japanese. Tsuyu and baiyu are different pronunciations for the same two characters: plum rain (梅雨). Beautifully named because this is the time of year the plums ripen. Which I’m excited about, by the way, because I found some wild plum trees near my house. While out participating in our annual river cleaning —or more precisely providing moral support to Richard who was doing the actual work of shoveling mud, our neighborhood leader and I started chatting. He urged me to come pick the plums once they were ready for making plum wine or umeboshi-pickled plums. I asked several times, Are you sure? And he said, Yes, of course! So there’s my next project.
Okay. The rainy season. So nice, you gotta name it more than twice. You’ve got tsuyu and baiyu, and then there’s also Samidare (五月雨). Literally, May Rain. Where tsuyu is an umbrella (ha) term for the entire rainy season, samidare refers more to the nature of the rain, intermittent and gentle. It has a much nicer and poetic feel to it than tsuyu. If you’re writing haiku, use samidare.
What is Tsuyu?
What’s there to know about tsuyu? Well, it’s arguably, the most dreaded and miserable time in Japan. Basically, one day you’re out kicked back under a bunch of cherry trees, sipping 7-11 wine out of a can with your friends, enjoying the other-worldly enchantment of being showered by thousands of delicate pink petals…
…and the next day you wake up to gray skies and drizzle. All day, all night. Day after day. Some days more rain, constant, relentless, some days less. Occasionally, if you’re lucky, you’ll get a no rain for a couple days, but it’s still pretty much overcast with a low gray sky. I love rain, you say. Well, I do, too. But this isn’t like the thrill of having a refreshing spring shower or a good vigorous thunderstorm sweep in and shake things up. It’s very low key and monotonous.
Mold
It also starts getting progressively warmer and more humid as the days drag on. That bread you bought at the store, don’t leave it out for even one day. Mold. Your shower tiles that you just spent a hour scrubbing, give it a day or two, mold. Everything molds. I’ve lost leather shoes, handbags, and jackets, because I didn’t take proper precautions during tsuyu. If you’re not careful, you’ll get mold growing in the corners of your room, on your books, window frames are notorious for it, even tatami mats.
Traditional Houses to Beat Mold
See, now it makes sense why traditional Japanese houses are built less sturdy and not a shred of insulation. But they are more easily air out-table. Yes, there are other reasons for the way they are constructed, but some things do make sense. They’re often raised off the ground for air to circulate under the house. The rooms are separated by shoji or fusuma doors which can be lifted off their tracks to allow for better air circulation. Shoji doors are also made with washi paper, which is porous and allows for moisture to transfer, preventing stagnant humid air to accumulate all in one place.
You’ll also find ranma (欄間) or transom windows between rooms in old houses. These are the spaces between the ceiling and the lintel of a fusuma door. Instead of being completely open, they are carved wooden panels. Sometimes extremely intricate scenes of trees and bridges, temples, and clouds. There are latticed bamboo ones which are pretty, too. Next time you’re in a traditional Japanese home, look up. The nicer place you’re in, the more gorgeous they are. And now you know it’s not just there for there beautiful artistic value. They provide the movement of air and light, too.
Mold. The word baiyu, using not plum, but a different kanji for “bai”, translates as mold rain. It’s not common, but I’ve seen it used.
When is Tsuyu?
For travelers, just so you know, the rainy season varies, but in general it’s from June through mid July. Of course rolling over Okinawa a month earlier. This year the news casters are all up in arms that the rainy season is two weeks early down south. Wherever you are, you’ll know it’s upon you when you listen to news and they have the nyubai reports. Yes, special weather reports showing where the rainy season has officially started. Then a month or so later, everyone will look forward to the official end called tsuyuake. Ironically, there are some years of karatsuyu, a dry rainy season which means very little rain to almost no rain. And almost always the official start and stop dates never match up with exactly how the weather is behaving. So everyone always comments on that.
Rain Superstitions
A couple rain superstitions that I’ve found to be true. “If you see a cat washing its face, it’s going to rain”: “neko ga kao wo arau to ame”. Something about air pressure or damp whiskers. Another one is “tsubame ga hikuku tobu to ame”: when you see swallows flying around low, it’s going to rain. This one refers to how bugs fly low before rain and since swallows eat bugs, they have to zip around lowers to catch them.
Rainy Day Yōkai: Amefuri Kozō
Okay, who might you meet on a drizzly gray spring day in Japan.
Let’s start with the most obvious, the Amefurikozō, a strange-looking little yōkai who wears an old fashioned umbrella on its head and creeps around on rainy days. He was first introduced by Toriyama Sekien in his Konjaku Gazu Zoku Hyakki book. But the this little Rainfall Boy quickly became popular — much like the Tofu Kozo (the creepy little dude who carries a small plate of tofu around) — and you could find him everywhere, books, toys, games, and karuta cards. You hear stories of the Amefuri kozo actually making it rain or just being around when it happens. In more modern versions of his stories, you have an almost urban legend feel with things like: If you take the umbrella from him and put it on your head, you’ll never be able to remove it. Or if you talk to it, you’ll get covered in blue mold. Mold again.
Tsuyu Kyūbi
Next, there’s a newish yōkai called Tsuyu Kyūbi, or “rainy season nine tails”. It comes from the game, Yokai Watch. Tsuyu Kyubi is a nine-tailed green fox wearing a cute hooded frog cape. It controls the rain by collecting the mysterious power of all that tsuyu drizzle. It will make it rain heavily but then after it stops, there appears a beautiful rainbow.
Ame Onna
Another rainy day or night creature is the Ameonna. This yōkai, too, was first brought to the forefront in the 1700s when Toriyama Sekien carved an image of a ghostly, long-haired woman, standing by a lantern in the rain and licking her hand. One legend of this ameonna says that any mother who has lost a child on a rainy day because a tengu flew in and stole it away (kamikashi) would turn into an ameonna. She would then appear in front of crying children on those sodden days carrying a large sack, presumably to carry them away. My guess would be, she’s looking for her own stolen child. But there are other tales of how the amaonna can both bring rain to make your days miserable or to break a drought.
Another Type of Ame Onna
There’s another very interesting kind of ameonna. Way back in my first year or two of Japan, I remember going out with a friend somewhere and it rained. My friend apologized and said it was her fault, she was an ame onna, rain girl. I had no idea what this meant, but she explained that if someone goes out or has some special or important event planned, like a picnic or sports meet or even a big test, and invariably it rains, they’re an ame onna / rain girl or ame otoko / rain boy.
I thought this was so charming. That people in Japan pay attention to the weather and sudden changes on important days or when they are looking forward to something. Like they somehow control the weather. While being an ame onna or ame otoko seems like a negative thing — it kind of is —, on the flip side, it’s said that ame onna and ame otoko have good memories and that the Dragon God – Ryujin love them. So you’ve got that going for you.
The opposite which is also common is hare otoko and hare onna. When these two go anywhere, the sun shines. Even if the weather looks iffy the day before, they show up and it’s blue skies and sunshine.
I mostly hear people using the phrase when talking about themselves. I hope the weather is fine for our camp. I’m an ame otoko. Or don’t worry about the BBQ, I’m a hare onna.
Ametsubo: Rain Pot
Speaking of rain, there are all sorts of legends and old wives tales about something called an Amatsubo or Rain Pot.
In Shimane Prefecture there’s a Nana fushigi (Seven Mysterious Things) about an amatsubo that is basically a curious formation of rocks, not very big, in the ground that are indented, like a bowl or pot. It’s called the rain pot and it’s said that if anyone does anything to disturb it, it will anger the god Susano-o (the god of storms and sea) and cause a great flood. There’s even a story of a man who did push his luck and messed with this particular amatsubo. The next day a storm hit the village and caused a great flood. The man who disobeyed the legend and incurred Susano-o’s wrath was thusly expelled from the village.
Nice Things
There are some nice things about the rainy season. Rice fields being planted and the awakening of a gazillion frogs to name two. There’s also ajisai or hydrangea. These beloved flowers thrive in the tsuyu season. There are over a hundred different kinds, in all shades of blues and pinks and purples. Some temples and shrines are known for them and you can find ajisai festivals celebrating them, too.
Ajisai
Now, ajisai are poisonous so whatever you don’t do this. But there is a variety or two from which a special tea is brewed. It’s called ama cha or sweet tea or amagi amachi. There’s no caffeine, it’s quite sweet due to a natural sweetener that is up to 200 times sweeter than sucrose. It’s quite the process to make the tea and even the Japanese Ministry of Health recommends not to exceed 3 grams of Amacha per liter of water.
But one thing it is used for is the hana matsuri or flower festival, that celebrates the birth of the Buddha. This takes place every year on April 8. In this ceremony, there is a flower room where all kinds of flowers are arranged along with a small statue of the Buddha, usually placed in a large bowl. The statue is washed with the sweet hydrangea tea. By washing, I mean, you use a bamboo spoon or ladle and pour three spoonfuls over the statue. The amacha is symbolic of the pure water dragons used after the Buddha was born to cleanse him.
If you are interested in learning more about the numerous types of ajisai — names, colors, shapes, where you can see them, and a photo of just how breathtaking they are, there’s a website called Onigiro Pocket Japan that has a great page about ajisai.
So that’s pretty much all things rainy season. It’s not the best time to travel in Japan, but there is definitely beauty to be found in misty temples, moss covered stones, and dark lush forests.
I think it’s pretty clever though. You’ve got this oppressive somewhat dismal month or so that really makes you look forward to summer. One day it’s dark and gloomy outside and the next the sky opens up to bright blue and fat pillowy white clouds appear. You’re briefly excited and then the temperature start hitting 40 degrees celsius (over 100 Fahrenheit) and you recall central air isn’t a thing, which drums up a whole new set of woes, but at least in summer you have kakigori (shave ice), obon festivals, fireworks, and ghost stories to try and keep you cool.
A Haiku
Okay, let’s end with some beautiful poetic words about the rainy season
五月雨や 涙のいろの あじさいに
(Samidare ya / namida no iro no / ajisai ni)
Early summer rain—
The color of tears
On the hydrangea.
Thank you for listening. Stay safe and well. Consider becoming a patron if you’d like to support the show and get extra content. I’ll talk to you in two weeks.
