First book

 

My first book just came out two weeks ago! (June 27)

It is certainly a special moment in my life. I don't know how many more books I will be able to publish, but the first one is probably the most memorable.

It is a book of a decade's making, which is not unusual for an academic monograph. Ten years ago, in the summer of 2011, I was searching my dissertation topic in Cambridge—what a beautiful summer!—and gradually this project on poisons came into focus. I also started this blog during that summer (June 13, to be exact). I don't quite remember why I picked this topic—I think the poison/medicine paradox intrigued me. In that sense, the project started from an intriguing idea. Although the book has added more dimensions, that core has remained more or less the same.

But these are technical details after all. Holding my own book now, the memories go far beyond my Cambridge times. Back in Michigan days, in the fall of 2006, I was taking my first graduate seminar in humanities with Christian, who just started his AP position in History. One of the readings is a section from Benedict Anderson's classic Imagined Communities. I read the piece in a seminar room at the basement of my department (Biology), which is my favorite secret spot, and asked myself, "How is it possible for me to write a book like this?"

That was a different moment of my life. Although I was determined to switch my career, I still had lots of self-doubts. Even if I am passionate about humanities, can I do it? To write a book in English, at that moment, felt like climbing Mount Everest.

I still have doubts about my writing in English today. For a non-native speaker, those doubts probably will never go away, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. But the publication of my first book gives me reassurance. Language is not a formidable barrier to develop my career, though I can always improve it. What's more important is the idea of the book, and research behind it. In other words, substance matters more than style.

As an untenured scholar, I was lucky to have two generous reviewers who offered positive reports. In retrospect, I wish the comments could be harsher, to push me to further enhance the book. As a person who is always self-critical, I know well what are the pitfalls of the book. But as Katy told me, the first book is always functional—it builds upon the dissertation; it meets the tenure requirement; it confirms my scholarly capability. If nothing else, I got it done on time, which helps my tenure case. The next book, as Katy pointed out, could be more ambitious and bold.    

On the day of my book's publication, I made an announcement at several social media, upon Igel's push. I am not good at, or even interested in, self-promotion, as I don't enjoy being put in the limelight. But this is a special occasion—once in a decade, so I made a splash. Many congrats poured in, and to my pleasant surprise, I received warm words from some old friends, from Michigan days, Cambridge days, and beyond, whom I haven't been in contact for a while. It is touching to get connected to these old friends. Although I still don't enjoy fame—publishing an academic book is hardly a world-shaking event—I do cherish these beautiful friendships. Without their support, I won't be here.

I often joke with Igel that once I publish my book, I won't have any regrets even if I died. I am 44 years old, so this may sound too passive a thought. I guess that given the unique journey I took in the past 15 years, I am still somewhat amazed that I have reached thus far. I would like to say to myself: Congratulations. Your determination and perseverance have paid back.

Of course, I couldn't do this all by myself; many people helped along the way. It is a journey that started from a self-driven initiative, but has pulled in many kind and intelligent souls over the time. As K said before, writing a book is like paying a debt. He meant paying a debt to all those great writers who produced inspiring books. In my case, I am paying a debt to all those people who have supported me over the years. The book is not an affirmation of anything; it is just my way of saying thank you.

The post-publication days have been hectic due to the social media splash. I am here to reflect and remind myself of the 15-year journey I have taken. Life doesn't have that many 15 years, but I am very happy that I have put my past 15 years into good use. It is a somber reminder that if I do something I really like, I can survive, even flourish. It was no doubt a hard decision, but I am very glad that I made that decision.

Be proud, be humble, and more on, Yan!

 

   

 

New Year Resolutions (2021)

One year ago, when making my new year resolutions for 2020, I was embracing, rather optimistically, a new and promising decade. I would have never expected what happened soon after that and throughout the year, an unprecedented pandemic that profoundly changed the world and each of our lives. Quite opposite to what I hoped, the new decade started in such a dark, if not abysmal, fashion that simply getting back to normal life has become an extravagant wish.

As a historian, and a historian of medicine, I should've known it better. Similar episodes happened before—the Black Death, the 1918 Pandemic, to name two prominent precedents. I often imagine that I presciently predicted what was to happen when nobody believed my premonition, like a sage. Of course, I am not a sage, not even close; I am just a junior scholar studying my own things in medieval China. Historians, by definition, always look in retrospect. 

But this devastating pandemic, which is still unfolding, is after all sobering in an urgent way. The world will not be the same again, and each of us has been changed as well in the process. In the early part of the year, when the situation quickly escalated in this country, I was tormented between working on my own stuff and doing something for the greater good. I guess I was not alone in this struggle; many academics felt, and are still feeling, useless when facing such a global crisis—why aren't we real doctors? Eventually, I still focused on the former, feeling guilty of shunning social responsibilities. The question will continue lingering with me in the years to come. Hopefully, once my career has reached a more secure state, I can think more and do more on this. I don't claim to try to save the world; I just want to make myself a bit more useful, in however minute way, to the society.

On the personal level, this past year was not bad at all. Again, the fact that my life hasn't been affected much by the pandemic speaks how privileged I am. Not only do I still hold my job but I can continue the job without much interruption. Of course, I was stuck at home all the time; I couldn't go to libraries to borrow books; I had to offer online teaching. But compared to others, many others, who were at the edge of survival, I consider myself very lucky. On top of that, Igel got a new job at Buffalo, in the middle of the pandemic; we got married in the summer; and after that we moved to Buffalo more or less smoothly. Life was busy and stressful for academics, especially in this tumultuous year, but we have nothing to complain. It can be much worse, easily.

So what is my new year resolution of 2021? I have to say that given the lesson of the past year, I cannot wish too high. When I went though the list of the eight items on my 2020 list, I was happy to see that I managed to finish the major tasks, including completing my book manuscript, almost finishing the revision of my saffron paper, and getting married. Again, by not engaging in what is happening in the larger world, I was able to finish these things. The upcoming year will be a critical one for my tenure as I will submit my files in May. I thought I am in a good shape, but I cannot take things for granted and must do my best to continue strengthening my case. So here you go, my new year resolutions for 2021:

(1) Submit a strong tenure portfolio in May. This includes: a published book, the saffron article hopefully already accepted, the ISIS review, the ETHOC encyclopedia piece, and a submitted article manuscript on jealous wives. If I can get all these five components done, I would be very happy.

(2) The second half of the year is harder to plan in advance because it depends on a lot of ifs. If I get a fellowship, and travels possible, I will spend sometime in Asia, exploring my second project on aromatics. That would be fun. If that doesn't happen, I will just continue my routine life in Buffalo.

(3) And routine is the keyword. In this year, I, together with Igel, must establish a good and healthy routine of life. This means to get up early (8AM) and go to sleep early (12AM). Make the best of the daytime for work so we can relax in the evening. Try to save an hour each day to read non-academic things (before sleep) and save one day of the week (likely Sunday) for relaxation and shopping. This is really the key to controlling our life rather than being tossed around by millions of distractions. We will work on this together so we can develop the best schedule conducive to our work and life. We certainly have role models.  

(4) Exercise. This is one goal I didn't do well last year—still weighing more than 160lb. Let's see whether I can achieve that this year. Admittedly, the pandemic has made certain exercises difficult, such as swimming, but at least I should continue jogging, cycling, hiking, and taking walks with friends and colleagues. A healthy body is the foundation of everything. Relatedly, Igel and I should have a thorough examination of the body—for better performing in revolutions large and small!  

(5) Spend more time in dealing with logistics. These include: green card application, Canadian visa application, house repairs (summer project), etc. I know they are boring and not my cup of tea, but I have to handle them as an adult, and family man.

(6) Some travels, possible later in the year. This includes a conference in New Orleans, and possibly a holiday vacation with Igel in the winter. We have to see.

(7) Keep Duolingoing German. I have an impressive record of 467 days in a row. Let's make it to 832 days in a row!

(8) I would also like to write more stuff here. I know it has been dormant for quite a while, and in the past years I rarely posted anything except new year resolutions. Casual writing serves multiple functions—reflective, meditative, therapeutic. I want to resume the cultivation of this space, perhaps writing down something weekly or biweekly, to ponder both the inner self and the world at large. 

Finally, and this may sound superficial, if not hypocritical, I do wish the world will see a better year regarding the control of the pandemic, with less people suffering and dying from this terrible disease. It will take us many more years to reflect and perhaps change some of our ingrained habits and practices. And that is probably not a bad thing. 2021, I am cautiously optimistic!

COVID-19 Dairies (1)

March 31 (Tu)

Today I started to write dairies on COVID-19, suggested by Igel. As of now, the number of the infected souls worldwide has exceeded 800,000, among whom 175,000 are Americans, something unthinkable a month ago. Is it real, or are we living in a dystopian novel? In his Motorcycle Dairies, Che tells an extraordinary and life-transforming story of his cross-continent travel in his youth. My dairies will be of a very different kind. As most of the states in the US have issued a stay-at-home order, we have been sojourning at home all the time, working, cooking, and worrying. I don't aspire to be as famous as Che one day, but do hope that my dairies will be a window through which I can reflect on the unprecedented unfolding of the global crisis, both as a historian of medicine and as an ordinary human being. The experience is destined to leave an indelible mark on my life, for better or for worse. But mostly for better, for I wish we can survive the crisis and the world will be a better place. Stay tuned.     

April 1 (Wed)

A day of low energy. The pandemic is still evolving quickly—the number of cases in the US has passed 200,000, among whom more than 5,000 died. An alarming acceleration. We didn't pay much attention to the outside world as we were occupied by our own businesses—Igel kept investigating her H1B visa matter and I agonized over the revision of my book Intro. Between the public and the personal, we chose the latter. But not exactly. Igel gave a public talk this evening—via Zoom, obviously—reflecting the current pandemic especially its racial implications. We brainstormed for the talk, but regrettably I didn't listen to her talk. As a medical historian, I felt it a shame. I was too obsessed with my own little world of getting out the writing block. Did I make the right decision? Maybe not. Well, hopefully, I can get out of this low-energy quagmire soon. In this swirling moment, that is the least effort I can make.

April 2 (Thu)

Today my energy level came back a bit. I finished a subsection in Intro that has pained me for quite a few days, so I am glad that I eventually got over it. Hopefully I can keep the momentum and finish the revision of Intro soon. Now more on the pandemic. I encountered two pictures in NYT (see below). The curve of the US is quite deep at the moment: So far, more than six thousand people perished, and based on the current curve, the deaths will double every three days. UK and Canada have the similar rate, though they have less deaths thus far. These are numbers, but we know that human lives cannot be simply reduced to numbers. In the CNN news we watched tonight—we have developed a routine recently to watch PBS or CNN news on YouTube over the dinner—we watched a harrowing story of a New York doctor (Dr. Frank Gabrin) who died of COVID-19 while trying to save others. His husband was interviewed by Chris Cuomo, who himself contracted the virus lately, and the widower was in tears. It was painful to watch, and we know there are many stories like this around the country. It feels particularly agonizing as what happened in China two months ago is unfolding exactly the same way now. An excruciating déjà vu. On the positive note, if we look at the second picture, Washington is doing pretty well: the number of deaths doubles every 11 days. Compared to New York (every two days), that is quite remarkable. Although Andrew Cuomo is much more vocal and splashing big waves in the news, Jay Inslee might be the real hero who has quietly saved many lives. As Benjamin Franklin rightly said: Actions speak louder than words. 

 

2020, A New Decade!

Another year, and decade has passed!

Looking back, I can hardly believe that I have lived in this country for two decades. Very soon, it will surpass the time I lived in China (the first 23 years of my life).

I came to the US in 2000. At that point, I had dutifully followed the course charted by others to pursue a promising and profitable career, namely, biology. But things changed radically in the following decade, as many oversea students would experience. That was a decade of continuous struggling and finding purpose in life. Toward the end of that decade, I eventually worked out a way to redirect my career to be a historian. I am glad I did that!

The second decade involved both a fulfilling life of a history student (first half) and a transition to be a scholar (second half). I feel lucky that things have worked out the way more or less as I planned in the first decade. Life has been busy, and often hectic and stressful, but I am happy that it now has a clear purpose. Towards the end of this decade, I also found the "other half" of mine, who, as I feel ever stronger, has truly enriched my life!

So what will happen in my third decade here in the US? Or will I continue staying in this country? I think most likely I will, at least for a good part of the decade. Even for a person who likes planning on everything, it is hard to design a ten-year map ahead. There are just too many variables, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps I will get tenure at Buffalo and continue living here. Perhaps I will move to somewhere else. Perhaps Igel and I will have a baby. Perhaps I will become more outspoken in the public, and more politically involved. Perhaps I will switch my career again. No, the last one, I am quite certain, will not happen. Just joking!

As I just looked at my New Year Resolutions for 2019, it turns out that I have fulfilled the major one of submitting my book manuscript and getting the reviewers' comments. In that sense, 2019 is an important year, just like the year of 2015 when I got this Buffalo job. It gives me more assurance for my tenure case, and importantly, for my professional identity of being a historian. Putting things in perspective: One of the first books I read during the process of switching my career, in the fall of 2016 I believe, is Benedict Anderson's Imagined Communities, a classic in the field. When I read that book, I couldn't help pondering, as an outsider at the time, how I could possibly write a book in English like that. It was like climbing Mount Everest. 14 years have passed, and now I am here, claiming to be a historian with a bit of imposter syndrome still lingering, carrying a book manuscript that has received favorable reviews and will be likely published in a year or so. It doesn't feel real, but I am glad that it is happening. Kudos to the two generous reviewers—your unfailing support for a junior scholar like me is nothing but a noble act.

Which naturally leads to my New Year Resolutions for 2021:

(1) Manuscript Revision

I will spend the first six months of the year revising my book manuscript, making it as good as I can. Then it will enter the production line. Hopefully it will reach far at the end of the year, though that is mainly out of my control.

(2) Saffron article

I will submit the article manuscript to a journal this month and get the ball rolling. Hopefully I will receive the comments in the summer. I will use the fall semester, a busy one since I will teach three courses, to revise the article and resubmit it by the end of the year.

(3) Getting married (wanhun)

We did not do it last year due to a logistical issue. This year we will make it happen! In March, we will go to the City Hall in Toronto to get the certificate and have a mini-honeymoon afterwards. In July, we may have a wedding on the West Coast. Still planning on that...

(4) Travel

With my book manuscript in good progress, I now can afford traveling a bit more around the world. A trip to Boston in March; a trip to Taipei in early May and another one to Tel Aviv in late May. During the Christmas and New Year season, Igel and I will go to an exotic place to have a nice vacation, and belated honeymoon!

(5) Exercise

I need to have some weight evaporated. So keep exercising throughout the year: jogging, swimming, biking, and occasionally skating and hiking. 160 lb is my goal! Is that a tall order? :>

(6) German

I will keep learning German by Duolingo EVERYDAY. I have been doing this for more than 100 days consecutively. I will continue the exercise for the entire year, which will be very impressive. And Igel will join too!

(7) Casual reading

I miss reading non-academic stuff, especially novels. I didn't do that at all last year. I want to resume the habit and perhaps read a novel per month. It is edifying.

(8) Green Card

I plan to initiate the application in the summer. It is boring, but I have to deal with it.

Of course, there are things that I cannot predict or plan in advance, and I will leave those to the ebb and flow of fate. Altogether, my goal this year is to have a routine and disciplined life as much as I can, which is really the source of productivity, but also to leave some healthy room for sparkling spontaneity! Cet's la vie!

New Year Resolutions (2019)

It is been a while since I posted stuff here. Last time it was the start of 2017, on my 40th-year birthday. Almost two years have passed, and quite a lot has happened. The transition from being a carefree student to a not-so-carefree scholar took longer than I thought, but I am glad that I am moving to the next stage of life. 

This, above all, means being in a relationship and cultivating it wholeheartedly. We met in the spring of 2017, in Toronto, at a conference. The dating was unconventional as we live in different cities. But we made it work against odds and difficulties, and solidified the relationship later that year. In the past year, we managed to spend more time together, which certainly helped. Now we are ready to move to the next stage. In my last post, I said that if I can find somebody in the fifth decade of my life, I would be happy. Things happened more quickly.

For a loner like me, this involves lots of changes; it is not easy to open up myself completely and walk into another person's soul. It takes effort, and courage, and perseverance. Two souls clash, and gradually become one. Relationship, as I have learned in the process, is about how much you care about yourself vs. about the other. It may seem that I have lost lots of freedom when I am with somebody, but the feeling of being connected to another person, deeply and affectionately, is a stabilizing force that I, at this stage of life, very much yearn for. Maybe that is what love is all about. Simply put, it may be hard from time to time to be with her, but life without her is just unimaginable.

On my career development, it's been slowed down a bit due to the time I spent on relationship. That, I believe, is a necessary re-balancing of life. I am in the midst of the third year of my tenure track, so I still have time. But the pressure has been building up—I must finish a manuscript of my book by the end of this summer. Otherwise, I would be in trouble. It is about time to speed up. And I will. 

Hence my New Year Resolutions as follows:

Major ones:

(1) Finish my book manuscript by the end of the summer. Find a good publisher—being realistic is the key—and ideally get the reviewers' comments by the end of the year.

(2) Get married, either this summer or at the end of the year, depending on our schedules. We will just get the certificate and deal with the wedding later, when we find time.

Minor ones:

(3) Work on my saffron paper in the fall. Hopefully I can submit the manuscript to a journal by the end of the year.

(4) Keep learning German, which is fun!

(5) Some travels: Early March in Hawaii; late March in Denver; and hopefully a road trip from Baltimore to Tacoma in August! [This depends on (1)]

(6) Get my Green Card application rolling—it takes time.

(7) Keep exercising (swimming, biking, running, planking)—I need to lose at least 10 pounds.

Well, life will surely be busy this year, as typical for an academic. But there is lots of excitement and hope on the way, and I will embrace it with my whole heart!

Birthday Thoughts

Today I am turning 40.

That is sort of scary. I am entering the fifth decade, and have passed the mid-point, approximately, of my life.

I don't remember how I celebrated my 10th or 20th birthday, if at all. But I do remember my 30th. That was 2007, when I was in Ann Arbor, approaching graduation. I sent an email to my lab mates, calling for a bar night. One of them, my good friend Dave, replied: "Yan, were we precocious guys, your kid could have entered the college, and mine just graduated." 

Ten years have passed. Following the logic, my kid could have their first-born or even second-born already. It is strange to think about life in that way.

That is the track I could have taken, but I didn't. Instead, I switched career, did another PhD, and just started my first job ever. It is an unconventional track, but I am content with what I did and with what I have achieved thus far.

It is interesting to think that I spent the prime time of my life in school, and as I just started working, I only have 20 years to go, that is, less than the years I spent in school. On the other hand, academic life doesn't really have an ending; it is a life-long journey. In that regard, I still have 30-40 years, hopefully, ahead of me. That is plenty of time to do lots of things.

Of course there are practical considerations, like getting tenure—I will know the result five years from now when I am 45. But this is the moment to put things in perspective. If my pursuit of a humanistic career in the past decade can be called a success, the question is what I really want to do with it in the following decade. I switched the field because, simply put, I like history. Nothing more, nothing less. To do things one truly loves is a blessing, but I wonder whether there is something beyond personal satisfaction that I can strive for in the following years. Something not just out of passion but also out of responsibility. It sounds noble, and I haven't had a clear picture yet.

Another change I would like to see in the next decade is on the personal level. I am a loner, and I enjoy being alone. When I was a kid, I could spend hours watching people playing chess on the street for hours without getting bored. I still feel the most comfortable and free when I am by myself. But the flip side of this life style is loneliness. This feeling is particularly strong after I moved to Buffalo last fall, adjusting to the new environment, dealing with heavy workload, and having few friends.

Things are getting better. At this moment I feel much more comfortable with Buffalo, and a strong sense of getting settled. The recent purchase of a house helps; the presence of parents helps also. But in the long run, it would be nice to be with someone. I dare not to plan anything beyond that, but if I can find someone in this coming decade, I would be happy.

Confucius teaches that when one turns 40, they become free of perplexities. I do feel less perplexed now in terms of career path. But there are many other decisions in life that I need to make. I may never be free of doubts, but after all that may not be a bad thing.

The past decade has been a good one, arguably the best in my life so far. I very much enjoyed the process of switching career. Now I am pretty much settled on the track of history, and I will see where I can find new excitement and fulfillment. I may not get completely settled due to my spirit of exploration and intense curiosity. But again that may not be a bad thing.

The fifth decade, I am coming, with vigor, composure, and, hope!

Japan Impression, second round

After six years, I am back to Japan.

Six years ago, in the summer of 2010, I visited Japan the first time, spending most time in Kyoto learning Japanese, and a couple of weeks traveling around—Hiroshma, Kōyasan, Nikkō, Tokyo.

This time, I am back to Kyoto again, in fact to the same university (Doshisha University) where I studied Japanese before, and this time for a conference. It feels like a full circle coming complete.

I am always fond of Kyoto, one of my favorite cities in the world. Above all, it offers many old temples and palaces that always excite a historian like me. Since I've visited most of them in my last trip, I skipped them this time, and went to see a really old temple—actually the oldest in Japan—Horyu-ji (法隆寺) near Nara, which was founded in early seventh century (Sui Dynasty in China). The temple was sponsored by Prince Shotoku (聖德) to worship Yakushi Nyorai (藥師如來), a healing Buddha, to help the recovery of his sick father.

      

It was a cloudy day. Under the overcast sky, the pagoda (the left picture above) looked imposing. Old architecture like this, precisely because they are old, are plain, empty, and vast, as if history had stripped down all their ornaments and only left the most basic there. The awe they elicit lies not in magnificence, but in simplicity, bare-bones simplicity. 

At the time of its construction, the temple could be tremendous. How this type of building travelled from India to China, to Korea, and finally to Japan is beyond my knowledge. But one episode from Xuan Zang's Datang xiyu ji (大唐西域記) is interesting. The famous monk, during his travel in India in the early 7th century (not long after Horyu-ji was built), encountered a stupa that was fifteen meters high, commissioned by a foreign merchant. It was covered by the paste of saffron, a plant with colorful flowers and fragment smell. Already then, ornamentation figured more prominently in India than in Japan.

What was Japan like in the 7th century? I don't know much. This is the period of Asuka (飛鳥, 538-710), when Buddhism started to penetrate into Japan, and cultural exchange between China, Korea, and Japan flourished. This vibrant exchange continued in the following centuries, first in the Nara period (奈良, 710-794), then peaked in the Heian period (平安, 794-1185). One piece of material evidence is the many items preserved in Shōsō-in (正倉院) of Tōdai-ji (東大寺) in Nara, many of which are medicinal substances from China and further west. I tried to take a look at this important site when I was in Nara, only to find that I was too late to enter. So I only caught a sight from afar.




After I visited a few temples in the Nara area, visual fatigue arose—in the end they all look similar. Better to get some change: Kanazawa (金沢).

Kanazawa is two-hour train northeast of Kyoto. Often called "Little Kyoto," it has some interesting historical sites, though not as old. A fairly small city that literally you can walk around to cover all the places. It has a famous castle dating back to the 15th century when a so-called "Peasants' Kingdom" was established. Here we are at a different moment of Japanese history—the Sengoku period (戦国, 1467-1603). Not unlike the Warring States period in ancient China, the period witnessed the waning of the central power in Kyoto and the rise of feudal lords in local regions. The Peasants' Kingdom was one of them. It didn't last long. In late 16th century, it was defeated by Toyotomi Hideyoshi (豊臣秀吉). Several decades later, Japan was united again by Tokugawa Ieyasu (徳川家康), and enter the Edo period (江戸, 1603-1861).

Another famous site in Kanazawa is Chaya (茶屋), tea houses or geisha houses developed in the early 19th century. I suppose this is why the city is called "Little Kyoto," as that is what Kyoto is famous for. In Kyoto, there is a street at the center of the city called Hanamikoji (花見小路) where if you are lucky, you may see a "flower," an euphemism for geisha. Similar idea for the Chaya districts in Kanazawa, where a century ago customers (mainly male) sought rest and pleasure. These days the districts have become popular commercial sites to sell the quintessential Kanazawa product—things made of or covered by golden foil. The city was the major site of gold production in the 19th century. Hence the name 金沢, "marsh of gold." They even have a golden ice cream. Walking around the districts, I had sort of conflicted feeling. The architecture is certainly impressive. Yet underneath them hides a history that entwined money, greed, and distress of women.

Leaving the Edo history behind, I am entering a new domain, both temporarily and spatially, Hokkaido (北海道). Why Hokkaido? Well, the answer seems obvious: Hokkaido has a special appeal to foreigners because of its natural beauty. As the last piece of territory incorporated into Japan in the 19th century, it is like the American West, a wild, mysterious land that allures and invigorates. Not to mention its romantic portrayal in many movies, from Yamada Yoji's superb 遙かなる山の呼び声 (Chinese title: 遠山的呼喚) to Hou Hsiao-Hsien's Millennium Mambo (千禧曼波), and even to the popular movie 非誠勿擾.

So here I am, in Hakodate (函館), a southern city in Hokkaido. It feels fresh. No more heavy historical burdens; no more stifling heat in Honshu region; no more hordes of tourists. Here you see empty streets, quiet neighborhood, vast ocean, and still-active volcanos. There are some interesting historical sites, though, chiefly in the 19th and 20th centuries. Say, a Catholic church, an Orthodox church, and a Buddhist temple sit right next to each other, betraying the history of Western proselytization in the past century. But coming to Hokkaido is chiefly to enjoy its natural beauty and pleasant weather, not to forget its abundant seafood.

  

Something funny happened when I was in Hokkaido. Some places there reminded me of other places faraway that I visited before—a strange sense of déjà vu. When I was standing on the top of the Hokkaido Mount where I had a nice bird-view of the city, and the ocean beyond, I thought about Grenoble, a city in southern France I visited a few years ago. It also has a mount where you can climb up and have a magnificent view of the city, and the Alps beyond.

   

Here is another example. I spent a day exploring Toya Lake (洞爺湖) near Hakodate. Sitting near the lake and looking over, I discerned some mountains afar, which, perhaps because of the dense mist, were reduced to sheer geographical shapes. Are they not the mountains in Lauren Harris's paintings? The Canadian artist is famous for his depiction of natural sceneries as abstract, geographical, and hence highly spiritual objects. Harris went to Lake Superior in the early 20th century to produce many of his paintings. And I am now sitting along Lake Toya in Hokkaido, experiencing the same.

   

Is this a coincidence, or not? I have been traveling to quite a few places in the past years, mainly between 2012-13 (see my earlier posts). If my first visit of Japan six years ago provoked more of an excitement of initial encounter, this second visit, by contrast, offers something different because it is already built upon layers of my earlier travel experiences. As a result, some kind of connection emerges. For a historian, naturally enough, I cannot help pondering these questions: What is time? What is place?