![[Photo: Harpoon gun]](pht_daiba_maritime_harpoon.jpg)
A harpoon gun. I swear I wasn't looking for a whaling museum this time.
Wed Apr 12 2000 (ctd)
![[Photo: ahoy]](pht_daiba_maritime_ships0.jpg)
![[Photo: ahoy]](pht_daiba_maritime_ships3.jpg)
![[Photo: ahoy]](pht_daiba_maritime_ships2.jpg)
![[Photo: ahoy]](pht_daiba_maritime_ships1.jpg)
To reach the entrance to the 船の科学館 (Museum of Maritime Science), I walked past a submarine, an aquaplane, and other large artifacts. I did not check out the recreational pool. Inside, I looked at the exhibits. At first, I didn't think that there was going to be anything about old ships. There was a gas cutter, controlled by a sort of pantograph. There was a cross-section of a double-bottom hull. There was an area about the development of the sea--it was like an aquarium, but with models of undersea cities instead of fish; they seemed strangely enthusiastic about the idea of covering the ocean's surface and bottom with metal cannisters full of people.
They had a model of a container freight vessel, and I made notes of the freight lines represented, their tiny logos on the tiny model intermodal freight containers: Y.S. Line, Mitsui OSK Line, Japan Line, Showa Line, NYK Line, "K" Line. I didn't know that the "K" line was based out of Japan, and this was just the sort of thing I hoped to learn from this museum.
There was an auditorium in which each seat had a panel with buttons. Apparently no well-appointed maritime museum could do without such a thing. No-one was using it. The seats were numbered, and it looked like the display on stage had a sign for each seat number, perhaps so that they could light up the number of the seat whose occupant had the most right answers.
Finally, on the third floor, there were models of some old ships: some Bezaisen and some others.
I took some interpretive text flyers in this area. These flyers had been available throughout the museum, but I hadn't picked them up. I didn't have sufficient interest in engine gearing torque ratios to try to translate a Japanese document about them. But I did want to learn more about old Japanese sailing ships, at least to learn some words for a web search. Next to one flyer stand, there was a sign. I, of course, could not understand its Japanese. There seemed to be two possible meanings:
So here I was, carrying all of these flyers. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be carrying all of these flyers. No-one was around. I sat down at a bench and stuffed the flyers into my backpack. (It's a good thing (for me) that I did, since I never found the museum's gift store.)
It was at times like that when it would have been nice to know more Japanese.
I didn't even come close to translating those hard-won flyers. Unfortunately, I don't know Japanese very well. Still, I got some useful information. I learned some words. By doing web searches on these words, I was able to find web resources like this dictionary with more information. I haven't found much, but it's been interesting so far. So here's what I've learned.
(The pamphlets I took were numbered 29-34. You can skip them.)
(Large ships of the Kamakura Era (1185-1333 or thereabouts))
One pamphlet talked about the evolution of the 巡航船 (junko-zuusen), a kind of boat. The first paragraph says that some kind of economic change happened in the Kamakura era. (You probably could have guessed that there were economic changes in that era and in other eras. So sue me. I only halfway understood what I was looking at.) Up until this point, people had been splashing around in くり船 (kuribune), large dugout boats. Those economic changes inspired people to change these boats. They wanted to make the boats bigger. Maybe trading boats were taxed on a per-boat basis. I don't know.
Anyhow, people built up the sides of their dugouts. The resulting ship's hull had a bottom that was a dugout, but with higher sides than they could get from a dugout. The sides look kind of like lapstrake in a diagram. Once they added the sides to their dugouts, the resulting ships had the name junko-zuusen. (I was thinking maybe this was the etymological origin of the word, "junk," but my dictionaries suggest otherwise. I don't know from etymology.)
The pamphlet had a few more paragraphs, but I got tired of translating.
There's an old painting that shows rowers rowing such a ship.
There was a diagram of a junko-zuusen with parts labelled. Up at the top of the mast was a thingy to attach shrouds and lines to. This thingy was called the 蝉 (semi). According to my Nelson's, this word means cicada or locust. I wonder if that part of the ship squeaked a lot as lines rubbed against it?
The diagrammed junko-zuusen also had mushiro ho, straw-matting sail. It had many other parts, too, but I got tired of looking them up.
(Muromachi Era (1333-1576 or thereabouts) Boats and, uhm, Envoy-Ming-Dynasty-Boat?)
The first paragraph of this flyer tried to set the historical scene. There was something about the Ming Dynasty in China. Japan was sending ships as envoys and for trade. I didn't really understand the first paragraph, but it gave me the impression that 遣明船 (kenminsen) means "Envoy Ship Disatched to Ming China." And why not? According to my dictionary, a word in the next paragraph, kento-shi means "Envoy to Tang China."
The next paragraph makes me think that this ship (or fleet of ships) started out as tribute transportation, but that their purpose expanded into trade. As their purpose expanded, so did the ships, maybe. They ended up with 150-200 people on them. Or maybe they were crewed by 150-200 people, and there were even more people aboard if you count the diplomats and traders? That doesn't make any sense. Anyhow, if I understand correctly, people built house-shaped things on deck to act as living quarters. There's also something about repairing or upgrading the ship's fittings (giso-hin).
On the back of the flyer, there's a painting showing one of these things sailing. There's also a diagram with lots of parts labelled, but by this point my brain was tired. I mean, it took me a few hours to figure out this much. Plus another few hours puzzling over leaflet 29. A lot of work for such vague results.
But what else am I going to do? I mean, I try looking in the UCB library card catalog, the San Francisco Public Library card catalog, I don't see much. The UCB library card catalog says it has one book on the history of Japanese sailing ships--in Japanese. I haven't even tried to find it yet. I doubt I'd understand it any better than I understand these simple pamphlets, aimed at schoolkids.
I didn't even try to translate these, as they looked relatively modern. That is, they suggest that the Japanese had made contact with foreigners and their hulls look like the tall ships' hulls that I'm accustomed to.
Looking at my museum map, it seemed that the next display was an outdoor pool with remote-controlled boats. The next display after that was three stories higher, an observation deck made up to look like the control room of an ocean liner. Fair enough. It took me a while to figure out the latching door to get outside to the RC Boat Pool, but I puzzled it out. Outside, I was able to find the stairway. It was windy, so I didn't linger by the pool, despite some new views, but instead started up the stairs. It was on the next floor up that I saw the lady putting her clothes back on.
I didn't know what was going on, it was just some lady putting her clothes back on. I didn't linger, I didn't stare, I didn't ask. There was a group of young adults--they looked to be in their early 20s, and one of them was a lady who was sitting and buttoning up her shirt. It could have been the aftermath of a fashion shoot; it could have been the clean-up after a wind-swept orgy; it could have been almost anything. I went around a corner to get out of the wind, sit on some steps, and fish out my notebook. This was worth writing down.
I couldn't find my notebook. I checked my pockets, double-checked them. I cursed. I must have left the notebook back on the bench when I'd stuffed those flyers into my backpack. I had to go back and get it. But to do that, I'd have to walk past that group of people. Would they think I was peeping?
I wondered what would happen if a janitor spotted that notebook. It probably involved a trash-can. How much time did I have before that happened?
I jumped up and started walking back towards the stairs to the RC Boat Pool. I didn't look to the side; I quickmarched eyes forward, left-foot right-foot left-foot right-foot until I'd reached the stairs, then down. If there was any hanky-panky going on, I wouldn't see it. I went past the pool, reached the door to get back inside, and eventually figured out how to work its latch (again). I walked inside and down the hall to get back to the historical ship area.
In that area, there was a group of young adults, all wearing long black coats. One of them looked over her shoulder, saw me, and then they all started walking faster. Was it them? It was probably them. Don't mind me. I'm just a flyer-stealing stalker, that's all. I picked up my notebook, and started writing stuff down.
I didn't go outside again. It was windy and cold and a voice was coming over the intercom, saying something about some time. I wasn't sure when closing time was at this place, but I was probably getting close to it. So I left.
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