Why is it called Fuji-yama? From the series "Japan, or An American Senior's Extreme Vacation"
Epigraph: We decided to visit The most distant land. We came to bow to a mountain...
If you were asked what you know about Japan, you'd remember that it's in Asia, that it's an island nation, and probably that the capital is Tokyo... If I insisted, after racking your brain for what else to name, you'd say they wear kimonos and everyone speaks Japanese and writes their thoughts and conversations with hieroglyphs. I've intentionally left out two things you were thinking of. First, you would have said that Japan has the famous Mount Fuji (and you probably would have called it Fujiyama, but more on that a bit later). Second, you'd have said that in the spring, cherry blossoms bloom wonderfully all over Japan. (If you're over sixty, like me, you'd refer to the cherry blossoms as "sakura" when talking about Japan, because half a century ago, everyone read "A Branch of Sakura" by Ovchinnikov—I don't remember his first and middle names, but I had the book in my personal library. I should reread it and compare his impressions from over half a century ago with my own, freshly acquired ones...)
If you're reading this series of stories, the next phrase will already be old news to you, but what if there's someone new here?! So, I'll quote myself: "There are three of us: me, Mary, and Rosalie, three travelers. We're sailing on the cruise ship Celebrity Millennium around Japan."
We didn't see the cherry blossoms in Japan. It was early August, so as you can imagine, it's not the time for cherry blossoms to bloom. So we didn't see them, don't know them, and no, we don't regret it—we have more than enough impressions even without the cherry blossoms. But we did get to see Mount Fuji. And we were fortunate enough to see it a full three times.
No, seriously. I saw Mount Fuji! Three times during the trip! And the first time, I didn't even guess that it was the one and only Fuji!
In order...
The end of the first day on the cruise. We were sailing from Yokohama to Shimizu. Of course, it was the first day, so I was running around the upper deck, excitedly taking photos of the lighthouse with puppy-like glee...
...then the speedboats sailing past...
...then the ships anchored in the bay...
...then I get tired of it—it's impossible to photograph everything!
But... I've had a long-standing tradition of greeting sunrises and sunsets while traveling (well, whenever possible). So I spent the evening on the deck again.
I took several photos, trying to enhance the drama of the sun setting below the horizon, and attempting to catch its last ray.
And that's when I noticed on some of the pictures that there was a mountain next to the setting sun.
No, it can't be...
In my mind, Fuji should be a MOUNTAIN! It should take up half the horizon! And it absolutely must have a cap of snow on its peak! (You've also seen those photos online of the perfect volcanic cone with its obligatory snow cap and cherry blossoms in the foreground, haven't you?)
{A Literary Aside. Just like "Food for Thought," if anyone still remembers... If you don't like poetry, skip ahead.
Long ago... (in the 12th century!!)... lived a monk-poet named Saigyō. He traveled a lot, and Mount Fuji often inspired him. Here is his famous poem about Fuji, in English translation:
From age to age the snow does not leave its peaks... You look at Fuji, and cannot take your eyes away, though no flowers are in sight.
And back then, everyone painted Mount Fuji with a snowy peak.}
No flowers, just a beautiful but otherwise normal mountain. And no snow. (Well, at least I couldn't see any.) And there's a strange pillar of what looks like either clouds or smoke over the peak...
I then asked one of the people standing on the deck, also taking pictures, if it was really Fuji. They calmly, neutrally, and without any excitement or awe, assured me, "Yes, yes, that's her..." And we just sailed past, with no one paying much attention to Fuji.
We sailed past the mountain for several hours, and gradually the thought crept into my mind: if we keep sailing and sailing, and the mountain is still here, it must be huge. And it's visible from everywhere. We went to dinner at the restaurant, we were seated at the second table from the window, and through the window, Fuji was visible! (Oh, I didn't focus the camera on the mountain, how annoying!)
But those at the first table aren't looking out the window; they pay zero attention to Fuji.
And we keep sailing past... And a feeling of the ordinariness of our lives arises: we get up, get dressed, eat, do things... But the mountain just is. It stands there. Gradually, a realization of the importance of this very moment sinks in: here we are, sitting and eating, and nearby (well, relatively nearby) is a giant, a volcano that has stood, stands, and will continue to stand for many more years... (...until the next eruption.)
And we are sailing past, in the river of time...
And you will continue to live your daily life—eating, sleeping, calling friends and family—while a landmark, a touch of another dimension of life, remains in your past: "that was the year I sailed past Fuji..."
{A Literary Aside. The same Saigyō, from the same 12th century.
The smoke that the wind carries from Fuji, melts in the heavens— like my thoughts, whose path is unknown.
My thoughts carried me into philosophical distances; I thought my ideas were original, but no, it all already happened... in the 12th century!}
Okay, let's leave the philosophizing behind. Let's get back to the prose (of the story and of existence). I became curious about when the last eruption was. It turns out it was in 1707, caused by a powerful earthquake. It was so strong that it covered the area all the way to modern-day Tokyo (then Edo) in ash.
Of course, it's being monitored, and of course, they are watching the volcano, but everyone who lives here is at the mercy of this giant, which can wake up at any moment.
If it wants to, it will wake up right now! That's when you would start to praise it, revere it, depict it in paintings, and glorify it in poetry... And you would fear its absolute power and strength and bow down before it.
{A Literary Aside.
The earth trembles in the night,
The sky cracks with smoke.
Death, which sleeps in the mountain,
Has shown us the power Of its wrath.
Do you think that's the same Saigyō?
This was written by an Artificial Intelligence, which commented: "This is my own attempt to convey the idea you asked about. In it, I used the 'tanka' form (5-7-5-7-7) to illustrate how one might speak about the unpredictable and menacing force of Fuji." The thing is, the AI couldn't find poems about the menacing force of the volcano, as I had asked it to (poets created a familiar image of calm beauty in their verses)—so it created its own.
So why be a poet now?
And how can you be sure that the AI is actually quoting Japanese poets and not writing its own poems, since we're not specialists in Japanese poetry?!
Oh well, as we used to say when we were young, let's move on...}
What looks like smoke over the crater is just clouds (fortunately for our peace of mind); there are many photos of similar clouds online.
We are sailing to Shimizu, a small city with a population of thirty-five thousand, whose main attraction (though not its only one, it must be said) is the view of Mount Fuji.
That's exactly why cruise ships stop here.
On the Celebrity website, you'll read that Shimizu has a "view of Fuji!" They also advertise an excursion to an old pine forest on the shore of Suruga Bay where you'll "enjoy a unique view of the sacred mountain!"... well, you get the idea.
But very few people mention that you'll only get to enjoy that view if you're incredibly lucky. The weather on the open seas changes almost instantly.
Here's an example. We were entering that tiny port city early in the morning.
The first morning on the cruise, I was watching the sunrise, taking pictures of the deck, the islands we were sailing past... The sky was covered with a few clouds, which were mostly concentrated on the ocean side. The islands were all quite flat. A breeze started to pull the clouds over the islands; naturally, I was taking pictures and that's when I noticed... FUJI!
(Oh, you're looking at the story on your phone, you can't see it at all. You can't even see it on a computer screen unless you already know it's there. Fuji is right in the center, but far away, among the clouds. It's interesting how my eye instantly picked out the mountain from the general landscape.)
I hurried to take a picture of the whole view...
...then with the zoom.
Hold on, hold on, this won't take long...
{A Literary Aside. This time, the two of us, the AI and I, are writing poems about Fuji and the clouds:
Clouds Hiding Fuji. (AI's Poem.)
Over Fuji-san Clouds are passing by,
Hiding the mountain.
How can I not see
The beauty of the gods?
The First Encounter. (My own work!!)
The chilly haze has gone,
Fuji has timidly appeared...
Traveler, hurry now
To drink in its beauty.
I liked my own better. Which one did you prefer?}
After taking my fill of the volcano's constantly changing view, I decided to take a few pictures so I could later use the photos to imagine the view of the ocean, the island we were about to dock at, and the ship we were on...
I'm going back to Fuji...
Fuji, where are you?!
But it was here less than a minute ago! I can prove it—there were photos, you saw them!
Shimizu is a small port city; as I already wrote, there isn't much to see in the city itself. (You'll find out how we knew where to go and what to see in the next stories.)
While some of the passengers were taken by organized buses to walk through the protected pine forest and admire the view of Fuji from there, we took a taxi (I'll have to write about taxis in Japan sometime too) to get to the unique Nihondaira Yume Terrace.
Perched atop Nihondaira, a 307-meter-high hill, the Nihondaira Yume Terrace is a scenic observation deck that opened in 2018.
If you translate the name "Nihondaira Yume Terrace" by breaking it down into its components, you get: Nihon means "Japan," and daira means "flat" or "plain." So, that part translates to "Japan Plain." Yume means "dream" or "sleep."
Thus, the full name is the "Japan Plain of Dreams."
On the Nihondaira Yume Terrace website, the possibility of seeing Fuji was described accurately: "If you're lucky enough to see Mount Fuji, you can enjoy a truly blissful view." For that reason, we didn't particularly expect to see it from there, and we weren't disappointed when we didn't: the view of Shimizu Harbor, the Izu Peninsula, and the Japanese Southern Alps is captivating on its own.
We didn't go into the museum, which is located on the first floor of the terrace, but the museum's website says that the organizers took the fickle weather into account. Even on days when Mount Fuji is hidden by clouds, a large monitor displays a real-time image of the mountain, guaranteeing that no one will miss out on the view.
We also weren't disappointed because we had already seen Fuji from the top of the hill, even before we got to the observation deck. We even had a real photoshoot: "Us and Fuji!" rushing to capture the moment. (I'll put our photos in the appendix, but here, I want to leave it to just the mountain, to be a little more modest.)
You don't see it? It's on the left, partially hidden by clouds. I'll zoom in and add contrast.
It's the highest peak in Japan: Mount Fuji's elevation is 3,776 meters.
Imagine what the view is like here without clouds!
When you stand on the hill and see Fuji, you understand why the mountain isn't just a geographical landmark, but a source of great national pride and a symbol of Japan, both within the country and abroad.
I wish we could get closer and climb the mountain! (We planned to, but after looking into the possibilities, it turned out to be either difficult or very expensive. For the Japanese, a pilgrimage to the mountain is a common, traditional practice that has been going on for centuries.)
Here, you can lose track of time, falling under the spell of the scenes that unfold before you, changing slowly, almost imperceptibly, but constantly.
But our time ashore on the cruise was limited; that day we also planned to visit Kunōzan Tōshōgū, a Shinto shrine located at the foot of the hill and one of the most interesting places we visited on our entire trip!
(Kunōzan Tōshōgū, Shinto Shrine. My next story about this will be the most vivid, believe me!)
Until next time!
P.S.
1. Us and FUJI! Although we look much more significant than the volcano on the horizon in the photos...
Why is it called Fuji-yama?
I almost forgot to explain! (In Russian "yama" is a "pit". Fuji—it's a "pit"?!) I never really thought about the play on words when translating it. I just always said "Fujiyama," like everyone else. (Fuji is a yama! How can it be a "pit" when it's a mountain?! Just kidding, just kidding!)
The name Fujiyama is a very common but incorrect way to pronounce the mountain's name. It came about due to a misunderstanding of how the characters are read.
As is my habit now, I asked the AI about it. Its answer: "The name of Mount Fuji is written with three characters: 富士山.
The first two characters (富士) are read as 'Fuji'.
The last character (山) means 'mountain' and is read as 'yama' in the traditional Japanese reading (kun-yomi).
When foreigners, including Russian speakers, first encountered these characters, they simply combined all three readings in a row: Fuji + yama = Fujiyama.
However, in Japan, when the character 山 (mountain) is used after a proper noun, it is usually read as 'san' or 'zan', not 'yama'. Therefore, the correct Japanese name is Fuji-san (富士山), which literally means 'Mount Fuji'.
As a result, 'Fujiyama' is a kind of historical error that has become firmly rooted in the minds of people outside Japan. In Japan itself, this name is not used."
My Story is Just a Bunch of Explanations!
Oh, this isn't a story at all, but a continuous stream of notes and explanations! Although I doubt everyone made it this far... If you're still here, thank you!
Remember when the Artificial Intelligence and I had a kind of poetry contest? The poems were in the story, but I'll quote them again:
Clouds Hiding Fuji. (AI's Poem.)
Over Fuji-san Clouds are passing by,
Hiding the mountain.
How can I not see
The beauty of the gods?
The First Encounter. (My own work!!)
The chilly haze has gone,
Fuji has timidly appeared...
Traveler, hurry now
To drink in its beauty.
Well, the AI did a full analysis of my poem, with its merits and flaws, and it was quite complimentary, I must say (or else I wouldn't have included it here): "Interesting poem! It captures the character of Fuji very precisely. It's not a classic tanka, but it's clearly written under its influence.
Let's analyze it piece by piece.
Meaning and Imagery 'The chilly haze has gone'—This phrase immediately creates a feeling of morning or cool weather. The haze is the clouds or fog that so often hide the mountain. 'Fuji has timidly appeared'—This is the central and most beautiful image. It echoes our discussion about 'the most bashful mountain.' Fuji didn't just 'reveal itself' but 'timidly appeared,' as if it were shy about its own beauty. It's a very profound and human image. 'Traveler, hurry now / To drink in its beauty'—This contains a direct appeal to the reader. The author urges not to waste a second, because Fuji's beauty is fleeting. The phrase 'to drink in its beauty' is a strong metaphor that emphasizes how thirsty a person who is waiting for this sight truly is.
Analysis of Form This poem does not adhere to the strict rules of tanka (5-7-5-7-7), but in its essence, it is very close to Japanese poetry: It is short and concise. It focuses on one specific moment. It conveys a sense of the fleetingness and preciousness of what is seen.
Thank you for sharing! This beautifully illustrates why Fuji is such an important symbol in Japanese culture."
No, I know I didn't stick to the Haiku (5-7-5) or Tanka (5-7-5-7-7) structure, but neither did the AI!
Thoughts on Looking at Old Photos
To be honest, a variety of thoughts arise when I look back at my photos.
Clouds Hiding Fuji.
The carefree clouds, like children,
Driven by the wind, they move to where
The raging volcano of eternity,
The boundless ocean, lies open...
They run, seeing no obstacles ahead,
Laughing, they play with our destiny!
And Fuji's proud face they can instantly hide,
Or halt a persistent traveler's climb
In an equally brief moment,
Returning proud dreams to the ground
From Fuji's unconquered heights.
And I stand at the edge of life,
Looking at Mount Fuji, my life,
I can no longer reach the clouds
The cliff is already visible... the end of the road...
I'm still trying to hold on
To that fleeting thread of life...
Only the clouds will remain,
Running, flying through the ages...
My thoughts are not original, however. Here is a small selection of Japanese poetry on the same theme:
Minamoto no Toshiyuki (died in 901)
Fuji is covered in snow,
But the spring winds
Will melt it—just as
Human life melts away.
More than a thousand years have passed since this was written.
Ito Jinsai (1627–1705)
In the blink of an eye,
The haze over Fuji disappeared.
Such is life.
Okunishi Shono (born 1933)
The gaze fixed on Fuji
Tries to stop time,
But it continues to run.
P.S.
Kochi, or Off the Beaten Track.
Story One: The Bridge.
Kochi, or Off the Beaten Track.
Story Two: The Castle.
https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2025/11/the-castle-in-kochi-or-off-beaten-track.html
Miniature in Japan.
https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2025/11/miniature-in-japan-from-series-japan-or.html
A Sunrise, or A Declaration of Love. Celerbity Millennium cruise.
https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2025/11/a-sunrise-or-declaration-of-love.html
When it's Time toForget about Diets. Celebrity Millennium Cruise.
https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2025/11/when-its-time-to-forget-about-diets.html
Going to Restaurants Too Often. Celebrity Millennium cruise.
https://theglobalgrandma67.blogspot.com/2025/11/going-to-restaurants-too-often-japan.html
"And why is Fuji a Yama?"
Kunōzan Tōshōgu Shrine, or a Brief Course in Japanese History.
"Never assume!" or "Starbucks" in Japan.
Sannenzaka and Ninenzaka... Haven't heard of them yet? Read on!
Kiyomizu-dera Temple, or One Shade of Red.
Osaka Castle, or Three Lives of One Fortress.
Ferris Wheel, or Fifteen Minutes of Farewell to Osaka.
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