Tour de Día de Fabricación de Cuchillos Seki: Fabricación de Cuchillos, Almuerzo y Patrimonio de Cuchillas

We went to Seki to make Damascus knives, and I think this ended up being one of my favorite experiences in Japan because we weren't just looking at something beautiful. We were actually learning how it was made. The men running the class had a different energy from most of the people we'd met in Japan. Everyone we'd encountered had been friendly and kind, but these guys were genuinely gregarious. They had this almost Hawaiian-style friendliness, relaxed and easy, with lots of banter and joking around. They seemed completely comfortable in their own space, doing their work and talking with us while they did it. Step 1-polishing practice. The first step was polishing, and naturally, I volunteered to go first. The polishing wheel was down around knee height, and they gave me a tiny coin with a hole in it, clamped into something like a little pair of vise grips. The task was to hold this ridiculously small object against a rapidly spinning wheel, with exactly the right pressure, posture, speed, and angle, and then move away from the wheel without flinging the coin across the workshop. I braced my elbows against my legs and used my whole body to steady the tool. Whether that was the “right” way, I have no idea. The instructor had this wonderfully calm, Uncle Iroh sort of energy, which made the whole thing feel much less intimidating. We also polished some little pieces of leftover butterfly-knife handles, which were eventually turned into necklaces for each of us to take home. And then, of course, I pressed too hard. I polished the numbers right off my coin. Everyone laughed. I laughed. And suddenly the whole family knew exactly how much pressure was too much. My mistake became the first lesson for everyone else. Step 2- resist Then there was the resist painting, which was probably the hardest part for all of us. We were given little calligraphy brushes and a bowl of whatever mysterious substance we were using, and had to paint the writing onto our blades before they went into the acid bath. The acid would etch away everything that wasn't protected, revealing the Damascus pattern underneath. It sounds simple. It was absolutely not simple. We were trying to make Japanese writing from a model the teacher had made for us, with brushes and techniques none of us were familiar with. Brushwork is a skill, and apparently I am out of practice. We wiped our blades and tried again several times before we got something we were willing to keep. There was something especially lovely about taking this ancient Japanese technique and then having each of us leave our own little mark on the blade. Step 3- acid bath After we painted the resist onto the blades, my sons got to do the acid bath. I sat this one out and watched. My eldest went first, lowering his knife into the bath by the strings attached to it, then carefully flipping it at roughly one-minute intervals so the acid could etch both sides evenly. When it was my other son's turn, the other hovered over him a little, offering suggestions and making sure he was doing it right. Step 4 - knife polishing Next we moved to another polishing wheel. We worked along the edges of the blade and then polished the handles until they became smooth and almost mirror-bright. It was a much more familiar motion by this point. The little coin we'd practiced on earlier made sense. We already knew how much pressure the wheel wanted, how to brace ourselves, how to move the piece across the surface without fighting the machine. The same basic lesson we'd learned while accidentally polishing the numbers off our coins was now being applied to something that actually mattered. I liked that progression. We weren't simply being shown how to make a knife and then handed a finished object. Each little exercise had taught us something that we carried into the next one. Step 5 - sharpening Then came the sharpening, and this was where our calm little workshop became a chorus of "Faster, Mom! Faster!" The teacher showed me how to hold the blade against the sharpening stone and find the right angle, pressure, and rhythm. I went first, while everyone watched. The teacher started teasing me that I needed to go faster. Naturally, my family immediately joined in. It was surprisingly difficult to maintain the right pressure and angle while also moving quickly enough, and everyone was yelling encouragement from behind me. But once I found the rhythm, it clicked. And, just like with the earlier steps, everyone else had the advantage of watching me struggle first. By the time they picked up their own knives, they already knew what the movement was supposed to feel like. It was becoming less about being shown what to do and more about developing a physical memory of the process. It was actually a really lovely way for us to learn together. There was no pressure to be perfect. We were allowed to be beginners, and the mistakes became part of the fun. The Sword Museum After we finished making our knives, we were taken to a small sword museum. Our guide was an American man from Portland who was married to a Japanese woman, so we got an English-language tour. He showed us the different blades, guards, pommels, and fittings, and told us stories about the swords and the people who had made and used them. Everyone got to actually hold and handle some of the swords, and the boys were fascinated. I was...less fascinated. Weapons aren't really my thing. I was much more interested in the armor. I found myself crouching down beside it, looking closely at the layers of fabric and the tiny stitches holding everything together. You could see the work of the people who made it. Apparently, even in a sword museum, I will find the textile craft. Our teacher was also worried that we might have trouble getting home from the little local train station, so he drove us about forty-five minutes to a larger station. Then he actually came inside with us, found the ticket counter, and made sure we had the right tickets to get back to Kyoto. It was such a small thing, but it felt incredibly kind. We'd been getting around Japan surprisingly well with trains, signs, and the increasingly miraculous Google Translate, but he didn't simply assume we'd figure it out. He made sure we were safely on our way before leaving us. After spending the day learning how much skill and care goes into making a knife, it felt fitting that the final lesson was another kind of craftsmanship: someone quietly knowing how to take care of people.

Yoshi and Sumi were super flexible, honest, patient and engaging with the whole group even after I decided to make the hinting kkife instead!! The final product was beyond my expectations and timeless keepsake for me in remembrance of my 2nd time in Seki. Sushi lunch was great and Hiro was very pleasant and accommodating even dropping me at the doorstep of my favorite Unagi restaurant in Seki after the experience.

We had such a great day. Everyone was very patient and and the experience was super fun. All of the process was explained, lunch was great and the sword factory was very cool.