Katorisenkou: An Ode

Anyone who imagines Japan as a tranquil and meditative place has never sat on my porch on an early August morning. To do so would be to submit yourself to a cacophony of neighborhood crows cawing enthusiastically about who knows what, coupled with the drone of all manner of horned-up insects screaming for a mate. The cicadas lead the charge, their love song starting with a low whir that gradually builds into a frantic, ear-splitting scream that resonates in my head well into fall. If the mood strikes, my chickens may get into the act as well. Sitting on the porch, shell-shocked as the coffee brews inside, it’s all enough to addle my uncaffeinated brain.

This daily symphony begins around 4:00 a.m., which means it’s been going on for a while by the time I make it out to the porch. If you are fortunate enough to be able to keep your windows open at night (not an option in my steamy second-floor bedroom, where air conditioning is a prerequisite for sleep), you’ve likely been up for hours as well.

The noise is all well and good, though. It’s a part of summer in Japan that goes hand-in-hand with the stagnating heat and humidity. The heat and the thickness of the air smother your body, while the unceasing bug noise numbs your mind. July, August, and a good chunk of September are spent stumbling along aimlessly in a puddle of sweat, struggling to get from one air-conditioned spot to the next, senses mercifully dulled by the assault of the season.

But this is all a long way of saying that in addition to the heat, the stickiness, and the noise, there are also shitloads of mosquitoes, which brings me to the point of this love song of my own: katorisenkou, AKA mosquito incense.

Mosquito incense is one of those distinctly Japanese aromas for me, like the hint of kerosene on a chilly winter morning, wafted from my neighbor’s heater as I pass by on my way to the gomi station, or the blast of meat smoke you get walking past the exhaust outlet of a yakiniku restaurant on the way from one craft beer bar to the next. It’s a smell that I will find nostalgic if I ever find myself not living in this country (though, to be sure, I will be taking a pallet of the stuff with me when I leave).

Some people decry mosquito incense as being toxic. They probably have a point. And does it even deter mosquitoes? In my experience, not really. But I don’t care. I love the smell. Lighting up a coil as I settle into my hammock with my evening’s beverage is a solemn ritual. Sparking one up IN THE MORNING with my iced coffee feels somehow illicit.

There are various flavors of mosquito incense. “Green” is the most common, though I don’t even know what it’s supposed to smell like, and it is the most mundane of all the options. My favorite is a variety pack that contains a package each of green, citrus, sandalwood, rose, and lavender. Of those, lavender is by far the one I love most. I use it judiciously throughout the summer while cycling through the lesser-desired smells, ensuring that I can end the mosquito season burning nothing but purple coils.

Here at the end of October, the mornings are much quieter. I can once again sleep with my windows open, and it’s getting a bit chilly for iced coffee in the morning. There aren’t many mosquitoes hanging around now either, but you’ll still smell a hint of mosquito incense coming off the front porch.