Saturday, May 30, 2015

YATTA! Walking the Yamanote Line - Done!

In the early 1990's I read a book entitled "Max Danger - The Adventures of an Expat in Tokyo". A series of short stories about our hero and his long suffering colleagues, including Chicken Inoue if memory serves. Max was the archetypal foreigner living in Japan and his exploits were hilarious, though probably appreciated more by those who have been on the ground for a while and have made many of the same faux pas themselves. One adventure though follows an outing when Max and his family decide to ride their bikes around the track of the Yamanote-sen, the loop line that encircling central Tokyo. And I thought that was a great idea. So with two friends we set off early one Saturday morning and eventually found ourselves several hours later in an Irish bar in central Shibuya feeling somewhat pleased with our efforts for the day.

And then, more than twenty years later, I found myself listening to the stories of the intrepid individuals who actually raced it on foot in what was becoming something of a classic urban challenge in central Tokyo. They reassured me that although a few teams actually competed, mostly against themselves, many joined simply for the pleasure of a day out seeing neighbourhoods more usually hidden from the unadventurous eye. And so I thought
June 2014, the northern route
I'd try my hand (well, feet) at it. Living on the opposite side of Tokyo I decided on the solo start from Shibuya on a pleasant morning in June 2014. The route took me clockwise around the north of city but by 28km's I was flagging and feeling my age. Putting up my boots, I took the Hibiya line home but promised my self I'd be back to close the loop. One day.

And today, at 5.35am, I set off, this time heading south, to see if my feet were up to the promises of my mouth. Getting lost in the back streets of Meguro I resorted to Google Maps and found my way out of the rabbit warren of cul-de-sacs. After that I've always thought of Shinagawa as fairly flat but now know I was very much mistaken, those hills are high. And by 8.45, around Mita, I encountered the first teams running clockwise as they passed me by (nicely done by the way). And then around 10.15am I was standing on the very same spot where a year ago I'd paused and decided I'd tried my best but the knee joints weren't going any further. This year my wife and son had joined me for the final few kilometers, laughing with me as they saw me slowing and helping me on. And I'd made it. Took me a year. And about 10 hours, 35 minutes. But I'd made it. Good luck to all those aiming to run the roughly 50km in under a year today. Huge respect! Now, anyone up for Hachiko to the Gaijin Botchi?


YATTA! May 2015, closing the loop!

Thursday, May 28, 2015

The Last Samurai - the 1970 Ill-fated Coup of Yukio Mishima

As coups go, Japan has really not experienced that many in the last four hundred or so years. Even the civil war of 1868 was more about who would represent the Emperor than replacing the Emperor himself. Post WWII politics has seen many internal late night dealings and sudden replacement of the Prime Minister, nominally the appointee in control of the nation, but in reality few have actually wielded real power in the last thirty years. Indeed, in this period there have been eighteen occupants of the chief's top chair, two of whom held on to power for ten years between them so the remainder, on average, managed a rather disappointing fifteen months apiece. Why have a coup? Like the weather in Wales, wait half an hour it'll change anyway.

However one man simply couldn't wait for this to happen. Yukio Mishima became internationally famous as one of Japan's most influential post war novelists. Three times nominated for the Nobel Prize for Literature, his radical right wings views were to rule him out in later life. In the 1950's he briefly courted Michiko Shoda, the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, later more widely known as Empress Michiko following her marriage in 1959 to Crown Prince Akihito, today Emperor of Japan. Mishima's work itself was prolific, including three dozen novels and more than four dozen plays. He also found time as an actor, director and, ultimately, founder of a private army, the Tatenokai, devoted to the restoration of the conceptual God-Emperor of old.

On 25 November, 1970, the day he handed the final manuscript of the closing chapters of The Decay of the Angel to his translator, he travelled with four members of the Tatenokai to the army's Ichigaya Barracks in central Tokyo. Overpowering the commander, he stepped out onto the balcony and delivered a speech to the servicemen below, exhorting the belief that they must rise up in a coup d'etat to overthrow the corrupt political establishment of the day and return the Emperor to the very centre of political power. The gathering crowd below laughed. And then they jeered. Unsurprised and unfazed by their response,  stepping back inside he knelt and committed seppuku, the ritual suicide of the samurai of old. At 45, Mishima was dead. The power of democracy in Japan being witnessed by but a handful of somewhat surprised and a little confused, Self Defence Force recruits.






Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Update: It's really not that hard to learn Japanese. But....

Update: In an interesting reversal of the article below, recently a cleverly crafted message has been circulating on Facebook. If you an non-Japanese English speaker you will probably have no problem reading it; however, if you are an English speaking, native Japanese, you're probably in trouble.



___________________

So is it really that hard to learn Japanese? The answer to this lies clearly in the realm of "Yes. And no". In effect, "Is it really hard to learn Japanese?" isn't the right question though a natural one to ask. The difficulty in learning Japanese, as opposed to learning many other languages, really resides in the complexity of kanji (bear with me here), the ideogrammatic alphabet used in daily print. There are close to 2,000 characters used by daily newspapers alone, and that's a voluntary limit they place on themselves. Add to this the two additional phonetic alphabets of hiragana and katakana and you run head long into a basic problem. A language is much harder to learn when you simply can't read it.

However, despite the bilingual illiteracy forced upon us as we arrive, the actual structure of the spoken language is child's play compared to English. There are a limited number of tenses and the rigorous grammatical structure ensures that once learnt, the rest is more a question of accumulating vocabulary than anything else. Learn one verb structure and you've pretty much learnt the lot. As long as you can remember the verb in the first place that is. But as I say, this is an answer to the wrong question. The actual question should be "Is it really hard to communicate in Japanese?". And this is much more in the camp of a "yes" rather than a more ambiguous "maybe". But there is a reason for this. The issue, as an English speaker, is that in effect we are spoilt for choice in the variations, dialects, structures and full on errors we hear in daily life. 

Less than 50% of the world's English speakers are native to the language so we are used to hearing every mistake under the sun. And we've been auto-correcting for them long since before anyone invented predictive texting. Turn this around though and 99%+ of Japanese speakers are native. As a nation, Japan isn't exposed to errors or mispronunciations that we ignore for granted and as a result will often draw a blank when they are encountered. I accept this is a generalisation as, for example, Tokyo has more exposure to foreigners and is adapting to the new variety of the language being spoken. But once you're on that train out of the city, don't be surprised by that blank stare. Communicating in a language is a two way street. Learning can come from the wonders of YouTube. Communicating takes a little more interaction. But Gambare! It's a beautiful polysyllabic language once you get the hang of it.




Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Cranking the starter-handle of the Sendai Nuclear Power Station

Meltdown - the Fukushima Nuclear Reactor, March 12, 2011
Update: An interesting coincidence has occurred this week. Firstly, and to schedule, the re-inforced Sendai Nuclear Facility in Kyushu has started to come back on line, the first reactivation in Japan since the nuclear shutdown following Fukushima. And secondly, Sakurajima, the volcano just around the corner, is looking set to erupt as of yesterday. Evacuations may be ordered soon.

_______________________________
Rather confusingly, the Sendai Nuclear Power Station is geographically nowhere near the city of Sendai, the epicentre of the chaos triggered by the earthquake and tsunami of 2011. However, emotionally it might as well be in the middle of the town square. As the crow flies, it's actually some 1,500km to the south-west of the Tohoku region, located on the southern Japanese island of Kyushu. And currently, the Sendai reactor is front and centre in Japan's collective consciousness as it inches towards being the first nuclear power station to be put back into commercial operation following the multi-core meltdown at Fukushima. The question on everyone's lips though is "is it safe?". And that comes down to a "yes" and "no" discussion depending on your view point.

Oh yeah?
There are obviously both subjective and an objective answers to this. Emotions are emotions and have to be respected but are somewhat inherently troublesome to debate. Fact based discussions themselves also run off the rails when the facts are either disputed or, as in the case of Fukushima, not considered credible due to a lack of faith in the messenger. Few in Japan would believe Tepco if it claimed a potato was, well, a potato. In the eyes of many, they simply can no longer be trusted. However, back to Sendai... The island of Kyushu is dominated by both regular and super-volcanoes. At its centre, Aso is an earth shatteringly cataclysmic volcano of Yellowstone proportions, Unzen, near Nagasaki, created a mega-tsunami in the early 18th Century that took an estimated 15,000 with it, and then, located some 60km to the south-east of the power plant now warming it's engines, sits the Aira Caldera. And this one blasted a 300 square kilometre deepwater inlet last time it went up.

Kagoshima, inside the Aira Caldera; Sendai 60km's to the north-west.
The question being raised in the press is whether a nuclear reactor should be located so close to such a dangerous volcano. Given there are over 110 volcanoes in Japan, no one is going to be too far from one whichever way you look at it. However, for comparison purposes only, the pyroclastic flows from Mount St Helens in 1980 stretched a mere 8~10km so no clear risk there. The debate on the use of nuclear power in Japan is rarely around economic, environmental (both nuclear and fossil fuel implications) and realistic renewable alternatives. The emotional concerns are real but saying that Sendai is close to an active volcano somewhat misses the point. In the instance of a surprise eruption and the power plant is covered in meters of concrete-like ash, the 600,000 people of the city of Kagoshima, located inside the Aira Caldera itself, are unlikely to fair that much better themselves.  Possibly a subject for serious debate?


Monday, May 25, 2015

From Shogun to The Great Escape - the story of Will Adams

"Shogun" - the father of the VCR
In 1975 the Australian, British, and later to be, American, author James Clavell published his best selling novel Shogun. The story of the exploits of a British sailor, John Blackthorne, arriving in Japan slightly before the decisive Battle of Sekigahara which estalished the Toranaga (Tokugawa) dynasty. In time, by adopting Japanese customs and learning to speak the language, and despite the efforts of the Portuguese Jesuits, he becomes an advisor to the Shogun himself. The book was a runaway success and the subsequent 1980 mini-TV series, starring Richard Chamberlain, was arguably responsible for the mass-market introduction of the VHS video recorder as people couldn't bear to miss a single episode on an evening out (and similarly, I like to believe, how Brothers in Arms introduced the CD player and The Matrix was ultimately responsible for DVD's).

Will Adams 1564 (England) - 1620 (Japan)
The character of John Blackthorne was actually based on the British sailor and pilot (ship's navigator), Will Adams who arrived in Japan somewhat accidentally in 1600 and did indeed become an advisor to the shogun Ieyasu and subsequently his son. Adams became, in effect, a naturalised Japanese citizen, being awarded lands in modern day Yokosuka, at the mouth of Tokyo Bay, for services advising the shogun on western culture, navigation and the construction of ocean faring vessels. Initially barred from returning home being deemed to be of great strategic importance, he rose to such a position of trust within the military command that he was issued with Red Seal Trading Letters (the red seal referring to the wax seal on the documents). He was also renamed Anjin Miura, a Japanese name that translates as The Pilot of Miura, which, in effect, became a symbol of his passing as an Englishman and re-birth as Japanese.

Adams, originally from a village near Greenwich in Kent in the south of England, left both English and Japanese families for whom he provided for from his awarded estates. He decided to settle in Japan and eventually died in 1620 near Nagasaki at the age of 55 following moderately successful trading exploits across China, Indonesia and The Philippines. And then some 370 years later they made a Broadway Musical of his life. And it has to be wondered what exactly would he have made of that? However, it is not Clavell's Blackthorne that has left the lasting impression on the English speaking world. That honour clearly goes to his co-writing of The Great Escape, the epic war movie starring Steve McQueen, James Garner, David McCallum (Ducky from NCIS) et al. The reason being that he created the classic Christmas Day question. Just how many of them did escape in the end? No one, I'm sure, has ever asked that particular question about Shogun. Then again, it was broadcast in Japanese without the aid of subtitles. What Will Adams didn't understand, we shouldn't understand either went the thinking.


Steve McQueen - The Cooler King


Saturday, May 23, 2015

Gulliver's Travels - Lilliput to the shores of Japan

The Flying Island of Laputa
Gulliver's Travels is a classic of eighteenth century literature. Written within a few years of Robinson Crusoe, the novel often cited as the first English language fictional work, it became an instant favourite of adults and children alike. The parents would recognise the satire within the work as Swift took potshots at a wide selection of the social establishment of the day, as well as a few foreign powers for good measure; whereas the children would enjoy the rampant imagination of tiny people, giant people, immortal people, ghosts and talking horses amongst but a few or the characters he meets upon his journeys. And journeys they were. Most adaptions these days focus on only the first of them, Gulliver's adventure in Lilliput where he is a giant in a land of the little people. But in fact Gulliver made four journeys over the years in the book, and to many, many different lands. 

Japan to the west of Luggnagg
Apart from England, where his adventures begin, there is only one other "real" country where he narrates an element of his passage. And that's Japan, where he briefly lands on his way back to Europe, almost in the closing lines of his third journey. He meets the port officials in a coastal village to the north of Tokyo and avoids what was referred to as "trampling upon the crucifix", the Emperor's test for Christians, who were not overly welcome in the country at that time. Actually, it would have been the shogun's test in this era, the Emperor being very much holed up in Kyoto, out of harms way, but the distinction in Swift's time was probably something of a grey area. Arguably the story does mention that Gulliver returned to his home via Holland, the Dutch having been traders allowed into Japan at that time and hence providing some of the few ships available for return to Europe. But, as this isn't referred to in the present tense, I'm good to let this go. 

And then more recently, Gulliver returned to Japan for a second adventure in 1997, at a theme park located near Mount Fuji, some 100km west of Tokyo. It was a classic bubble era investment of gigantic (sorry) proportions. However, having located this magical kingdom between Japan's top suicide location of Aokigahara and the headquarters of the sarin gas wielding Aum doomsday cult at Kamikushiki, its life expectancy was alway going to be somewhat short-lived. Sure enough, in 2001 the gates were closed for good and Gulliver slipped, once more, into the annals of classic fiction. But whatever, a giant guy chained to the ground with a seemingly broken neck, was never really going to help the children sleep all that well at night. Best just read them the stories. All four of them. They're still classics to this day.





Friday, May 22, 2015

The Warrior Crabs of Dannoura - Carl Sagan was right

The creation of the first shogunate, when political control in Japan switched almost overnight from the Emperor to the military overlords, occurred at the sea-battle of Danno-ura on 24 April, 1185 by the shores of the Inland Sea. The battle, the curtain call of the Gempei Wars, was between the Heike Clan, the ruling aristocracy of the Imperial Court, and the Genji Clan, themselves descendants of the royal line but thirsting for a return to power. The outcome was the routing of the Heiki Clan and drowning of the seven-year old Emperor to avoid capture by the rebel forces. On seeing his demise, the Heike army chose to follow their lord to their deaths and the samurai warriors leapt into the waters.

And so, all the elements of a classic legend fell into place. A tumultuous battle, the death of an Emperor, the annihilation of his army, the self sacrifice of the courtiers and last but not least, no one left to contradict the story. The legend itself relates to the Heikegani crab, native to the region of the Inland Sea and the Straights of Shimonoseki where the battle occurred and the Emperor is said to have drowned. The restless spirits of his army walked the depths in search of their lost empire, eventually taking the form of the Heikegani Warrior Crabs. These little beasts, no more than an inch or two across, are still caught today and when their distinctive, samurai like, markings are found, thrown back into the water to continue their journey.

And then a modern urban myth arose. Or did it? Carl Sagan championed the theory (originated by Julian Huxley) that the crab's features were a form of accidental natural selection. Fisherman, seeing these characteristics, throwing the crabs back into the water and keeping (and eating) the more conventional looking crustaceans. Over the generations the features were re-inforced to the point that today the crabs do appear to resemble the samurai warriors of legend. However, there is a school of thought that cried foul. The argument goes that as the crabs are so small no one would eat them and this is simply an example of the human brain's ability to see a face in almost anything. Sagan and Huxley must be mistaken. And so we come to two important points. First, don't mess with a good legend, you never know if those warrior souls really are following you. And second, if you think they're too small to eat, go to Inakaya in Roppongi and order them. Who said you can't eat small crab. Carl Sagan, I'm with you on this one.




Thursday, May 21, 2015

The Law is an Ass - Compare and Contrast

"The law is an ass" is a classic English phrase dating back to the 17th Century meaning essentially, "the law got it wrong". The "ass" in this case is a donkey, a creature somewhat famed for its stubborn, as well as intellectually challenged, nature. Ian Hislop, editor of Private Eye, an English satirical magazine, updated the phrase in 1989 whilst standing on the steps of the Court having just lost his case, saying "If that's justice, then I am a banana". Different words, same principle. The law must be, and be seen to be, fair to all, blind to status and standing. Which raises the question what exactly is "fair" or "reasonable"? Simple, it is defined to be the opinion of the man on the Clapham Omnibus (stay with me), someone considered to be a rational and intelligent person who would take a rational and reasonable decision.

The concept of being judged by one's peers, although centuries old in many cultures, is relatively new in Japan having been introduced in sorts in 2009 (an analogy was trialled in the early 20th Century but shelved with the onset of war). The issue of the police being able to hold an individual for twenty three days without charge is relatively well known and given the 99% conviction rate, often based purely on confession extracted without legal representation, somewhat seen as "effective" (!). As the thinking goes ~ why would the police have arrested him in the first place if he wasn't guilty? So the question arises, would Japan benefit or not from the opinions of the man on the Clapham Omnibus? 

A recent case of the parents of a schoolboy being sued for not clearly explaining the dangers of playing soccer at school illustrates the dilemma. The boys were playing after school, supervised on school grounds. The goal posts were near the school gates, the ball ran into the road and an 80 year old gentleman on a scooter swerved to avoid it. Falling off and subsequently contracting cancer (I'm not making this up!), he passed away and the family was initially awarded significant damages for the lackadaisical attitude of the parents. No connection between the game of soccer and the cancer was established and the school wasn't even cited. Our Clapham commuter would have laughed and probably told them to get on with life, no case to answer. But the parents spent years in the courts.  

A second example relates to a recent highway crash when the driver of one car fell asleep and crossed the central barrier, crashing headlong into on-coming traffic. A passenger in the first car sadly lost his life and the debate ensued as to who was responsible. The on-coming car, in his own lane, minding his own business, was deemed to be partially responsible as he was there in the first place and didn't  sound his horn to wake the drowsing driver. Our man from Clapham would, at this point, probably be spinning in his grave. The on-coming driver apparently holding no reasonable duty of care to the sleeper at the controls of the errant vehicle. Who clearly does hold a duty of care to the occupants of the remainder of the road.   

By convention, I more often than not contain the posts within TenguLife to the objective rather than the subjective. However, whilst not drawing a conclusion as to whether there is a right way and, by implication, a wrong way, occasionally it's a good principle to raise a point for debate. So:

The man on the top of the Clapham omnibus vs The commuter on the Limited Express to Shinjuku

Compare and contrast.




Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Sherlock in Japan; Gulliver next?

Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman - redefining Sherlock
Sherlock, the Benedict Cumberbatch - Martin Freeman re-interpretation of the classic Arthur Conan Doyle detective stories has proved a massive hit in Japan. So much so that at the moment we're seeing re-runs not only of the nine episodes made to date (come on Sherlock, 2016 is a long way off to wait for the next series!) but also Elementary, the Lucy Liu version as Watson with that other chap (apologies, but that's how my friends refer to him) and additionally multiple non-English language versions of a dapper Basil Rathbone-esque deerstalker variety (one of which is something Eastern European but I'm not absolutely sure where from; possibly Hungarian, definitely not Russian). 

Lucy Liu and "that other bloke" in Elementary
Japan loves a good mystery and all the original stories had been translated by the early 1950's after a thirty year labour of love from the author Nobuhara Ken. He had retreated to the old postal town of Oiwake, a day's walk on the Nakasendo (the ancient road from Kyoto to Tokyo) to the popular resort destination of Karuizawa, itself some three hours train northwest of Tokyo (in the days before the Shinkansen). Nobuhara fell in love with the area and eventually settled in the village, bringing a permanent connection to Sherlock in the process.

And so Sherlockians petitioned the local town of Karuizawa to erect a statue of their hero, something the councillors were at first reluctant to do. Eventually relenting, and accepting the tribute into their midst, in 1988 a life size statue of Sherlock Holmes was finally unveiled in Koshinzuka Park, on the western fringes of Oiwake. And if you go there today you can walk up to the bronze figure and enjoy taking a selfie with him. You'll probably notice the park is more of a field, adorned with obelisks decorated with gorgeous, though unexplained, kanji. However, if you enjoy your old English literature you might be interested to know that although Holmes never made it to Japan, Gulliver actually did on his own travels. But sadly there isn't a statue to him in Japan. At least, not yet....


Koshinzuka Park, Oiwake, the only statue in Japan. A classic.


Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The night Japan came back to life

2011 did not start well for Japan. An M9.0 earthquake off the shores of Tohoku in March had unleashed a tsunami that inundated several hundred miles of coastline to a depth of nearly 40m in places. The Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant started it's slow progress to meltdown and Tokyo held its breath as we braced for a city wide evacuation instruction. Japan had taken a heavy blow, down though not quite out. In the immediate months after the catastrophe the country needed a lift to bring it back to its feet.

And in the early hours of 18 July a hand reached down and pulled for all its might. The Women's World Cup Final was being held in Germany. A night game local time, we sat down to watch in a sports bar in the back streets of Shibuya, central Tokyo at something around 3.00am. Let's face it, women's soccer doesn't have the greatest following in the world but this was different. This wasn't women's soccer, this was a country showing to the world it wasn't giving up. USA, a great team, were the favourites but Japan stood it's ground that night and at the end of extra time the score was 2:2. And the Championship would be decided on the next ten shots.

The teams lined up for the penalties and I remember the bar becoming deathly silent. Even the staff and a local TV camera crew stopped and held their breath. And when the winning penalty found home we could hear the entire country erupt outside. When we finally emerged from our cellar bar, the last revellers were still celebrating at Hachiko Crossing. Japan had grabbed the hand and it had pulled it back to its feet. And in three weeks from now the team will have the chance to defend the World Cup title. But little will ever equal that moment when a country forgot its setbacks and was kickstarted back to life. Canada 2015 - Go Japan!





Monday, May 18, 2015

Rikidozan and the Curious Curse of The Hotel New Japan

The Hotel New Japan is famous for a fire that consumed the top two floors of the ten story building on 8 February, 1982. The hotel, located in Akasaka, sandwiched between the fringes of the business and nightlife districts of Tokyo, was opened in the early 1960's in preparation for the Olympics of 1964. Thirty three people lost their lives in the fire that morning and as many more were injured. But the reason why The Hotel New Japan became infamous was more to do with what came next than actually the fire itself. The General Manager refused to apologise for the tragedy in accordance with traditional and accepted etiquette and, as a result, the hotel attracted pariah status, remaining a burnt out shell for the best part of the next two decades, untouched by any would be developer. Not bad for prime real-estate in central Tokyo. But all this is well known and documented and merely the epilogue of an older story that occurred some twenty years earlier. 

Curiously less well known than the fire and its subsequent troubles is the fate of Rikidozan, Japan's first superstar pro-wrestler, ex-sumo rikishi, entrepreneur, man of vast wealth and, more than anything else, an outstanding bon-viveur of colossal proportions. Rikidozan had sniffed the way the wind was blowing for sumo in the 1940's and in 1950 decided to get out of the game. A chance encounter with an American pro-wrestler by the name of Harold Sakata (later to be more widely adored as the bowler hat wielding butler, Oddjob in the Bond movie Goldfinger), convinced Rikidozan to try his hand at the sport. In a series of carefully choreographed, pre-arranged fights, Rikidozan, single-handedly beat the American Champions and brought a staggering dose of pride back to the country, still smarting from the war and subsequent US occupation. With his signature karate chop, he beat all comers, one after another; and the fans went wild.  

So popular did Rikidozan become that he is said to have single-handedly launched the market for television in Japan, a few hundred thousand sets one year exploding into several million the next, so the country could wildly cheer him on, beating the barbarians to a pulp. And he, like many others of the time, enjoyed spending his evenings in the latest place to be, a club called the New Latin Quarter, nestled in the basement of the aforementioned Hotel New Japan. And there, on the 8th December 1963, the hero of Japan's recovery became embroiled in an argument with a relatively young member of the local Yakuza gang who settled the discussion with a knife he carried in his belt. A week later, Rikidozan, the warrior hero of a newly energised populace, succumbed to his injuries and hung up his champion's belt one last time, shuffling off this mortal coil to a corner in the great pro-wrestling ring in the sky. He had lifted the country and restored the pride of a nation whilst all the time keeping one great secret. Rikidozan wasn't Japanese, he was Korean.

Saturday, May 16, 2015

The Street Art of Yasutake Kameda - a Sewer Story

Yasutake Kameda could not, under the wildest stretches of imagination, have been considered a great artist in his own right. But he was a visionary in his own way. Sparking a revolution at peoples feet, his canvas was the broadest of all as he brought colour and imagination to the streets of Japan. A dyed in the wool bureaucrat in the Ministry of Construction, it was his responsibility in the early 1980's to convince the provinces of Japan that they really wanted to be connected to the main sewer system, at this point servicing a mere 60% of the population in what was considered a first world nation.

Not believing in the old adage of out of sight, out of mind, Kameda decided that if the people couldn't be brought to the sewer system, the sewer system should be brought to them. And so he removed their handcuffs and raised the humble manhole cover to an art form. Allowing towns and municipalities to design their own creations, providing for localised patterns to which people could relate, he sparked a revolution that adorns the streets of Japan today. Defining simple safety guidelines and then getting out of the way, he created a totally new genre in art, something the common man could relate to.

And so today, the patterns must provide grip for motorcycles in the wet and the covers must remain firmly in place despite the efforts of the worst of typhoons, but apart from that, the only limit is the imagination. And what an imagination. Costing an estimated 5% more than the standard variety, there are now over 6,000 designer manhole covers brightening our days on Japan's streets and byways. So next time you're looking for an art gallery or cultural museum, look to your feet. You might just find you're standing on it. And Yasutake Kameda would probably be happy you appreciate his work.



Friday, May 15, 2015

A Secret Garden in Tokyo

There's a quaint English adage that goes something along the lines of "you know you're getting old when you sit outside a crowded  pub and think to yourself I like what they've done with the hanging baskets". And so, each to their own, but as I walk around Daikanyama, a quiet, village like suburb of Tokyo, I often pass a home where the owner is clearly devoted to their roses. The flowers adorn the garden in front of the house and at this time of year, being in full bloom, make an incredibly refreshing backdrop to the concrete and asphalt that is the signature style of many major cities in this day and age.

This particular house though is a private home. I stroll along this street almost daily, being on the way to T-Site, the perfect in-city space to walk my dogs, and have never come across the family. Neither tending the roses nor simply around and about. The house is very well kept but the family remains quietly private, keeping themselves to themselves, as is often the norm in Japan. And then yesterday there was a little sign, in Japanese, on a chair outside their garage. The door was open and the note was an invitation for people to walk through to the hidden rose garden beyond. 

And what a breath-taking garden. Itself larger than the area of many free standing homes, it was a vast array of all types of roses, every one in what must be their prime before the summer. Each was labelled with not just the name of the flower but their origin and the year they were planted, some dating back nearly fifty years. The high walls were all but invisible behind the blooms and the whole experience was one of a clear devotion to a lifetime's passion. But it wasn't the flowers that struck me so much as that, in this day and age of isolation, keeping our heads down to our smartphones and preferring to believe the world around us doesn't exist, how incredibly kind of this family to share their secret garden with the strangers walking by. Even if it is just for a day. And yes, I really like what they have done with their hanging baskets.




Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Day the Music Died

Few Japanese music artists, or even popular songs, gain significant international attention. The language barriers, both in the lyrics and those endemically ingrained within the structure of the music industry itself, ensure a near impenetrable barrier for musicians to breakout to the wider world. A number have tried but with limited success. Even Seiko Matsuda, the eternal idol of Japanese pop, creator of nearly fifty studio albums and over eighty singles, has only scratched the surface of the US market despite a valiant campaign in the English language. Today, most people outside Japan think of the shamisen and elegant geisha staring dreamily into the distance when they imagine Japanese music. And even then it is probably confused with traditional styles from China.

But one song did crack the Great Wall of Japanese Music. Known in Japan as Ue O Muite Arukou, it became the only Japanese language song to top the US Hot 100, over fifty years ago. The song is about the desperation of lost love but is an abstract concept referring to a lost, but dearly cherished belief, as much as the loss of a lover. In fact, it was written in the student frustration of the US military presence in Japan and the perceived loss of national identity. The title translates as "While I walk around I look up" the implication being so that the narrators tears cannot fall to the ground. And then some genius changed its name to "Sukiyaki" in English; as the phrase goes, that's the same as re-titling Imagine as Cup Noodle. It's a beautiful song with absolutely nothing to do with the English lyric versions to come. Those were simply made up.

Although he neither wrote the music nor the lyrics, the song was made famous by the inspiring interpretation of Sakamoto Kyu in the early 1960's. Still a teenager when he laid down the recording, the success led to over thirteen million copies being sold worldwide and chart appearances across Europe as well as that #1 spot in America. And then at 6:12pm on 12 August 1985 Sakamoto boarded JAL Flight 123 from Tokyo to Osaka along with 523 other passengers and crew. In-flight failure of the rear pressure bulkhead took the aircraft from the skies along with the lives of all but four of those onboard in the worst single-plane accident in aviation history. And Kyu Sakamoto was gone. You have to wonder though, maybe now he's finally walking around looking down instead of up, smiling that so many people still sing his music and some maybe even sharing his thoughts.





Wednesday, May 13, 2015

The law is an ass! Compare and Contrast...

"The law is an ass" is a classic English phrase dating back to the 17th Century meaning essentially, "the law got it wrong". The "ass" in this case is a donkey, a creature somewhat famed for its stubborn, as well as intellectually challenged, nature. Ian Hislop, editor of Private Eye, an English satirical magazine, updated the phrase in 1989 whilst standing on the steps of the Court having just lost his case, saying "If that's justice, then I am a banana". Different words, same principle. The law must be, and be seen to be, fair to all, blind to status and standing. Which raises the question what exactly is "fair" or "reasonable"? Simple, it is defined to be the opinion of the man on the Clapham Omnibus (stay with me), someone considered to be a rational and intelligent person who would take a rational and reasonable decision.

The concept of being judged by one's peers, although centuries old in many cultures, is relatively new in Japan having been introduced in sorts in 2009 (an analogy was trialled in the early 20th Century but shelved with the onset of war). The issue of the police being able to hold an individual for twenty three days without charge is relatively well known and given the 99% conviction rate, often based purely on confession extracted without legal representation, somewhat seen as "effective" (!). As the thinking goes ~ why would the police have arrested him in the first place if he wasn't guilty? So the question arises, would Japan benefit or not from the opinions of the man on the Clapham omnibus? 

A recent case of the parents of a schoolboy being sued for not clearly explaining the dangers of playing soccer at school illustrates the dilemma. The boys were playing after school, supervised on school grounds. The goal posts were near the school gates, the ball ran into the road and an 80 year old gentleman on a scooter swerved to avoid it. Falling off and subsequently contracting cancer (I'm not making this up!), he passed away and the family was initially awarded significant damages for the lackadaisical attitude of the parents. No connection between the game of soccer and the cancer was established and the school wasn't even cited. Our Clapham commuter would have laughed and probably told them to get on with life, no case to answer. But the parents spent years in the courts.  

A second example relates to a recent highway crash when the driver of one car fell asleep and crossed the central barrier, crashing headlong into on-coming traffic. A passenger in the first car sadly lost his life and the debate ensued as to who was responsible. The on-coming car, in his own lane, minding his own business, was deemed to be partially responsible as he was there in the first place and didn't  sound his horn to wake the drowsing driver. Our man from Clapham would, at this point, probably be spinning in his grave. The on-coming driver apparently holding no reasonable duty of care to the sleeper at the controls of the errant vehicle. Who clearly does hold a duty of care to the occupants of the remainder of the road.   

By convention, I more often than not contain the posts within TenguLife to the objective rather than the subjective. However, whilst not drawing a conclusion as to whether there is a right way and, by implication, a wrong way, occasionally it's a good principle to raise a point for debate. So:

The man on the top of the Clapham omnibus vs The commuter on the Limited Express to Shinjuku

Compare and contrast.


A definition of "reasonable" - the man on the Clapham Omnibus


Hunky Dory and the Streets of Yokosuka

Hunky Dory, the classic David Bowie album, is one of Time Magazine's Top 100 of all time. Recorded in 1971, it marked the foundation of Bowie's commercial, rock based direction that was to be his signature for the next decade to come. It also contains the mesmerising track "Life on Mars" and if you haven't seen the John Simm, Philip Glenister series of the same name, you're in for a treat. But where does the phrase Hunky Dory, meaning something along the lines of "I'm ok, everything's good", actually come from? Well, etymology is rarely an exact science, but the answer to this is the reason I'm writing about it in a blog on Japan.

Post 1945, during MacArthur's administration of Japan, the separate US forces established bases in various locations around Tokyo and across the country. MacArthur, careful to replace war veterans with young recruits as quickly as possible to avoid potential conflicts, allocated existing Japanese military facilities to the different branches based on availability and suitability. Among others in and around Kanto, Zama went to the Army, Yokota became a key supply base for the USAF and Yokosuka, a historic natural harbour, became a home for the US Navy.

And back to Hunky-Dory, or rather Honcho-Dori... "Dori" is the Japanese word for "Street" and "Honcho" is akin to the central-district of a town in Japanese. And Honcho-Dori was the central street through Yokosuka that lead back to the US Navy fleet. A sailor, having enjoyed a night on the town, would be safe if he could find Honcho-Dori. He just had to follow the route back to his ship. And so over time the phrase was adapted to include "hunky", an old American word for "safe", in place of Honcho and Hunky-Dory was born. And whatever the origins, it really is an incredible album. But whether David Bowie has ever walked the streets of Yokosuka at night, I'm afraid I really don't know.




Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Kinkan - A miracle cure for mosquito bites

Growing up in Europe I soon became used to mosquitoes. Annoying but no big deal. Indeed, that high pitch buzzing was more of a problem than the bite itself when you're relaxing of an evening. We all seem to have an auto-defence mechanism whereby you slap yourself as the bug flies past. Doesn't stop the insect but it's more than amusing for everyone else around you. And then I came to Japan. Mosquitoes here are a different ball game altogether. They fly around with small cars splattered on the front. Much more potent that the European variety, I swear they use hyperdemic syringes and take an entire armful of blood with every snack. 

My first summer in Tokyo I made the rookie mistake of sleeping with the window open and no fly-screen to protect me. Thirty four stab wounds later and I was sure they were inviting their friends to the picnic. And being a relatively new foreigner to these lands, unused to these creatures from the pits of Hades, each bite swelled to the size of a small volcano with clear fluid oozing from the centre. The scratching was impossible to control. Given the choice of death or stop scratching, it was a close run thing. Japanese mosquitoes, I found, are a variety of mythical monster unto themselves.

And then someone introduced me to a gift from the gods. Admittedly they waited a week, somewhat enjoying my extreme discomfort, but eventually handed me a small brown bottle. And I could have kissed them for it. A miracle cure, Kinkan, one swipe and your misery is gone. Ammonia based (so don't sniff it!) the uncontrollable urge to scratch disappears instantly as the itch vanishes and the swelling is finally tamed. Suddenly life is bearable again. Just whatever you do, don't sleep with the window open and no fly screen. Kinkan, never leave home without it!


Kinkan - pain relief from the gods...


Monday, May 11, 2015

Feeling a little isolated in the East

I arrived in Japan towards the end of 1991. Actually, England lost the Rugby World Cup whilst I was in the air and the sad news was broken by the pilot as we landed. And thinking about it, a British couple had deposited their young children in the seats next to me at the back of the plane and then disappeared to relax with their champaign at the front. Nice of them that. However, at least the flight was direct from London to Tokyo. Not long before I took this flight, Russian airspace had yet to open to western traffic and the old route was either via Hong Kong or Anchorage. Twice as long but apparently the ice cream at Anchorage Airport was outstanding. 

And so, for nearly twenty-five years, I comfortably shuttled back and forth between continents and over time migrated up the plane from cattle class to comfort. And then, last year, Virgin decided to pull out of Japan and focus on their trans-Atlantic routes. And they were my carrier of choice. BA has an unusual configuration in their planes, leaving you with the feeling of the peculiar flat mate who would watch Chandler at night in a classic episode of Friends. JAL, on the other hand, is designed for Japanese passengers and at 183, and 83kg, I don't really meet their standard seat concept. Which leaves ANA, and I like ANA. But they are seriously expensive.

However, I still also have air-miles on Virgin which I really would like to use. Except I can't. Not only are they non-transferable to a European route, there is now no longer a connection between Virgin and any UK domestic carrier. So unless I want to go on vacation in the US after my vacation in the UK I'm kind of stuck. But I also have Amex air-miles which are transferable to ANA, except that's limited to 80,000 per year. And it used to be possible to transfer to Amex miles to JAL but no more. But I can transfer them to Virgin! Which still flies from Hong Kong. Yay! So Hong Kong here we come for a transit to the UK. And honestly, this is getting more complicated than forecasting the outcome of a UK election.


This would make life so much easier...


Saturday, May 9, 2015

And so rainy season begins. At least in Okinawa....

Looking out of my window in downtown Tokyo I can see gentle specks of rain falling on the glass, but we have a little time to wait as yet. It's another four weeks or so until rainy season reaches the metropolis but it has already started in the southern islands of Okinawa according to the Japan Meteorological Office. Sometime yesterday. Spot on schedule. And how anyone can define the beginning of a season is beyond me but there it is. Rainy season is officially here. And to be fair, it will go out in the same fashion, with an announcement on TV, sometime in mid-July.

The actual cause of the rains is the slow progression north of the subtropical ridge as the ocean temperatures rise with the onset of summer. Everything really starts to happen after the spring equinox as the sun passes over the equator. The weather system creates the perfect conditions to mix cold, northerly air with the warm, moist equatorial flows. The result is wet. Not India monsoon wet, but persistent, daily wet. Though is you pertain from Oregon or the west coast of Ireland, you'll probably laugh and consider it a beautiful summer's day.

In Tokyo we'll see an uplift in precipitation in around a months time in early-mid June, continuing for nearly six weeks into mid-late July. And then it gets hot. Seriously hot. Neither rainy season nor summer are great times to visit Japan. It's both exhausting and particularly rubbish photo time with grey skies in the rain or terminal sweat in the sun. But then the typhoons will arrive. Clearing out the air, they blast through the islands in a matter of days, rarely pausing in their north-easterly march. You may see 20cm of rain in a single day, and I've seen the gusts literally turn peoples clothes inside-out. But it means the heat is over. So avoid the rain and the heat, come visit us in October, it's cool and you won't need an umbrella.





Friday, May 8, 2015

The Night Sumo Saved Charlie Chaplin's Life

The 1920's and 1930's were an unstable time for Japan and the precursor to the catastrophe to come. Expansionist policies had already led to the annexation of Korea in 1910 and the subsequent increase in power of the military was nothing but accelerated by the woeful response to the devastation of Tokyo in September 1923 when an earthquake and fire razed the city. By 1931, flexing its muscles, the Imperial Army unilaterally manufactured an incident in Manchuria, northern China, launching an all out invasion without the courtesy of asking the civilian government in advance.

Japan was already smarting from the a naval treaty of 1922 which had limited its ability to develop a modern navy and by 1931 the rule of law was beginning to look in question with both the Imperial Army and Navy showing signs of unrest. The pot boiled over in October 1931 with the first of a string of failed coup d'etat. The second, in March 1932, aimed to assassinate business and political leaders and usher in a new era of nationalism under military rule. Despite the failure to eliminate no more than an ex-Minister and the Director General of Mitsui, emotions were running high. And then on 15 May 1932, young extremists from the Navy with the support the shadowy League of Blood, succeeded in assassinating the Prime Minister, Inukai Tsuyoshi. 

The coup, led by eleven officers in their early twenties, went little further but the conspirators had another sinister objective. To provoke America into a Pacific War. To achieve this they planned to assassinate the much loved movie star, Charlie Chaplin, who had arrived in Tokyo the evening before and was supposed to be at a reception with the Prime Minister. Fortunately events were not to be for the would-be radicals and Chaplin was watching a sumo tournament elsewhere in the city at the time. His death could never have realistically provoked such a response but think what we would have lost if he hadn't changed his plans that night; Lime Light, Modern Times, The Great Dictator and the eternal classic, Smile. All were in the years to come....


Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may be ever so near

That's the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what's the use of crying

You'll find that life's still worthwhile

If you just smile




Thursday, May 7, 2015

The Rise and Fall of the Trams of Tokyo

In 1872, three years after a civil war had brought about the Meiji Restoration, Japan was rapidly evolving from a feudal society into a quasi-democracy. The country was looking to the West for rapid acquisition of all the technologies of a modern society and in addition to the obligatory ships and armaments it was also eager to adopt steam powered transport. Trains were the future. Test runs having been satisfactorily completed between Shinagawa and Yokohama, on 14 October of that year, the first commercial railwayline was inaugurated and, as the train pulled out of the old Shimbashi station at Shiodome, the crowds cheered and the passengers enjoyed a journey of a little under an hour to Sakuragicho in Yokohama, not that dissimilar from today.

But train systems were prohibitively expensive to develop and a cheaper solution for mass transport inside the capital was required. And so, after many years of debate, the government turned to the electric tramline, something to be first successfully demonstrated in Kyoto in 1895. Opening in 1903, the tram system grew to over forty separate lines with the peak utilisation actually in the early 1960's. But by then the more efficient busses as well as the motorcar and the rapidly growing subway system were eating into the networks reason to be and by the 1970's the trams were all but consigned to history.

Today the trams do still exist in Tokyo but are a ghost of their former selves. Threatened with closure in the 1960's, an urban uprising eventually secured the life of the Toden-Arakawa line in northern Tokyo. Running from Minowabashi, near Asakusa, to Weseda, home of the university, the line remains a public service and popular tourist sight to this day. The only other tramway to still operate in Tokyo is the Tokyu-Setagaya line from Sangenjaya, the branch-line being the remnants of the once major Tamagawa line from Shibuya. With the little bell that warns of its approach, the trams are affectionally referred to as "ding ding trains" or "chin chin densha" in Japanese. And that has an entirely different meaning to a thirteen year old school boy in Japan.  


Roppongi Crossing c1930. Trams and cars compete for the future.
My thanks to Timo Budow for tracking this picture down.


Wednesday, May 6, 2015

The 2020 Tokyo Olympics - Timing could maybe have been a little better....

Sitting in a dark, hot and humid office, in the swelter of a Japanese summer, I once asked an engineering friend of mine if he could design something that would cool my room and brighten my day. He suggested an air conditioner with a lamp on top. Technically correct but not exactly what I was looking for. And the problem remains today after all these years. If only there was a device that could take in the heat and convert it to cubes of warmth, that could be stored until winter, we'd have a much more eco-friendly world. This must be one for Elon Musk.

However, back in Japan... the first signs of summer are peeking over the battlements. The temperature will rise to the mid-thirties, though with the added humidity it will feel like the earth has drifted worryingly closer to the sun. Thankfully, as tourists pour into the city, department stores offer oases of relief but as you dash from one to the other don't be surprised to find your clothes turning a darker shade of wet. And if you're air-con is suffering at home, time to call the repairman before he becomes the most popular guy on the block. Summer is going to be hot. And this brings us to the Olympics. 

In 1964, Tokyo hosted Japan's coming out party with a highly successful event in October of that year. The weather during Autumn is some of the most enjoyable there is. Warm but not hot. Dry but still comfortable. On the whole, very pleasant t-shirt time. And for 2020 the dates have been announced as 24 July until 9 August, the hottest, most humid time of the year. So bring your ice buckets and shorts to the party. And the week following the Closing Ceremony? Well that's Obon, the peak travel time of the year in Japan. Narita is already a nightmare of over capacity then even in a non-Olympic year. Whoever made that decision must be glad Qatar has made such a mess of 2022. I'd like to suggest they're "taking the heat" but even I think that's a pun too far...


The only thing to do in the heat!


Tuesday, May 5, 2015

The Yamathon - age is just a number so I'm told...

Developing into one of the great urban challenges of Japan, the Yamathon is a 50km+ course around the twenty-nine stations of the Yamanote line in central Tokyo. The rules are simple. You enter as a team of three or four, you take a team photo at each station and you need to complete the course in under twelve hours (though honourable mentions may be given to those crossing the line by the time the venue closes). The actual route is up to the team. The wily will find a course of a little under 50k's however the average is closer to 54. Which is a lot more than the train at about 34k's and the train  doesn't need to stop for traffic.

The event is run for charity, with entry fees this year being donated to supporting the recovery of Ishinomaki, a town in Tohoku devastated by the tsunami of 2011. A little earlier than last year, when the race was run in June, this year the date is 30th May, footfall commencing at 8.00am near Tokyo station. The weather at this time of year is usually dry being before rainy season, which starts in mid-June, although clear skies may make for a hot day and it is a genuine in-city test of training, planning and endurance. But it's also a fun day out and you'll see a lot of strollers being pushed along, at least for a couple of stations, as families come to support their valiant runners.

Last year, pushing the wrong end of my forties, I decided to walk the route on the day without officially entering. I enjoy walking and had a fascinating time exploring areas of north Tokyo into which I rarely venture. Travelling clockwise around the tracks, I made the novice mistake of staying on the outside of the loop, adding a fair bit to the distance. And, at a little under 30k's, my body said 'enough is enough'. But this year I aim to close the loop and complete the distance, taking the tracks south from Shibuya and circling anti-clockwise to the finish line. So whether you fancy walking, jogging or running the distance, I hope you have a great day out for an excellent cause. If nothing else, it's a wonderful way to see those unheralded backstreets of Tokyo. And if you get tired, well, you can always hop on a Yamanote train and head home, resting your weary feet until next year.


Closing the gap, only another 25k's to go