Monday, August 14, 2017

A dogs life, in English, in Japan

So we have two dogs. They're unrelated but are both the same cross. Chihuahua / poodle. And they're cool. They joined us on Valentine's Day 2011, which, for anyone who cross references, is about three weeks before the earthquake. The big one. Five days after the quake, tsunami, nuclear meltdown, etc etc, I got my family on a flight to foreign lands but stayed myself with our new little friends / responsibilities. And I was so grateful that they were with me as the gasoline ran out and lights began to fail. Those weren't great days but all in the past.

And then you know how it happens. Everything goes wrong at the same time. It's a national holiday. My wife is out of contact. And one of our dogs dislocates her hip. We don't know how but I found her at the bottom of the stairs not being able to stand and gently whimpering. [(earthquake while I type) (tiny and I caught the tv) (no worries)]. Having been a rugby player and seeing a shoulder dislocation I can guess the pain she's in. And, of course, her regular vet is closed for  National Mountain Day and with any vet, without my wife, the Japanese is going to be tricky. "Dislocated hip" isn't exactly in my vernacular.

And then the best thing that could actually happen, happens. My wife's phone comes back on line. She's found another vet nearby and he speaks English (as does his wonderful assistant). And on a national holiday he will open up early for me. And, after sedation and two general anaesthesia, our six inch tall little chawoodle is now on the mend. I rarely evangelize here on my blog but this time, it's a huge thank you to the team at West Cross in Nakameguro, downtown Tokyo. Life in a foreign land and language is tricky sometimes. But it's not impossible. And it's important to say thank you.


Thursday, August 3, 2017

Where to stand when the lights go out

Hmm, join the queue...
It's summer. And to many that means something involving Mount Fuji, the sacred symbol of Japan the world over. Looking exactly the way a child would draw a volcano, these days it attracts some 300,000 each year to its slopes with its currently popularity being attributed by the government to a World Heritage listing in 2013. Presumably the thinking goes that people hadn't noticed it until then. And so if you are going to climb to the top of a 3776m stratovolcano, you might want to remember that the vertical lift from the fifth station is greater than sea level to the peak of Ben Nevis, the highest location in the UK. And that the support facilities are closed on weekdays.

The west coast of Izu
But if your plan is to see, rather than scale, this national icon, don't actually go there. If you do you'll see a car park and a path. There is not much to view when you're standing on it as it were. The photography from Yamanakako to the north or Hakone to the south can be stunning and the west coast of the Izu Peninsula offers a beautiful, though rarely seen, vista (and don't even try if you get car sick). But you also need to be lucky, there's a lot of cloud available when you're the highest obstacle between the winds of continental Asia and the warm waters of The Pacific. And then of course, the question is where to stand when the fireworks go off for real.

Fuji from the 40F Cerulean Bar
Technically still active, Fuji-san last erupted in 1708 though a M6.2 quake in the locale that went off late on a Tuesday evening following the mega-quake of March 2011 did make us all somewhat wonder if we were in for a more contemporary visit. And if it does go off, the conventional view points mentioned above would be a little too close for comfort. However, the bar on the fortieth floor of the Cerulean Hotel in Shibuya, downtown Tokyo, might just be ideal with a 100km direct line of sight. And then you might want to leave. That ash cloud will fuse the power grid and collapse the city as it slowly crawls towards you.


When Fuji erupts (with thanks to Tofugu.com)




Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Of Bitcoins and Bedsprings

June 9, 2017 and the Japanese government passes into law the Airbnb Act. It isn't technically called that but then again, neither is "Obama-Care". The act allows for the average citizen to register with their local authority and offer out a spare room, sofa or house to paying guests. For roughly half the year these properties can supplement the more traditional venues for a quick vacation and now with no-minimum nights stay requirements. Which, if you dwell on it, is in direct competition to the established hotel and tourist industry and, let's face it, Japan is not too famous for encouraging competition in the face of vested interest. So what's different?

The root cause of seemingly broad support lies in a fundamental problem surrounding the incredible success of the government in marketing Japan as the ultimate oversees tourist destination. And as a result of all the additional bodies, there is a dearth in supply of night-time nests. There simply aren't enough beds to go around. The original target of 20 million inbound tourists by 2020 for the Olympics was blown away by 2015. The target has been raised by the National Tourism Organisation to 40 million by the time they fire the starting pistol to celebrate as the games begin and then after that 60 million penciled in for 2030. And with a reputation for safety, cleanliness, a little peculiarity, reasonable prices and lots to do, it's looking on the cards.

Budget price hotel chains such as APA, with 150 properties across the country (which it utilizes to distribute its publications with a slightly alternative view of Japan's "liberation" of Asia) are growing fast but with twenty million additional slumber parties to accommodate in the space of five years, that's an extra 55,000 heads to rest each night. 365 days a year. One proposal to convert ten thousand Love Hotels, an industry that would appear to be in death spiral as the youth of the country forget how to enjoy themselves, seems to have floundered and so it's private enterprise to the rescue as it were. The Airbnb Act it is. And so no one's complaining as in reality there's more than enough to go round for all. They'll be taking Bitcoin next.







Thursday, July 20, 2017

The aging elves of the Bullet Train


The problem, when it comes to crafting the nose cone of a bullet train, is that there generally isn't an overly gushing abundance of requirement for them. In fact, each generation of the Shinkansen requires only something between fifty to a little over one hundred of the gracefully curved creations. After all, these cutting edge technological marvels aren't exactly popping out of the woodwork. And so it would seem to be an extremely expensive proposition to tool up and manufacture for such a limited production run. Which is precisely why they don't.

As with the (possibly apocryphal) story of NASA spending millions to develop the space ready ballpoint pen and the Russians saving their development dollars and issuing their cosmonauts with pencils, Japan dispatched with the high-tech approach and reverted to that simplest of tools, the humble hammer. And in the small town of Kudamatsu, in the western prefecture of Yamaguchi (the mouth of the mountains if you were wondering), Yamashita Kogyosho tap tap away, shaping and creating the pointy architecture that cuts through the air in front of some ten billion passengers and counting.

This cottage industry solution to a modern day problem has been so successful that its reach has extended to both Korea and China however there is a cloud to this silver lining. As with most cottage industries, the worker bees are showing the signs of age and with an apprenticeship of a decade or more there may soon be a bottleneck in the production cycle of these future high speed marvels. And so, in these days of uncertainty, if you're looking for job security, it might just be time to invest in a little magic hammer.



Thanks Marty.





Tuesday, July 11, 2017

A mirage made in heaven?


Narita was for many years Japan's principle international airport, gateway to the world and embarkation point for countless young couples to their dream honeymoon as they start their new life together. And it's also the focal point, upon return, of the infamous "Narita Divorce" (Narita Rikon). Said young couple find themselves tasting reality for the first time together. And decide the proposition is not that pretty after all. Often it's the guy who is away from his mother for the first time and is just utterly useless. Can't wash his socks or fold his shirts without her help. Landing back at Narita blushing bride turns to her erstwhile husband and gently whispers "sayonara baby!". The "Narita Divorce".

Japan also has a word for the opposite end of the spectrum when a couple have been married most of their lives, the kids having grown, they're now empty nesters. Or at least she is; he's still in the office slaving over a hot desk or off drinking with his work colleagues only returning home to sleep and change. And then one day he reaches retirement and she decides she really doesn't like having him around all day long. This is officially known as a "Maturity Divorce" (jukunen rikon); not as catchy as "Narita Divorce" but preferable to the alternative proposed by the Taro Aso, the Deputy Prime Minister who suggested that old people should "just hurry up and die". 

And then there's the divorce that simply didn't happen. Unlike a wedding in many countries, a Japanese wedding, both the ceremony and reception, are just that, a celebration of a marriage officiated by someone licensed as much as was Joey's internet ordainment. The legal marriage itself occurs when the required papers are signed and witnessed, which more often than not occurs separately, and possibly several months, after the big day itself. And if they've already gone their separate ways, sometimes not at all. And at this point, the guests having attended the ceremony, celebrated the party, drunk the sake and sung the karaoke, mutual amnesia sets it. And no one talks about it. Ever. And if you were wondering, the bride's wearing of the elegant white headwear is, according to folklore, to enhance her beauty and hide the horns.






Thursday, July 6, 2017

The High Art of Sado Island


Most people in the world have heard of island nation of Japan. At least I assume that to be the case; I was once asked where the train to Hong Kong could be found to which I usefully provided directions to Tokyo Station. Good luck on that one. Most people have probably also heard of Honshu, the main island but then it's more into the realms of Japanophiles to name the other three plus one (Hokkaido, Kyushu, Shikoku and Okinawa if you were wondering.) But it will be rare indeed to find someone who can point to 855 square kilometers of Sado-shima and correctly label them as comprising as the sixth largest in the 6,800+ archipelago.

Known for its fine sake, brewed from rice ripened in the bitter Siberian winds, it lies some two hours boat ride off the coast of Niigata in the lap of the Japan Sea. Harsh at the best of times, it became the exile island of choice from the eight century on for those lucky individuals who hadn't quite earned the slightly more direct death penalty. But you certainly weren't expected to return. Emperors, monks and the odd Noh actor were sent there over the centuries. Though in the case of the Zeami, the famous fifteenth century Noh artist, he actually made a triumphant return upon the death of one annoyed Shogun who had sent him there seven years previously.

Life there took a turn for the worse when gold was discovered in the early seventeenth century and from then on it was not just a case of surviving for a living but you had to work for it in the mines too. And then the bakafu (the central government of the Shogunate) saw something of a "golden" opportunity (I'm sorry) and decided to ship the unfortunate homeless of Edo off to help with the excavation. And the mine finally closed in 1989. Though I assume they had stopped deporting the poor and outcast some time before this. Which leaves two questions. Which is the seventh largest island of Japan, and is there fine sake there too?





Wednesday, June 21, 2017

The Summer Reign of Mei-Yu

It's wet in Tokyo. Excessively wet. But that is somewhat to be expected during Rainy Season, a time of year that defines Japan with a total of five seasons rather than four. Stretching from the Tibetan Plateau to the Pacific waters east of Japan, the Mei-Yu weather front slowly drifts north from Okinawa through Kyushu and central Honshu ultimately reaching Tohoku, where it peters out before reaching Hokkaido which rarely experiences significant rainy season rainfall as a result.  

Known as Tsuyu in Japanese, the name refers to the ripening of the plum crop which occurs at this time of year hence the reference to plum rain that is occasionally applied. An alternative label though is Samidare (sa-me-da-ray), which, as with Oktober-fests which generally take place in September, the name literally translates as May Rain. In July. The water is occasionally torrential though more usually simply a persistent, vertical drizzle but with it comes a humidity that eats the cold into your bones as the temperatures fall.

The proud record holder of maximum precipitation on the Japanese islands is the prefecture of Miyazaki. Lying on the eastern shores of the southern island of Kyushu, the region received a Biblical deluge of twenty eight feet (8.7m) in the early summer of 2003 which goes someway to explaining the location of the world's largest sea dome, Seagaia resplendent with indoor beaches and giant wave machines. Closed in 2007 and surrounded by kamikaze bunkers, it was finally figured out that the capacity of the local airport was insufficient to provide the traffic required for profitability, the resort was rather ironically located about a golf ball's flight from the largest ocean on the face of the planet. And Mei-Yu reigned.







Friday, June 16, 2017

The Siege of the Blue Samurai



In the summer of 2010 the Japanese national soccer team, "The Samurai Blue" (a name generally only used in English, the Japanese more traditionally naming the team after the coach at the time (if you were wondering)) were preparing through a number of friendly games for the World Cup to be hosted by South Africa that year. And things were not going well. In fact, things were going so badly that in a game against England in Graz, Austria, Japan scored no less than three times and lost 2 : 1 (think about it). As a result the airport was somewhat deserted as the pale Blue Samurai returned home before setting sites on the tournament proper some two weeks hence.


Losses to Serbia and arch-rivals South Korea didn't help the national atmosphere all that much and the team were generally being pilloried in the press of the day. adidas (not a typo, it is actually spelt with a lower case "a"), sponsors of the JFA, had been focusing on the youth of the country, working with a number of schools throughout the Spring and organising each to have the students write messages of support on thirteen giant manga. Slotted together and laid out on the flight path of jet airplanes as they departed Haneda International Airport, the Sky Comic was awarded a Guinness World for the largest comic strip in the world. And still the fans, they did not come.

And then things started to change. Wins over Cameroon and more notably Denmark saw the team through to the last sixteen where they faced Paraguay and suddenly the country started to take notice, sit up, stand, and finally cheer. A 0 : 0 full time score line saw the players march to their respective ends for the dreaded penalty shoot out. The country was going wild and then a cross bar from Komano handed advantage to Paraguay and silence fell as Cardozo stepped up. And converted. Japan was heartbroken but the team were now national heroes and this time when they flew back, landing at Kansai International, the crowd of thousands just went wild. And yes, I was there. And I did too. And the siege of the Blue Samurai was lifted.




  


Wednesday, June 7, 2017

The Ambiguity of Article 9

Japan is quite refined in the art of ambiguity. To achieve lasting peace and prosperity, Article 9 of the Japanese Constitution states that "land, sea, air and other war potential will never be maintained". Noble sentiments that have served the country well over the last seventy years or so. Coming into effect on May 3, 1947 as a revision of the more militaristic Meiji predecessor, the country has not seen international conflict in anger since and only recently provided even the most basic of support to friends in hot places. Compare this to the Western score sheet and the scale of the achievement takes on near Biblical proportions.

Written in English (MacArthur tired of the government's attempts at maintaining the historical role of the Emperor) there is little room for misunderstanding though the Japanese document that received the seal of assent has since been re-interpreted to exclude defensive forces from the specific exclusions of Article 9. And it is this anomaly that the Prime Minister would like to see addressed head on with an actual revision to the terms so as to no longer have to hide behind something of a smokescreen. When the world rallied to arms in the first Gulf War, Japan could only send a cheque. To be fair though, George Bush did vomit in the lap of the then Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa, but that's another story.

But here's the thing... Japan already has the eighth largest defence budget on the planet just behind France and the UK though a fraction of that of the US or China. It launches satellite tipped ballistic missiles into the heavens, manufactures F35 strike aircraft under licence, commissions 400m "heli-craft" carriers (resplendent with launch ramps...?!) and employs in excess of quarter of a million active military service personnel. So it's somewhat understandable that the government would look to normalise proceedings and adjust the constitution to reflect the reality of the day despite the inherent sensitivities (and watch this process arriving via the back door to a revision of the "education for all" provision). But then again, with a strict reading of the English original, it could be argued Japan are not actually "maintaining" a war potential; it's positively building it!


Hirohito signs the "Peace Constitution" into law





Friday, June 2, 2017

Soy sauce and other giant squid and whale stories

Having conceded we would agree to disagree, as a final, and ultimately heroic failure of an attempt at winning the argument, I cunningly asked my assistant what, then, was she going to tell her grandchildren when all the whales have vanished from the seas of the world. She looked at me and replied with a twinkle, "they were tasty...". Fair enough. Japan struggles with its relationship with the largest creatures in the oceans; traditionalists arguing it is in part, the culture to enjoy the dish whilst others, predominantly the younger generation, suggesting cultures evolve over time and this time is the one to move on. A quick look at the stats show the traditionalists don't have a fin to paddle with (whaling only taking off after the Norwegians provided a modern ship in the 1930's making it no more traditional culture than a-ha!) and with stockpiles of over 1,000 tons of frozen mammal to call upon, the buying public appears to be siding with the modernists.

The traditional huntings grounds of the Ogasawara Islands, some 1,000kms south of Tokyo (and inspiration for the Orange Islands of Pokemon fame) have figured out that whale watching is something of an economically more viable business model than whale hauling and indeed have created a research centre which in 2005 took the first images of a giant squid, that of sail-ship lore. But no one has yet mentioned this to the five thousand residents of Taiji, the town of The Cove fame. Dolphins genuinely are family entertainment in the seas and an economic alternative for this town in Wakayama-ken with road, rail and sea access.

And it was another little town along the coast of Wakayama prefecture that, in the 1200's became home to a returning monk looking to set up shop and brew a delicious condiment he'd brought back from his travels in China. The Chinese had been enjoying miso paste for over a thousand years but it was left to Japan to syphon off and bottle the brown and sticky by-product. And soy sauce was born. Still to this day, the town of Yuasa ferments their soy bean for up to three years, creating the iconic product of shoyu. Which ironically is used, amongst other alternatives, to lubricate the taste buds in the hunt for perfect bite of whale meat.



    


Monday, May 15, 2017

An English Lady from the Skies

The crash of the Hindenburg in 1937 brought a swift end to the era of the airship, behemoths of skies and floating bomb platforms of the First World War. Withdrawn from service almost immediately following the disaster was one such craft that operated as a mail carrier between Europe and South America known as The Graf Zeppelin, call sign LZ 127 which in the late summer of 1929 held the distinction of being the first air transport to circumnavigate the globe, including a five day stopover in Japan.

Japan's fascination with powered flight began nearly two decades earlier when, in December 1910, Yoshitoshi Tokugawa (a grand nephew of the last shogun) flew from the parade grounds of Yoyogi, in central Tokyo. As reparation for activities during WWI, Japan was subsequently awarded an airship hanger from Germany which was promptly located at the Kasumigaura Naval Air Field some seventy five kilometres northwest of Tokyo, part of the fledgeling Japanese Imperial Navy Aeronautical Centre.

Following a transit of Tokyo and Yokohama, it was here that the Graf Zeppelin was moored during their stay bringing some well earned relief and warmth, following the flight over Siberia, to its passengers and crew. And onboard, despatched by William Randolph Hearst's media empire, was the English Lady Grace Marguerite Hay-Drummond-Hay who, as a result of her travels (and with the possible exception of Gulliver), holds the distinction of being the first tourist in Japan to arrive by air.


The Graf Zeppelin flies over Tokyo, August 19, 1929


 

Friday, May 5, 2017

"The" Ginza - Part 1

Interestingly this random "the" actually appears twice in Japan. There is "the Ginza" in Tokyo, today the height of cosmopolitan retail, and "the Gion" in Kyoto, the traditional street of geisha and teahouses (and tourists). But Japanese is a notoriously vague language and doesn't actually posses a definitive article so why do we sometimes impose one in English? Indeed, in Japanese the name is sometimes reverse engineered through katakana (the alphabet reserved for western words) as "za Ginza", a confirmation, if needed, that the origins are English, rather than Japanese.

The etymology of the name itself relates to the government's silver mint (Ginza literally translates as "Silver Chair") which was located in the area until 1800 when the shogunate became tired of the endemic corruption and moved it to Nihonbashi where they could keep a closer eye on back door activities. The name stuck though and the area was a veritable rabbit warren of kabuki theatres, river boat wharfs and kimono stores until in 1872, it was razed by catastrophic fire. And now it began to take a very different shape. An Irishman, by the name of Thomas James Waters, cleared the streets and created the new and distinct European coffee house experience of Brick Town.

English speaking foreigners were just beginning to appear around this time in Japan as the country opened it's doors to the world and it was during this period that it seems to have acquired the "the". Reference to it can be found as far back as 1908 in The New York Times when it was reported that "Admirally Sperry was mobbed by crowds wanting to shake his hand in the Ginza". And then again  in the Chicago Tribune where somewhat more ominously the front page reported "today's target is the Ginza" in January 1945. And so the Ginza's epithet arose as a result of its position as a unique European experience in the heart of the capital city of the land of the rising sun. Somewhere to meet and discuss the events of the day. "The" place to be seen.


Tuesday, May 2, 2017

The Rise of the Concrete Castle

Japan, as with many countries, has a treasure chest of castles criss-crossing the nation. Ornate in execution, the typical style that springs to the western mind is based on the Azuchi-Momoyama design, with Azuchi Castle itself being the original blue print overlooking Kyoto on the shores of Lake Biwa. Today however, the vast majority of structures derive from concrete poured largely in advance of the 1964 Olympics (Osaka Castle even boasting a useful glass elevator following a 1990's refit) with three notable exceptions of Himeji, Kumamoto and Matsumoto castles. And Kumamoto is pushing it a little with a central keep from the 1960's as well.

The decline and fall of the castle network across the country came largely as a result of, but not necessarily during, the Boshin (civil) War of 1868/69. Osaka Castle was razed to the ground as the Imperial forces made it clear that there was a new kid in town (the emperor being only sixteen at the time) but the majority of what remained were intact. These castles though were seen as a symbol of the era when Japan was ruled by the Shogun and his daimyo lords. Not wanting obvious reminders of the past, people simply dismantled them for their timber and iron.

Today, many of the recreations are spectacular to visit and house museums that provide an interesting guide to feudal life in Japan. The restored Tsuruga Castle in Fukushima Prefecture with its deep moats and ten meter thick battlement holds the distinction of hosting the last mainland battles of the civil war before the bakafu forces withdrew to Hokkaido for their heroic, though somewhat doomed, last stand. But one castle, that of Hiroshima, suffered a unique fate in history, being the only one to be destroyed by an atomic bomb. Less than a mile from the epicentre, deep inside, lay the military communication rooms which on that day were staffed by high-school girls, the men being somewhat pre-occupied at the time. And when they sent a radio message saying the city had been destroyed in a single blast, the government in Tokyo simply didn't believe them. 



Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Where did all the panic go?

I was recently asked an interesting question as to whether the rising tensions on the Korean peninsula were affecting my long term plans as to life in the land of the rising sun. The simple answer was "no" however I did caveat the reply with a note that I may "reassess priorities if the arrows begin to fly". The only concern that is regularly raised amongst my international friends is actually the inconsistent message being issued from an administration in the position to inadvertently light the blue touch paper. 

However, English rock stars apart (Ian McCulloch), the entire country is hardly running to the hills or building nuclear bunkers under their homes. There have been drills in the north of Japan but given the four minute warning (well, ten, give or take) before a missile lands, there is limited scope for an effective retreat. So why the isn't there panic in the streets as submariners arrive in South Korea and an elusive carrier group steams (allegedly) in the general direction of the north? 

The answer lies in the Japanese psyche which is formed and moulded by the geological intersection of three or the earths intersecting tectonic plates; the source of earthquakes, volcanos and  unstoppable tsunami. And everyone knows "the big one" could happen tomorrow. I once saw an interview with a foreigner who had lived through the Kobe earthquake and filled his bath every night in anticipation of another until he realised "I was worried about yesterday and forgetting to live for tomorrow". So no, at the moment no one is looking to flee. We have tomorrow to look forward to.