Dirty Paws

I don't mind taking off my shoes before I come inside. I actually like it. I had a string of roommates back in Texas whom I'd convinced to follow this protocol, long before I ever knew I'd be coming to Japan.

But I'd never considered the problem of our shoe-less pets.

My third year in Japan, my wife and I moved to an apartment that had apparently already been claimed by a local cat. The first time we opened the door to go in, he appeared out of nowhere (as cats do), darted past us into the apartment, and made straight for a spot in one of the rooms where he curled up and gave us a look like, "it's about time you showed up to let me back in."

We assume he co-habitated with the previous tenants.

All the local kids knew him, and called him Byon (Japanese for "boing..." rhymes with "phone"). He was a good cat, so he remained welcome and spent most of the time hanging around inside, only popping out once or twice a day for a brief prowl.

But once our son was born, my wife, probably at her mother's directive, took to cleaning Byon's paws every time he returned from patrol outside. Whenever he scratched and howled at the door, she'd sit down with a package of wet-wipes and clean his paws to a mil-spec shine. I swear, she'd spend ten minutes on it. I always thought this was amusing, until she started making me do it, too.

I've lived with cats and dogs all my life, who had free run of both inside and outside, and this was new for me. I thought she was nuts, but since then I've found that it's not uncommon in Japan. My mother and sister-in-law clean their dog's paws after every walk, and I see people doing it everywhere I go. I can see the sense in it, even if I'd never bother with it if it was just me. Maybe she imagines that if it were left up to me, I'd also let chickens and pigs roam our apartment like some Viking longhouse.

So if you're one of those hyper-clean people, this is just one more thing you can obsess about...you're welcome.

Best Driving Game Since Mario Kart

It's winter which means inclement weather and more time inside. This is when we usually buy and play most of our video games. After borrowing and enjoying Need For Speed: Undercover, our son asked for it for Christmas. After scouring the reviews, I found that it was generally rated as one of of the more mediocre games in the series. Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit was clearly the highest-rated one, and sounded like the most fun as well. We were initially disappointed that it wasn't really open-world like Undercover (thought there is a free-driving mode that lets you play around). But after a few hours of playing Hot Pursuit, we all agreed that it was the most fun we'd had in a driving game since Mario Kart Wii. While it's fun to race and outrun the cops, the most fun comes playing as an officer trying to shutdown racers and wreck their cars before they can escape. The learning curve is mild and the cars are pretty awesome; my son's already become much more appreciative of the hot cars we see on the roads in Tokyo. I'm going to stop blogging and play it some more, now.

River Fun in Japan

Summer in Japan is hot so most families look to aquatic recreation for relief.

The pools are too crowded (see previous post: Taters in the Pool).
The beaches are also crowded. They's broilers under the sun with no shade. Jellyfish, sharks, sea urchin and countless more threatening organisms lurk unseen. Riptides and undertows strike without warning. The water is salty, briny, stinky, and leaves you feeling sticky and nasty. And of the beach-going crowd, many of them tend toward the obnoxious (I'm no fan of beaches).
Water parks are expensive, stressful and again, overcrowded.
Onsen are all about hot and not exactly family recreation.
There aren't many lakes and most of them don't accommodate swimming.
Some of the shopping malls have plaza fountains which is fine until about age 5.
They'll arrest you for jumping into the canals, and you'd have to be pretty drunk to consider it in the first place.
Can you think of any other bodies of recreational water? No, not marshland or sprinklers.

Back home in Texas we'd spend many weekends out on the rivers. Locally, however the rivers are too polluted to swim in (my neighborhood river has recently been cleaned-up, yeah!) but I couldn't accept that there weren't any clean rivers here. Not finding anything overtly promoted, I made a habit of taking swimwear with me whenever we went on a drive in the mountains. After many summers of driving, we found one. After a bland morning at the Saiboku Ham village, driving through to Chichibu for a little hike, we spotted some people splashing around in the Koma river (Komagawa). We pulled over where a farmer was offering parking for 500 yen. We quickly changed into swimsuits and hit the water. It was wonderful; not too cold. It wasn't very deep in most areas, but there were some places where boys were jumping off the overpass. Lots of overhanging trees and shade. Cool breeze coming off the water. Pebble shores with plenty of good rocks to lounge against. At one point there's a salmon ladder (a series of stepped troughs and a flume to help salmon make their way up) that was good fun for people, too. Nearby grocers sold us inner tubes and anything else we needed. My wife, Mami wasn't much for the swim but wading around and relaxing on the banks she declared that it was the most relaxing, "healing" place she'd ever been to in Japan. The sound of the water, cicadas, and breeze in the trees was transportive. And in contrast to beaches, the water is crystal clean, fragrant, relatively garbage-free, uncrowded, well-shaded, and river rats (river goers, as we're called back home) are some of the friendliest folk in Japan or Texas.

OK, this is what I'd been talking about for years. But for my family to understand, they had to experience it themselves. They were hooked. We only left when the sun started going down.

Next week, Mami spent some time searching the Japanese blogs for other rivers and found one in Hanno, not far from Komagawa, the Nagurigawa. Nagurigawa is bigger and even better for an all-day excursion. Nagurigawa has several spots where even an adult can tube a bit, and some places deep enough for diving. One of the parking areas is managed by a grocery, Happy Family (Teddy Bear logo) also rents grills and will set you up all the way for riverside barbecuing.

Going to a river, here are some considerations. Bring wet socks, or water-proof sandals, or some kind of footwear that will work in the water. The stony banks and riverbeds are tough on bare feet. And walk carefully in the rivers; the rocks on the bottom are mossy and as slippery as ice. Try to walk on the areas of smaller rocks. Expect to get banged and scratched up pretty good on the rocks. It's all part of the fun.

You can get to either one by bus and train, but if you drive just head out to the river and watch for signs about parking and swimming. The key kanji to watch for is 泳川. Plenty of rivers are good for barbecue and picnics, but it's hard to find a good, clean one for swimming.

So to recap:
Komagawa in Hidaka for a few hours.
Nagurigawa in Hanno for an full day.

If you know of any others, please post them.

Ham-O-Rama

How much do you like ham? Alot? Enough to drive an hour and a half into the mountains? If so, you'll probably like it. But unless you plan on eating pork all day, don't plan on more than a few hours here. Maybe part of the problem was that it was a burning hot July morning, but all but one of the pigs which were supposed to be available for petting (pet 'em, eat 'em, take some home for later) gone, and the one out was lying in a puddle under the drinking trough dying of eat stroke. There was also a playground, but it wasn't any   more than any moderate urban park.

The centerpiece is a large beer hall where you can consume any of a number of forms of pork, all of which is really quite good. Sausage, fillet, cutlet, steak...fresh and delicious. After that you visit a strangely pork-centric supermarket with more cuts of pork than you've ever seen. On the plaza, there are many vendors and ice cream stands (no pork-flavored soft cream, thank goodness!). Again, all good stuff, but quite strange in it's obsessiveness.

There's an onsen there, too but in the heat of summer and after a big pork dinner we just didn't see any appeal.

This is a place to include in a larger trip around North Saitama / Iruma, perhaps for a good lunch after some golf or hiking in the area.

Lock Up: Horror-Themed Restaurant

Of all the "theme" restaurants we've been to, Lock Up in Shibuya is by far the most memorable.

While most Japanese theme-bars/ clubs/ restaurants run high on concept but lack follow-through in either the food or the theme, I'm happy to report that this place is the exception. I'll get to the food, later. First, the atmosphere, which is the whole reason for going.

 I'd heard that some of the Lock Ups like the one in Ikebukuro were rather weak, but that the Shibuya one was better. I'll verify the others in the future. It took some time and effort to find it, wandering around Shibuya, following a map devoid of any useful landmarks or orientation points; it basically indicated that the place was in the basement of a building somewhere among a bunch of buildings. Not helpful. But once we'd located it (beneath the best Village Vanguard we've seen so far), we made our way carefully down a stairwell lined with cheesy cave-type texturing and adorned with mildly scary thins. But by the time we reached the bottom, we were all genuinely reluctant to even open the door (the duty fell on me, of course).

From here I'll have to be a bit vague to avoid spoilers, something I've never had to worry about before with restaurant reviews.

Beyond the entrance we were treated to a fairly good little haunted house that had a few things that effectively put us on edge. Then we waited briefly to be seated in a very weird hall.

The staff shackled me and led us to our "cell." It was all very Count of Monte Cristo down in the dungeons. The layout was surreal and disorienting, and the decor was as good as any professional haunted house I've been through Stateside. Cut-stone-esque walls; wrought-iron bars and cages; paranoid little nooks and crannies; and a good mix of funk and old-school heavy metal echoing through the background. The best part is a periodic event - but that's all I dare say (spoilers). Furthermore, I wasn't asked to leave for repeatedly messing with the other patrons, poking my head through holes, yelling for help, frightening fellow diners.

They did a good job on the interior, but the food? Not bad. Quality-wise, on a par with the average chain-izakaya. The portions are small, but they get bonus points for presentation. About a quarter of the drinks and dishes are given the horror-treatment. Cyclopean spaghetti, eyeballs in beakers, mad scientist test-tube cocktails, rising-from-the-grave-zombie fingers, and such. With set-menus and cocktails we averaged about 3,500 yen per person. A la carte runs higher and takes longer, of course.

This is a great place to take a date, a family, visitors, or a party. You go here to have a scare, a few laughs, some photo ops, and food and libations. Kids are welcome, but any kids younger than about eight would probably be too scared to have a good time; they really make an effort to scare the hell outta you. My eleven year old loved it. There's nothing particularly grotesque or perverse, but the atmos-fear-factor is pretty high.

Best way to find it is to follow the map, head out past the 109 bldg. toward Tokyu Hands, and home-in on Village Vanguard. From there, descend. If you go, please leave a post here and let me know what you thought.

The Lock Up

Kanji Study

There are plenty of international and mixed-race Japanese kids who are multilingual. It's the ones with a full six years of kanji (the Chinese-based calligraphy) skill who stand apart in the job market. Even though our son goes to a private, English-language parochial school in Tokyo my wife and I still insist that he maintains a kanji skill commensurate with his age. The after-school study sessions and tutoring times are met with moans and stiff resistance by my son, Eiji, reminding me of my Jewish friends back home who were regularly herded off for Hebrew school. He knows it's important, but it's a monumental undertaking and after he gets done with his ever-increasing homework from school, the last thing he wants to do is deal with any additional study. But as of a few days ago, I was able to put away "the stick." I've started using a smart phone app for my own kanji studies which tracks progress, tests, and re-tests in several different ways. It's been brilliant for my own studies, but since I put it on Eiji's iPod he and I have started studying together. Correct answers and aced mini-tests reward you with sounds; when we study at the same time, these sounds fire our competitive spirit as one can hear the other "doing better" from across the room. The competition is furious, and moreover productive. Rules for study: 1. lead by example 2. make it fun whenever possible

Ancient Tombs

The Hundred Caves of Yoshimi Hyakketsu (吉見百穴) in Saitama are standard school field trip and a nice addition to a full day of stuff. It's not really anything to make as a singular destination, but if you want to spend the day in North Saitama or the Chichibu mountains, you definitely want to include it on the itinerary. About 500 years AD Buddhism came to Japan and the Japanese started to adopt it's concepts of life and death, leading to construction of this sort of tombs dug into the sides of mountains. Seeing the hundreds of little chambers cut into the rocky cliffs made us think of the tombs among which Jesus was buried. Surprisingly, we were allowed to crawl into most of them. Overall about a half hour of walking, with a little museum of period ceramic figures called haniwa. In all, about an hour or two if you take your time. But from there, it's only an hour out to the Chichibu mountains. Driving up, we passed two monkeys sitting on the roadside. It was so cool, seeing a monkey just sitting there, looking at us. We ended on a high damn an hour above Nagatoro.

Unmovable Object

As a driver here in Japan, I've seen this too many times; one driver can't get around the other driver, nor can they back up; and the other driver is so obstinate that they refuse to back up enough to let the first one pass. The "other" driver is usually an older man (ojisan) and, like Dr. Seuss' Zacks, would just as soon live out their miserable life right there than budge on millimeter. In the end, the traffic recognizes the dilemma and accommodates the first driver in backing up to let the other guy pass, restoring flow, even if it means twenty cars backing up.

It is customarily blown off with the Japanese expression, shoganai, "it can't be helped." But I've always wondered how far this could go, if the first driver couldn't back up a all. I got my chance this morning.

A light truck had stopped at an intersection, well over the white line (which prevents drivers from stopping so close that larger, adjacent vehicles can't turn in across in these tight little roads). He was way over the line, and wanted to turn across traffic himself in his turn. The signal turns red. A bus from the adjacent road tries to turn across, but is blocked half way by the truck. In these situations, the truck driver would ordinarily bow and roll back enough to let the bus finish the turn. The driver and everyone else were perplexed when the truck did not move. he light changed, and the truck still didn't move. The bus driver gestured requesting leeway. No. Cars behind the truck honked. Still no mercy. The bus, of course could not back up back into a busy road and in time the signal changed. And it changed again, and again. Despite the bus driver's pleas, the trucker would not budge. I was about ten cars back, so I could only guess about the truck driver. Drivers from my lane began to maneuver out into escape routes, seeing that there wouldn't be any quick resolution. I was busy, myself but I had to see the outcome. I stayed and watched as more and more police (from the main headquarters 10 meters away) came to the truck driver, begging him to back up. He clearly was not going to back up for man, God or life itself. I waited to see how they'd handle this.

American police would likely have removed him from his truck by force and charged him, which would have served justice, but not the flow of traffic.

In the end, the police assisted the bus in withdrawing back into the road behind and the truck in moving on. This was, if nothing else the most practical solution. But I wondered if I was the only driver who'd have been more satisfied with a little police brutality.

Infiltrating the STEPS test.

We attended the STEPS English proficiency test this morning at Rikyu University, AKA 英検. It was the pre-2 level interview portion. This is the make-or-break stage of the test that distinguishes the supposedly best students of English.

We sent our 10 year old son in to gauge the mettle of the dreaded interview portion. You see, the rest of the test is written, with some listening parts. But in this final boss-level, the students must meet with a supposed speaker of English, answer questions and make brief conversation. But the interviewers are Japanese, non-native speakers. In most countries that wouldn't be a big deal. But here, it gave rise to suspicion; could these interviewers speak real English, or were they just a bunch of "parrots?"

Our son is a native speaker of English, and a good one at that. Good enough to be bothered by the grammatical mistakes in some of ex-president George W. Bush's speeches.

After passing the pre-2 written test the month before, we sent him in for an interview test in Niza, and after the test he gave us his report of the experience.

He said it was weird: the instructor's English was so unnatural that he had trouble following her; and once she realized his was a native speaker, she was intimidated by him and stopped making eye-contact. When she asked him the infamous rejoinder, prompting the student to elaborate on an answer, "tell me more," he felt he had already said all he could (most students, true to Japanese form, strive to give the most concise, perfect, short answer possible). The question was on the subject of bringing your own cup ("my-cup" in Japanese English) to coffee shops, so he punted (B.S.'ed) and said, "it's good for the, uh, environment..." We all cracked-up when he told us. So if the proctor herself cannot speak English with minimum proficiency, then who are they to sit in judgement?

At the start of the pre-interview written portion, Eiji raised his hand and asked, "could I borrow an eraser?" and everyone stared at him like he'd caught fire...and yes, he had to ask again, in Japanese.
When I went to get him, none of the staff could speak a word of English. I hung out in the lobby of Rikyu University, waiting for my son to finish, I tried chatting (in English) with a nearby mother. She couldn't speak a word of the language she was shoving down the throat of her kid. I tried speaking to another parent, and then all the waiting parents quickly sunk their faces into their books and papers to avoid chatting. It's the hypocrisy that gets me. If you want your kid to do something, shouldn't you do it yourself, too? Hasn't anyone heard of "lead by example?"

Taters in the Pool

I was having breakfast with my wife this morning and we were talking about summer plans and mentioned swimming pools. She said that we should go before the schools let out because once the kids are all on summer break, "the pools will be 'imo arai.'"
I thought over the expression and LMAO'ed realizing it referred to "washing potatoes," the way a tub of water full of potatoes looks.

Singapore Cinema Advisory

The cinema is a great and popular escape from the heat and frenzy of Singapore. They're inexpensive and clean, the films are current, and the audience is lively, lending to a nice group feeling that you don’t get in places like Japan. Coming from Tokyo where the films are released up to a year after being released in the rest of the world, the audience is dead to the most intense stimuli, and one ticket costs as much as dinner for two, we always enjoy going to the movies while we’re there. But the last time we went, things were a little weird. We really weren’t interested in any of the current faire, but we were keen on several of the staler ones that were in their final weeks. Shouldn't be to hard to get tickets to a two-month-old Mr. Popper's Penguins or Kung Fu Panda (what with Green Lantern and Transformers 3 all over place). To our surprise, even those dusty old shows were sold out (except for the seats under the screen). We were first in line and still couldn’t get seats in many places. What the heck???

Turns out that all the cinemas have put their sales online and everyone buys theirs that way, well in advance. If you have any access to the internet, buy your tickets this way. Do NOT queue up, it’s a waste of time. Get an internet café, anything! One of the main reasons to visit Singapore is the great shopping there. Their malls are awesome, and a movie or two can easily turn a morning of malling into a whole day of it.

Universal Studios Singapore Sucks

Skip it. My family wanted to go while we were in Singapore. My son is ten and sounded like a good idea. It was a Friday so all the local kids were in school and the rainy season was limiting tourism, so the crowds would be minimal.

I stood in line for tickets under the brutal, equatorial sun for close to an hour and we continued to stand in lines the rest of the day. You can only buy tickets at the park, as far as we could find. Inside, it looks like any Universal Studios, but a look at the map will reveal how comically small it is. Four and a half roller coasters, two boat rides, a few other minor ones. None of the spectacular 3D rides that make the others such a must-visit. You'll stand in lines much longer than what's warned on the attraction entry sign LEDs. Now we wouldn't mind the lines so much, coming from Tokyo (we KNOW how to queue!) but unlike other Universal Studios and Disneys, this one doesn't have anything more than rope cordons. Other such parks weave their queues through air conditioned rooms and sets with memorable, animated scenes and video displays; slowly getting you pumped up for the attraction. This has none of that. It's so cheap and half-assed. Most of it is shops and photo ops. Pretty sad. My son's favorite part was the 50's diner...THE 50'S DINER! What does THAT say??? With no shade and few opportunities to sit and rest we were heat-stroked before lunch and had to leave after only a few hours.

Maybe you're from a country that doesn't have much in the way of theme parks anywhere near. Maybe this is they best you're going to get in your region. If so, I guess you're justified in going. But if you think you'll be in Europe, the Americas or Japan in the foreseeable future, I'd say save your time and money. We wish we'd spent our time at anywhere else on Sentosa. They've got a good beach, some nice attractions...anywhere else would have been great.

Hi-Tech, Pre-Pubescent Chivalry

My 8 year old son Eiji's best friend and classmate, Sasha came by hoping to catch a ride to church with us, but we'd already decided to take the the morning off and watch the Get Smart movie. She looked a little sad, so I invited her in. Once in, she asked Eiji if she could charge her DS (Nintendo portable game player).

Eiji, in true gentlemanly form went to the drawer with all the cords and chargers and asked her gallantly, "DS or DSi?" (the two needing different chords, both of which he had). Geek, gentleman..it was too cute.

Fry Me a Liver

Fry Me a Liver

Can we agree that everything is better fried? At Kushiya, twenty-five hundred yen gets you your own little deep fryer and an endless supply of stuff to fry in it. For me and my crew, that’s heaven.

Kushiage is essentially deep-fried yakitori, which in turn is essentially bits of meat and veggies skewered and roasted on sticks like miniature shish kabob. It’s a common favorite all over Japan. You’ll see the yakitori trucks in front of markets and at festivals. That’s good enough on it’s own and no one should spend a week in Japan without having some. It’s even vegetarian-friendly. But how about if we take some yakitori, roll it in batter and bread crumbs and give it a few minutes in hot oil? Mmmmm, if Homer Simpson knew about this…

While you can find these kushiake restaurants at the top of many department stores, this is the only one I’ve ever seen that lets you do it yourself. We were initially a little worried about letting our eight year old get that close to a deep fryer, but the way it’s set up put us at ease.

The table is a lot like the yakiniku tables you see with the griddle in the middle, only instead you get a narrow trough of hot oil encircled by a draining rack. This design was such that we never felt threatened and our son who’s normally terrified of getting burned became at ease with it before too long.

You start by taking a little plate down a row of deli windows where the chefs have cut and skewered any number of edibles on pencil-sized sticks and laid them out for your approval. Take any and all you want; it’s a buffet. It’s the only buffet I’ve ever really enjoyed in Japan, the rest being just a smorgasbog of mediocre food. But this was good food and so much fun. After you’ve collected your foods, you’ll need to get a boat of bread crumbs and another of batter. Get some more trays of different sauces. Some rice, some salad, a drink, pickles, miso…I must have made a dozen trips between my table and the serving area before we were ready to start, but that was also strangely fun.

Once you’re all set and ready, you take a skewer of whatever and roll it first in the batter, then in the bread crumbs. Dangle it in the oil for a few seconds to get a firm shape, then put it the rest of the way in. The end of the skewer will stick up far enough above the surface that you can retrieve it without getting burned. It doesn’t even pop that much. Very easy.

But here is where the real fun lies. Kushiage is not easy to make, but it’s not so difficult, either. It has a nice, sharp learning curve and in no time you’ll have your own technique down and feel like some kind of tempura master. Each one of us thought we had the better method. My family doesn’t realize that I had the best way. But however you do it, you only give it a minute or two and then pull it out to drain and cool on the rack.

Beyond the sheer fun of the cooking is the surprising variety of fry-ables on offer. Asparagus, ocra, cheese, shrimp, beef, bacon, various mushrooms, tater tots, sweet potato, acorn squash, lotus root, okonomiyaki…I asked my son what he liked most.
“I liked that broccoli thing, that egg thing, that shrimp thing and that takoyaki thing, too…that was nice! Yes, we all loved the deep-fried takoyaki (grilled and battered octopus bits). It was our unanimous favorite. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside.

Then for the sauce. We have over eight different sauces including four kinds of soy, a cheese mayo, and a pickled ume (plum) sauce that was out of this world. But if you have a truly refined palate for Japanese food, they say you’ll prefer just a light sprinkling of salt.

We’d found this one at the Kawaguchi Jusco Carat mall and we’d originally intended to go by the Krispy Kreme afterwards, but by the time we waddled out we knew we’d have to take the donuts on the road.

Kushiya

串家物語　靖国通り店
■住所： 〒160-0021東京都新宿区歌舞伎町1-6-1　ｼﾛｰﾋﾞﾙ7F

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串家物語　新宿西口大ガード店
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串家物語　吉祥寺店
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■TEL/FAX： 0422-28-7735

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Geeks are Universal

Living abroad, you come to learn that many concepts and attributes you'd always assumed were universal among all humans are anything but. As an American, I've learned that not all people around the world crave personal glory. Many cultures don't see humor in people's shortcomings. It is only in certain cultures where people aren't compelled to assert their opinions.

But after 12 years of living abroad, I'm convinced that geeks are geeks, universally.

I'll cite examples from my experience in Japan, the most different of any culture. If you think of any from others, let me know.

Japanese are very guarded and private. They have no inclination to spontaneously share their personal details with anyone. The exception is geekdomn. I've been coaching one man with outstanding English skills for years. It's not until years into our relationship that he reveals a passion for marathon running, high fluency in Viet Namese, and a first-name relationship with former president Jimmy Carter. But when I mention I saw the latest Spiderman movie, he doesn't hesitate to divulge his lifelong fascination with the X-Men and how he used to be a manga artist.

Japanese are loath to show-off, but on mention of my five text blogs, my neighbor whose name I still don't know tells me all about her 11 media blogs and here monthly stats.

Japanese staff NEVER make idle conversation with customers, or talk about their own personal lives. At PC Depot, buying a keyboard and checking that it's XP compliant, I quip that I'm not ready to switch to Vista and the clerk ringing me up laughs that he uses XP, too and goes on about why.

In Japan, such behavior would be unusual out side the geek-verse, but within our private coven we're all the same in more ways you'd ever imagine.

Falling for Hockey

Falling for Hockey
Okay, I’ve been playing parent’s hockey for a month, now. It’s my first experience with ice hockey. This is a little side-thing that the rink offers most Saturdays for parents of kids doing hockey on the other half of the ice. It’s great exercise, some of the best I’ve ever had. But of course the skating takes some time to learn. I realized from the start that I was going to have to fall down a few times before I could start making progress. With all the pads, it wouldn’t really hurt all that much. Only problem is: I don’t fall down that much. I spent countless years with modern dance, ballet and ballroom. I’ve also over done seven years aikido, judo, kick boxing. That and five years of roller-blading, I just don’t go down that easily. I’ve tumbled down stairs and landed on my feet. So here is where good balance works against me. No fall—no progress. But on the sixth session, I finally went down, and it felt great. I fell twice, and by the end, I could feel the skills unlocking in me. But the best fall was at the end. I tried to swing my legs back over the rail, the way the big boys do. First swing, but my leg didn’t go high enough. Second—turns out my legs were too tight after practice so when I threw one up, the other followed close behind. People on the other side of the wall just saw my legs go up and my head go back in high vaudeville style. It was the funniest thing they’d seen in ages. I can only imagine. I’m just glad someone saw it.

Japanese Buddhist Funerals

Japanese funerals are the most solemn affair I've ever witnessed. While many cultures' funereal rites naturally witness an outpouring of emotions for the beloved, weeping, wailing, screaming and such, Japanese funerals are as silent as the grave.

We attended a funeral for our prematurely-departed friend and client. When we arrived at the ceremony hall, we signed-in at the front table in the foyer. Then we went to a table behind that where we gave them the money we'd brought as a customary offering to the family. The money should be put in a special paper envelope, which in turn we carried in a special wallet. We took out the envelope and kept the wallet. They gave us a ticket in exchange. The ticket we presented at the end of the ceremony, for which we received a thank-you gift. In Japanese society, any gift must be repaid with a gift. In some instances, it can cause a comical echo of presents that goes on for several iterations. But there is nothing comical about a funeral in Japan.

In the auditorium, everyone was dressed in black, seated, facing a wall of flowers and wooden plaques naming those who'd donated the flowers. A large, illuminated portrait of the deceased stood in the center of the flowers. His casket rested in the middle of it all. A Buddhist monk sat before the casket, chanting prayers.

After the monk was finished chanting, he began a ritual of striking a wooden block on one side, and a metal bowl on the other which resonated like a gong. The aroma of incense was overwhelming. Announcements were made, guests bowed to each other in groups, and the incense ritual began. While the monk struck the wooden block in steady rhythm, we each proceeded to the front where where the monk had laid-out some boxes with incense and burning coals. There we took turns at sprinkling the powdered incense onto coals. The movement reminded me of Episcopal communion.

From there, it gets really heavy.

After a period out in the foyer while they re-arrange things in the hall we with back in to stand around the open casket. They made a ritual out of bringing a bowl of rice to the departed. In particular, the rice was in a bowl with the departed's favorite pair of chop-sticks sticking straight up, out of the rice. We all took turns laying the flowers from the arrangements on the body and around his face. One of the most interesting aspects was when we dipped lily petals into sake and drip it onto the departed's lips.

In the end, I joined the other men to heft the casket out to the hearse outside. From there, closer members of the family boarded a shuttle bus to the crematory where they would perform the darkest ritual of passing the bones. I was welcome, but I couldn't bear it.

If someone you know dies, I would recommend you attend the funeral, even if you've never seen anything like it before. Staff will direct you as needed and all you have to do is follow the group.

If you send flowers, many florists work directly through the funeral homes, making sure of continuity between the flowers. Check with your local florist. Of the respectable bouquets, we could choose between the 10,000 and 15,000 yen arrangements. The more expensive of the two included a large plaque bearing the name and optionally, organization of the sender. It may sound a little vain, but in fact to have the names of the senders all in the arrangements gives an additional feeling of just who-all is paying respects. I'd recommend it. Some of the other organizations included the elementary school of the deceased's daughter, various clubs and civic organizations he'd belonged to and his own company.

Black suit or dress is expected, with black tie, white shirt, black shoes, or if you don't have black, as close to black as possible. And as far away from red as possible.

After the ceremony, it is traditional to sprinkle salt on yourself, front and back. They should give you little packets. Do this before even getting in your car. this is of course to ward off any spirit that might try to accompany you home. You don't want that. It's also recommended you return home by a different route from the one you came on.

Bring lots of tissues. Even if you don't cry, you can offer them to others.

And in the end, don't be shy. Be yourself. If you want to wail, wail. If you feel like hugging the bereaved, hug. These outward expressions of emotion only add to the ceremony in ways I'm told Japanese only wish they could perform themselves, but are restrained by their culture. I was the only person who hugged the widow and child and I am little more than their English coach. But they graciously received the hugs which clearly helped. If you're the lone foreigner, please hug. Humans need to hug, but not all cultures engage in it. However you express your grief and support, it will be appreciated and remembered.

Japan and Families

The realization has been rumbling on the horizon for some time, getting progressively louder. But the finally hit me head-on last week; Japanese don't know their ancestors.
They worship them like gods, praying to them in shrines, adorning grave sites like alters with incense and flowers. But they don't have a clue who they're praying TO!
Every year, as a part of my English-teaching curriculum, I try to teach kids how to talk about their families in English. But they consistently have trouble talking about parents, grandparents and so on. Last weekend one of my beginning adult students, an older office worker and mother of two, was simply unable to tell me anything more about her grandparents than their names. Appalled, I pressed her until I was satisfied she was genuinely ignorant of her own family elders. No, she didn't have anything against them. Yes, she had met them many times as a child. But she couldn't even tell me their jobs or where they originated. I tasked her with talking to her aging mother.
I finished the lesson and shared this with my wife (also Japanese). She saw nothing unusual, and to my shock she couldn't tell me much more about her own grandparents. She explained that because in this culture, parents (grandparents...) held a god-like status above their children, said children never spoke to them (or about them) in such familiar terms.

Familiar terms???

I argued that it was tantamount to sociological suicide to proceed so ignorant of your lineage. She understood my viewpoint and pointed out that modern generations are less strict but maintained that even if she did ask her mother about her grandparents (which would make both of them very uncomfortable) her mother wouldn't give her a straight answer.

Wow! The Japanese maintain a family registry for every family of Japanese descent; it shows the names, titles and affiliations stretching back hundreds of years. But they can't tell you what grandpa's favorite color was.

The Right Man for the Job

Cultural Observation: The Japanese are taught from childhood to speak
clearly and concisely; to speak in a rigid, regimental pre-meditated
fashion. They are taught to never ramble, amble, digress, meander,
tangent or to, like, you know...kinda talk without any, whaddaya call
it...definite direction, or something like that...like this guy I used
to work with...what was his name?...............

As a result, when they speak English they come off sounding like
androids. No color, style or warmth. They sound like they're all
following some weird script.
Recognizing this as a primary obstacle to their mastery of
conversational English, my wife and I have decided that a heavy portion
of my lessons should be devoted to helping them break out of their rigid
style of conversational thinking and to re-learn how to speak in a more
relaxed, spontaneous fashion as mentioned above.

Can you think of a better man for the job than me?

Can you imagine people are paying me to teach them to blindly amble
around like I do? Well, they don't take it to the irritating degree we
Johnsons (& Kents) do, but in the end, everyone agrees they are coming
away sounding much more, like...y'know, more natural.

Steve

The New Sweeney Todd

I just saw the trailer for Burton's take on Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street.
Looks like Burton is going to "butcher" this Sondheim masterpiece in much the same way he over-cooked the Chocolate Factory and bludgeoned The Batman.
He's great, as long as he never ever EVER tries to re-make anyone else's creation.
And no, Depp isn't remotely large enough to be intimidating. I've seen three different productions and Todd was always a big, strapping guy. Someone the size of Depp wouldn't have lasted a month in that reputed Australian penal colony, and he clearly doesn't have the voice for his part, either.
This was one of my favorite musicals, ever and Burton has directed some of my favorite films, but I have very low hopes for this one.