SAYING GOODBYE

It turns out that when you leave a country after two years, people take note.  I would have been content with a handshake, or if I wanted to be really demanding, a hug, but that would defy the unique level of pomp and circumstance that characterizes farewells in Japan.  As a result, the process of leaving was a marathon; my bon voyage events started in June, even though I wasn't leaving until August.  Friends, colleagues, neighbors and grannies all wanted to make sure they fit me into their busy schedules before I left.  

There are several key elements involved in Japanese send-offs: feasting (which includes copious drinking), costumes, and gifts.  A word about gifts in Japan.  They are exquisitely and intricately wrapped in layers of beautiful paper, bags and ribbons, each redundant layer further dooming our planet to global warming.  The treasure inside might be a pair of plastic chopsticks or a priceless picture frame.  The Spartan PS, overwhelmed by the steady flow of offerings and the clutter that resulted was heard to remark indignantly, "The wrapping is usually nicer than the gift!"  

Play your cards right, and you too could be the proud owner of a plastic ground cover with a recumbent Sento-kun.

Presents are also inescapable.  If a Japanese person gives you a gift and you reciprocate, you will immediately receive another present, igniting a never-ending cycle of gift-giving, which you, the foreigner, will never, ever win.  It's a bit like nuclear brinkmanship, if you replace high-tech weapons systems with food or Japanese souvenirs.  Sometimes the giver bestows upon you an envelope, and you open it in relief, thinking it's a nice card in which they've scrawled, "Good luck," only to find that there is "going away" money inside.  Which is a really uncomfortable gift to get from anyone who is not your grandma or your aunt or your mom, back in the day when they might slip $5 in a card to you on your birthday.  

I don't want to make it sound as though I'm disparaging these gestures, because the truth is, I am touched.  I was (and am) overwhelmed by how much I owe these people- not because of the physical things they gave me, but because of every smile and kind word and bit of advice.  The offers of help, the jokes shared, the food given, the warmth and camaraderie.  No one was obligated to reach out to me or make an effort, but so many people did.  As the phrase goes, it's the first gift you can never repay.     

A traditional Japanese yukata given to me by the faculty at my school.  I wore it to closing ceremonies for my speech at the student assembly; one of the teachers taught me how to put it on. 

The yukata from the back.  One of the teachers had harbored a desire to braid my hair for over a year.  On the day of closing ceremonies, she finally got her wish- and did a great job, I think!

In a country of stoics, it's shocking to see an overt display of emotion.  It's even more astonishing when the display is unattractive. Put bluntly, I am an ugly crier.  Some people seemed not to notice as they too were swept up in the sentiment of it all.  Others seemed to find my sadness amusing and flattering.  One young security agent stared at me with undisguised fascination as I waved a final goodbye to my escort at the airport.  Though I think I managed to keep it together fairly well overall, there were several moments where I had trouble.

1. On my last day of class, a Friday, I taught a double period with my lovable, unruly, and totally apathetic third year students.  When I returned from the break in between classes, I found the doors to the classroom shut, and everyone sitting in their seats with an aura of perfect innocence.  I knew something was amiss, but didn't figure out what it was until I saw what they had done to the chalkboard.

From class 3-4.

We didn't get much done after that.

2. Saying farewell to The Grannies was probably the most wrenching goodbye.  Of all the people I came to know and love in Japan, I'm most uncertain as to if and when I'll see The Grannies again.  I fervently hope I do. 

3.  The teachers at my school, including the principal and vice principal, followed me out of the building to say goodbye on my last day, and waved as my supervisor drove me away.  

4. On my last day of class, the girls from my favorite class showed up at the teachers' lounge.  They looked as though they were visiting an ill or dying friend.  One of them silently handed me a manila envelope on which was written, "To Eri from class 2-1.  Please treasure."  Inside was a photo album that featured a picture and message from each student in my class.  The joviality I had fought to maintain all day vanished, and our small knot of people turned into a sobbing, hugging scrum.  Later, their homeroom teacher told me that they had been working on the project for three months.  I didn't need the prompt on the wrapping; the album is absolutely my treasure.

5.  I count this as one of my teaching successes. One of my students is a budding illustrator, and one of her characters is Gachico.  Last year when she started as a first year student, Gachico's speech bubble read, "I don't like English." I teased her about it a little bit, and eventually we started chatting more and more outside of class.  This year  when she turned in her English folder at the end of term, Gachico's old remarks had been erased, and this was written instead. 

TOKYO VICE, PART II: SEX, DRUGS AND PACHINKO

Previously on the blog we discussed the yakuza: how to spot them, how to avoid being beaten up by them.  There's some controversy over the origins of the yakuza; some claim that they are descended from a flamboyant group of samurai called the kabukimono (crazy ones).  Unlike most samurai who adhered to a very strict moral code, the kabukimono were outlaws of sorts, using their training (and weapons) satisfy their every whim.  However, many yakuza insist that the organizations' roots lie with a group called the machi-yokko, a kind of local police force not unlike the posse comitatus.  It wasn't until the chaos following World War II, however, that the yakuza really gained ground and became the massive network they are today.

Whatever the genesis of the yakuza, in modern times they are involved in some very real, very dark activities.  A few of their greatest sources of revenue include sex, drugs and pachinko.  

SEX


Japan has successfully commoditized sex and made it into a thriving business.  It's difficult to determine how much of the economic pie the "entertainment industry" fills; some sources estimate that it might be as high as 2-3% of Japan's GDP, double that of its agriculture sector. The main reason why estimates are difficult is because the industry is run predominantly by the yakuza, and their books aren't necessarily open to the Japanese government. 

Technically, prostitution is illegal in Japan.  However, loopholes in the law make it actually one of the most sexually permissive countries in the world.  For one thing, prostitution is defined as reaching coitus.  Other forms of sex and sexual favors fall outside of this definition, and are therefore considered legal.   Moreover, the penalties for prostitution are unspecified and therefore don't pose much of a deterrent.

Amorous encounters run a gamut; at one end of the spectrum are host and hostess bars where men and women can spend their free time enjoying the scintillating company (and absurdly expensive drinks) of charming and attractive companions.  These liaisons aren't necessarily sexual, though lines can be crossed.  Slightly less innocent are the pornographic magazines and manga (which can be handily covered with brown paper when you buy them so that no one knows what you're reading on the train), and objectifying women at maid cafes.  


I've had more than one visitor (all male) who asked if there were really such things as vending machines of used panties.  They seemed to think that they stood on every corner, and were disappointed to learn that panty machines are mostly a myth, though there are apparently some examples in existence.  

There are far more detestable facets to the sex industry.   Domestic recruiting is on the rise in subways and on playgrounds, targeting teenagers and children with offers to make them into models or give them work at lucrative clubs.  The yakuza also run extensive human trafficking operations, bringing in girls (and boys) from Southeast Asia, the Philippines, and Eastern Europe.  They are lured to Japan with promises of jobs as waitresses or staff at tourism operations, and are essentially held hostage and forced to work in hostess clubs and other establishments.  By some metrics, Japan "has one of the most severe human trafficking problems among the major industrialized democracies."  And the yakuza are the beneficiaries.  

DRUGS

At the beginning of 2013 I found on my desk at school an official memo from the JET Program reminding everyone that as residents in Japan, we must abide by Japanese laws, specifically those concerning drugs.  Though there was no mention of this in the memo, I later learned that a JET had been found with drugs or drug paraphernalia in their bags. This put into context my reception at the airport when I returned to Japan after winter vacation.  Until then, customs had been a breeze; I would hand over my declaration form, tell them I'm an English teacher, and they'd wave me through.  No longer.  Instead, 2013 has proven a record year for being stopped and searched at customs.

Japan has a zero-tolerance policy for drugs.  Even looking at drugs can earn you a lengthy jail sentence.*  And yet, the yakuza still find ways to smuggle drugs into the country, though some syndicates ban members from participating in the drug trade.  However, some yakuza are willing to take the risk in order to receive a lucrative payoff.  The scarcity of drugs in Japan is such that the yakuza can charge exorbitant amounts for relatively small quantities; one article cited that 1 kilogram of "illegal stimulants" would fetch about $70,000 in Japan.  In America, 1 kilogram of cocaine fetches between $24,000 and $27,000.  Granted, it's hard to compare the two given how vague the term "illegal stimulants" is; however, any way you look at it, $70,000 for one kilo of a product is pretty high (no pun intended).

*Of course, Japanese drug laws pale in comparison to other countries.  On a flight to Cambodia last year, the flight attendant came on the loudspeaker shortly before landing and said, "This is to let you know that Cambodia has a zero-tolerance policy on drugs, and that possession or use of drugs is punishable by death.  So please, if you have any drugs or drug paraphernalia on you right now, I urge you to please dispose of it before we land."

PACHINKO

You can hear pachinko parlors before you see them.  Their deafening music and flashing neon signs are enough to induce a seizure.  Pachinko is a bit like combining a slot machine with pinball, but more complex.  Winning at pachinko can yield a lot of money. The only catch? Gambling is technically illegal in Japan. However, the yakuza who run pachinko have found a way around the law.  

Playing pachinko.  From bbc.co.uk.

Let's say you win at pachinko.  You'd receive a small prize, usually something cheap and kitschy.  You'd then take this prize out of the pachinko facility, and walk a short ways down the street to a window that has been blacked out.  Below the window is a deposit slot like you might see at a bank.  You put the prize in the slot, shut the door, and then wait for it to open again.  Presto, change-o, the prize has been magically transformed into money.  

Pachinko prizes. From linkrandom.blogspot.com.

By some estimates, the Japanese drop $200 billion a year on pachinko, and lose $40 billion.  The house may not always win, but they win quite a bit of the time.  This is bad news for pachinko addicts, of which there are many.  Men and women have lost everything while in the thrall of the game: jobs, savings, families.  It's hard to estimate how many people are addicted to pachinko, since addiction is a source of shame and goes underreported.  

I asked The Grannies why, if gambling is illegal, the police don't put a stop to it.  Their response was interesting: some former police officers work security at pachinko parlors after they retire, suggesting that the police may have some kind of mutually beneficial relationship with the yakuza.  Thus, there isn't a whole lot of incentive for the police to crack down on the game.  

IT'S NOT ALL BAD?

Despite the grim reputation of the yakuza, they claim that they do actual good for their communities.  Following the earthquake and the tsunami in Fukushima, the yakuza allegedly transported some of the first emergency supplies into the disaster area.  However, it's a little difficult to feel good about these claims amidst news that the yakuza have been also manipulating the aftermath of the crisis in order to secure cleanup jobs for its members.  The laborers then give a cut of their earnings back to their bosses in the gang.  So in effect, the money that the government is pouring into cleaning up Fukushima is winding up in the pockets of organized crime.  

It's a sobering thought, how deeply the yakuza have managed to permeate Japanese society.  However, as badly as members of the government and the police may want to eradicate the yakuza, it's doubtful that they will ever truly disappear from Japanese society.  At least it provides fodder for movies like The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift.

CROSS DRESSER'S PARADISE: ELIZABETH CLUB

Let's begin with three questions.

Have you ever been wondering how you look like as a female?
Don't you want to become a lady of your dream?
Does feeling smoothness of lady's wear make you happy?

I wasn't quite sure what to expect when LAL sent me a link to "ELIZABETH Club," but I certainly didn't foresee a Lisa Frank-designed website dedicated to making male cross dresser's dreams come true.  This is a prime example of how permissive Japanese culture can be...so long as you're discreet.  The line between the acceptable and the abhorrent is fairly arbitrary, however.  

Anonymous members of the community will call schools to report teenagers engaging in PDA while in their uniforms at the mall, and the schools will discipline the young couples.  A woman can get away with wearing booty shorts, but will be subjected to stares if her shirt is cut below her collarbone.  Meanwhile, no one blinks at the highly suggestive book covers on display at every bookstore. 

Math motivator for students?

Furthermore, cross dressers are not as scarce as one might think.  Almost every time I traveled to Tokyo I seemed to cross paths with an older man who has an extensive wardrobe of women's clothing and is something of a local celebrity.  As you can see, he's also not shy about posing for pictures.

In reality, the Japanese aren't that different from any other nation.  In every culture there's a mainstream and the things that fall outside of it.  Perhaps it's simply that the contrast is more apparent given how outsiders perceive Japan: conservative and traditional.  However, that may be an increasingly erroneous assumption as Japan continues to (slowly) change and modernize, and alternative lifestyles and forms of self-expression become more prominent.  

PRANKS, JAPANESE-STYLE

I'm not a big fan of game shows, especially those predicated on pranking people.  Wouldn't you automatically become suspicious if someone started following you with a camera crew? If you sign up for a show that penalizes contestants for mistakes by punching them in the testicles with something call the Chinko Machine, why would you opt in for that?

However, this particular segment deserves recognition.  The premise: a guy dresses up in a very realistic velociraptor costume and chases after an unsuspecting passerby as loud and blood-curdling sound effects are played over a loud speaker.  The targets for this ploy seem to mostly be men (I guess it's funnier to watch men scream in terror), though there was one cross-dresser who lost his blond wig while in flight.  

Enjoy.

TOKYO VICE, PART I

There are a number of books that are must-reads if you're interested in Japan, and I'd argue that Jake Adelstein's Tokyo Vice is one of them, particularly if you like stories that make you say to yourself, "WHAAAAAAT?!"  Adelstein is a bit of a wunderkind in that he was the first non-Japanese reporter to work at the Yomiuri newspaper.  He started out on the Tokyo police beat, and became (very) closely acquainted with what might be termed the "seedy underbelly" of the city (if that sounds hokey, so will the parts of the book that read like a noir novel).  The book is filled with fascinating tidbits, from the fact that the LDP (a major political party) was founded with yakuza money, to the revelation that a yakuza crime boss was granted an entry visa into the US by the FBI in exchange for information on different crime groups.  He also somehow mysteriously made it to the top of the organ transplant list at UCLA.  When Adelstein uncovered the story, a price was put on his head; fortunately, the hit was never carried out and he managed to publish Tokyo Vice.

HOW TO SPOT A YAKUZA 

Unlike other organized crime groups throughout the world, the yakuza possess a kind of notoriety that verges on celebrity.  Comic books and scads of fan magazines feature profiles on prominent members, reviews of the best yakuza-run sex clubs, photos of members' body art, etc.  Some gangsters are even willing to speak to the press, weighing in on recent crimes and pointing out rookie mistakes, like attempts to dump or bury a body after a murder.  In their professional opinion, the only way to properly dispose of a body is to burn it.  

Yakuza fan magazines.  From www.japansubculture.com

Helpful diagram based on feedback from yakuza member on how to incinerate a body.  From www.tokyoreporter.com

While the yakuza aren't exactly in hiding, they don't necessarily flaunt their affiliations.  Telltale signs used to be flashy suits, tattoos, and missing joints on fingers.  Today, a man in a sharkskin suit could simply be a fashionable salaryman, and tattoos an indication of counterculture.  Amputations of digits have decreased.  Still, the Japanese are well-aware of what qualifies as yakuza territory, and a surprising number have had encounters or dealings with gangsters.

Lone Grandpa used to work at the kencho (prefectural office), and told me two stories of how he came face-to-face with the yakuza.  First, he was assigned to negotiate with them over their failure to pay taxes.  This local group had a "business," but wouldn't report their income or pay the expected tariffs, and so every year, a bureaucrat from the kencho (always a man- women are never allowed to go) was sent over to ask for the money.  And every year, the response was the same: "I have no money," meaning that the "company" couldn't be taxed on nonexistent profits.     

I asked LG if he was scared, or if the police went with him.  He said that no, the police don't assist in these negotiations, but they advised LG, "Well, if they beat you up, please tell me and I'll arrest them." However, the yakuza carefully refrain from violence.  All the parties involved know that this meeting is no more than a formality.  No one at the kencho is ever going to get the yakuza to pay up, and so both sides simply go through the motions and save face.

LG's second run-in with the yakuza was slightly scarier.  One day, two men in suits approached LG's desk at the kencho and asked him point-blank to give them inside information on a construction project that was being launched.  The kencho was taking bids for the contract, and the yakuza wanted LG to give them a number.   He refused, and the gangsters were furious and began shouting and making threats.  LG, though nervous, had the presence of mind to attempt to diffuse the situation by serving tea.  Someone had once advised him that if the yakuza ever stopped by, LG should always serve tea, so that if the interview got tense or the gangsters got rough and spilled the tea or broke one of the cups, LG could summon the police and report that property damage had occurred.  

The yakuza left in a huff, and LG ended up waiting until past midnight in the office before making a mad dash to his car, just in case the thugs were waiting for him in the parking lot.  Later he learned that someone else in the department had been bribed or coerced into giving up the information, and was subsequently fired.  LG never heard another word about the matter.


In addition to public works projects, real estate, and good, old-fashioned blackmail, the yakuza have their hands in a number of profitable pies in Japan.  This includes, but is not limited to, drugs, sex and pachinko (gambling).  To learn more, stay tuned for the sequel to this post, "Tokyo Vice, Part II: Sex, Drugs and Pachinko." 

Recent ad for Playtex diapers.  The all-over body tattoos are characteristic of the yakuza.

HOW JAPAN HAS RUINED ME FOR LIFE

A lot of people have asked what I'll miss most about Japan.  Topping the list is the sense of adventure.  My students are a close second.  I'll also miss my colleagues at school, my friends, and the food.  And a million other things, large and small.  

When I reflect on this question, I realize that living in Japan for two years has really ruined me in a lot of ways.  Never again will I be able to buy sushi (or any fresh food) at a convenience store without falling perilously ill.  I'll have to start being more vigilant of my surroundings- no more walking alone at night, or napping on the train with my purse in my lap.  Speaking of trains, I can forget about the efficiency of public transportation.  Farewell to the punctuality of bus and rail schedules, and people showing up early for meetings.  

Because Japan is a cash economy and has weird ATM hours that make it difficult to make withdrawals, I've become accustomed to carrying around hundreds of dollars' worth of yen.  Elsewhere I might be mugged; in Japan, it's fairly par for the course to have that much cash on you.  When I closed out my bank account the other week, the teller gave me the balance of my account in a thick stack of cash.  It looked as though I was about to ransom a small child, but I admit I was exhilarated.  It's the only time in my life that I'll be able to say that I was a mill-yen-aire. (See what I did there?) 

In my next life, there won't be vending machines on every block offering a wide assortment of cold and hot beverages, helping me stay hydrated.  I will have to re-condition myself to not bow to everyone, and remind myself that I can't expect the superior level of customer service offered in Japan.  For example, no one will apologize to me when I commit a grievous faux pas, as though their perfectly reasonable rules or procedures are inconveniencing me, the clueless customer.  

I will have to dig out my tip calculator again, since gratuities don't exist in Japan.  Workers earn a living wage, and besides, it would be considered poor form to expect extra compensation for doing their job.  

Dear onsen, I'll miss you as well.  There's nothing quite like being naked with a bunch of strangers, scrubbing oneself clean and then luxuriating in different baths.  The soothing, scalding heat of one tub, the discomfiting electric pulse of another, or the invigorating wakeup that is the ice-cold pool.

Goodbye, floors so clean I could eat off of them. See you, spotless bathrooms and people who take pride in what they do, no matter how seemingly inconsequential or lowly the job.  Hello, rippling cellulite and exposed undergarments.  To those perpetually and loudly talking on their cell phones, please give me a wide berth.    

Remind me why I didn't renew my contract for another year?

THE BEER SLUSHIE

Summertime in Japan is so overwhelmingly hot that normally rational people are driven to extremes to escape the miserable heat.  The lack of air conditioning across the country has led to some inventive ways to prevent heatstroke.  There's Gatsby, mentholated "deodorant papers" that leave you feeling a bit cooler, handheld fans, pocket handkerchiefs (for the sweat), elbow gloves to protect against the sun while driving or riding a bicycle, collars made of gel that you can freeze and then wear, and of course, the infamous ice bra. 

Elbow gloves and umbrellas: it's summer.

This summer, there's a new wave in cooling ingenuity: frozen beer.  Several Japanese brewing companies are trying out a new concept in an attempt to raise sales, adding different fruit juices to their brews, or freezing them and dispensing the beer slushie-style into a cup.  The day after reading about this phenomenon in the WSJ, a friend visiting Fukuoka posted a photo on Facebook with the caption: Drinking a frozen pint of stout. Weird, but the heat has driven me to it. 

Weird it may be, but if Asahi or Kirin could put frozen beer machines next to the Slurpee dispensers in convenience stores around America, they'd make a fortune.  

WHERE THE TRAINS DON'T RUN

When I first moved to Japan, there were times where I would stop and my mind would boggle.  I live in Japan, I'd think.  It was both a dream come true and a surreal improbability that I had ended up here, and so I'd marvel at the ancient temples and the bullet trains and the crowds of men all dressed identically for work in black trousers and white shirts.   

With time, that sense of novelty has worn off to a degree.  It's not that I appreciate Japan any less, or that its wonders and curiosities have diminished.  But you get used to things as life forms a pattern and you become absorbed in your routine.  However, a while back I had an opportunity to revisit that old sense of wonderment when I went to visit another JET who lives way down south in the prefecture, so far down that the trains end about an hour north of his area. 

Rural Japan is another world.  Rice fields and ramshackle houses.  Narrow roads and roadside stands of locally produced eggs and vegetables. No one mans these stands; there is an "honesty box" where people can leave their money and pick up fresh food.  It's quiet and predominantly inhabited by the elderly, as younger generations have fled to the cities for work.  It's a hard life without a lot of creature comforts, where people are as self-sufficient as possible.  It's a bit like stepping back in time.

Rice terrace

CW is one of the many JETs who lives at his school.  While lengthy commutes are fairly common for students and teachers in Japan, some schools are so far away that they have to board students and faculty.  The setup is a bit like sleep away camp, with meals in the cafeteria, a set time for lights out, and patrols of the dormitories by the teachers after curfew. Teachers have restrictions too, like no overnight guests. It's a bit like living in a fishbowl. 

And yet CW has managed to make a pretty good life for himself.  He's sporty and helps out with several school teams.  His school is renowned for its kendo team; they train the best in the prefecture.  However, the focus on athletics means that other things slip through the cracks, like academics.  Students focus on extracurriculars instead of classes, knowing that no matter how poorly they do, they'll be moved on to the next grade level.  There's also a fair bit of teenage rebellion, with students sneaking out at night to buy cigarettes from nearby vending machines, and a few runaways trying to get home.

Take a ride on the river

The village where the school is located is incredibly wealthy, owning land that is leased to one of the large malls to the north, as well as several dams, each of which provides power to an entire prefecture.  Logging is also prevalent in the area, providing a hefty source of revenue.  Since school budgets are dependent on how much they are allocated from their various localities, one would think that the schools in this particular area would be fairly well-funded.  However, CW asserts that the money is promised to very specific programs.

What do they spend the money on, I asked.  A big chunk was spent on a new junior high school, despite the village already having four.  When CW requested that money be appropriated to buy new English books for his school, the current ones be antiquated and falling apart, the council in charge of the funds denied the request...and the next week bought a lot of expensive sporting equipment, including boats, etc.  

"Egg onsen." The natural hot springs in the area are mostly used for bathing, but some of the springs are so hot that locals use them to cook food, such as eggs.  Here you can see bags of eggs dropped in the hot spring.  After several minutes, you take them out, peel the shells, and eat them.  

Living in the boondocks isn't for everyone.  For one thing, a car is essential, forcing you to endure the torture of qualifying for a Japanese drivers license, and getting used to the stomach-churning hairpin turns of the one-lane roads that wind through the mountains.  The closest grocery store is an hour away by car.  Though there are other foreigners in the area, they live in scattered and sometimes far-off places.  

Still, there are definite perks to living in that part of the world.  The verdant landscape, the clear, glimmering skies at night, and the quaint local sights such as suspension bridges and natural hot springs make for a nice getaway from urban life.  Then there are more hip, seemingly incongruous attractions such as Cabelo, the all-organic cafe situated just down the road from the modern glass and steel art museum built by a famous local architect.  We also witnessed (and were briefly a part of) a huge cycling race featuring athletes training for the Tour de France.  

All in all, it was a fantastic weekend.  Huge thanks goes out to CW for putting so much time and effort into the planning and execution of the weekend, and being such an incredible host.  I wish we could have stayed for weeks instead of days.  

INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS: REAL LIFE IMITATES THE NEWS

A few months back I attended an annual community event where foreign volunteers set up booths dedicated to our countries of origin (NZ, Australia, the UK, the US, South Africa, Singapore, Canada and China). Occasionally additional countries are represented, places volunteers have traveled to, or maybe even their parents' or grandparents' homelands. It's an opportunity for cultural exchange with the Japanese, and to demonstrate a little national pride as we show off pictures and memorabilia, and give away cool swag provided to us by our embassies (for the record, the Irish give away the best stuff).

This year, ten minutes into setup, the Chinese walked out in protest. Someone had made the unfortunate strategic decision of positioning Tibet and China next to each other, and China objected to the display of the Tibetan flag, which is illegal to fly in China. China agreed to continue setup if Tibet took down the flag and the Chinese flag were raised instead. Tibet demurred. Supervisors were called, and in the end, the Chinese removed all their materials and refused to participate.

I confess that at first I basked in the absurdity and schadenfreude of the situation (I can't help it, I'm German). What was this, an episode of The West Wing? But as the story made the rounds, something started niggling at me. I was struck by how one-sided the reactions were. Most of the other participants commented something along the lines of, "Well this isn't China. We have freedom of speech in Japan, so I don't think it's fair to say that someone else can't do something because it's illegal in your country." Even the ethnically Chinese but American-born volunteers seemed torn between wanting to keep the peace and strike a more workable compromise. Only one person said, "I kind of feel bad, though, because it's really easy for us to gang up on [the Chinese volunteers] because we all speak English and have similar viewpoints."
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This last statement resonated with me. Sure, you could claim that the Chinese were being ridiculous and unfair. The argument that we are in Japan and therefore not subject to Chinese laws is valid. But we also had a news team coming to film the event, as well as tons of other people with cameras and video equipment, and I could kind of understand how a picture or footage of these two volunteers next to a Tibetan flag might not sit well with the Chinese government if it were to somehow get back to them. Is that overly paranoid? Perhaps. But you could also claim that in the Information Age, it doesn't hurt to be too cautious, as certain things have a habit of coming back to bite us in the end.

This microcosm of international affairs served as an excellent reminder that even though some conflicts or inter-cultural dynamics may seem distant or perhaps unimportant in the grand scheme of things, they do actually matter to some people in a big way. It's also very easy to prematurely dismiss certain issues as being passé, such as racism, discrimination against women, etc. However, for some, these issues are still very real and affect their daily lives. For example, South Korea and Japan seem to be on good if not warm terms, yet earlier this summer Japanese nationalists took to the streets to protest Korean and Chinese immigrants, calling the Koreans "cockroaches" and making threats against their lives. The Japanese government is becoming increasingly alarmed by this rhetoric, and several politicians have denounced the demonstrators' comments.
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In the end, other volunteers at the community event stepped in to fill the booth space vacated by the Chinese. America had prepared a bunch of large props so that people could have their picture taken as though their face were on the dollar bill or the Statue of Liberty, and the UK loaned us their Scottish JET dressed in full kilt, who took loads of pictures with giddy Japanese visitors. It was a nice reminder of the pleasures of international cooperation. And the joys of seeing a grown man in a kilt.

PINPIN KORORI

Japan and America are facing many of the same issues in terms of health care policy.  Both countries are grappling with the rising cost of health care.  According to Bloomberg:

Japan introduced an affordable health system in the 1960s to broaden access to acute care when tuberculosis was the nation’s top killer. Cancer and cardiovascular disease now are the most common causes of death. Those are more complicated to treat, so the system is overloaded with patients and the cost to the government is escalating.

As the drain on national health care funds increases, so too do the benefits decrease for those who will need health care in the future.  In a nutshell: event though younger generations pay into funds like Social Security or national health care, when it comes time for them to reap the rewards of those contributions, there will no longer be enough to subsidize everyone's care.  In Japan, people born after 1955 will lose out on benefits.  In the United States, Social Security will be depleted by 2034.  

PUTTING A FACE ON THE ISSUES

Last week Bloomberg published an interesting piece on elderly care in Japan. It explores the ethics and economics of aging through the story of one woman, Hisako Miyake, who is now 96 years old. Miyake is bedridden and has a feeding tube surgically inserted into her stomach to keep her alive. She also has dementia, and made no record of her wishes concerning her care prior to her deterioration.  Her granddaughter, who wrote the article, is one of millions who will lose out on health care benefits when it's her turn to cash in.

With more people living decades past the traditional limits of life expectancy, families and medical professionals are having to weigh prolonging patients' lives against their quality of life. Quality of life is a frequent refrain when discussing end-of-life issues; however, this article also brings up quality of death, or allowing people to pass with dignity and without pain. More and more Japanese people express a desire for pinpin korori, defined as living "long, healthy lives and to die naturally without suffering from illness." The question is, is it possible to avert suffering if drastic measures (e.g., the surgical insertion of feeding tubes) are being implemented to keep people alive?  

I LOVE OKINAWA

Back in the days when my parents first got the Internet, there was this program you could download that let you choose from vast libraries of photographs to use as your desktop wallpaper.  There were all sorts of themes: travel, forests, animals, black and white shots, etc.  My favorite was a beach with cream-colored sand and water so blue and clear it put chlorinated pools to shame.  As beautiful as it was, I could never imagine actually visiting such a place.  First of all, my family never vacationed at the beach.  The family joke was that my dad would take us to resort areas and no one would even bring a bathing suit. Other families went to places like Cancun to swim and work on their tans; we went to visit the ancient ruins that were on the beach, tented in hats and long-sleeved shirts to reduce sun exposure.

Second, it seemed unreal that such a place existed, when my primary reference for the beach was the Gulf of Mexico, whose water is more of a brackish brown than a tourmaline blue thanks to the mud churned into it by the Mississippi River.

The Gulf of Mexico.  From www.weathertemperature.net.

So you can imagine my shock when I went to Okinawa for a few days, and it looked like this:

Zamami, Okinawa

A LITTLE BIT OF CONTEXT

Okinawa is dramatically different from the rest of Japan.  The islands lack the four distinct seasons that are so highly prized by the Japanese.  Since the territory lies at the same latitude as northern Myanmar, the weather vacillates between hot, hotter and hottest.  The people in Okinawa are laid-back in a manner characteristic of cultures that live in hot climates.  We saw scads of men with long hair, and men and women with prominently displayed tattoos.  We also observed a fairly interesting trend in which all the businessmen were attired in dress slacks and Hawaiian shirts, a colorful diversion from the black trousers-white dress shirt uniform in mainland Japan.

Okinawa also possesses a unique history among the prefectures of Japan.  The Meiji government assumed control of the islands in 1879, designating them a Japanese colony.  Much of the Ryukyu culture indigenous to the islands was systematically suppressed; however, some of the aesthetics (architecture, art, etc.) remain.  There are several movements concerned with the preservation of Ryukyu culture, which some feel is perilously close to dying out.

During WWII, the islands were the site of the bloodiest conflict in the Pacific Theater.  Over 200,000 people (soldiers and civilians) died in the Battle of Okinawa.  In case of an invasion by the Allies, civilians had been trained by the Japanese military to commit suicide rather than be apprehended by enemy soldiers.  The Okinawans were considered to have too much valuable information about the Japanese military, and were therefore liabilities if they were captured or questioned.  

On July 4, Paul and I briefly visited the Peace Memorial Park for the Battle of Okinawa, which was extensive and beautiful.  Both of my grandfathers were in Okinawa during WWII; one of them served in the U.S. Navy on a ship stationed offshore.  As we walked around, I tried to imagine what it must have been like for these young soldiers, most of whom had never left their hometowns, to be stationed someplace so exotic yet dangerous.  My grandfather told my dad that while he was in Okinawa, a typhoon hit the flotilla, sinking a number of ships.  For a man from the landlocked state of Kansas, he must have felt really far from home.

Names of the dead, Peace Memorial Park.

Today, Okinawa hosts a number of U.S. military bases*, straining relations between Okinawa and the U.S., as well as Okinawa and mainland Japan.  There have been numerous reports over the years of military personnel being disruptive, damaging property, and even sexually assaulting local women.  Okinawans want the bases to be moved elsewhere, but the national government keeps dragging its feet.  The level of frustration has risen to a point where some Okinawans are advocating secession from Japan.  

BUT SERIOUSLY, OKINAWA IS AWESOME

Paul and I agreed that it was fortunate that we discovered Okinawa right as we were about to leave Japan, otherwise we would have spent every holiday there and ignored the rest of the country in favor of early morning swims, sunsets, and some of the most incredible stars I've ever seen.  

Our favorite beach for morning/evening swims.

We tried scuba diving for the first time, off the coast of one of the uninhabited islands near Zamami.  I'm not sure what I expected; the closest I'd come to scuba diving was snorkeling in the Galapagos Islands, and though that part of the Pacific is beautiful and filled with an abundance of marine creatures, the visibility is nothing compared to Okinawa.  We could see for what seemed like miles, and the fish were unlike anything I'd ever seen.  Magenta, aqua blue, bright yellow, red, spotted, striped, electric blue, orange, hot purple, and more- I didn't realize that colors like that existed outside of the 1980s.  

Parrotfish. From www.flickr.com.

We glided along reefs, occasionally coming face-to-face with a blowfish or a sea snake, or watch clown fish dart back into anemones.  Mostly, however, the fish didn't seem perturbed by us, and would swim closer to examine the strange black-clad creatures swimming past.  The only thing I can liken it to was being in the best aquarium imaginable...but a billion times better.  

Though this is probably an aquarium, it's not unlike what we saw while diving.  From commons.wikimedia.org

The dive itself was short- only thirty minutes- but our guide was really kind and offered to loan us the masks and flippers for the day in case we wanted to go snorkeling later.  We did, and we ended up finding a huge reef that we spent over an hour paddling around, watching the kaleidoscope of fish pass by.  I'd be studying a certain area, and then look away for a moment, and when I'd look back again a second later, the reef would have changed completely.  The coral was still there, and the anemones, but the creatures surrounding me would be entirely different.  Often I'd suddenly realize that schools of fish were swimming around me, causing the water to shimmer even more with their bright scales.

Leaving Okinawa was a wrench.  The scuba diving alone was one of the top 5 experiences of my life.  However, it's all the more incentive to return to Japan.  Next time, though, I may never leave.  

Near Ama Island

*There's also a surprisingly large Japanese military population in Okinawa.  When we landed in Naha, more than half of the tarmac was filled with planes featuring the hinomaru (the Japanese flag).

THE LAST WORDS

As many of you who read this blog know, I love my students.  What's more, I love the outrageous things they communicate through speech or writing.  Now that classes are over, here are the last gems from my time teaching.  Here's hoping they keep in touch via email and send me fresh material- I'll really miss these great perspectives. 

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Grading first year papers, I've noticed a disturbing trend wherein they all write about themselves in third person. But not in an acceptable way like, "Elizabeth writes a Facebook post." Instead they use the pronoun "it." As in, "It puts the lotion in the basket."
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Second years have to write a presentation detailing 3 things you can do with a certain object. The paper team wrote: "Secondly, you can clean a dirty butt. This paper is very important to me in my life."
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First years had to write draft presentations, which I am now correcting. The recurring themes are hobbies, pets, and club activities. These stood out:

1. One kid wrote an entire presentation on Germany and the Berlin Wall, and killed it.
2. Another wrote about a trip to Hawaii she and her mother took last summer, just to see EXILE (a famous pop band). Very nonchalantly she wrote, "After the picture, we ate dinner with them."
3. "My dog is woman. She is not marrying."
4. "Hello, everyone. I'd like to talk about my abacus because I like it."

Then this happened: "I like western movies. I think that the best movie is The Karate Kid."
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A couple of my kids came up and squeezed my arms. One of them said, "Mm! Marshmallow."

Guess it's time to hit the gym and officially reclaim my Michelle Obama guns.
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Some miscellaneous observations:

Next, Sandeul [a Korean pop star] has a beautiful voice.  He resembles a duck.

I want to tell you about Takatori Junior High School.  There are many insects.

The music makes a woman having a long hair a concept.  I intended to grow hair to listen to the music.

Q: If you could have dinner with anyone living or dead, who would it be? What would you talk about?

A:

"It is a poisoned dinner."

"I chose living.  I think that it is a fish."

JAPAN IS STRANGE. SOMETIMES. A LOT OF THE TIME.

When you are on the outside of a culture looking in, there are often things you find strange.  Not in a "How peculiar, you drive on a different side of the road" kind of way, or even in a "I don't get that joke" way.  There are simply fundamental differences in what some people consider comprehensible, compared to the rest of the world.  Below are a few Japanese examples of this discrepancy.  They are by no means an exhaustive representation of everything that is out there.  However, they all made me shake my head and say, "What?"

Kikkoman Soy Sauce Ad

The Diarrhea Song- lots of great gestures, as well as some perplexing subtitles. 

Scary Japanese "mannequins." 

This video I call "Nice Peace." There are many things I appreciate about this video: the costumes, the lyricality of the music, the unwitting offense that is given when this guy starts giving the two-fingered salute instead of the peace sign.  The song is fairly catchy, too.  

Standing outside an Osaka subway station last year, I watched as a man in blue coveralls walked by with this cat on his shoulder.  My friend and I were in the middle of having a coffee, which we hurriedly abandoned to follow this feline Pied Piper and find out what was going on.  The man placed the cat on this pole so that people could take photos, and then walked off again.  I like to think of this cat as a more dapper Grumpy Cat.

In another example of cat power, behold, Sir Tama.  Sir Tama is the super station master of Kishi Station in the neighboring prefecture, Wakayama.  Sir Tama (who is actually a lady) is regularly trotted out in ceremonial garb for special occasions.  Many of the stores in Wakayama feature Sir Tama memorabilia, and she has brought in over a billion yen in merchandise and tourism. According to Wikipedia, Sir Tama "is 'the only female in a managerial position' in the [rail] company" that owns the line on which Kishi Station is located. 

This man in Tokyo can sing any national anthem you can name.  We should have told him we were from Norway; instead, he serenaded us with The Star-Spangled Banner.  No clue how the tiger heads fit in to his shtick.   

ELEPHANTS IN THAILAND

Elephants and Thailand go together like Egypt and the pyramids, Australia and kangaroos, or Italy and pizza.  Their ubiquity in art, fashion, advertisements, and even unlikely places like beer bottles, points to their iconic status in Thai culture.  However, chang ("elephant" in Thai) have a fairly dicey history.    

Chang Beer.  From commons.wikimedia.org.

Like Brahman cattle in India, elephants were once honored and revered as sacred beings, trained to fight in wars and protect the kingdom against invaders.  However, as Thailand modernized and began to capitalize on its teak exports, elephants were drafted to work in the logging industry instead.  To do this work, they had to undergo extensive training, in a process called the phajaan.  During the phajaan, elephants are restrained in small wooden cages barely large enough for their bulk and beaten, poked and stabbed for several days until they become obedient and docile.  There's a stomach-churning video of this ordeal here.  

In 1989, the king of Thailand outlawed the use of elephants in logging, but it hasn't prevented people from subjecting elephants to the phajaan in order to make them suitable for work in the tourism industry, giving rides, painting pictures, or simply walking around busy cities like Bangkok, begging for food.  This is tortuous for the elephants, who are very sensitive to external stimuli and require far more water and food each day than can reasonably be given to them in a big city.  The animals become stressed, lonely and depressed, and often die within a few years.  

Feeeeed meeeeeee

At the turn of the 20th century, there were 100,000 (domesticated) elephants in Thailand; today, they number just a few thousand in total.  While it is illegal to kill elephants for the ivory of their tusks, it is permissible to take ivory from live elephants, often damaging their faces and their delicate trunks, creating infections that eventually kill them.

There are a number of conservation groups working to rescue elephants.  One such operation is the Elephant Nature Park in Chiang Mai, which I visited back in May.  The park is the life's work of Lek Chailert, a Thai woman who grew up learning about herbal medicines from her grandfather, who was a healer.  She has adopted almost 30 elephants over the years, and the park boasts several births as well, bringing their herd to 34.  Lek has also started a program called the Jumbo Express, which involves traveling with veterinarians to villages in northern Thailand to bring medical aid to elephants and teach their owners how to best care for them.  

A new baby had been born shortly before we visited the park; it was just 25 days old when we saw it.  There is nothing cuter than a 3 ft tall baby elephant...except for a 3 ft tall baby elephant that plays soccer.    Someone had given the baby, named Dok Mai, a soccer ball, which she enthusiastically kicked up and down the length of her pen (mother and calf are kept in the pen for security; mothers are very protective of their offspring).  It was difficult for even the most hardened observers not to squeal with delight. 

Baby Dok Mai, who was only 25 days old when we visited.

Shower time!

Perhaps the most heart-warming aspect of the Elephant Nature Park is seeing how content all the animals are.  It's reassuring to know that Dok Mai will never face the horrors experienced by other older elephants.  And it's a pleasure to see how these long-suffering creatures finally find peace and proper care.  One elephant who had been used in the logging industry and blinded by her "trainer" is now waited on hand and foot, bathed by volunteers in the river, and fed pounds upon pounds of fresh vegetables and fruits everyday.  She's banded together with two other rescued elephants with similar histories, and the three "besties" are never far from one another.  These kinds of groups offer protection and companionship; elephants are remarkably human-like in the way they develop relationships with one another. 

Hello, humans

While we only stayed for a day at the Elephant Nature Park, they offer longer stints during which you can volunteer to help care for the elephants, and therefore have more time to observe and interact with them.  Incredibly worthwhile, particularly when you consider that a hefty portion of your money goes towards the year-round care of the elephants, and saving up to rescue others.  

Feeding time.  Sometimes the elephants will gingerly take food from you with their delicate trunks; other times you have to place it directly into their mouths.  Elephant tongues are weird.