I Found My Thrill

Japan 2014 – Day 1

My plane to Narita arrived on time, but Suzi’s plane was very late, so I waited at the airport for 6 hours. During that time I read a book and began to watch the movie “Inception,” which, for some reason, was already loaded on my cell phone when I bought it 5 years ago. Watching the movie a second time increased my understanding of it by about 5%, which puts my current total understanding at about 7%.

At about 9:30 p.m., after checking into the hotel, I went alone down to a little Italian restaurant in the same building to grab a bite. My good friend from Atsugi City (TO) surprised me at 10 by joining me, which means that instead of having my 4-cheese pizza and a glass of wine, I ended up having the pizza, half of TO’s antipasto plate, and 3 glasses of wine.

Japan 2014 – Day 2, Part 1

Today we went shopping in the Ginza, Tokyo’s version of 5th Avenue in NY, where we went to Tokyo’s oldest department store (Mitsokoshi) to see overpriced name-brand clothes, as well as smaller boutique stores that were more reasonable. I got bored instantly, so we arranged a meeting place and time so we could separate. While Suzi was shopping around Mitsokoshi (and searching for me so she could leave that store earlier than we planned), I took a walk down the neighboring side streets.

At the entrance to Mitsokoshi there was a bit of a commotion…

…because some American woman was interviewing people about something.

One of the stark differences between Beijing and Tokyo is the behavior of the pedestrians. In Tokyo, the pedestrians wait on the sidewalk until their light turns green,…

…then they go.

Note the interesting advertisement on the side of the van.

I walked past this unusual looking store, then backtracked to go inside.

This store was unique: it sells only fruit-flavored drinking vinegar. These are light and airy for sipping, not for cooking.

The flavor of the season, of course, was cherry blossom. You take a small amount of the stuff and cut it 4:1 with water, milk, or alcohol. With water, you end up with a gently flavored, slightly acidic beverage that is quite good. With milk you get something like flavored yogurt. They mixed a little blueberry vinegar with milk and the result was a fresh, liquidy blueberry “yogurt.” I bought a bottle of the cherry blossom vinegar for TO. I considered buying some of the blueberry vinegar to take back to China but it was more expensive than other flavors. (I am indeed a cheap @#$%&.)

I headed down a little side street…

…and as it was about lunch time, and it was fun to see all the little soba, udon, and sushi shops with a small counter or a few tables on the side streets.

What was surprising was that on almost every block there was a little Italian restaurant, clearly a cuisine that has taken a strong hold in Japan.

It seems to be the custom at these restaurants to display their wine selection on the sidewalk using a box full of empty bottles.

Decades ago the television show “Candid Camera” did an experiment with people in line. Whenever a stranger is passing a group of people in a queue, there is a great temptation to join that queue, even if you don’t know what it’s for. While I didn’t end up waiting at the end, I did take a bunch of pictures of this line…

…and its target, a hamburger shop.

A couple of teenagers began giggling at me so I asked them why people were waiting in line.

In very broken English they explained that it was a steak and hamburger place known for its good meat and low prices. Like China, these people demonstrated an extraordinary amount of patience: I was there about 15 minutes and I think only 1 person was let in during that time.

When people came out, they sprayed their clothes with something in bottles hanging outside the restaurant. Can you guess why they did this?

The answer is at the end of this post.

Young Japanese are really into shoes.

There was a small store that evidently sold only old cameras. The window had a selection of double-lens reflex cameras; I think I have one somewhere at home.

The cost of one was about $420.

Japanese men are notorious for wearing boring, dark suits.

As you probably know, Japanese people are really into flowers and flower arranging, and the number of flower shops I passed were as numerous as the number of Italian restaurants.

This must be the season for sidewalk interviews,…

…this one by the Tokyo Broadcasting System.

As I headed back to the department store to meet up with Suzi, I saw this car displayed in front of a large department store.

Speaking of transportation, there were many nice bikes locked to metal posts. In Beijing, these would be stolen before the owners could return.

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ANSWER: They spray each other’s clothes to eliminate the charcoal smell.

Happiness Is a Thing Called Joe

I’m back in China. I’ll try not to belabor the comparison between Beijing and Tokyo much more, but after 8 days in Japan, I just have to emphasize once more a few things:

• The Japanese people are among the most polite people in the world. Japanese drivers are more polite than American drivers, and they are a stark contrast to drivers in Beijing, who have no regard whatsoever for pedestrians. It is inconceivable to me that pedestrians in Japan would have to jump out of the way of cars – which is the rule in China.

• It is inconceivable that a Japanese mother would have her toddler urinate on a pedestrian bridge or a crowded sidewalk, something I have seen several times in Beijing (though not elsewhere in China).

• While I can confirm that I’m more sensitive to noise than most people, I think it’s safe to say that I’m less tolerant of it. During 8 days in Japan (Tokyo, Hakone, & Kyoto), I heard a horn honk a total of 4 times: (1) a scooter honked briefly at a bus that cut it off, (2) someone honked briefly at a taxi I was in because of a maneuver my driver did, (3) one of my taxi drivers honked briefly at a car who was parked awkwardly and blocking traffic, and (4) I heard something in the distance. If you are anywhere near a street in Beijing, it is hard to go 1 minute without hearing someone honking at someone else. (I tested this today.)

• All places I visited in Japan were extremely clean, free of both trash and dust. Beijing is geographically disadvantaged because it’s dry and just south of drier Inner Mongolia, and dust is constantly in the wind. Here’s the surprise: I saw not one piece of trash on any street or road while I was in Japan, but I did have trouble finding trash cans. There are very few trash cans on the sidewalks of Japan (unless they are cleverly camouflaged), so people must be very conscientious about carrying their trash to some distant receptacle. Beijing, on the other hand, has thousands of trash cans along the sidewalks. Many Beijingers are indeed careful to use these trash cans, but there are others who don’t. Fortunately, Beijing has an army of street-cleaning people employed to keep the streets and sidewalks as free of trash as they can.

• Not once while I was in Japan did I hear someone hack and spit. I shudder to think about the looks I would get from the locals if I had done so. Today, in my favorite park across from my school, it was almost a chorus. One 60-year-old woman walked right next to a flower garden, but spat 3 times within 15 seconds onto the sidewalk to her right instead of the garden to her left. Others walking nearby didn’t even look down to try avoid her products. When I’m the only one in the park (or anywhere else) who notices these things, I wonder if I’m overreacting. As the standard of living in China continues to rise, I am hoping there will be a concomitant rise in micro-environmental awareness.

• Here’s an interesting comparison: Chinese people appear to me to be happier than the Japanese. I emphasize “appear” because it is hard to read the Japanese; they are some of the most reserved people on Earth, and it is generally difficult to know how they are feeling about anything. Still, there is a lot more public laughter on a per capita basis in China than there is in Japan. I would love to see a study of this. It is possible that it’s less a function of the cultural differences of the peoples than it is of the difference in standard of living. Believe it or not, the happiest people I’ve seen around the world have been some of the poorest people. I think as we gain more physical stuff, we are more intent on keeping it. The less we have, the less we expect. This is consistent with the recent study showing that the acquisition of wealth negatively affects one’s personality. Ah, but how many of us would give away most of our money with the hope of becoming happier?

Pictures from Japan later.

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Sleeping Beauty

I’m writing this at midnight on my last day in Japan. No, I haven’t been out whooping it up (though I did have a wonderful meal, but that’s a story for another day). After 3 hours of sleep, I awoke suddenly thinking about two apparently unrelated things:

Thing 1:

You remember in the 60s at the beginning of the space age when we’d see these news items about new, miraculous alloys that would have a blow torch attacking it from one side and a baby’s bottom comfortably resting against the other (or something like that)?

Thing 2:

Probably the leading theory now for the location of the origin of life on Earth (if indeed it was Earth) is hydrothermal vents. Not only do they spew out great quantities of useful molecules but also there’s a wide range of temperatures within a short radius of the vent, going from very hot to very cold in a short distance.

In the last year and a half I have traveled around China and Japan, and I don’t think I have had one complete night’s sleep in any hotel. You see, there’s this one-blanket policy (smiley face) pervasive throughout the region.

When my wife and I travel through Europe, the small hotels and B&B’s have beds with multiple layers of thin blankets, just like we all have at home, right? In Asian hotels it seems that everyone has gone to a single comforter as both a top sheet and a blanket, and thus it is almost impossible to regulate the temperature under this thing.

My body generates a lot of heat, so I always turn the AC in the hotel room down as far as it will go. For presumably economic reasons, these hotels prevent the AC from going below 17 degrees Celsius (62.6 F). This is not nearly cold enough for me, so I always wake up after a few hours, sweating, heart beating rapidly, etc.

This is when I try thermoregulation: I stick one foot out into the air, then 2 feet, then a shoulder, etc., until I get to a temperature where I think I can sleep. Depending on the thickness of the blanket, I may end up with just a part of it covering my waist (such a lovely image!). My overall temperature seems OK for a while, but then the exposed parts of me get too cold and I crawl back under the blanket. After a few hours I wake up and the cycle begins again. (After posting this I’ll give sleep another try.)

Apropos of nothing above, I had words with a taxi driver this evening – which was quite an accomplishment, seeing as how I speak no Japanese and he speaks no English. We earlier had taken a taxi ride about 10 minutes away to have dinner with TO. After dinner, we hopped into a taxi to go back to our hotel. Twice the taxi driver asked TO about the name of the hotel and its location, after which he nodded and took off. He turned left and I knew he was going the wrong direction, but I said nothing. I politely handed him a map (provided by the hotel) showing the hotel’s location. Then I gave him my map from the hotel’s Web site. Whenever he came to a stop light, he put on the overhead light and his glasses, then studied the maps. Eventually he pulled out is professional taxi driver’s map.

Then he started fiddling with his fancy GPS, which all Japanese taxis seem to have, but it was instantly clear that he did not know how to use it. Also, when he tried to punch in some information, his hand trembled, suggesting a recovering alcoholic or something equally sinister.

Eventually, he wisely stopped to as another taxi driver for help, but he was confused as to the actual name of the hotel, so 2 or 3 times I had to call out the window to our advisor the name of the hotel.

Finally, after zig-zagging through this part of Tokyo, we arrived at our hotel. The cost on the meter was $30. I broke out the receipt from the outgoing ride and showed him it was only $24. He pointed to his meter that showed $30. I pointed to him and then made a zig-zag motion with my hand. He grumbled but eventually charged us only $24.

He was not a very objective or self-reflective guy. I was in no mood to be gracious. It’s probably fortunate we could not speak each other’s language.

ポール

Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White

I’m currently in Japan, about the same time as I was last year. This time I Have the honor and privilege to escort my piano teacher Suzi for a week around Hakone and Kyoto to see the cherry blossoms. I’ll write more about this trip later, once I get my photos off my camera. I won’t bombard you with all the same stuff I did last year, but it’s been only one day and already some interesting observations have been made.

I had a brief time to sit by myself in a coffee shop and I quickly jotted down my immediate impressions on coming from Beijing to Tokyo. I paid a little more attention this time, though the list below necessarily will contain some of the same things I mentioned last year. More relevant is the fact that I’m in downtown Tokyo now, not the nice suburb I was last year. Here’s what immediately strikes you as you travel from China’s capitol to Japan’s:

• It’s not as crowded, though Suzi mentioned how surprised she was to see so many people out walking and so many bicycles. (It’s about 1/100 of Beijing’s.)

• Pedestrians don’t cross the street unless the pedestrian “walk” sign is green.

• Pedestrians wait on the sidewalk for the green “walk,” not halfway through the intersection.

• Cars wait for pedestrians and cyclists as they cross the street, and there’s no aggression shown by the drivers against these others.

• It’s not dusty; the cars, sidewalks, streets, bicycles, buildings, etc. all look clean and shiny.

• I saw not one person spit the entire day.

• The clothes are much less colorful: the men all wear black suits with conservative ties, and the women are only slightly more colorful.

• The women wear cosmetics.

• The women, but not the men, look heavier (probably a result of affluence).

• Talking in public places is subdued.

• More men, but not more women, smoke.

• No air pollution, and my chronic headache and runny nose from Beijing stopped within an hour of getting off the plane.

• Food is more expensive.

• Many more non-Asians here.

• Not one horn honk was heard all day. NOT ONE!!!

保罗

Goodbye, Mr. Chips

Japan – Day 4

My last day (only the morning) in Japan was “basically” uneventful. I had said goodbye to TO the previous evening as we hugged in the middle of the hotel lobby. His wife, evidently worried about my health, had sent me some cough drops…

…and life-preserving water.

I strolled down the side street…

…to my usual coffee shop for a light breakfast.

I returned to the hotel, checked out, and headed off toward the bus stop where I would catch the commuter bus to Narita Airport.

As I casually sauntered once again down the side street, confident I would remember the bus stop’s location where TO picked me up 3 days earlier, I once again noted the cleanliness of the bicycles (and everything else) in this part of the world. Almost all the bicycles I saw in Japan had these built in (actually “on”) bike locks.

In Beijing, most small deliveries are made by little tricycle carts (which I’ll write about in greater detail some day). I saw no such carts in this Japanese city, and small deliveries seem to be accomplished with these little vans.

Note the guy walking behind the van, wearing a face mask.

I saw several people here wearing these masks, even though the air was crystal clear and pollution was near zero. I was told once that Japanese people wear these masks when they have a cold in order not to spread their germs.

By almost any standard, I have a good sense of direction and a good memory for geographic landmarks, which is why I knew I could easily retrace my steps to the bus stop that I took with TO 3 days earlier. I was wrong.

I got to the center of town where there are many bus stops scattered around the neighborhood. They’re all numbered and I knew which one I needed. I wandered around for about 20 minutes, trying to make sense of the number-location relationship. I started to get a little worried, so, using sign language, I asked a young man for help. He walked 3 blocks in the direction opposite to the one he was originally going to personally hand me off to the correct bus stop.

I was early, so I sat on a little wall and watched people. As it is in Beijing, these bus stops have official guides to help people find the right bus,…

…but the meaning of their team name eludes me.

Almost every sidewalk I have seen in both China and Japan has a special ridged brick path for use by blind people. In China, I’ve thus far seen only one blind person, and he was led by a caretaker. This is the first unaccompanied blind person I have seen in Asia.

Anyone want to speculate on the reason for this observation (excluding, of course, blindness on the part of the observer)?

In China, almost no one wears helmets. (I’m one of four in Beijing, a city of 20 million.) Parents haul their toddlers and little kids around in bike seats over the back wheel. No helmets. In Japan, I saw 5 or 6 parents hauling little kids on their bikes. All children, but no adults, had helmets.

While waiting for the bus, I had the revelation that I might get a little hungry on the 3-hour bus ride, so I went into a nearby grocery and picked up a rice ball wrapped in seaweed. Being the consummate health-conscious consumer, I was relieved to note the full list of ingredients on the label.

More people started arriving at the bus stop, so I knew I hadn’t long to wait. As at other bus stops, people lined up in an orderly fashion without pushing or trying to be first.

The bus ride was comfortable and relaxing, and I took a number of inconsequential photos (aka out of focus) through the window. When I saw this wire structure, I first thought it was some sort of electric grid.

Then it occurred to me that, as it was in Japan, it might be a large baseball batting cage or an enclosed golf driving range. ¿Quien sabe?

As you may have guessed, about 5 minutes into the trip I voraciously attacked my rice ball. There was stuff inside. I re-examined the label but to this day I don’t know if the filling was animal, vegetable, or mineral – or something else. (Where’s Aristotle when we need him?)

I miss TO and I think of him often. Here’s to hoping we see each other again soon.

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Teahouse of the August Moon

When I was a junior in high school, I was sitting next to Kristy Kime in English class one day and she asked me if I had ever thought of trying out for a play. I said no and that that I had no interest in doing so. After some persuading on her part (all done in English class, of course), I agreed to think it over. So she got me a script and read the other parts while I read the part of Sakini-san, a Japanese servant in the play. It was one of the leads and was the part played by Marlon Brando in the movie. No one was more surprised than I when I got the part. One of the main things I learned from the director, the Japanese drama teacher Mr. Nakano, was that you had to speak unnaturally loud when on stage. He was a very intelligent and demanding teacher.

Japan – Day 3

This is my last full day in Japan, and it was as wonderful as the previous two, though certainly quite different.

I loafed around in the morning. TO arrived a little before noon so we could watch his son on TV. His son has a new quiz show for which he is the host. I videotaped the show and one day will find a way to get him the DVD. (Communication between China and Japan is tenuous on the best days.) Here he is with the first guest (uh, the son is on the left):

After the show, we took off for lunch, passing through quiet neighborhoods with residents on bicycles.

We arrived at this restaurant…

…and I was pleased to see it was a sushi place.

While we ate our appetizer clam soup,…

…we (TO) figured out (with a little help from the hostess) the ordering screen.

You order right on the screen, and then the sushi arrives on the serpentine conveyor belt, and a little bell sounds and a light flashes informing you that your order is approaching. You’d better pay attention because the belt doesn’t stop and you may miss your dish. If you do, you don’t end up paying for it because, like most places in this genre, they count the plates (which are color-coded) to calculate your bill.

We ate until we were satiated, and TO, unusually, ate almost as much as I did.

As we left the restaurant I saw an unusual license plate, but I have since forgotten its meaning.

We took a taxi to the outskirts of this city. TO was looking for a Buddhist temple in the basement of which an acquaintance of his had his art on display. We got out and wandered around the neighborhood a little,…

…until we found, with the help of some neighborhood kids, the stairway to heaven (or whatever).

It was a small temple,…

…with the requisite resting places in front.

The artist and I posed for a picture (one of the top things in the world I hate to do).

TO and the artist had a lively discussion (in Japanese, of course), though it was uncharacteristically demonstrative, punctuated by wil gesticulations.

Meanwhile, I wandered about the collection. Not bad.

The artist and I had an interesting discussion about the difference between these two paintings from a neurobiological perspective.

As we left the temple, we saw that the sun had dropped a bit.

We walked a few blocks, then grabbed a bus that headed up into the foothills.

At the end of the bus line, in the middle of nowhere, TO called for a taxi to take us the rest of the way into the hills to our ultimate destination, which was still a mystery to me.

I posed at the entrance to this mountain spa, then we walked toward the reception building.

Our room was off o the left in this picture (where the woman is).

After shedding our shows at the door, we went into a large, lovely suite with a dining area,…

…a sitting area by the window,…

…and our own private bathroom.

Out the window I saw a string of fish flags stretching across the stream.

This flags represent the famed Japanese koi (a kind of carp) and are now associated particularly with the Japanese national holiday Children’s Day. The blue and white ones are for boys, and the red and pink ones are for girls. The other colors are for adults. In Buddhist religion, the strength of these fish swimming through water represents humans swimming through the ocean of suffering without fear.

Our hostess arrived, and explained how everything worked around here.

We now had some welcoming soup,…

…but first we had to remove our clothes and don the robes that were provided.

After putting on our straw sandals,…

…we headed out for a self-guided tour of this beautiful place.

Right here, as I was taking a short movie of the surroundings, I dropped my camcorder into the fish pond.

Without waiting a moment and definitely without thinking, I jumped the fence and landed in the pond, wary of the large fish, and grabbed the camcorder. I got out as quickly as I got in, but still, by the time I climbed back over the fence, there were two female staff members ready with towels to dry me off.

They did so, and TO didn’t flinch or seem embarrassed at the situation. I hope he wasn’t. After all these years, he’s probably used to my antics. We hurried to the room where I removed the battery and memory card so they could dry as fast as possible, just in case there was a chance to save this video camera.

He headed back outside along the perilous bridge,…

…then onto a little path that led to the baths.

In the ante-room there were baskets where we placed our robes after disrobing. (Sorry for the foggy photo; it was humid in the room.)

The picture is a bit fuzzy because it was a little misty in the room. There was a scale if we wanted to weigh ourselves (which I didn’t) and an electric foot massager.

We passed through a glass door (after opening it, of course) and found a large room with two very large hot tubs. (No pictures allowed.) After washing at nearby sinks, we joined a couple other guys in the baths. They were warm and relaxing. Coulda slept.

After a long while, we decided to go outside and try the external bath, which was equally nice, with a little waterfall.

We dried, re-robed and returned to our room. Food started arriving, and TO started by showing me how to eat (as if anyone really has to).

Japanese food is one of the 5 great cuisines of the world. It is characterized by its delicacy and beautiful appearance, and this meal was no exception.

We had a wonderful time chatting about who knows what and eating every molecule put before us. I can only guess what this evening cost TO because he wouldn’t let me see the bill, much less contribute toward it.

I will end by simply showing you our smörgåsbord of food (though I suspect that using a Swedish word here is politically inappropriate):

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Arrivederci Roma

If you’re under the impression, from the absence of posts recently, that nothing’s been happening on this side of the Pacific, be assured that nothing could be further from the truth. It’s been hoppin’ so much I that suitable time and energy haven’t overlapped for a while. Even now, sitting in my room on the 17th floor of a hotel in Nanjing, it’s a struggle to stay awake. I’m the keynote presenter at a conference tomorrow for 400 science teachers, principals, and others, and I’ve just now (8:30 p.m.) finished my PPT for the 2-hour talk. (They don’t call me “last-minute” Cammer for nothing!) But I’ll get to all that in due course.

Japan – Day 2, Part 3

My first trip to Japan was in the late 1980s. It was a business trip relating to one of my company’s clients, and the business counterparts in Japan were the best hosts I’d ever seen. The main host and coordinator was, of course, TO. We stayed at a large multi-star hotel (Intercontinental?) and to make us feel at home, our hosts treated us to a lavish dinner of Western food. After dinner, TO and I were chatting about unimportant stuff when he asked me how I liked the dinner. Remember that I had just met this gentlemen, but in my usual straightforward style, I told him that the food was delicious but that I didn’t fly thousands of miles to have steak and that my reference would be to eat only traditional Japanese food for the rest of the visit – which we did. The irony of this history will strike home in a moment.

After the pleasant visit to the lake and the Buddhist temple, TO dropped me off at my hotel where I killed time resting until he came to get me for dinner. He picked me up at 5:00 and we discussed where we should eat. He said his daughter recommended a restaurant nearby and did I want to try it? I said sure, so we headed toward the door of the hotel, passing a prominent bronze statue that I somehow was able to miss in my 25 previous crossings of the lobby.

Cruising down the street, we saw the typical Japanese sidewalk scene: a bicycle here and there, not overly crowded, clean. It’s fortunate that the bicycle density here is not as high as Beijing’s because, due to the narrower streets, they ride on the relatively narrow sidewalks.

Being the local bicycle helmet Nazi, I was tempted to accost this mother to tell her that she, too, needs to wear a helmet if she wants her child to do so in 10 years.

This woman’s car was barely large enough to hold her, but she still found room for a bunch of dashboard dolls. Are these cabbage patch things?

I couldn’t help but notice this line of people waiting patiently, politely, and uncrowdedly for a bus, a stark contrast to bus stops in Beijing.

We arrived at the restaurant, which turned out to be a small Italian place.

After a couple weeks in Mexico many decades ago, my wife and I decided that on our last night we had had enough Mexican food, so we went to a Chinese restaurant in Mexico City. Sitting in a place with Chinese décor and smells, then being welcomed by a Chinese guy speaking perfect Spanish, felt weird to both of us. In a similar vein, I think there’s something weird about seeing a menu for presumably Italian food written in Japanese I couldn’t understand and priced in Japanese yen that I couldn’t convert. Maybe it’s just me, but such cultural juxtapositions cause me to stop and take note with a smile worthy of a world citizen.

The hostess informed us that they wouldn’t open for another half hour, so we took off to cruise the neighborhood, saying we’d be back when they opened. Across the street I saw a small shop that I assumed was a florist, given all the plants and flowers positioned outside.

It turned out to be a bakery.

At one time Japan had the highest incidence of smokers in the developed world; over half the adult population smoked cigarettes. I don’t know if that statistic still holds, but cigarette machines are fairly common on the sidewalks.

We saw one of the many Korean restaurants in Japan. Korean food is popular here, and the Japanese have a special relationship with South Korea.

I know I’m going to get this next bit mixed up because it’s been a while since I heard the story, but in Japan there is a big celebration in a family when a young boy comes of age. The parents buy a small but fancy statue for the boy to mark the occasion, and there are specialized stores in Japan that sell these statues. We came upon one while we were killing time, and TO took me in to explain the custom. This was a particularly expensive one.

While in the store, we talked about this ceremony, and only as an aside did TO mention that his statue was destroyed during the bombing. I believe this is the only time TO has made reference to “the war.” I wanted to ask him lots of questions about that time, but chose, wisely, I think, to resist the temptation.

We got back to the trattoria shortly after it had opened but we still were too late to get one of the two tables by the window.

The hostess told us that the best seats in the place were at the counter, so we sat there, watching the kitchen staff finish off dishes.

Only after we were seated were we told that the chef was off that night and the only meal they had available was a prezzo fisso that had been arranged in advance by the chef. We accepted and proceeded to work our way through several courses of delicious fare.

The waitress recommended a red wine for me and I ended up having several large glasses. Because wine disagrees with TO (but not vice versa), he had 3 large cocktails of some sort. TO occasionally looked up words in his dictionary…

…and frequently insisted I finish his course because he couldn’t. (Only to keep from insulting him did I acquiesce, of course.)

Thanks to that unique combination of Italian ambience and food, a “little” alcohol, and the best friendship, we had a rip-roaring time. We ate, joked, and laughed for hours, but it sailed by fast. I was sorry to say goodbye to that evening.

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We Are Shaped by Our Thoughts

Japan – Day 2, Part 3

In Day 2, Part 2 (“Basaball, She Be My Life” – remember that phrase?), TO and I had just finished our trip to the mountain lake where we enjoyed lunch and scenery. On the way back down the mountain, we got off the bus half-way to visit a Buddhist monastery.

As we waited for the light to change before crossing the street (in itself now an unusual characteristic for me), I saw a store with a huge dragon made of paper.

We crossed the street, then a small bridge over a stream, and up a walk-way toward the back (rustic) entrance to the monastery.

We passed through this ancient gate…

…and then past some fields of wild flowers.

By now I was tired and didn’t feel like anything strenuous. That’s when I saw the stairs we were heading for. I didn’t really want to climb them but I certainly wasn’t going to complain in front of my older friend who was about to race up.

Some ways up these stairs we came to a small graveyard.

I commented that they seemed very close together, and TO said that in Japan it is required by law that everyone be cremated, something I hadn’t known.

Not having to wonder how far we had to go,…

…we climbed the rest of the stairs, then followed the path along a little ridge until we had the following view:

I stood there looking at the scene while TO explained it to me. This is the typical satoyama. “Sato” means livable area and “yama” means mountain. The word “satoyama” expresses a philosophy of having small agricultural areas next to mountains that demonstrates the harmony that can be achieved between people and their needs to grow things to eat and the surrounding natural area that they do not need to destroy.

A little further on we came to a small children’s park where there were clay (or whatever) sit-on statues of camels, giraffes, and kangaroos, all of which, as we know, flourish in Japan.

After consulting a map so we wouldn’t get lost,…

…we headed up towards, and finally arrived at, the monastery area.

Before entering the monastery itself, we stopped at the entrance fountain to wash our hands, as dictated by tradition.

Up ahead we saw the actual entrance to the monastery itself…

…with the traditional incense burner…

…where we had our picture taken, just in case we were to disappear.

We attended a Buddhist ceremony with many other visitors. I refrained from taking photos but did not refrain from obtain a video surreptitiously. Let me know if you want to see it when I return.

So now we’re heading down via a different route, which began with steep stairs. As I was a bit unsteady, I hung onto the hand rail for dear life.

At the bottom of the stairs we walked along a small path and saw more beautiful flowers.

To our right was a small drainage creek.

What do you NOT see in this picture? The correct answer is litter.

There was, of course, a “do not litter” sign on the fence,…

…but the difference between Japan and China is that in Japan, the people obey these signs and don’t litter. Indeed, I saw very little littler in the streets, fields, or anywhere in Japan. The evidence of litter in China is reduced thanks to the many people employed to pick it up. Not everyone in China litters, however. Many times I have seen individuals actively seek out trash receptacles, but there definitely is a large portion of the population who tosses cigarette and candy wrappers onto the sidewalk.

I think littering and other societal phenomena are self-perpetuating. If one lives in a society where very few people litter (and thus such actions are frowned upon), it becomes more second-nature to discard trash into cans on the sidewalk. If you’re living in a society where a large percentage litter, you are more inclined to adopt the more convenient habit of tossing trash off to the side with little concern about where it ends up. I felt these different tendencies myself in the two environments (China and Japan). Thus living in a clean and neat society tends to create the desire to keep it neat, but living in a messy society requires more mental and physical effort to buck the trend and to carry your trash until you find a suitable receptacle. Such behavior tendencies extend to jaywalking and other things, thus making us products of our environment and not vice versa. It’s only because of my personal experience with bike crashes that I always wear a helmet, despite the fact that only 5 of us in Beijing do.

We passed a couple cherry trees whose blossoms were coming to an end,…

…some Photinia,…

…and some other flowering shrub.

Then I was delightfully surprised to come upon a tree I hadn’t seen since leaving my own yard in Virginia. This is a special split-leaf Japanese maple with very special leaves. It is relatively rare in the U.S., and I’ve seen no other outside my own yard until now. Obviously, it’s more common in Japan.

All in all, it was a splendid day. TO dropped me off at my hotel for a short rest before he picked me up for dinner.

保罗

Basaball, She Be My Life

I don’t think the younger readers of this blog will find this reference, even with Google.

Japan – Day 2, Part 2

TO and I hopped on the bus that goes directly to the nearby mountain lake, a popular tourist site. The buses here have a very sophisticated method of calculating how much you owe. At the front of the bus is an electronic board that reminds me of Jeopardy. This shows the prices of your ticket based on where you got on relative to where you get off. *****BUS SIGN

The 1-hour (?) bus ride gave me an opportunity to scan the surroundings for both people and cultural characteristics. One thing I noticed is that biking is more of a recreational sport here than it is in China. Evidently the ride up the mountain to the lake and back is a popular route for serious cyclists.

One of the things that’s quickly noticed is that apparently all Japanese take their gardens and landscaping very seriously. Those living in relatively modest houses spend a good deal of their non-working time pruning their trees and shrubs,…

…while those with more expensive properties probably hire the stereotypical Japanese gardener to maintain their surroundings.

TO and I arrived at the lake and we had to pass through a narrow opening (“gate”) in the fence. Here, TO, who weighs in at about 32 pounds, is looking back at me on the outside of the gate, making a derogatory comment about the possibility that I won’t fit through.

Fortunately, thanks to my diligent omission of bread, rice, and noodles from my recent diet, I was able to squeeze through.

Though it was about 11 a.m., long past lunch time, we decided to walk around a little, buying a few vegetables,…

…almost buying some meat on a skewer (none of which looked like intestines),…

…and, one of my favorite pastimes, reading restaurant menus.

In case you’re wondering what whole bamboo shoots look like, see the large brown things on the right:

*****BAMBOO SHOOTS

We passed a small outdoor theater where a few people were listening to a woman singing traditional Japanese songs.

There was a little stream with lots of floating cherry blossom petals…

…and small koi (not floating).

These fish are not just for decoration. In the picture below, the white building to the left is where you, as a little kid, can rent a small bucket, pole, and bait.

Your dad may be the one to help you bait the hook, but YOU need to do the fishing…

…and, if you’re brave enough, put the fish in the bucket.

We finally ended up at this restaurant…

…where TO explained the lunch options.

My good friend TO…

…was very diligent and dedicated to this explanation, resorting often to his Japanese-English dictionary. This was necessary as my command of Japanese is on par with that of Chinese.

We had a leisurely lunch…

…of noodles and tempura…

…that I had trouble finishing.

We walked around some more, enjoying the views of the lake…

…and of families playing on the large grassy field.

Watching a father and son toss a ball back and forth always makes me a little nostalgic.

保罗

Just One Word: Plastics

Japan – Day 2, Part 1

My hotel…

…did not offer a free breakfast and the paid one was too big and too expensive, so I took off down the street to find something suitable. I first saw this guy carrying a cello, which set a good tone for the day.

Notice that, as throughout China, these sidewalks also had a strip for blind people. The women in Japan also seemed to pay a bit attention to their style of attire. Note the “no bicycles” sign on the sidewalk, something I haven’t seen in China except at their parks.

Before leaving this main thoroughfare, I took a shot that shows (a) the cleanliness of the streets, and (b) that they drive on the wrong side of the road here, something I either forgot or never knew.

I found this coffee shop on a little side street,…

…inside of which was an advertisement for Mother’s Day stuff.

I didn’t realize the Japanese celebrate Mother’s Day. I also didn’t realize it was necessary to advertise the holiday a full month before its occurrence.

On Japan Day 1, I showed a bunch of bikes outside a “gaming establishment”…

…that seemed to be little more than a bunch of slot machines.

Even on narrow alleys there were areas designated for pedestrians where cyclists had better beware.

On this same alley I saw from a distance an interesting group of signs.

It turned out that every one of the places in the adjacent building was a “night spot” of one kind or another.

I saw a girl walking her bicycle through a turnstile after paying…

…and I was impressed with how clean and neat everything was, in contrast to the bike areas in Beijing.

As I’m sure you know, Asian restaurants are really into visual stuff. I passed this restaurant with a nice display in the window of its food that’s allegedly served inside.

Next door was a restaurant that decided to one-up his neighbor by putting his display in a case on the sidewalk.

TO informed me that producing these models is a big business. They’re made specifically to order and are quite expensive. Unfortunately, I have yet to order a dish in Japan or China that even remotely resembled its model.

A little farther on I passed this karaoke place,…

…which reminded me of an interesting evening I spent in Nara (Japan) a couple decades ago. Several of us were sitting around a hotel after dinner having a beer. Around 10 p.m. someone suggested we go to a karaoke place and I immediately thought, “What, is this guy crazy?” as visions of the pizza-place karaoke dumps in America. Because the guy who suggested it was a moderately high-level official in the Japanese government, I bit my tongue before I could say what I was thinking. Another one of the people was the main environmental guy for Seiko, so I looked at my friend TO for guidance.

Within minutes we piled into a couple taxis and went to a place that looked like a warehouse on the outside with rusted metal steps leading to a second floor metal door with no name. (“What have I gotten myself into?!!”)

Inside was a very posh place with a small double horseshoe bar and a few small tables. There were 4-6 of us and we took over the bar. Someone (not me!) ordered a wonderful (and certainly expensive) bottle of brandy, and the barman brought us 2 microphones. This was my first exposure to the phenomenon that I’ve now seen in both Japan and China: people who are quite reserved and shy in the workplace and just about everywhere else turn into would-be rock stars in karaoke places. All shyness departs and even those who can’t carry a tune “sing” at the top of their lungs.

I perused the large songbook to see if there were any songs in English. There were, and almost all of them were cowboy songs. In those days (and maybe still) the Japanese had a thing about the American West and they loved cowboy songs. I remember calling companies in Japan in those days and, when put on hold, the electronic music was either Red River Valley or Don’t Fence Me In. (Do you remember the opening scene to the movie Rising Sun with Sean Connery and Wesley Snipes?)

Moving on. Next to the karaoke place was a shop that advertised “plastic hair” and to this day I’m not sure what it is they do or sell there. Anyone know?

I passed a Denny’s and thought I might dine there the following morning, though I contained this temptation and went back to the Mother’s Day coffee place.

Some young people were congregated outside a florist. Note the orange socks and red shoes.

As in China, many women use umbrellas on sunny days.

TO picked me up at the hotel so we could catch to bus to the lake. (See Japan – Day 2, Part 2.) We went to the bus stop and saw that we had about a half hour to wait. As there was no line, we decided to go around the corner to a multi-level, indoor shopping mall. He wanted to show me the view of the mountains where we would be heading shortly.

On the way there I noticed that the women here also wore either pants or short dresses. Note that several people have masks on, which surprised me because the air was crystal clear.

The view from the 6th (?) floor was nice, and I was looking forward to our sojourn.

I had to make a pit stop, so I found the public bathroom on this floor where I discovered the swankiest public facilities I’ve ever encountered.

On this same floor I was walking by a table with a display of women’s clothes when something caught my eye.

There was a stack of books that looked like sheet music, and I thought “What a classy display, to have real music next to the clothes!”

All the books in this pile were identical…

…and appeared like much of the music I have of the Peters Edition.

Also, inside was no music but one of the most sophisticated clothes advertisements I’ve seen.

Time to go to the lake. When we returned to the bus stop, we found a long line of people, most of whom were associated with a boys soccer team on its way to a game…

…so the bus was a bit crowded. The kids graciously stood and waited while TO and I found seats.

OK, off to the lake.

保罗