Musashino Musings

It’s Christmas time and here in Japan, like everywhere else in the known universe, that means streets festooned with decorations and Last Christmas blasting out from every shop PA system. However there is one major,major difference between Christmas here in Japan and the rest of the world: While the rest of the world will be enjoying a fun-filled, relaxing Christmas Day on December the 25th, in Japan all the decorations will be gone; the Christmas CDs shoved in the drawer under the counter until next year and all trace of Christmas spirit erased. The commuter trains will once again be packed to capacity during the morning rush hour and all over the country it will be very much “business as usual”.

The word superficial doesn’t even begin to describe the shallowness of Christmas here. This is not the first time I’ve been in Japan for Christmas, but there is something very different about this year in that I am actually living here rather than merely choosing to visit during the festive season as has been the case in the past. Previously, I guess like most Westerners, I was simultaneously amused and bemused by the Japanese approach to Christmas. As in everything else they do, the Japanese throw themselves at it with a vigour and enthusiasm that few other people could match. Every street, every shop and every window is lit up with galaxies of fairy lights. Yet they have absolutely no concept of why or what it’s all for. The meaning is utterly lost on them; like a middle-ager dropping some highly inappropriate Yoof buzzword they’ve picked up into a conversation, without realising its true obscene meaning – Christmas in Japan is amusing but at the same time, a bit disturbing.

The thing that is the most disturbing is that they really don’t care about the meaning – it’s just an excuse to put up lights, buy presents, eat cake and Kentucky Fried Chicken on Christmas Eve. Once that’s done, that’s it. There is no significance whatsoever in any of it – it is as false and plastic and contrived as the Santa-suit clad Colonel Saunders figure that stands outside KFC.

I don’t consider myself to be a religious person as such, and if I was, I doubt that I would be particularly inclined to adopt mainstream Christian belief. Nevertheless, like most people around the world, I do believe that Christmas, Yuletide – whatever you want to call it – is a special time. A time when, just for a day or so, there can actually be Peace on Earth and where everyone, no matter what their beliefs and circumstances, should be able to feel the warmth of human affection, as expressed through family or friends. This appears to be an utterly alien concept to the Japanese - my wife included, who scoffs at the very notion.

According to her, Christmas means nothing – it’s just a shopping festival. My assertion that the festival carries with it a deeper and more profound personal significance for most people was roundly and aggressively slapped-down.

I was quite offended by the arrogance of this. How can someone who clearly has no concept of Christmas dismiss it as being trivial and worthless?

Emotionally difficult for sure, but also a very difficult thing for me to grasp intellectually. How can an otherwise rational and intelligent person fail to acknowledge that the idea of Christmas is – if not one of religious significance – then at least a noble one.

Of course I am very aware that Japan has no tradition of Christmas, and so I held no preconceptions that Christmas here would in any way resemble that in the UK. But in true British style, my natural inclination was to acquire the various iconic Crimbo elements as best I could i.e. Turkey, Crackers etc, and do the best to create a semblance of Christmas Day. Now, after experiencing my wife’s cold dismissal of its significance as a family festival, I have – quite unexpectedly – become a little depressed about it all.

But, after trawling through various blogs, I find that I am not alone. It seems that many gaijin before me have stubbed their toes on this particular cultural rock that lies just below the waterline. The words “depressing”, “shallow”, “bleak” are commonly used to describe the feelings that a Christmas driven exclusively by commercial cynicism evokes in the hearts of many Westerners. Some use stronger language; some even go so far as to return home at this time of year to avoid it.

Perhaps the answer is that there are some things that just can’t be explained or translated without a cultural reference point to relate it to. Christmas is perhaps one.

I saw this post, written by an American lady called Helen Philpot concerning George Bush’s “shoe-dodging” incident. I can’t help thinking the views she expresses are echoed by a lot of American people, and certainly one held by this Englishman.

Well, I would have written sooner but I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to type more than a sentence or two.  Oh my goodness but did any of you see the incident with the Iraqi journalist, Muntathar al Zaidi, throwing his shoes at Georgie Boy?  I gotta believe there are millions of us who have wanted to do that very same thing.  It’s too bad Zaidi didn’t hit his intended target because he just might have knocked some sense into that thick Bush skull.  Not to mention the lucrative Nike contract that surely would have followed.

Eventually I did stop laughing, however, because after the initial reaction wore off, I started paying attention to the gravity of the situation.  In truth, it is not funny at all.  Offering someone the “sole of your shoe” is considered a grave insult in the Arab world.

But even more sobering is what  Zaidi said as he threw the shoes: “This is a farewell kiss, you dog. This is from the widows, the orphans and those who were killed in Iraq.” And after he was knocked to the ground he continued saying, “Killer of Iraqis, killer of children.”

OK. I am not thinking it is all that funny anymore. How about you?

But the way Bush reacted is probably the best example of why our 43rd President should be run out of town on a rail. After the shoe incident, Bush tried to laugh it all off by saying, “It didn’t bother me, and if you want the facts it was a size 10 shoe he threw at me.”

Well it should bother him, at least a little bit.  He is indeed responsible for thousands of widows and orphans. His orders to war did indeed result in the deaths of children.  Now look.  I understand that war is hell and unintended casualties are going to happen no matter how hard we try to avoid them. But this isn’t the first time Bush has displayed an apparent “carefree” attitude towards his presidency.

Three months after the World Trade Center went down, Bush was quoted as saying, “It’s been a fabulous year for Laura and me.” And in a more recent interview last month, he summed up his entire presidency as “a fabulous experience”.

Fabulous? Really? Not so much for the rest of us.

Maybe it’s just me, but when you are President during war time, you probably shouldn’t act like you are enjoying it quite so much.   Maybe more time pondering the consequences of your actions and less time feeling fabulous…

Folks, let me apologize in advance because I feel a big rant coming on. I can’t contain myself any longer. This moron of a soon to be past-President is a disgrace and a stain on the reputation of the United States of America. No that’s not good enough yet. I’m feeling like one of those Dixie Chicks and I think I need to say some more. George Bush is an asshole and a real son of a bitch. And yes, I did meet Barbara Bush once and I am not taking that statement back.

I am making a request of future generations:  The next time a village loses its idiot, please don’t elect him or her President.  Thank you.

There, I feel a better… but only slightly.

My apologies to all you good people out there who stopped by to read what I have to say. You probably deserved better than that last little rant. But I am glad you stopped by and I do hope you will again. I mean it. Really.

If the shoe fits « Margaret and Helen

(Old Cynic's Perspective)

1. Teaching Maths In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price.
What is his profit?
2. Teaching Maths In 1980
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or £80.
What is his profit?
3. Teaching Maths In 1990
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80.
Did he make a profit?
4. Teaching Maths In 2000
A logger sells a truckload of timber for £100.
His cost of production is £80 and his profit is £20.
Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

5. Teaching Maths In 2008
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands.
He does this so he can make a profit of £20.
What do you think of this way of making a living?
Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes?
(There are no wrong answers. )
6. Teaching Maths In 2018
أ المسجل تبيع حموله شاحنة من الخشب من اجل 100 دولار. صاحب تكلفة
الانتاج من الثمن. ما هو الربح له؟

 the gaijin dilemma

It's the stuff of nightmares for the gaijin in Japan. The thought of it is enough to send them running to the toilet. The reality of it is enough to cause profuse sweating and the breakout of an itchy rash in the nether regions.
The dilemma is whether to acknowledge fellow gaijin walking along the street. Don't let any gaijin tell you it's not a dilemma. In fact, the ones who pretend not to notice their fellow gaijin are the ones with the loudest voice in their head and the biggest knot in their stomach. It's written all over their face.
Their internal dialogue usually goes something like this:
"Oh, what a nice day, I think I'll go and.....oh shit is that a gaijin up ahead? Or just a Japanese person with blonde hair? Shit, it IS a gaijin. What shall I do? Acknowledge? Smile? Completely ignore him? If I smile and he doesn't, I'll feel like an idiot, and maybe it looks like I've just arrived in Japan yesterday and I'll look all naive and lost, but actually I've been here nine years and I know everything.
But hey, I'm friendly, why shouldn't I say hello? Maybe he's nice. He probably won't even look at me; pretend I'm not even here, pretend he hasn't seen me.
Shit, he's getting closer. Hey, he's looking the other way in a most unnatural fashion - so he's definitely seen me! He's looking all over the place, everywhere except AT ME. So he's going through the same hell as me right now. Moving into the critical zone now...I'll go for it....Hello."
Other gaijin: "Hello."

A gaijin with a red T-shirt and a red face.

an Englishman in Osaka

We visited my beloved J-Mart DIY store this afternoon. On coming out, I was surprised to see Fuji san silouetted against the evening sky. It's not often that you get to see the mountain due to the cluttered skyline and photochemical haze that hangs over the city during the day. My shaky picture taken on a cellphone doesn't really do it justice. But it was a powerful and unexpected encounter with this most Japanese of icons, made all the more striking by its appearance in the most mundane of settings.

Fuji is an impressive sight. At 12,388 ft (3776m) it is the highest of Japan's many mountains. Even though it is around 60 miles away, it has a brooding presence that makes it seem far closer. I was surprised - and a little shocked - to learn that Fuji san is officially an active volcano, albeit with a low probablility of eruption. As someone who grew up in the comparatively benign environment of the British Isles I must admit to being quite terrified of volcanoes. I sometimes question the wisdom of moving to a country that boasts over 10% of the world's active ones! We Brits are not accustomed to thinking of Mother Nature as anything other than nurturing and obliging in her bountiful gifts. Here it's a different story. Of course it's a beautiful country, but there is an unspoken understanding that it is also a fragile one; for all its rich culture and its technological advances, Japan is completely at the mercy of Mother Nature. Fuji san awakening from its slumbers, for example, would be enough to turn Tokyo into an ash-choked wasteland.

As I gazed at Fuji san, it was a sobering thought that this dark silouette on the horizon had the power to change the lives of literally millions of people at a stroke - not the sort of apocolyptic vision likely to be encountered in the car park at B&Q Canterbury.

We’ve just watched the live announcement that Barack Obama has secured his place in history as the first African-American president of the USA. I feel the American people have done themselves proud, and in so doing have taken a big step towards healing the rifts and bridging the divides that cause so many problems in our world. I have felt from the outset of this campaign that what the world needs is a visionary, a healer and a reconciler of differences. I hope and pray that America has delivered that to all of us tonight.

Of John McCain, much as I have disagreed with his rhetoric, his speech conceding defeat to Obama was that of a true gentleman; a dignified and sincere plea to the American people to get behind the new president. Alas, the same could not be said for some of his more redneck supporters who booed at the mention of Obama’s name. But to my mind, this has what this campaign has been all about: The replacement of Bush’s simplistic, gun-toting, redneck world view with a more considered, intelligent and engaging attitude to the world and its different peoples and cultures. I would say that, judging by tonight’s emphatic vote, the American people agree with that sentiment. Well done America – you exemplify the true spirit of democracy.

Now all we need to do is great rid of those arseholes in Number 10, and maybe we can all move forward to a better world.

I have now started training at my friend K-san’s dojo in central Tokyo. And what a marvellous experience it is. In the space of just one week I’ve managed to pack in no less than 9 hours solid training – that’s an incredible improvement over what I’m able to do in the UK. I don’t mind admitting a little nervousness at joining the dojo – I’d read some reports that the regime was a little harsh for Western tastes, but I was pleasantly surprised at how relaxed it actually was. I’m not sure what kind of training the guy who’s review I’d read was used to, but despite the fact that I’d not trained seriously for some months, I didn’t think it was too dissimilar to the sessions we are used to in the UK. Although after the first one, my legs were pretty painful and I’m still waiting for the skin to grow back on my feet. Still – it’s my own fault for being lazy, so no sympathy!

The standard of Iaido here is quire simply in a different class to the UK. I have a good friend who lived and studied here for a long time, and he always bemoans the standards in the UK. Now I can see very clearly what he means. I have been extremely fortunate to have had some personal instruction from my new 7th dan teacher, and the effect has been nothing short of dramatic. My cuts have suddenly taken on an expansive, powerful quality that is quite extraordinary. I feel quite sure my skill will increase in leaps and bounds with continued practice.

The class itself is held in an old school gym – very similar to the gym at Simon Langton's in Canterbury where I trained with K san and P last Summer. The only difference is the smell of the yakitori wafting in from a nearby restaurant – makes it pretty hard to concentrate when the old stomach starts rumbling!