Success!!!

Sort of.

You see, these were perfectly edible green onions - organically grown right here on our porch. Green onions that we planted in an effort to train our green thumbs. It's our grand scheme of practicing organic gardening for our 'real' dream garden when we move back to the States.

Like I said. They were edible, and that's all that matters. Except that I think they were supposed to look like this.

A lot bigger to say the least. But, the truly unsettling thing is that in the planter where the green onions were grown, there are now phantom sprouts popping up - including what I think are carrots planted in a moment of desperation a few months ago. Apparently, my harvesting also needs practice. Or you might say, I have the ol' magic green thumb.

Definitely, Lost In Translation

The global economy has been brutal, and I think I've touched on it a few times, but only to try to bring some light and brighten up an otherwise miserable time, especially because it certainly adds to the experience of living and working abroad. This week saw yet another shaking reality of the economy, and unfortunately, it hit a little closer to home. Our company has begun, like a lot of the other Japanese corporations in this recession, to lay off the temporary employees. Today was the last day for many of them. In our group, there was one person. I didn't know her that well, and her English was limited, but she was quick to offer help if she saw that I needed it. She was very friendly to everyone, and I'm sure her smile and upbeat personality will be missed.

Saying good-bye to a fellow employee on their last day because they have been laid off was a first for me. Certainly not an easy thing to do when you share the same language let alone trying to do it in terribly butchered Japanese.

Today, as I was packing up, I was reminded to say goodbye. Before I could think twice I was quickly, almost ceremoniously ushered over to her by the person reminding me. The following is what I believed transpired - an uncomfortable good-bye that was definitely lost in translation.

Okay, don't panic. What is it people say in these situations. 'Nice knowing you??'...no too rude. Be sensitive. Ugghhh slow down, you're walking too fast. Give yourself some time to think. Ummm...Okay. How 'bout, 'Thank you for your help. Good luck with your future endeavors, and I'm sure something is bound to come up.' Yeah, yeah that's good. Not too gloomy. Offers some encouragement. Now, what of that can you say in Japanese???? Shoot. Slow down dammit. Oh no, now she sees you're coming. Okay, quick. Think. Shoot...quick...ahhhh.

"Konichiwa," I say.
"Oh Mike-san. Hallo."
"Ummmm...Sappoto o arigato gozaimasu. (Thank you for your support). Ohh...and omedeto gozaimasu! (Congratulations!)"
"Eh," she says, "Omedeto gozaimasu?? Naze. (Why congratulations?)"

Oh great. You just said congratulations. What happened to the good luck schpiel? Shoot you idiot. Quick think of something else. But what? How do you say, endeavors??? Crap...okay try this...

"Shiawase desu. (Good luck and happiness)."

Good luck? Good luck?...okay see how that plays. Should probably say something else, but considering the circumstances...

"Huh, naze? (Why again)?" She says as she crosses her fingers as if to say, why do I need luck?

Ummmm...good question. Of course she doesn't need luck. That's not what you meant. She'll be fine, but how to say it? Quick! Come up with something. Wrap it up you idiot.

"No....ahhhh...that's not...ummm...what I meant was...Gomen (Sorry)," I manage to blurt.

Yeah, sorry works better. Okay don't make her feel worse. Tell her how nice she was to have in the office and you're sure she'll land on her feet. Wait, in English or Japanese?? Oh jeez...just say something and leave it be...

"Jyaa...Arigato (Thank you)," I manage to blurt and follow up with, "Yoshhhhhhh."

So apparently my Japanese needs some work. And things like the 'Good luck' sentiment, just don't translate directly. This economy can be brutal for a lot of good people, but I hope we can all keep smiling and hold our heads high like my fellow co-worker did in an otherwise uncomfortable situation.

Hiroshima

"A dragonfly flitted in front of me. I stood up took my cap in my hands and was about to catch the dragonfly when..." From Yoshito Matsushige, the sole surviving photographer who could only bring himself to take five photographs immediately after the bombing in Hiroshima.

When my wife recently asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday weekend, I replied that I wanted to go to Hiroshima. I've always been a fan of history, especially during America's coming out party of the 20th century. In fact, I think my minor in 2oth century US history allows me to call myself a 'scratch historian' (Hey all those credits had to earn me something right?). So, naturally, Hiroshima intrigued me. Upon arriving at the Peace Park in Hiroshima, however, my wife's initial response suddenly kept ringing in my head, "Are you sure you want to go there for your birthday?" Of course, it sounded like a good idea at the time, but then as I stood looking at the entrance to the Peace Park and the A-Bomb Dome I knew we were in for a long day.

The Atomic Bomb Dome, formerly the Hiroshima Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall, was one of the only buildings that survived the Atomic Bomb blast within a 2 km radius of the epicenter (survive being the interesting word here). It was actually 160m from the epicenter. Initially, many called for it to be destroyed as it was too painful to look at, but it was finally decided that preserving it as a monument would be a good reminder for future generations of the catastrophic damages war inflicts. Here is a 2km snapshot of Hiroshima before and after to give perspective. The arrow points to the A-Bomb Dome.



The portion in the middle has now been converted into a park, designated The Peace Park, where several monuments are located. It is quite an overwhelming feeling walking around this city and these memorials. Initially, it is quite a feeling of awe and despair. It's hard to fathom that where you walk and what you look out on was all destroyed some 60 years ago. But the monuments and the memorials have another goal that soon takes over. Hiroshima was destroyed, but they rebuilt. And they rebuilt with stories of survival and a conviction to eliminate nuclear arms. Striving for nuclear disarmament and a greater call for peace is a rather lofty goal, indeed, but don't we need that reminder? In fact, after walking amongst the monuments, and witnessing the destruction and rebuilding presented in the museum, how can you not feel anything but hope for their success?

I want to point out that it seems Hiroshima and the Japanese harbor no ill will. It is looked at as an atrocity of human nature, of which they arguably share some of the blame. America has its own painful reminder of the war - Pearl Harbor - and the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum does an exceptional job of bringing that entire story to light. The point is, that this was a brutal war, with a brutal outcome for both sides. It is up to future generations to learn how to prevent them.

We met two gentlemen in the museum literally pointing at their houses in the "before" model. Yes, they were survivors. And they told us their story through a mix of horrible Japanese and English. Their stories were tales of luck, and they weren't angry about what they lost. They only wanted to tell their tale in hopes that there's something to learn from it.

I'm not about to brush off world politics with a broad 'call for peace' stroke, but I think we can look at the positive light of a city rebuilt from ashes into one of hope, with a mission to prevent any future catastrophe of the same kind. I mean what does it say that I am here in Japan now working alongside the same people that my grandfather fought against over 60 years ago? Isn't that a start, or a lesson in and of itself?

Room to Stretch

Japan is well known for its mass transit, specifically the high-speed rail system. You might know it more commonly as the bullet train. The bullet train, or Shinkansen as it is called here, is by far one of my favorite experiences in Japan. The combination of the high-speed rail, local rail, and subways makes getting around this country incredibly convenient, and drool-worthy for those of us who are fans of mass transit.

Recently, my wife and I traveled to Hiroshima for a weekend trip. That alone speaks volumes of its convenience - weekend getaways are much more feasible due to reduced travel time. But the point I want to make here is the seating space. Look at this room!
Seating room affects me a bit more being 6 foot 4 inches. It goes without saying that planes are no cakewalk, especially because I always end up behind the passenger who is bound and determined to get the seat back to recline even farther than seemingly possible. Anyways, towards the end of our 2.5 hour train ride to Hiroshima, it occurred to me that the Shinkansen had given me yet another reason to broadcast its convenience. In these train cars, you can stretch for days, and recline almost 45 degrees without even coming close to the passenger behind you!

That's Funny. How'd That Get There?

The slob gene is in my blood. And yes, that is scientific jargon. In this case, it's the slob type-c gene. Not to be confused with type-a, which typically categorizes your slob in the lazy, unclean, and unhealthy sense. No, type-c is reserved for more of the 'What the?...How'd that spot get there,' type.

For years I watched my dad suffer ad-nauseum at the dinner table, or while my mother would find stains on his clothes in the laundry. At first, I would kind of smirk, but then I began to restrain myself from commenting. The kind of restraint that keeps sons from poking fun of their father's male pattern baldness. You know. Sure, they say male pattern baldness comes from your grandpa on your mother's side, but you're never really quite sure, so you just don't ridicule in order not to set off the balding gods. Similarly, I bit my tongue during any number of my father's slob gaffes.

Through college and the early part of my marriage, I like to think I was relatively clean (although my wife, I'm sure would not back me up). Then came life in Japan. Like a runaway train, my clothes over the past month or two have been wrought with mass chaos. Day after day, I would come home, start changing, and suddenly...'what the?...huh...that's weird. Did I walk around with that on my shirt all day?'

I spent the first few episodes depressed. Hopelessly, I tried to find a reason to avoid coming to terms with the stark reality that I did indeed inherit slob type-c. "Maybe I just need to be more careful with the chopsticks at lunch...It's those damn trays in the cafeteria. You know they are warped. Who wouldn't spill something every now and then dealing with those trays?... The line at lunch is pretty crowded..."

My wife, for her part, has remained relatively silent. As if she's known for a long time now, she has spared my feelings and allowed me to come to terms with this on my own. You see, due to our circumstances here in Japan, she has had to take on more of the domestic chores. And my increasing volume of stained laundry certainly hasn't helped. But, to her credit, she never really says anything. And when she finally reminded me that maybe I did have a problem and should try to be more careful, it came in the most subtle way - a Tide stain pen. I found it on my bag before going to work last week. And to ease the blow, the entire bag of Valentine candy hearts from my in-laws. Hey, at least those candy hearts won't stain!

Fear Does Not Exist in This Doujyo. Does It?

Fear certainly exists when you’re trying to learn the Japanese language. For one thing, the sentence structure is opposite that of English (Subject→Object→Verb as opposed to Subject→Verb→Object). For another thing, there are three sets of characters or alphabets. Two of which are what you might think of in the traditional sense of alphabets – called Hiragana and Katakana. The third set of characters, Kanji, has somewhere north of 10,000 characters. They are basically pictograph representations of a given object or action and can be quite complex. Not many Japanese people know all of the Kanji characters, and most will tell you they can readily identify only about half. So you can imagine that learning the language can be frustrating at times!

Fortunately, I’ve learned to lean on old tricks for remembering characters or new words – memorization by association. My favorite of recent note was learning the word for factory, pronounced koujyo. In Kanji, koujyo looks like this 工場.

Hmmm, how can I remember this one? Hmmm…koujyo, koujyo, koujyo…of course, "Karate Kid". Don't you remember the scene where Daniel goes to the Karate gym, or doujyo? Ring any bells?


So, we have doujyo and koujyo. Doujyo looks like this in Kanji, 道場, and basically means training center. Notice how it shares the same second character. It turns out that jyo (場) means place. So, koujyo is the place where things are made, or a factory, and doujyo is the place where people are trained, or a gym. Thanks to Daniel and his legendary crane kick, I have a convenient way to remember the words for factory, training gym, and place.

The Recession's Over...

Well maybe not over in the sense of traditional economic measures (unemployment, GDP, etc). But certainly finding a new international store carrying Hitachino Nest beer is a sign of good things to come right? It's like the Obama says, "Crisis is a great time for opportunity." In this case, after being dealt a serious blow with the tragic loss of Hitachino Nest beer a few weeks ago due to our favorite international store closing, I was devastated. However, that loss led us to find a new international store this weekend that is actually closer to home, and which offers a bigger selection of beverages.

Oh yeah, and the new location has a fine selection of giant over-sized jugs-o-whiskey. I figure it can double as a great buffer for the recession as well as an economic alternative until I can afford to be a Hitachino beer snob again.

Tourist in Your Own Town

Don't let this economy get the best of you. Every night it seems the news is bad, at work it seems water cooler convos are blue, and during the day skies seem a little more gray than they should be. We're all tightening our belts, which is probably a good thing, but don't tighten so much that you squeeze out human nature's natural thirst to expand its outer limits and tickle its senses.

I'm not here to preach, but I am here to offer what's on the wall of my in-laws bathroom. Hanging amidst a sea of beautiful pastel leaf wallpaper sits a lonely frame with a few simple reminders for the day, "A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul." (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

With that in mind, I'd like to offer this suggestion, be a tourist in your own town! My wife and I had big plans about how we would spend our time and money here in Japan with a new exotic world to tour. The economy has forced us to scale back a bit, but it hasn't stopped us from seeing as much as we can with what we have.

I'm constantly amazed at my co-workers reactions here in Japan when I explain places we went to over the weekend - a museum, castle, shopping district, restaurant, park, historical site, etc. I'm amazed because usually these co-workers say they have never been, or last went when they were in grade school. I shouldn't be amazed because I think we all fall into the same category with our own hometowns.

But, we shouldn't. There are treasures in every hometown. I think about my hometown in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I bet I could make an entire weekend getaway out of our nearby metropolis, Detroit. Go ahead and laugh, but then reconsider. With the DIA, Fox Theatre, Henry Ford Museum, restaurants from every corner of the world, Detroit has plenty to offer. But the point isn't to promote Detroit, the point is to remind you that there's plenty in your backyard. In this economy maybe you can't afford to fly somewhere exotic, but it shouldn't mean you scale back completely. Be a tourist in your own town.

Oh, I'm Sorry. Could You Say That in My Good Ear?

Got an old home appliance, PC, TV, or DVD player you want to get rid of? No need to even leave the house. Just wait for the Recycle truck (リサイクル業者) to stroll through your neighborhood. Take it off your hands for a fair price, too. Oh, and don't worry. You can't miss it...



I was shocked, and admittedly a little concerned the first time a truck like this strolled by our apartment (slow moving vehicle with a loud speaker is generally a recipe for disaster, no?). It was especially discomforting when we first moved here and were getting acquainted with the culture.

The Japanese people are generally really cognizant of their neighbors, especially living in such close proximity of each other. For instance, BBQ grills aren't generally allowed on your porch because the smoke can disturb your neighbors, and loud music is frowned upon after certain hours. So, despite the dense living, our neighborhood remains quite peaceful. Peaceful that is, until the piercing decibels from the Recycle Truck's loudspeaker announcing its arrival. Usually, about a two-minute advertisement played on a loop really, really loudly Quite annoying actually, especially at the excruciatingly slow pace the truck is traveling.

I have since gotten the full story from some co-workers. These trucks are used for more than just recycling - selling sweet potatoes, politics, or other various merchandise - and they aren't very popular because of the noise pollution. Apparently, this particular trade - "recycle truck" - is further frowned upon because some consider it illegal. The recycle trader takes your old appliances as "trash" and sells them in other less advanced Southeast Asian markets, so as to make a profit. The sketchy part comes with avoiding the recycle tax that is usually paid to the government. Hey, one country's trash is another country's treasure, right? In this case, at the cost of my eardrums!