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December 11, 2022

Today from Bangkok

It is hot here, in this country of wellness, of tourism, and of retirement incentives. The sun is veiling behind an endless haze, and at night the temperatures don’t glide lower than 28 C. Summertime in December.

A few Japanese passengers had boarded the plane to visit relatives. They insist on speaking Japanese with their plane neighbor. When to arrive, is it 20:00? But no, no, this can’t be – think “juu roku,” 16 o’clock it is, much earlier, much sooner. The traveler gently strokes her stomach, “baby, baby,” she delights in sharing. Oh yes, “omedetou, omedetou,” something appropriate to respond to and easy to remember. “You speak Japanese?”  “Iee, iee, chotto, chotto…” The temperature climbs with the plane moving, the expecting mother constantly using her fan – “atsui desu, atsui desu” indeed.

They promised to be at the airport to shuttle arriving scholars to the hotel – “Whatsapp when you arrive!” “Whatsapp – we will pick you up.” But where are they, the terminal is large, and nobody to be seen with the expected sign. Meeting point, yes, off to the meeting point. An hour later, the driver arrives with a smile.

After checking in to the hotel and taking the elevator up, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” Taking the elevator down, the radio comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.

A light meal, where to find a light meal? The first hotel restaurant, closed, the second hotel restaurant, closed, time to find something outside. Food stalls, food stalls, and more food stalls – Indian style, caution is warranted. Then this nice little coffee shop – a simple meal, an order, eat, then pay – in exactly this sequence. Don’t they take credit cards? Not a problem, they smile, over there, the money machine, outside, cash a few Bangkok Baht, and back to the restaurant. The meal comes to about $1.50, but there is no change for what is equivalent to a $20.00 bill. Communication gets more difficult, but there is always GOOGLE translate, “Come back tomorrow to pay,” she types with a smile, “I will have change then.” Such entrusting people here in this city. Back up to the elevator, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.

The next day is once again payback time – but there is still no change. Only for small amounts. Not a problem; there are other places to eat, such as the delightful noodle place around the corner. Order, eat, pay – in exactly this sequence. Only the cook does not have enough change. He smiles and disappears for a while, then comes back with change. Off to the coffee corner with confidence. Finally, paying up what is owed.

Time to celebrate with coffee and cake. The cake looks delicious, but instead of coffee, they bring hot water. “Coffee… coffee, please?” Not a problem, she nods with a smile and brings coffee overlaid with ice, ice one should be cautious about in this country. Oh well, here is still the hot water, there is cake, and there is a smile. Back up the elevator, the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” We never get to the sha-la-la-la.

There is a beautiful swimming pool visible from the hotel window. The water shimmers and invites for a jump on this hot day – but there is never anybody at or in the pool. Could it be a trap? Would the water suck you up, swirl you around and push you to the floor? Who knows? Nobody dares to try. Better take the elevator, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio…” we only get this far, Carpenters.

Time for the conference – by invitation only. It is the chairperson’s event, the former politician, representative, delegate from Thailand – his mission is nation building, nation building via wellness. It is not the blue zone; it’s the “golden zone” in Thailand. They discuss wellness, they discuss the microbiome, and they discuss centenarians. A young moderator sits patiently on the podium, her skirt barely covering her knees – oh no, she can’t show her knees, quickly comes a helper rushing a blanket that will cover her knees.

Then come the dignitaries: The current foreign secretary from South Korea, the Minister of Social Development and Human Security, an assistant director from the WHO, the former Minister of the Ministry of Public Health, the Deputy Director-General of the Department of Health, they soon join in to talk about wellness – after all, they all are the chairman’s personal friends. Scholars come from San Diego, Sweden, Italy, Singapore, India, and Iowa. They hear about the possible, the probable, and the preferable.

They emphasize prevention here, not just curing a disease; they emphasize whole-person wellness, not just disorders. Walking barefoot outside in the morning to absorb the earth’s minerals, breathing the fresh morning air, maximum oxygen released from the trees. Moderation, so spoke Buddha, everything in moderation. The Mediterranean diet, metformin, and sleep, eight hours of sleep each night.

The conference ends, but the chairperson, representative, Harvard and Oxford graduate invites for a final luncheon. It’s down the elevator once more, and the music comes on, “When I was young, I’d listen to the radio….” Everybody is singing along by now. But they never make it to the sha-la-la-la.

The chairman is late because the former prime Minister had suddenly been hospitalized, an emergency, and the chairman had to pay a visit first. But now he wants to know more about his guests from far away. He complains that his phone only holds 30,000 addresses – he needed a second cell phone. Contact him via WhatsApp, his number written on the napkin,

This is a town of contrasts, where traffic jams are standard, where the people smile and talk about wellness, here, in this golden zone of self-prescribed healthiness and happiness.

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Today from Taipei and Osaka

臺北市            大阪市

October 27, 2019

November 10, 2019

It is warm, quite warm in the global city of the Republic of China, comfortable this time of the year. A surprise rain shower fell just one day, the blue sky was visible most other days. The comfortable weather provides a relaxed, busy atmosphere, no one appears to be in a hurry. Although a bit cooler back in Japan, the weather continues to be very pleasant. Sunshine, warm temperatures, no more rain in sight.

The red subway line in the global city brings you to the downtown area, and as soon as people leave the underground station, they see the towering 101 skyscraper. “Stacked moneyboxes,” they say, “so that the city will never be out of fortune.” Inside the shopping mall, the Guccis and Pradas make sure there is always money circulated in this building.

Back in the land of the rising sun, they celebrate the new emperor and empress – a new era has begun. The festivities are unpretentious, much like so many traditions in this colorful country. In the old capital, you can meet the 36 immortal poets who are patiently situated in the Eikan-do temple built in the year 855. Nakatukasa is one of the immortals reflecting on the season:

The autumnal wind

Blows but brings me no message –

Yet that listless breeze,

Where I, a beckoning reed, would whisper

In the rustling of my leaves.

There is rich history in the global city as well, with the Spanish coming in the 1600s, then the Dutch until they were booted out by Koxinga who asserted Chinese culture during the Ming dynasty. The Portuguese called the island “Formosa,” the beautiful island. The French, the British, and then the Japanese all landed with interest, and when the Nationalists fled Communist China, the Republic was born.

Beautiful mountains cover two thirds of the island. The goldmines have long been abandoned, up there in the mountains, but Jiufen, which housed all the miners, is well and alive. Even though it was a ghost town for many years, movies would make the “City of Sadness” famous again. Who would have thought that Hayao Mizayaki would help with the renewal of the city? Jiufen is spirted away.

The night markets are busy and energizing. And they offer unusual specialties that guests should not refuse: stomach, chicken feet with taro balls and tapioca for desert. Din Tai Fung is a must in the global city. Back in the kitchen of Japan, they retreat to comfort food, kushikatsu – 15 different foods, all on a stick with greetings to the Iowa fair.

They sing karaoke in both places. With much practice, any host can shine in their selection of Japanese, Chinese, or English tunes. Their real purpose, though, is to see the Western guest struggle through his turn. There is only one song appropriately coming to mind, “Help…” – the response on the screen – “try harder next time.”

Back in academic quarters, they continue work on blood pressure, weight, and cognitive function. They refine their model on cognitive reserve, highlighting the importance of education, occupational responsibility, engaged lifestyle, social engagement and activity. And they find the census data back from the eighth century, a fragment listing a 93-year old resident. And they learn from the Yoro codex that centenarians were entitled to five caregivers and could not be convicted for a crime.

Here and there, observations about older and disabled people abound. A daughter at the next table ordering two meals, one for herself, one for her mother. The daughter putting on an apron for her mother, preparing the meal with much patience, helping mother to enjoy eating in a public restaurant. In the onsen, a naked son wheeling his naked father into the bath. The father’s elated face. In the train, a woman in a wheelchair with a large bag in her left hand.  How will she manage to get out of the train and move on? An official attendant, waiting for her at the station, wheeling her out to her next destination. A blind man in the subway, trying to hold on, helped by other passengers. How will he find his way when leaving the subway station? An official attendant is already waiting at the subway station to lead him out. Here and there, help is waiting in these two Asian towns, where autumn has arrived, where people assist when needed and where home-town people enjoy a trying karaoke vocalist.

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Today from Sydney

September 8, 2018

It is springtime in the city, the sun peeks cautiously behind dark clouds, the daffodils are blooming, as are some of the azaleas Young people in this large city are enjoying their first outing on terraces overlooking the harbor. The eucalyptus trees are spreading their characteristic fragrance, after a long and steady rain.

The opera commands the harbor, people walk up and down the large staircase, they take pictures from all angles. The inside is majestic, high ceilings, wooden panels, the sound is captivating. They play the Academic Festival Overture, perhaps realizing that a new group of academics is in town. Brahms would have enjoyed listening to his piano concerto, the audience here appreciated it more than the critical assembly during his first performance at the Gewandhaus.

The city prides itself for several art museums. Aboriginal art is displayed in the Museum of Modern Art. John Mawurndjul proclaims, “I am the old and the new.” He shows his work of rarrk, cross-hatching paint on bark, a long tradition of the Kuninjku culture. The pictures show water spirits, rainbow serpents and ill-behaved mimih spirits.  Much needs to be understood about these neglected people, their isolation is recognized as a challenge by the people in this town. Khadim Ali’s painting covers the entire entrance of the museum when coming in from the harbor site; it depicts the arrival of “demons,” migrants – on the edge, barely visible, looking, waiting – blue living beings with white beards and green skirts. They are serious creatures, watching for things to come, they are here today, gone tomorrow.

The cuisine in this town is marked by its English heritage. Baked beans served on toast, scones, salads. Of course, fish and chips, but also snapper and barracuda, best served with an English lager. The influence of Asian cuisine is also visible, the city is catching up with the other countries.

The scientists quickly move to the remote Blue Mountains to reflect on their new findings. They hike up and down a mountain, getting a good view of the Three Sisters. Steady they stand, upright, bold and unwavering. How beautiful, here, on the mountain range. The inspiring setting allows for discussions on resilience, the importance of education, occupational complexity, and an engaged life style. Adding social connectedness and activity, scientists appear to have found a recipe for cognitive reserves that help prevent or delay dementias. They also discuss sleep, iron intake, the importance of protein, FOXO3, APOE, and blood. They meet with nonagenarians and centenarians who tell their stories. Of diet (which diet?), exercise, past history, and happy childhoods. The search for immortality has just begun, here in the city down under, where Brahms triumphs, scientists debate, and where the barracuda is the local celebrity.

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Today from Osaka

July 29, 2018

The sun is out, a blue sky and occasional white clouds move slowly way up high. It is hot, very hot in this town known for its “large hills” and “large slopes.” “Do not forget your sweat-towel, you will need it today,” they advise – there is no relief in sight.

The heat follows a period of rain, rain, rain – cats and dogs, surely cats and dogs. A typhoon and a stationary low were fighting for attention, just overhead from here, and their battle resulted in pails and pails of water. ”It’s the rainy season,” they try to shrug it off, but so much rain was unexpected even for those who have been around for a while. Cars under water, mudslides at the foot of mountains, whole neighborhoods deluged. And with their calm nature, they have been cleaning for weeks now. “Everything will be back in order,” they say with a sigh, “everything will be just fine.”

This summer, people in the city have experienced a triple weather event. The heat, the flood, and before that, the earthquake. “I was really scared,” a student shared. “When my shelf fell down, I thought that I was going to die.” Fortunately, people escaped with a scare, but buildings have been damaged with a number of cracks – this orderly, cleaned up city all the sudden had water buckets under indoor ceilings because of cracks, because of invisible cracks. Nature clearly is the master in this part, in every part of the world.

The heat does not stop Ayami from tracking over to the garden, next to the train station. A student saw her bent over lying in the field, and he rushed to see what had happened, as it was too hot for anybody to spend much time outside. Nothing had happened. Ayami simply had bent over so she was closer to the weeds which she was taking out, one at a time. “It is my duty to take care of nature, beauty and order,” she said, with a coy smile. After she is done weeding, Ayami will walk over to the rice field to check the water level. If it is too high, she will have to drain the water.

Students keep playing tennis in the midday heat, with the heat index at 110 degrees. They run after soccer balls or go jogging across campus. In the evenings, older people leave their homes for a leisurely walk, while somebody plays the piano behind an open window, and young people come home on their bicycles. A boy greets strangers with “Ohayo.” ”Konbanwa,” his mother corrects with a smile, “konbanwa.” They all look forward to Monday, because it is Ocean Day; perhaps it will help with the heat.

They know how to celebrate major festivals here, in the city, and main celebrations justify a stop at the KFC. They order chicken, they sit down and they clean their hands with fresh towlets. They take a napkin, they open it up, they carefully place a piece of chicken in the napkin, they fold the napkin over the chicken, and they begin eating. It’s not “finger-licking” here, in the city of food and cleanliness. But Kuidaore Taro smiles on the other side of the street and plays his drums proclaiming to “eat until you drop, just keep your fingers clean.” This is the city for sanitary foodies.

The scholars have begun with their work, here at the university, they investigate subjective health, apo-ε4, education, and cognitive reserve, successful aging and telomeres and depression; an ambitious program. They ask questions and seek answers. They discuss, debate, and rethink. They called off a data collecting meeting with older people, the weather did not cooperate. How to reach nonagenarians on short notice? No e-mail, no cell phone, no internet. Why not the old-fashioned telegram, it is still alive and well here, in this town known for robotic research. The quick notice, however, does not stop some of the participants from showing up anyway, arriving on their bicycles or with their cars, ready to be tested. They had to go back home but devotedly came back the following weekend, in the heat of the day. Thirty nonagenarians on board – all but one in remarkable condition. They know how to take care of themselves, here, in the country of longevity.

While scientists brood over difficult questions, a young couple gets married at Shimogamo Jinja. This World Heritage site is old, very old as it dates back to the 6th century. The Kamo-jinja protects from malign influences.  A good place to marry at this shrine, as you first walk through an old, a very old forest, the Tadasu no Mori. They call it the “forest that will reveal all lies.” After this walk, the couple will be ready for their future. They drink “karin” mixed with honey and fresh mountain water – a drink of health to last throughout their entire marriage.

All around town hats are in fashion. Young people wear hats, old people wear hats, women and men, everybody is wearing hats. Berets are in for young women, they can showcase themselves, boys prefer sports-themed caps. Go and buy a new hat at Umeda or some other hat shop that has emerged here and elsewhere. None of them, though, say “Make Japan Great Again.” They don’t have to.

Children prefer to play with Anpanman, the bread boy made by Uncle Jam. His head is made of bread and his body is filled with, well… anko, red bean paste, of course. A lucky guy he is, as he does not need to eat or drink to keep alive, because the bean paste allows him to sustain himself. But don’t put him in water and don’t get him dirty, because he does not like that. When he gets weak or shares a part of his head with hungry children, Uncle Jam can always bake him a new head to replace the old one. He is cool, Anpanman, just cool.

In Nagayo, the sumo wrestlers have gathered to push each other around. Tochinoshin appears to be the one to beat. He looks determined, prepared, ambitious, and he remains unbeaten during the first several days. His looks are not fear-invoking, more calculating with a touch of bewilderment. Yes, Tochinoshin is the one to beat. Recently, the competition has not been without controversy. Was it proper for a sumo wrestler to hit his foe with a bottle of whiskey over the head? Were there manipulations for top wrestlers to “win” their competition so they can stay in the top league? Is this the spirit of the original gendai budō? Sumo wrestlers were supposed to celebrate the harvest, not the money.

Another tradition takes a much slower pace. Noh theater is expressive, dramatic and animated. Gondo-san has carved Noh masks ever since he decided to retire. “I learned from the best” he says and takes out his carving knife and his chisel and begins working on the next mask with pride. There is Ko-omoto and Waka-onna, the two young women who display their guarded smiles. There is Fukei, the aging woman with a touch of remaining youth. The masks contain their own secret powers, dating back to the Muromachi period. Some are demons, ghosts, and spirits. “I decided to bring these spirits to life,” Gondo-san says with a chuckle, “it gives me pleasure to work on these projects.”

Perhaps these spirits can help with the heat, with the flood, and with the earthquake, here in the city, where everybody knows it is constantly time to wipe off a few pearls of sweat, where people wear hats again, and where children joyfully play with Anpanman.

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Today from Osaka

October 11, 2017

The sun is bright, here in the land of the rising sun, it is comfortably warm in the city of architecture, night life, and hearty food. The leaves are changing color, slowly but ever more so determined to transform the entire landscape. The local population is getting ready for the annual viewing of the fall colors, the koyo or momijigari. The mountains and the parks will be ablaze with red, yellow, and orange. Nature’s beauty is appreciated, here in the East, everybody feels connected to the land.

In the neighboring thousand-year capital they already celebrate the autumn season. The Jidai matsuri, the festival of the ages, is approaching and people dress in costumes from almost every period of history. There is dance, there are songs, there is food at every corner. The golden season is beginning here, and nowhere is it more apparent than at Kinkaku-ji. The Golden Pavilion dating back to 1397 stands like a glorious jewel at the edge of a lake. Only a poet could have found this place for his residence. The grounds around the building remind us of paradise with a balanced harmony between heaven and earth. “One day, you will go to the pure land,” they say, “one day, for sure.”

Harmony is the key of life here, everybody and everything must strive for harmony. They say, “forget happiness, happiness is only a fleeting goal; harmony brings balance and steadiness.” This tradition is not only grounded in the great teachings of Confucius, it is based in the people’s connectedness to their land, it is grounded in the community where everybody needs to work together to survive. “The peg that stands out, is going to be pounded down,” they say and prefer to keep quiet.  “Looking out for yourself is selfish,” they say, “it disregards the world around you.”

A few people of younger generations, however, are trying to stand out. The woman with blond hair stands out. Watch out, your peg will be pounded down. The young man drinking Starbuck’s coffee while walking – watch out, your peg will be pounded down. The young couple holding hands in public – watch out, your peg will be pounded down. The three teenagers eating hamburgers at the riverside – watch out, your peg, it will be pounded down.

It is the land of longevity, here, and perhaps harmony contributes to long life. “We do not eat out of pleasure or happiness,” they say, “we eat so that our body stays in balance.” The principle of harmony with oneself and with the people around may well be one of the keys to survivorship. “Don’t chase happiness,” they say, “recognize it.”

And their national health insurance keeps them healthier and longer alive. Physicians see it as their duty to keep people healthful and flourishing. And the people themselves are committed to their health. They watch health programs, they go to health clubs and they enjoy a regular visit to the local hot spring. “It will take your burden away,” they say, “you will center yourself on the important things in life.”

There are other signs of longevity in this region. They are walking, walking, and walking. Up the stairs, down the stairs, over to the train and back. They are disciplined, conscientious, and agreeable, they are resilient. Everything is done in moderation. And they remember when times were difficult, the war, they remember Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and now adversary missiles are once again crossing their country. They want peace, only peace in the world and longevity for all.

They do not believe that objects are of any importance, and you will not find many items in people’s houses, they are „just things,“ without real value. “No object can replace relationships,” they say, “objects are only distracting.” They welcome international scholars here, because they build relationships. They listen carefully to everything, they smile, they nod, they appreciate. And they ask questions over dinner: “What is successful aging?” “Is it ethical to end somebody’s life?” “Why are so many people in the United States in nursing homes?” They ask while they eat with you, beef tongue, and intestines, and stomach, and liver, and they are so glad to introduce outsiders to their own special culture. “Kanpai,” they shout, “kanpai,” we love being together.

The people are proud of their parks, the new Osaka Wheel, where they gather for weekend events. They bring tents, they play, they take time off from their daily routine. The tower of the sun stands as their steady guard, with its Golden Mask, its Face of the Sun and the Black Sun. Here, just north of Osaka, people find the Japanese view of nature.

It is a special region, a special culture where everybody looks out for each other. The voices are soft, the resolve, however, is firm. “Come back soon,” they say, here in this big-hearted city where harmony rules over happiness, where people practice moderation, and where longevity is an eternal life style.