abroad

Prairie Post (Today from Fujisawa)

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Prairie Post
January 18, 2014

(Today from Fujisawa)

It is cold, this morning, and there are snowflakes in the air.  Most everybody is bundled up in warm coats, except for a few female students who move about in their short school uniform dresses. A gentle wind makes the temperature feel a bit colder – but as they rush into subways, they know they will warm up soon enough.

The crisp air promises a rare look at Mountain Fuji. The much revered peak captures everyone’s imagination here, but on a typical day too many clouds or too much haze prevent a good look at this snow covered, giant cone, a perfectly symmetrical crate that is most often hiding from the public view. Today is no difference. Simply too far away, simply too shy to show, a brief glimpse only allows a remote guess of the base part of this majestic mountain.  But then, the next day, the white mountain stands glowing against the dark blue sky, first among other mountain ridges that frame the horizon. The view of Fuji is breath-taking and awe-inspiring, yet the simple shape of this peak is what makes it so popular among those who are fortunate to enjoy the sight today.

A weekend is approaching, and so they visit temples and parks. And Buddha is everywhere here – imposing over towns, resting in temples, echoing peace, calm, and quiet, here in Kamakura, the city of 19 shrines and 65 Buddhist temples. There are serene gardens surrounding these temples, there are lakes and beautifully grafted trees, some hundreds of years old. Nature appears to be in perfect harmony here. Could this be where longevity is born, in the five hills around Kamakura? Could this be where longevity is born, in the five hills of Zen Buddhism, a philosophy that has reigned here for hundreds and thousands of years?  Is this the key to a calmer, healthier life?

For visitors from abroad, Buddhist temples may be fascinating but food choices remain perplexing daily challenges.  ジャパニーズソバヌードル ツ does not exactly inspire confidence in ordering a meal; シーフード does not help in making quick decisions. But nobody remains hungry at the end of the day, even if the food eaten sometimes remains a mystery. But the local Osaka dishes are tasty indeed: takoyaki – who would have thought that octopus enclosed in ordinary batter or okonomiyaki, a pancake covered with okonomi sauce and mayonnaise, are welcomed changes from regular udon and rice dishes.  Every meal is a new adventure.

Food selections are important party elements as well. When invited to a “Western-style” party at the home of a host, it is important to take along some food; only the right choice could be difficult to make. What does one bring to a “Western-style” potluck?  Potato salad?  Difficult to find.  Brownies? A degraded desert. Kentucky-fried chicken? Not an option.  Better to go to the best department store in town, where finding the most exquisite food displays is not difficult, because this must be the land of milk and honey, a Schlaraffenland of sorts where one food group looks better than the next: appealing salads, delightful fish, mouthwatering meats, attractive breads, and keki oishi desu.  Yes, keki oishi desu, keki is always a good choice, so bring with you the keki and make sure it is well wrapped. And be prepared for the “Western-style” party because they will ask you to pass the taste test: first dried octopus, then fried shrimp shells, and finally small withered sardines eaten with head and bones. These are the snack foods of Osaka, the potato chips of this country.

The students also prepare a welcome party for their honored visitors, with soul-food and Japanese-style caviar, with sushi, tempura chicken, and mini-sandwiches. The professors give speeches, toasts, and welcome words. It is a special time, here, for visiting guests, in this country where people think it gets cold, where everybody is friendly, and where eating is a way of life.

Prairie Post (today from Osaka)

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Prairie Post

January 11, 2014

(today from Osaka)

It is a cool morning but the sun warms the air during the noon hour.  They say it is unusually cold here, in this “city of merchants.”  People are wearing winter coats and boots, even though the temperature regularly exceeds the 50 degree mark.  The air feels crisp, and in the offices they bring out the electric heaters to keep their feet warm.

A new couple has come to town; they say, in search of the fountain of youth. The two seem to be quite excited about their new adventure.  There are so many old and very old people here in this country, so many healthy older adults.  Perhaps there is something to be learned about the culture, about health, about longevity.

They have just come from Tokyo, the domineering city of this energetic country. People – young and old, all in pitch-black hair, never gray, seem to move and live underground, in hallways connecting the subway system.  This is where people eat, where people talk, where people shop.  Only in Asakusa, the old part of town, is there a flavor of the traditional city with small shops around the temple, with people “cleansing themselves” of health problems with incense smoke and tying bad fortunes to clothes-lines.

Here in Osaka, there is much technology to face.  Wakarimasen!  The stove can only be started with a series of buttons.  Wakarimasen!  The microwave calls for temperature settings than levels of heat. Wakarimasen!  The heating unit has direct blow, overhead blow and circulation options.  Wakarimasen!  Instead of answering with the appropriate call button, they push the emergency button. Wakarimasen!  The washing machine washes and dries… but which of the 20 buttons washes?  Wakarimasen!  The toilet seat has options for warming the toilet seat with fifteen different buttons to push.  Wakarimasen!  Instead of ordering beer, they receive coffee.  Wakarimasen!  Instead of buying Kleenex, they discover they have paper towels.  Japanese kimuchi is not onion, and chicken is not shrimp.  Wakarimasen! There is a lot to learn.

They meet helpful people, members of the academic community, who explain that it is the Japanese way to help others, to be there when help is needed.  They lead the way to eat the way the locals do, with udon noodles, with tempura, always tempura at meals.  Gracious hosts lead the way in making meal choices by pressing buttons at the cafeteria menu board. When they return to their offices, they exchange shoes for slippers, so the hallways at the university are filled with shoes that are not worn in offices, next to a multitude of umbrellas that are left in umbrella containers.

The inquiring couple continues to look for cultural evidence of longevity; perhaps it is “hara,” the stomach, which supposedly contains the spirit of each person.  Perhaps it is the secure life without violence or it is the non-slip surfaces in showers that prevent falls. Perhaps it is the yuimara, or healing web, the support people can count on.  Or the food which is limited in size and contains little sugar or spice.

Perhaps it is the positive attitude and the hardworking engagement of 10-12 hour work days, here in this town, where it never really gets cold, where everybody is friendly, and where technology easily takes over.

Prairie Post (today from Lausanne, Switzerland)

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Prairie Post

9-07-13

(today from Lausanne, Switzerland)

It’s a beautiful day, here, in the city overlooking Lac Léman.  Bievenue in Lausanne! The mountains on the other side of the lake are partially covered by fair-weather clouds; thunder had cleared the air over night.  It is a late-summer day, the people of Lausanne enjoy a few more hours of sun and warmth, they spend time outside, they meet at the Lake, they suspect that autumn is just on the other side of the mountain. Bievenue in Lausanne!

How international this city must be with French, German, and Italian as their official languages, and with English as an additional bonus language to learn! But perhaps this town is too close to the French border, there are no signs of other languages, no German, no Italian, perhaps some English, mostly French, all French, just French, yes French is the language of choice.  No signs or interpretations in German or Italian, all just in French, français, français, and français.  Bievenue in Lausanne, bievenue to the Swiss French-only culture.

Indeed, they speak French, they live French, they eat French.  Kidneys, and pork shanks, and horse meat, and tarte flambé; croissants as petit dejeuner with café noire, the usual… the menu in French, no German, no Italian, am I still in Switzerland?  Oh yes, they do serve Rösti here, these wonderful Swiss potato pancakes, but they offer IPA beer with it. IPA here, in Switzerland?  Really?

It is easy to travel through town with the metro system, free for all tourists and convenient to use.  The 13th century cathedral on top of the hill purports to protect the city, there are stairs and stairs and stairs, there is a lot of up-and-down in this town.  Let’s walk, ok, let’s walk… the young generation has its own quarter in town, with blasting music only identified by the young, with a “beach” restaurant in midst of concrete pedestrian zones, plenty of places to hang out.  Why do I feel that I might not belong?

I do belong to the other side of town where they placed the university, separate from the rest of the city.  The campus is nicely located right next to the Lake.  Quite a few psychologists are walking around, talking, speculating, listening.  They wonder what children “think,” children who are confused why adults don’t seem to know the answers to questions they are asking.  How do children conceptualize the world?  Is it really round?  If so, why don’t we fall off?  Perhaps because we live in the middle or on top of the earth…  How do children think?  How do adults become resilient in the face of adversity?  And more discussion on gene-environment interactions:  the same gene can have a positive effect if the environment is positive, it can have a negative effect, if the environment is negative – differential susceptibility is the clever word somebody coined.  They talk, and they talk and they talk – perhaps the fresh air here makes their thoughts come loose, here in this mountain city next to Lac Léman, where people speak French, and only French, all the time, where the food is notably French and where the coffee is either “noir” or au lait. Bievenue in Lausanne!

Prairie Post (today from Villagrande, Sardinia)

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Prairie Post

6-17-13

(today from Villagrande, Sardinia)

It’s a beautiful day, here, in this small village of Villagrande. The air is clear, the sky is dark blue, the temperature just right. They say that the lake they built some years ago has changed the weather, more fog and more rain than ever, but there is no evidence of this today. A cool, sunny morning brings out the good in everybody.

Three strangers have arrived from elsewhere, they clearly are not from here. They are just a bit too overdressed, their hurried walk gives them away, and they seem to be talking all the time. People here prefer a much simpler life. They hang out at the local bar, they sit around tables in cafés , they take a break, and there is no need to constantly analyze their own well-being. Life is much simpler here, in Villagrande.

Even though it is apparent that these strangers do not belong here, they are welcome into a dense social web of relationships. It is lunchtime – a time spent together, time for a good meal. They bring prosciutto and sausages, and their own special bread soaked in water. They bring pasta and parmesan and their own local red wine. They bring boar, pork, lamb, and beef.  They bring fresh fruit, their own peaches, cherries and apricots, they bring cheeses and tomatoes, and risotto with mushrooms, they bring tiramisu and coffee, and you must finish with their local digestives.  There is nothing simple about the meals they offer to visitors coming through town.

It is the atmosphere that is most remarkable around the long tables where people share a meal.  They relax in togetherness, without a loud word, there is simply social togetherness. There is no rush, not hurry, no mission to fulfill.  There is an exchange of a few words, enjoyment of the day with others, being there for each other.

It is not only their social togetherness that is striking, there is also a composed, relaxed personality noticeable among the people of Villagrande. No stern reaction to others, a faint smile every now and then, a no-worry attitude. After all, what is all the fuzz about?  They are used to protect their sheep, and so they are used to protect each other.  Their self reliance must be coming from many hours and days on the mountainside.  They call it the “pastoral life.” A given responsibility is a taken responsibility. They are pastoral to each other as much as they are pastoral to themselves.

And they are active here, in this small community, walking up and down these hills, stairs, everywhere stairs, they are headed toward their own garden built into the hillsides of the village. They walk their sheep, and tend their goats.  They are outside and walk, stairs and stairs and stairs, they are outside and breathe. There is nothing complicated about this philosophy, it is very down-to-earth way living, down-to earth relating, down-to-earth introspecting.

And they have a good sense of humor. They laugh or smile, they like to be with other people even if they don’t need to talk all the time.  They like to create a mess but then bring things back to order, they like ideas, so long as they are not too abstract. They have family, and family is at their inner core.  They say it’s a hard life, but a good life. Roberta is asking all the questions, she is engaged, she enjoys the interaction. And they enjoy her, because they know her.

Today they celebrate St. Basilio, the patron of the city.  The only road through town is blocked off and the street vendors bring in their food, their crafts, their antiques.  The church is too small today, so there are additional chairs outside, neatly ordered in rows.  There is a procession with a statue of the saint in front, the whole town will follow with music and prayer. Afterwards, the extended family gets together for another feast.  More than fifty people have come, and there are these strangers again.  Of course, they are also welcome. There is food, food, and food. A piglet, lamb and chicken are roasting on a large grill. “You should never run out of food,” says Marcus, the father, “it would be bad luck.”  Marcus stands up and leans over the tables to make his point.  He always smiles when he gets excited, his short hair frames a bronze taint that he develops when he is out in the forest.  Marcus is in charge here, in his quiet way.  Because he is proud to share his experiences, he pours another glass of local liquor for everybody, because it is time to celebrate life.

They live in a blue zone, a longevity hot spot. They live a good life and a long life, here, where the sun is always shining on top of these beautiful hills and in the hearts of these humble people, where the food is local and plentiful, and where everybody puts issues aside to enjoy the simple life.

Prairie Post (this time from Hong Kong)

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Prairie Post

5-10-11

(this time from Hong Kong)

It is hot in this town, very hot and very sticky.  The mountains calmly compete with skyscrapers for height and splendor. Thick clouds move steadily between these man-made and nature-made giants.  Nobody here seems to mind the oppressing weather, people are surrounded by the South Asian Sea; salt water must flow in their veins.  They don’t need rain; they have enough humidity filling the space around them.

Space is always on their mind, here is this city of seven million, space is essential.  Here, they tear down 20-story skyscrapers so that they can replace them with 40-story skyscrapers.  The only way to create real estate is to move vertically. People live in small compartments, people work in small compartments, people move in small compartments.  Space is the most precious commodity here.

Space is also important to Philippine workers who have a day off and find their gathering place on the sidewalks.  They meet with family and friends and orchestrate the largest picnic festival in the city. No matter the weather, it is time to gather for this hard-working ethnic group.

Living space consists of a double bed and a small two-foot space from bed to window.  Two people cannot move in this space at the same time, unless they also move vertically over bed and over chairs and over suitcases.  Space is the issue here in this metropolis. The sea of skyscrapers make up an amazing community of illuminated buildings, most arranged in feng shui fashion, some violating this oriental form of architecture. This ancient belief in aesthetics negotiating between heaven and earth is visible everywhere, balance between wind and water, all to improve life in positive ways.

Feng Shui did not matter to a those older people who used to live in wire cages. No other place to live, until the Helping Hand came to the rescue and built decent housing.  Now they cheer on visitors, they are eager to show off their volunteer activities.  They live four to five people to a room, they have few of their own belongings, but they happily play mahjong, four people to a table, with shuffled tiles, with strategy and a little bit of luck.

Siddhārtha Gautama did not believe in luck, he considered belief in luck to be low arts.  His image overlooks the mountains here in the backyard of the big city.  His smile comforts, projects harmony and good will. A small hike from the cable car station, following chants in the background of the monastery and stairs that seem to lead to the sky in which the master appears to dominate.

A small fishing village is situated just down the road. Metal sheds built on stilts, seemingly floating in the bay area.  All streets here point to the market, open spaces filled with the scent of fish, some dried, some alive in water, all ready to be sold. Older people work in these shacks, live in small quarters behind. Their lives are connected with other family members and the community.

Older people also run the Ginkgo restaurant, a small venue on the main island. Septuagenarians cook the meals, octogenarians serve food with a sly smile on their face; they take care of any of the costumers’ needs. They quietly protest mandatory retirement in many other jobs, show their reliable service. The older generation wants to preserve the ways of the past.

The younger generation has different ideas about their future.  They don’t plan to have children because it is too expensive – who can afford the education of children when you can’t afford to pay your own rent. Chinese women from the mainland, however, visit here to bear their children – seven days are allotted for these unforeign foreigners.  If Chinese children from the mainland see the first light in Hong Kong, they will become residents.  Other Chinese residents need to invest millions of dollars into real estate to become residents. Because so many persons from mainland China became rich so quickly, the Hong Kong government needed to raise the investment limit by several million of Hong Kong dollars.

Shopping remains an adventure in this part of the world.  How about a discount?  They are willing to lower the price, perhaps, and they smile, smile, and smile until the price offered is too low for comfort… no, no, no, 210 Hong Kong dollars is simply not enough. But what if the tourists leave, what if they don’t return, it is time to finish the deal at 220 dollars. It’s the first sale of the night, so they will allow a special discount, or so they say.

This major city on the south end of China is a city of delightful dishes. Dim Sum, the traditional, especially prepared, the vegetarian home-cooked meals eaten in the temple, the tea time at the Peninsula, the goose in Soho, the noodles, the rice, and the fish, and finally the longevity buns and the mango pudding.  This is a city of oriental taste and breathtaking smells. Pick up the sticks and come on in!

People move up the escalator, still the escalator, and still the same escalator.  It’s the only way to climb these steep hills.  They move down to the underground, a most efficient underground, they move to the ferry and off the ferry.  Transportation is vital, transportation is efficient. Hong Kong, a lively place, here, where the people keep moving, where space is cherished and where everybody spends time at the harbor to capture the magnificent skyline of this vivacious city.