Japan

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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 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.

Prairie Post (Today from Tokyo)

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Prairie Post

June 30, 2014

(Today from Tokyo)

It’s been warm, this last week; the temperature has climbed steadily over the last couple of weeks. People lose a little bit of their patience, they complain in their quiet, unassuming ways, and they shelter themselves in air-conditioned rooms or hide underground. Or they listen to some of their favorite stories.

The Pillow of Kantan is one of their much-loved Noh tales. Rosei, a young man seeking enlightenment, wonders about how he should live, and he makes his way to Mount Yōhi in the land of Chu, where he expects to find a wise monk who perhaps knows the answer. He gets himself ready for a long trip. “I need to find out, I simply need to find out,” he exclaims.

Not unlike him, many wonder about the essence of life, the path to longevity, and where, where would we find it. Perhaps we should make our way to distant destinations, places where people are known to live a long life. The fountain of youth somewhere on these islands? Compression of morbidity, here in some corner of this land? “I need to explore, simply explore,” he tells all those who would like to hear.

The path is long and arduous, the walk fatigues and slows down, here, in the mountains of the beautiful countryside, and it is time for a rest. Rosei stops at a guesthouse, hunger plagues him, and he needs more energy. The innkeeper welcomes this unexpected visitor from far away, and suggests that he rests, lay down and put his head on this special pillow. “I will wake you when the millet meal is ready,” she exclaims.

The trip is definitely long, and every day in this country takes up new energy. It is time to rest and to trust the host to provide a good meal, to slow down and contemplate long life, healthy long life, and perhaps respite will provide new insights and discoveries of unchartered places.

Rosei is approached by a messenger who tells him that he will now be the king of this territory; he will rule the land with all splendor and glory. And for fifty years he rules this country, fifty years of recognition, of decisions affecting the lives of many people. How good it must feel to lead the citizens of this country.

And so he dreams of new findings, of new insights into life, long life, and discoveries now come so easy: Exercise, of course, specifically stairs, and stairs, and stairs. Gardening and activity, of course. Nutrition, of course, but not so much what you eat but how you eat, small portions of many dishes, and one of the wisest ones exclaims, “eat everything!” And then, other components: of course, personality, self-discipline, agreeableness, and certainly no anxiousness. “Fear not, do not worry.”  Low stress, adaptability, harmony, kindness, and aesthetics. Support, family and community support, omiyage. Health care, universal health care relating to the long-lived in this country. Cleanliness or purification, onsen for every age. Happiness, physical health, less functional health. The symbolism and culture of longevity makes this perhaps a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Rosei is woken from his dream, the meal is prepared. And he realizes that, just like the kingdom he dreamt of, life itself is but a dream. There is no need to search further, he can go home now.

And so the dream brings this journey to a close. It is time to be pinched, perhaps the secret of longevity, like life itself, is but a dream, here in this beautiful country where people like to go on long hikes carrying parasols, where people like to contemplate and appreciate life for what it is.

Prairie Post (Today from Hokkaido)

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Prairie Post

June 17, 2014

(Today from Hokkaido)

It’s been raining, raining just about every day of the week, here, in this rare place that is part of Japan but in so many ways is not. Heavy showers start during the late morning and will not let up until sometime in the afternoon when short dry spells trade places with more heavy rain. All the precipitation has made for a very lush, fresh, green flora; the white birch trees and poplars of Hokkaido proudly show their spring splendor in Daisetsuzan Sounkyo. And it is raining, and raining, and raining.

Higher up on Kurodake the snow is still piled up, dirty remnants of the long winter season that has just passed. The snow covers hiking paths in too many places making it next to impossible to continue a safe hike up the mountain. Some innocent trekkers attempt to master the path through deeper and deeper snow only to find out that the scenery at upper levels reveals the same foggy clouds all around. Perhaps it is the challenge of nature itself that propels them to continue to the next snowy hill. “Why not?”  they ask and continue onward. Others follow the path to yet another glorious waterfall, one step at a time, up and up, with raingear in hand. At each corner they warn unsuspecting brown bears that they are coming. Without the famous bells, a human chirping will do. After a long roundtrip, they return to the small village for the reward: a warm ramen noodle soup with plenty of mushrooms or a local donbori dish with delightful chicken pieces. Outside it is still raining, and raining, and raining.

A little more toward the canyon the colorful flowers have started blooming: Japanese alpine cherry, skunk cabbage, lilacs, azalea, moss phlox, lily of the valley. Their yellow, red, pink, purple and white display of colors challenge the gray sky above and brown soil all around. They lead the way to spectacular waterfalls gushing over the top of the summit, water pulled by unimaginable force to the base. And it is raining, and raining, and raining.

Away from this special park, there are other national treasures worth logging. The lakes of Akan and the geysers and mud pods of Noboribetsu in Shikotsu-Toya. A bath in the local onsen immerses visitors completely in sulfuric waters, a milky bath promising to heal all ailments humans might encounter. Meanwhile, it is raining, and raining, and raining.

The coast of this island invites with roaring waves that seemingly want to push the clouds further away, the surfs come in big waves and retreat just as soon as they reach their destiny. The Pacific is close to marshland here, home of the red-crested crane that has made a remarkable come-back in recent years. Only ten or twenty were left just a few decades ago, now they have made the shallow water their trusted territory again. So they pull up their head and trumpet their primitive territorial songs for everybody to hear. “This is my land,” “This is where my hatchlings will grow up” – “Leave us alone.” Only the Japanese cuckoo responds from the distance. And it continues to rain, rain, and rain.

The showers do not bother the Ainu here, indigenous people who have lived with harsh weather conditions for centuries. They imitate the cranes’ dances and their honk, they weave and they carve, and they keep warm around the fire built in the middle of their huts. They pull out their mukkuri, a distinct wooden hand harp, and play strangely vibrating sounds that surely tell a tale of bygone times when the God of Fire ruled here, in this peaceful land, where nature governs, where the cranes defend their territory, and where it rains, all days of the week.