Japan

Prairie Post (Today from Kyoto)

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Prairie Post

January 25, 2014

(Today from Kyoto)

A nice warm-up this morning, in this traditional city of Japan, the sun is hiding behind clouds, and the mountains are barely visible in the back. Spring has not cleared the air but has warmed the city from the bottom up. Wild dog roses are blooming already here and there, and older couples are tending small gardens in front of the monorail station. The days are getting longer and there is cautious, palpable motion in the city.

There are people around, many people who run their weekend errands or who are headed toward the temples. They climb steep hills in the hopes to jump off Kiyomizu’s stage or to find the waterfall that allegedly brings longevity. They meander through parks and visit the Buddha who commemorates those who lost their lives in previous wars. They stop here and there to rest and to eat their udon noodles or rice bowls, and they drink tea, always green tea. Around them are women in beautiful kimonos, and there are white-faced geishas in this colorful, dressed up city, not the jeans-and shirts fashion of neighboring towns.

And they emphasize hygiene. There is no trash; people wear mouth masks to avoid the PM2.5 particles that bind with the sand blown over from China. They diligently clean handrails and tables, they sweep streets and pathways, and they provide guests with towelettes so they can clean up before each meal.  They enjoy their onsen, they shower, they steam, then shower, and they steam again. This is a country of hygiene and cleanliness, body and mind.

The grocery stores are also spotless, they are well-stocked, and organized. But what are these items displayed on shelves and on counters? There is fish, fish, and more fish – only, they are difficult to identify. Where is the salt and what does bouillon look like in this strange assortment of goods? Why are the apples and pears so big, okii desu, okii desu, yes these are apples. Is there only blueberry marmalade here, not raspberry or orange? Why is the white bread as thick as Texas toast and where is the meat?  Is there meat?  No butter here or is it simply packaged differently? And the beer, yes there is beer, but why is it so expensive? A beer tax to curb the alcohol lust?  So they drink happoshu or beer-flavored beverages, the third beer, all with lower malt content that is the basis for beer taxes here. Or they drink green tea, of course, but not all green tea is the same here, is it? And do Japanese ever drink milk? Why is there no cheese in this country? Or cold-cut meat, no cold-cuts, oh yes, I forgot the meager cooked ham slices that did find their way onto the shelves. But radishes, large, white radishes, leeks over leeks, bean sprouts and then again fish, so much unidentifiable fish everywhere, their names seemingly written in miniature calligraphy, not readable to the Western eye.

There does not seem to be advertisement for food or for drinks, and nobody carries soda drinks – this is not the land of Coca Cola. There is no advertisement for the Big Mac, for the Burger King or for Kentucky Fried Chicken. This country is not food-obsessed, food indoctrinated, or food-plagued. Eating comes naturally here, in the Far East, where the weather is already mild, where temples dominate the city and where confusion still rules in the grocery store.

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.