Tuesday, February 24, 2004
“It’s the pussification of Japanese society,” Phil said often when talking on the subject drunk. “The Samurai spirit has been lost. It’s been replaced with bloody Hello Kitty and fucking Pockymon. To think that a once proud culture is now reduced to dirty cartoons and video games. Only one percent of the population in this country is foreign, but go into any karate, aikido, or kendo dojo and take a look around. Bet you anything more than thirty percent of the class is non-Japanese. Kids in this country can’t wait to get home from school to turn on the Playstation. At best, when they do sports, it’s baseball or now, soccer as they say. They’ve even taken the American word for football. One of the most famous kendo dojos in the country, over in Yokohama, is headed by an Australian couple. France has more bloody aikido dojos then anywhere else in the world. Imagine if our kids want to study a traditional Japanese martial art, they’ll have to travel to Frogland. It’s gets me fuckin’ goat, that does”
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
When the Katana is held correctly the left pinky finger is the most powerful finger in the grip. A stroke’s power originated in the legs and hips, traveled down the shoulder and into to the forearms with a extension of the elbows, and through the hands with a snap of the wrist. The fingers held the handle gingerly at the top and tightly with the pinkies allowing all the energy in a swordsman’s center to flow out his hands and down the blade to the point of impact. Properly executed, a stroke could severe skull.
If a Samurai was to have his pinky finger amputated his grip would be severely compromised and his technique diminished. Less ability with his sword would force him to rely more on the protection of the clan, and its lord, the daimyo. This was the origin of yubizume, cutting off the pinky as a sign of apology, still practiced by the Yakuza. A first offense would mean the top joint of the pinky, a second offense – the lower joint, and so on until the finger was gone and onto the next. Not many Yakuza lost more than one finger, those who so frequently fucked up were more likely lying in a bed of concrete than walking fingerless.
If a Samurai was to have his pinky finger amputated his grip would be severely compromised and his technique diminished. Less ability with his sword would force him to rely more on the protection of the clan, and its lord, the daimyo. This was the origin of yubizume, cutting off the pinky as a sign of apology, still practiced by the Yakuza. A first offense would mean the top joint of the pinky, a second offense – the lower joint, and so on until the finger was gone and onto the next. Not many Yakuza lost more than one finger, those who so frequently fucked up were more likely lying in a bed of concrete than walking fingerless.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Graham Edward’s passion for the planned language, as it was known in academic circles, of Esperanto was never easily explained by his sons, or for that matter, anyone who knew him. “It’s just my dad’s hobby, I guess,” both Ben and Tim would say when pressed on the point. They didn’t really understand it themselves, the obsession. The language, on the other hand, they grew somewhat familiar with until their mother stepped in and put an end to the daily Esperanto lessons that interfered with baseball, piano lessons, boy scouts and other normal after school activities. Graham did not wear the pants in the family, so when Margaret forced the issue he agreed that dinner time discussion in Esperanto could substitute for the afternoon instruction. Eventually even the dinner time conversation in Esperanto disappeared as if the whole Esperanto learning experiment in the Edward’s household were a microcosm of the artificial language itself
Monday, February 09, 2004
“I got about two months in Southeast Asia. A man like yourself might have some advice on where and how I should spend my time. Care to impart any of your travel wisdom?” Ben’s tone bordered on flattery, but with a hint of sarcasm.
“Listen, mate. You can go North or South. If I was you, I’d head North first and then reward yourself with the beaches later, but it’s all a matter of taste. I suggest you head up toward Laos. You can skip Chang Mai – tourist trap nowadays. They say Chang Rai is the new Chang Mai, but that’s bullshit. Give it a miss and skip the Thai hill tribes. It’s fucking Disney World now. They got markets set up just waiting for a fresh group of trekkers to come through. If hill tribes is what you’re after than try Laos, although don’t expect much better than Chang Mai in that respect. Thailand is just the hub these days. A drop off point, so get out as quickly as possible. Do Laos, Nam’, and Cambodia. There’s a whole traveler’s circuit. Hard to avoid, but not so bad for a first timer like yourself. Once you’ve done the North, head down to Andaman Sea. Stay away from Phuket or Samui unless you’ve got a thing for fat Germans in tight thongs. Krabi isn’t bad, but filled with Swedes. Nice place if you’re looking for a bit of Swedish tail. Malaysia worth it if you got the money, but a touch more expensive than the Land of Smiles. Too bad you didn’t get yourself here about ten years ago. It was very, very, good at that time, mate. India’s really the place now. That’s where I’m headed, but frankly I hear the best spots are already overrun. Bloody tourists, but what’s a fella to do, yeah?”
“Listen, mate. You can go North or South. If I was you, I’d head North first and then reward yourself with the beaches later, but it’s all a matter of taste. I suggest you head up toward Laos. You can skip Chang Mai – tourist trap nowadays. They say Chang Rai is the new Chang Mai, but that’s bullshit. Give it a miss and skip the Thai hill tribes. It’s fucking Disney World now. They got markets set up just waiting for a fresh group of trekkers to come through. If hill tribes is what you’re after than try Laos, although don’t expect much better than Chang Mai in that respect. Thailand is just the hub these days. A drop off point, so get out as quickly as possible. Do Laos, Nam’, and Cambodia. There’s a whole traveler’s circuit. Hard to avoid, but not so bad for a first timer like yourself. Once you’ve done the North, head down to Andaman Sea. Stay away from Phuket or Samui unless you’ve got a thing for fat Germans in tight thongs. Krabi isn’t bad, but filled with Swedes. Nice place if you’re looking for a bit of Swedish tail. Malaysia worth it if you got the money, but a touch more expensive than the Land of Smiles. Too bad you didn’t get yourself here about ten years ago. It was very, very, good at that time, mate. India’s really the place now. That’s where I’m headed, but frankly I hear the best spots are already overrun. Bloody tourists, but what’s a fella to do, yeah?”
Friday, February 06, 2004
After filling in the resignation form he grabbed his student files and planned a lesson much as he had done for the past five years. He waited for the bell to go and then walked into the classroom. For the first time in as long as he could remember he liked the job again. He liked teaching. Even if it was only conversational English. Even if other ex-pat types looked down on teaching English, fuck them, at least he was trying to do something positive for the local population and not just money grub like the rest of the world. The students seemed to enjoy the lessons and it made him feel like he was wanted and welcomed in Japan. He felt refreshed and new, reborn. Although his elation was mostly due to the fact that he knew he was on short time. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The fact was that conversational English teaching was a psychological grind, a constant repetitive and monotonous exercise in patience. There were only so many times you were willing to teach irregular verbs, only so many times you were willing to correct the same mistake. In the middle of his lesson one of the students declared that she had ‘gone to shopping’ the day before. He let the mistake pass. Ben always felt it important to give his all in the classroom and often would think about how the students were paying their hard-earned, or in the case of many housewives - husband’s, cash to take lessons. However, he couldn’t muster the courage to correct certain mistakes any longer. It was partially a warning that he should start moving on. His father had always ingrained in him the 'any job doing is worth doing right' maxim. He tried to follow it.
Monday, February 02, 2004
Hashi joozu!*
(or The Pleasure Of An Opposable Thumb)
*You use chopsticks well!
“The chopstick is multipurpose; it serves the Japanese as fork, knife and spoon. They eat soup with it they cut food into small morsels with it; and they use it to pick up food and carry it from the plate to the mouth. You can do it, too.”
-unknown (as found on an internet guide to “Things Japanese”)
“Can I really!?”
-me (upon reading above quote)
If I had a yen for every time a Japanese person complimented my chopstick use, I would be able to open a performing arts theater at which I would charge admission to the viewing public to watch me manipulate food items into my mouth with the damn things. I would then bring out a troupe of well trained primates and have them use chopsticks for the pleasure of my audience. I envision several gibbons, a couple of baboons and a chimp all dressed in kimonos. And I would stand in the center wearing my jinbei (think Japanese robe with knickers) surrounded by my monkey friends and after much applause we would hold hands and bow in unison. But alas, this will remain only a dream for, although I am often paid compliments on my chopstick dexterity, I have yet to be paid in money.
It is beyond me why anyone who has used chopsticks would think it a feat of small motor skills to eat with them. Granted chopsticks can prove awkward to the novice user, though even the novice should be able to shovel food from ‘the plate to the mouth’ as expressed by the anonymous, semicolon-loving author of the above quote. After several days of applied practice all but the most clumsy should be able to keep their clothing stain free while using chopsticks. I dare say that one could outright master the use of hashi, as they are called in Japanese, within the space of a mere week. I don’t intend insult my Japanese hosts in making such a bold claim; surely they all struggled long and hard to master the tricky utensils, but perhaps they should be reminded that the foreigner struggles to master fork and knife when he or she was three years old as well. Approaching adolescence with one’s hand-eye coordination at full development it should not be considered especially challenging to hold two small pieces of wood in one’s fingers. Writing, sewing, tying shoes, walking and chewing gum at the same time may all be thought of as human accomplishments on a par with the use of chopsticks. So, for those who would be prone to undue flattery, please compliment me on my ability to knot my tie or on the ease with which I teach irregular verbs and decide where to drink beer after work at the same time, but not on my use of the cursed hashi ! Thank you.
Among other annoyance that I have encountered on the subject of chopsticks is that of waribashi. These are disposable, wooden chopsticks that keep whole lumber companies in business and leave whole swaths of forest razed. I fear researching the true extent to which these wasteful little things are responsible for environmental destruction (let’s not lie, I’m just too lazy). Imagine a world in which metal forks and knives only existed in homes and every restaurant, eatery, store and shop that served food distributed disposable, wooden utensils instead, and you pretty much have Japan. In addition to being horribly wasteful, I often have little choice in whether I want them inserted in my shopping bag or not. For instance, I have frequented the same convenience store for several years. As I don’t cook, I venture into the establishment once a day, if not more. In the course of my time spent in the store I have made friends of the clerks. However, for every time I politely ask them not to deposit the little timber-killers in my bag, they sneak them in three times without me noticing. I can’t quite figure it. They know I live nearby. It’s not like I’m a construction worker on lunch who’s going to picnic in front of the job site. Do they think I don’t have access to chopsticks in my apartment? Like I wouldn’t be able to purchase a pair anywhere in Japan. My mom pulled the same thing nonetheless on my first Christmas home after moving to Japan. Unbelievably, she put a pair of chopsticks in my Christmas stocking (yes, I still get a stocking. Stop chuckling!). They came in their own wicker carrying case. If my mother were as sarcastic as I, the joke would have been a good one. My mom was completely on the level, though. Of course, I have abused her on the subject ever since and I promise this is the last time, so here goes: Mom! What the hell were you thinking? I live in a country where chopsticks outnumber people at a ratio of a thousand to one. Why would I want to come back to America and get a pair of them in my stocking!?
Not only are waribashi a terrible environmental idea, when you do need them they are always substandard. There are several classes of waribashi: The ones that are attached at the top in a block shape – they’re the best, they always break apart clean. The ones that are attached lengthwise, but are long and often come with a toothpick – because there was an acre of woods still standing after the chopstick quota was reached. The ones that are sized for a preschooler and double as a toothpick – because the eatery you’re at is exceptionally cheap, not because they care about the forest. The first, and best, category is reserved to izakayas and other restaurants where washable, reusable chopsticks would be a feasible alternative. The second, and second best, category of chopsticks is usually found at stores in close proximity to your domicile, thereby rendering them unnecessary. The third category, which should be reserved to day care facilities and orphanages, will most likely be found anyplace where you would actually need to use waribashi. Oh well, shiyou ga nai (let’s ignore the problem). That’s life.
The lesson to be learned about chopsticks is this - if we continue to produce disposable, wooden chopsticks at such a rate, we will soon deplete the earth of precious woodlands. Among the negative effects of lost forests, species such as the gibbon, baboon and chimpanzee will decrease in number, nearing extinction. Should this come pass, the only place you would see such wondrous primates is at zoos and amusement parks where they will display their virtuosity with the tool of their very destruction…along side a jinbei clad gaijin who rants like a howler monkey.
(or The Pleasure Of An Opposable Thumb)
*You use chopsticks well!
“The chopstick is multipurpose; it serves the Japanese as fork, knife and spoon. They eat soup with it they cut food into small morsels with it; and they use it to pick up food and carry it from the plate to the mouth. You can do it, too.”
-unknown (as found on an internet guide to “Things Japanese”)
“Can I really!?”
-me (upon reading above quote)
If I had a yen for every time a Japanese person complimented my chopstick use, I would be able to open a performing arts theater at which I would charge admission to the viewing public to watch me manipulate food items into my mouth with the damn things. I would then bring out a troupe of well trained primates and have them use chopsticks for the pleasure of my audience. I envision several gibbons, a couple of baboons and a chimp all dressed in kimonos. And I would stand in the center wearing my jinbei (think Japanese robe with knickers) surrounded by my monkey friends and after much applause we would hold hands and bow in unison. But alas, this will remain only a dream for, although I am often paid compliments on my chopstick dexterity, I have yet to be paid in money.
It is beyond me why anyone who has used chopsticks would think it a feat of small motor skills to eat with them. Granted chopsticks can prove awkward to the novice user, though even the novice should be able to shovel food from ‘the plate to the mouth’ as expressed by the anonymous, semicolon-loving author of the above quote. After several days of applied practice all but the most clumsy should be able to keep their clothing stain free while using chopsticks. I dare say that one could outright master the use of hashi, as they are called in Japanese, within the space of a mere week. I don’t intend insult my Japanese hosts in making such a bold claim; surely they all struggled long and hard to master the tricky utensils, but perhaps they should be reminded that the foreigner struggles to master fork and knife when he or she was three years old as well. Approaching adolescence with one’s hand-eye coordination at full development it should not be considered especially challenging to hold two small pieces of wood in one’s fingers. Writing, sewing, tying shoes, walking and chewing gum at the same time may all be thought of as human accomplishments on a par with the use of chopsticks. So, for those who would be prone to undue flattery, please compliment me on my ability to knot my tie or on the ease with which I teach irregular verbs and decide where to drink beer after work at the same time, but not on my use of the cursed hashi ! Thank you.
Among other annoyance that I have encountered on the subject of chopsticks is that of waribashi. These are disposable, wooden chopsticks that keep whole lumber companies in business and leave whole swaths of forest razed. I fear researching the true extent to which these wasteful little things are responsible for environmental destruction (let’s not lie, I’m just too lazy). Imagine a world in which metal forks and knives only existed in homes and every restaurant, eatery, store and shop that served food distributed disposable, wooden utensils instead, and you pretty much have Japan. In addition to being horribly wasteful, I often have little choice in whether I want them inserted in my shopping bag or not. For instance, I have frequented the same convenience store for several years. As I don’t cook, I venture into the establishment once a day, if not more. In the course of my time spent in the store I have made friends of the clerks. However, for every time I politely ask them not to deposit the little timber-killers in my bag, they sneak them in three times without me noticing. I can’t quite figure it. They know I live nearby. It’s not like I’m a construction worker on lunch who’s going to picnic in front of the job site. Do they think I don’t have access to chopsticks in my apartment? Like I wouldn’t be able to purchase a pair anywhere in Japan. My mom pulled the same thing nonetheless on my first Christmas home after moving to Japan. Unbelievably, she put a pair of chopsticks in my Christmas stocking (yes, I still get a stocking. Stop chuckling!). They came in their own wicker carrying case. If my mother were as sarcastic as I, the joke would have been a good one. My mom was completely on the level, though. Of course, I have abused her on the subject ever since and I promise this is the last time, so here goes: Mom! What the hell were you thinking? I live in a country where chopsticks outnumber people at a ratio of a thousand to one. Why would I want to come back to America and get a pair of them in my stocking!?
Not only are waribashi a terrible environmental idea, when you do need them they are always substandard. There are several classes of waribashi: The ones that are attached at the top in a block shape – they’re the best, they always break apart clean. The ones that are attached lengthwise, but are long and often come with a toothpick – because there was an acre of woods still standing after the chopstick quota was reached. The ones that are sized for a preschooler and double as a toothpick – because the eatery you’re at is exceptionally cheap, not because they care about the forest. The first, and best, category is reserved to izakayas and other restaurants where washable, reusable chopsticks would be a feasible alternative. The second, and second best, category of chopsticks is usually found at stores in close proximity to your domicile, thereby rendering them unnecessary. The third category, which should be reserved to day care facilities and orphanages, will most likely be found anyplace where you would actually need to use waribashi. Oh well, shiyou ga nai (let’s ignore the problem). That’s life.
The lesson to be learned about chopsticks is this - if we continue to produce disposable, wooden chopsticks at such a rate, we will soon deplete the earth of precious woodlands. Among the negative effects of lost forests, species such as the gibbon, baboon and chimpanzee will decrease in number, nearing extinction. Should this come pass, the only place you would see such wondrous primates is at zoos and amusement parks where they will display their virtuosity with the tool of their very destruction…along side a jinbei clad gaijin who rants like a howler monkey.
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