Winter Teething

I broke a filling about two weeks ago eating a bowl of muesli. A kindly Japanese dentist very competently fixed the problem on Boxing Day and refused payment. What can I say for such kindness?

I would like to mention her name but I have been censored by my wife, as usual. The creative process aint what it used to be.

But I'm grateful all the same.

This and That

I think most non-Japanese living in Japan for any length of time reach a point (I believe it's usually around the three year mark) when they start to become a little cynical about their circumstnces. Yes, and especially, somewhat critical of their adopted home.

We all breeze through the first year, thinking that the sun shines brightly from every orifice here. Even the staring seems interesting. Are we not the centre of attention? Are we not exotic? We are like swans in the duckpond.

Year Two is a consolidation of this process, though a few things start to rankle. Why does it have to be done that way? Why this absurd rigmarole? And what about that obaasan who snuck ahead of me in the train queue or the one who pushed me out of the way to get discounted bread? And why are those men sitting when there are older people and even pregnant women standing on the train? Hmmm. But still, it's a great place to live. And anyway, there are plenty of problems back home much worse.....

It may well be that familiarity breads a kind of contempt, or just the onset of reality over the Disney state of mind, but Year Three, for many foreigners here, seems to present a fork in the road, or perhaps, a roundabout. Some, feeling that its unfair that they are still 'foreigners', become disillusioned, cynical, even aggressive. They have tried to learn the language, they have adapted to many of the customs, they pay their taxes, so, why, this continued arbitrary classification. For such people, personal slights can be found in the simplest of daily transactions.
Most will probably return home. Or, at least, they should.

Others less afflicted wander in a cultural no man's land, never really belonging, always somewhat disconnected. They too, should go home. But they tend to stay.

I'm not sure where I am. Being a father has presented a different situation for me in this, my third year. About halfway through I'm enjoying it more than, say, six months ago. My criticisms for the most part have been tempered. And one should never bite the hand, as they say.

Winter

How long since my last post? I'm afraid that it's indicative of the amount of time I can spend at the puter these days without interruption. No thinking time permitted. No space to make the sentences in any coherent order. This is fatherhood. Or at least, it's earliest stages.

The days are closing in rather quickly now. The cloud is thinner and streaked like a thin paste across the sky. If I had a huge knife I could scrape it up and spread it over a cosmic sized piece of toast. And the redness of the sunsets! I don't like winter but it has its beauties.

We all have colds so there is cough syrup and mandarins and all manner of natural and synthetic medication about the place. All, of course, safely stowed from he who is now eight and a half months old. The same he who can now stand with the assistance of a chair or sofa, and yes, the same he who wakes ten times at night. Joy and despair in one wriggling bundle.

But mostly it's joy, when I think about it.

Good bye Ruth 1990 - 2006

Yesterday my old friend Ruth finally died. We have been together for some 16 years and so, I am very sad and at a loss for words. Today I just want to leave this haiku.

funny, autumn leaves fall
but my old dog has died
in the spring

allurgee

I've been suffering from an allergy for about six weeks now, and the nose blowing finally got to the point where I went to the doctor on Saturday. Two hours and 10,000 yen later, I emerged with sufficient drugs to quell the sneezing, though I am left with a sense of vagueness and a slight wooziness. I seem to always get sick one way or another in Japan (last it time it was only pnuemonia!) and something here, or probably, many things here, seem to disagree with my body.

Racing into October as we are, it seems like only yesterday that I was complaining loudly (and to whoever would liten) about how hot is was. Yes, how hot and how bloody humid. The nights are cooler now and sunny days are very pleasant though the signs of winter are omnipresent. The layers of cloud, for example, are like so many moth-eaten bunnyrugs, rather than a majestic pile of cotton wool. (Here I am reminded of Larkin's 'Summer, Mother, I', the 'high-builded cloud', but that's beside the point.)

Now with the routines of teaching and looking after our demanding little one, life has assumed a predictability. It's hard to do anything really interesting because of the train travel and risk of Tom's loud complaining, so Kobe, Osaka and Kyoto, once regular destinations, are like phantoms now. Parenting is such a life change that there is no way to describe the difference. One day we were on a this planet, the following day, on this one. And there is no way of travelling between these two worlds. Really, there isn't.

sushi

The Koizumi era ended last week, a period which coincidentally shadowed my own stay in Japan. A lot of print has been expended on the success or otherwise of the now former Prime Minister, but it is probably safe to say this. That Koizumi inherited a legacy of deflation and economic stagnation, a banking system mired in bad debt, and an inward looking polity. Today Japan is growing again, has defeated deflation and has generally undergone a massive shakeup at company level. It is more forward looking and confident internationally. Added to this was Koizumi's unique style of governance, a crash through or crash methodology in which policy creation and delivery was often prised from the reach of meddling political hacks and civil servants. An interesting time to be in Japan.

Shinzo Abe is also an interesting man and may well prove to be a better Prime Minister, if he can get beyond a purely conservative agenda. The Yasukuni issue is begging for a resolution. There is still way too much nannying by civil authorities. Japanese who want to achieve outside the parameters currently set down (culturally and politically) should be allowed to do so. Japan also needs to deal more honestly with its recent wartime past; textbooks which whitewash atrocities or misdeeds are at best, unhelpful.

But the foundation has been laid. Vale Lionheart!

Half-Baked Prince

Having started the most recent Harry Potter adventure In Australia and been forced to abandon it, I decided to borrow the same substantial tome from Sanda library. With a three week deadline for its return, I managed the last chapter this morning. A good read with a few surprises, as usual.

Of course, I think everyone knew about the death of Dumbledore within minutes of the novel's release, but the manner of his death had, luckily, thus far evaded me. I was surprised and somewhat shocked that the ghastly deed was the work of Severus Snape, whom Dumbledore had implicitly trusted. Despite his past history as a Death Eater and servant of the unmentionable one, we had, I believe, been given some reason to believe that Snape had undergone some kind of transformation of character. At first reading, this change appears to now to have been deluded good-will one behalf of the readership.

But therein lies to problem. Having sought out the opinion of other Potter readers at a fan site (not something I make a habit of, incidentally) I discovered that a lot of folks felt the same way. That is, despite his somewhat irksome nature, Snape was seen as redeemable. Further, that the murder of Dumbledore was a shocking incident, given the absolute trust that the latter had had in Snape. And. no doubt, the complex feelings that readers had about the sardonic wizard.

This has, in turn, spurned some elaborate theories about the reality of the act itself. One theory, supported by events and quotations from the novels, argued that Snape was obeying Dumbledores plea to kill him in order to save the (hidden) Harry Potter. It fits quite a lot of the facts, but the central argument against it is simply this. Dumbledore abhored killing of any sort and to ask one of his staff members to murder him, even as a sacrifice, seems well beyond the fundamental philosophy of the man.

Is there redemption after all? Is it possible? I guess we will find out soon enough.

pontifications

The furor over Pope Benedicts recent speech has barely abated, despite the Pontiff's apology. Anyone wishing to comment on the matter would be well advised to read the text of the speech, which I did a a couple of days after the 'story' broke. It might be argued that the Pope should have used a differnt example to illustrate his point, though it seems that the choice of material may have been the result of the recent translation of the the 14th century text. So in spite of its medieval origins, it was, hot off the press, so to speak. And the Pontiff, after all, is a theologian, interested, no doubt, in the arcane and obscure.

The resulting hysteria (for there is no other word for it), shows that, at best, Islam has a problem. It has a probem with criticism, whether intended or not. It has a problem, common at to all reliogions at some stage, with extremism amongst some of its adherents. It has an ongoing problem of image amomgst many many people in the non-muslim world. The bad behaviour of the few has tarnished the majority.

Some of the problems that we see today have resulted from aspects, residual or otherwise, of Western imperial policy in the past. Some of the perceived slights have resulted from recent (and often unwise) Western interventions in the Middle East today. The Israeli/Palestinian imbroglio is a continuing sore in a wounded region. Having said that, the only way for Islam to mend its fence is through self-help - by the actions of its own believers. Somehow, through whatever efforts and collaborations possible, it must reign in those fanatics who claim to represent the faith, and demonsrate through actions, and not just protesting words, that it is a faith of peace. Does this mean eschewing excuses and ceasing to look for scapegoats? Yes. Will it mean a better deal for people of the Islamic faith and the wider world. I hope so.

This is just to say...

I guess that I must be a lucky person. And perhaps I'm having a fortunate life as A.B Facey was wont to say. Yes, there have been some misshaps. I've been arrested and been tried in a court ( a terrifying experience), I've suffered from various nervous disorders which continue to come and go and I can never return to my old job as a teacher in Australia. Pitted against this mild downside is the fact that I am happily married to a gorgeous amd lovely woman, I have a healthy baby boy, a lot of friends, some hobbies that I'm moderately good at, and, I have had the chance to work overseas on and off for the last 5 years.

I am especially happy not to be famous or even infamous. I don't want the allotted 15 minutes of fame. media attention, a well paid TV commercial or financial riches. I do want happiness, though it is an allusive quality at best. And if any of the email spammers who regularly plague my inbox are reading this, no, I don't want a penis enlargement, discount bulk viagra or the opportunity to work from home to make a fortune. Nor am I interested in allowing my bank account ot be used by a stranger in Nigeria to launder funds that don't exist.

No matter what happens, yes, it has been a fortunate life so far. I should grumble less and be thankful more.

Tomas and Thomas

I'm afraid that one of my strengths and weaknesses is that, when something comes along that I take an interest in, I tend to go in boots and all. I fear that this sometimes means losing a sense of perspective. For who, when wandering amongst trees in a dense forest, does not sometimes lose sight of the sky?

Thomas the Tank Engine. An unlikely candidate, I grant you, for an obsession. But with Tom almost 6 months old and me thinking about our times to come playing together, I started looking for train sets. It's true that, given my own train deprived childhood, this might me my own version of acting out of the childhood I never had.

So I set about looking at kits, and pricing sets (very expensive, by the way) and zooming hither and thither between one on line toy shop and the next. I found a heavily discounted set at Pee Dee toys in Australia and, after joining ebay au, won another smaller set in my first auction. I think that I should stop now, but the temptation to add to the small railway we now have is almost irresistable. But resist I must.

Well autumn is almost here. There are telltale signs in the air, a mere zephyr of cooler wind, a few early leaves on the path. Its still hot, mind you, but its turning, ever so slowly.

Scandal in the Underworld.

Alas Pluto is no more. I remember as a teenager reading 'The Search for Planet X' , one of those cheap Ashton Scholastic novelettes. It charted the efforts of Clyde, or Clive, Tombaugh (I think thats right?) a young astronomer who was certain that something was tugging at Neptune. I mean, gravitationally. And he was right. Enter tiny Pluto, the ninth planet.

I guess something about Pluto has always been a little odd. It doesn't have its own exclusive orbit around the sun. It's very tiny compared to the 4 interior gas giants and is even smaller than the Earths moon. Speculation persisted that it was an escaped moon. It was really a little like the odd one out.

But in the collective, if uninformed, imagination of the public, it was a distant and slightly cute entity marking the supposed boundary of the solar system. Alas its neither cute (the surface being entirely hostile to life) and it is far from being at the edge of our solar system. Nowhere near it, in fact.

Having said that Pluto, while losing its status in one regard, gains another. Its is now king of the dwarfs. There are worse fates surely.

The End is Nigh, perhaps..

A few things have joggled my mind recently. One was a program on Discovery Channel about the Earth in 200 million years hence. Gone is mankind and pretty much every other lifeform we know today, replaced by flying fish and land dwelling squid. Then there was an article in the Yomuiri Shimbun from the US, an elegant column about the passing of time (the journalist having turned 64) and his feelings on what he called, these 'low dishonest times'. Then, of course there are the daily headlines about war, global warming , nuclear proliferation and terrorism.

Together these various media presented a few pieces in an increasingly gloomy picture. In short, if human folly doesnt get you, then the environment, global catastrophe or evolution will. Humans have always dwelt amidst their own folllies. But we have never before faced so many threats seemingly coming at the same time. For those hopeful of a technological-get-out-of-jail card then I can only add this. Technology, whilst often fascinating and beneficial, is, often as not, a part of the problem. It may present some solutions, for example, to global warming, but it is demonstably the cause of it in the first instance. I mean, of course, the human application of technology, as there is no other application that I know of.

The trouble is, I am an optimist, for the most part. But I'm coming around to the view, things being what they are and what they could quite easily become, very little short of Divine Intervention can save our hapless species.

1945 and all that.

Being on a two week break has its benefits. This also being the anniversary of a number of WW2 (Pacific) events, I have spent quite lot of time watching the History Channel. Yesterday was a bit of a marathon; back to to back programs on the last days of all theatres of war in WW2. I've never seen a lot of the newsreel footage before, so it was just plain fascinating.

The same day's Daily Yomuiri carried the first in a series of articles on just who was to blame for the Japanese debacle in the same war. Quite reasonably, the authors lay the blame at the feet of Japan's military and political leaders of the period. There is certainly no point in encouraging revisionists in this country (or elsewhere) that Japan had some noble cause (destroying Western colonialism, no less) or that the Pearl Harbour attack was some perfidious American plot.

Alas, conspiracy theories doing the rounds have suggested that Roosevelt knew about the impending attack on Pearl and did nothing about it in order to bring America into the war. The stupidity of this theory is easily enough dismissed through plain common sense, not to mention the weight of historical evidence. I have never seen a conspiracy theory that offered anything other than false assertions or circumstantial evidence, so I guess thats why they will never be taken seriously. So why they hold such a fascination I don't know, except that, perhaps, they empower the believer in a similar way that members of esoteric movements do. 'I have special knowledge - you don't.'

Something like that.

The Tango-Hanto Tango

Our first family holiday ever (!) was to the Tango-Hanto peninsula on the Japan sea. Miwa kindly booked us a ryoukan ('Crab Heaven') in Amino, a typical seaside village The lure of the beach was just too much so we stripped down at Kizu and headed for the, er, surf, such as it was. The following day was spent almost exclusively at Kotobikki, one beach around from our ryoukan. Golden sand, clean water and happy families. What a joy to see the Japanese at play!

And really, apart from the quaint floaty devices (such as Winnie the Pooh tyres), the beach experience here is pretty much the same as that in Australia. Everyone stripped down to the essentials, everything on show. No pretention. I don't know if it carries the equivalent psychological adjustment as it does back home, I mean, that egalitarian booster that comes from being at the beach. Perhaps these days it lasts only as far as the carpark and the BMW. I don't know.

Yesterday, still feeling a little sunburnt, we trecked home slowly via Ine ( a gloriously cute fishing village on the Tango coastline) and Amanohashidate (one of the 'three beautifuls'), where we ascended the funicular for the view. I still think the sand bar puts me in mind of Abe Lincoln's beard. Or something else.

summer ascensions
my son's skin red with heat,
long line of pines, blinking.

Sanda Summer Festival

The things I love best about Japan coelesce at festival time. The Japanese are relaxed and seem, suddenly, to have oodles of time. Yukatas vie with denim. Traditional dances and music juxtapose J-pop and ballet. People eat and drink in the open. They say hello to us and want to try out their English. Such a difference!

Saturday we walked the river to watch the annual festival fish catching event. Goldfish are placed in the shallows and people wade in with nets. What they catch they take home. Later we strolled the lantern and streamer festooned laneways, past lively stalls, and on to the main arena, the city office car park. It was terribly hot so we hung about backstage in the shade, sipping kirin, chatting and, well, just watching the Japanese enjoy themselves.

I include a photo taken of said site, this being our friend and housemate Miwa, eating the popular sausage on a stick. She won't thank me for publishing this shot! But what the heck, its festival time!

Apparently......

Reuters......dateline 27.7

The Australian Treasurer, Peter Costello, blamed the Whitlam Government for the blowout in inflation figures yesterday.

'The ghost of the Whitlam Governemnt can pick and choose whichever quarter it likes to intervene in. We have had years and years of success under my policies only to see this big government interference in my leadership aspirations...er... I mean.....sound economic management.'

Mr Costello cited shonky loans dealings as amongst the causes of the CPI rise.

'I have it on good authority that Kim Beazley, Gough Whitlam, Paul Keating and Jim Cairns were involved in shonky illegal loans dealings with a man named Larry. As a result, the price of a yellow fruit called a banana has shot up.'

Mr Costello added

'This Larry is the shonkiest of offshore brokers. What sort of former Government resorts to these underhand measures. Do I have to remind everyone of the jobs for the boys, faceless men, economic incompetence, kemlarrylani, Juni Morosi, big sending Labor days? Doesn't eveyone remember how we harved inflartion and stopped talking about Rhodesia midflight?'

Asked about his leadership aspirations Mr Costello was circumspect,

'I'm not buying into that one. John Howard is the leader. He is the man who brought us a fistfull of dollars (surely, years of economic growth, ed.) and that's not to be trifled with.'

The weather has been damnably humid and hot. Heat I can take up to a point, humidity I can't. It feels like we are immersed in an endless sauna bath. The effect at night is little better. We are spending more time downstairs at night and running the air-con to get things a little cooler and dryer. Such is the climate in a maritime country.

Our old friend Satoshi popped around today and was much taken with Tom's progress. We see very little of him nowadays. Not since he started work in Moriyama. He is already beholden to the company, working long hours and backing up on Saturdays every fortnight. His holiday next month will be 5 days with a weekend at either end. Its just the way things are here in Japan. Workers never consider their entitlements as real, and neither does management. The unions are too weak and too conciliatory to make a difference.

And everyone is just so busy, so scheduled up.

chopstick blues

Tom reached his fourth month today and he celebrated with a lot of grumpiness and a huge poo. The latter threatened to engulph his nappy and the sofa, like some massive typhoon, and he grinned with self-satisfaction and the ensuing mess he had made. I suppose this kind of information is really of interest only to new or newish parents.

After much effort, we still havent recruited any new students lately. Its a fact that leaves us wondering whether Sanda is just English-schooled out. There are so many small and large competitors now that students can shop around. Theoretically, market forces should dictate that the best schools survive, but this ignores the fact that the biggies can pour a lot of money into advertising and making their premises modern and attractive. We are both thinking that if matters don't improve by Christmas, then we will have to reconsider our options, as they say. But I do expect things to get better for us.

The World Cup is over and the undeserving Italians have their mitts all over the trophy. Italy played really well in only one game, against the Germans. The rest of the time they were content to play a kind of waiting game behind packed defences, a game replete with time waisting, diving and negativity. I hope that Fifa can make some rule changes that challenge this kind of play. Perhaps making the goals a little wider, having video replays for incidents in the box and acting coaches on the sidelines to watch for ham performances would help.

what's in a.....

I read today that the Crowes had named their new baby Tennyson, an interesting choice to say the least. I'm not fond of surnames masquerading as Christian names, though this one might spark new interest in the Victorian poet. The Crowes cited their mutual love of one of Tennyson's early sonnets as their inspiration, a poem that I studied eons ago in my first undergraduate degree. It's soaked in the kind of twee sentimentality and hand-on-forehead histrionics beloved of the Victorians. But I must admit, that's one of the reasons I love a lot of Tennyson's work. And probably also Thomas Hardy.

So, for the record, here's the sonnet; #10 from memory.

IF I were loved, as I desire to be,
What is there in the great sphere of the earth,
And range of evil between death and birth,
That I should fear,—if I were loved by thee?
All the inner, all the outer world of pain
Clear Love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine,
As I have heard that, somewhere in the main,
Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine.
’Twere joy, not fear, claspt hand-in-hand with thee,
To wait for death—mute—careless of all ills,
Apart upon a mountain, tho’ the surge
Of some new deluge from a thousand hills
Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge
Below us, as far on as eye could see.

Kulcha

When I'm in Australia I'm bored and when I'm in Japan, I'm just too busy. The former state is brought on by my not having a job in teaching anymore and lots of time on my hands; the latter, by, well, just being in Japan. Everyone is busy here and if they have a gap in their planners, it will invariably be filled in short order.

I'm wondering when the Japanese, whose cultural history and artifacts suggest a great capacity for reflection, ever have time for this faculty. Or if they ever really did. Or if modern living has left them with no time at all. Its hard to say, but the distractions of the modern age are perhaps too many and too tempting. Who would prefer to wander the gardens of an old temple when they can tune in to 30 TV channels, five of which are showing baseball? Or to learn the koto or shamisan when pachinko and J-Pop are on offer?

The Japanese express surprise when foreigners (and forever we will be foreigners, alas!) show interest in the ephemera of Japanese culture, such as geisha and sumo. Why are you interested in shinto or want to learn calligraphy? Perhaps these kinds of questions arise from the notion that westerners, particular Americans and Australians, exist in a cultural desert. Of course, some do, but such an assumption ignores the pantheons of learning passed on since the Greeks. The great tradition of thinking that stretches back for two and a half millenia and which informs the modern mind. Or at least, should inform it.

During the cherry blossom season, Japanese gather under the boughs to celebrate the new but fragile flowers that bloom above their picnic mats. They spend much time just looking, observing the buds and the minutae of each blossom. Its wonderful just to watch them watching. That level of reflection is perhaps missing from everyday life here, if, for no other reason, than the fact that the schedule needs to be filled. And free time is wasted time. Change is always possible here, but only if, somewhat dangerously, the Japanese give themselves space to think in.