A Gaijin's Guide to Japan: An alternative look at Japanese life, history and culture

A Gaijin's Guide to Japan: An alternative look at Japanese life, history and culture Ben Stevens An alternative look at Japanese life, history and cultureYour Rough Guide or Lonely Planet book can tell who where to stay or what to see, but how do you really get under the skin of Japan? In this book Ben Stevens explores the serious and the frivolous, the history and the obsessions of a fascinating nation.Taking an A-Z walk through Japanese culture, A Gaijin's Guide To Japan looks at everything from akachochin bars to chikan (the weird blokes who touch you up on trains), geisha, inari shrines, karaoke, omikuji (sacred lottery) and ending up at zen. With a fair sprinkling of celebrity mentions - from David Beckham to soap opera star Yong-sama - and handy guides to kanji and sushi this is the perfect book for the Japanophile in all of us.Ideal for readers planning a visit to Japan but also to armchair fans of Japanese culture. A GAIJIN’S GUIDE TO JAPAN An alternative look at Japanese life, history and culture Ben Stevens Copyright (#ulink_d180a257-5355-522e-9de4-d24d8046d9a3) The Friday Project An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk/) First published by The Friday Project in 2009 Ben Stevens asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constrains in operation at the time of publication Source ISBN: 9781906321215 Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2009 ISBN: 9780007347421 Version: 2016-09-22 for Kazuyo Table of Contents Cover Page (#u0b8c2b24-0554-5dc5-9ec2-b0d822b3ba63) Title Page (#u83013807-b7a9-5ba6-ade8-f71d4ec74c6f) Copyright (#uea0a907b-3d82-57a3-a460-f17a24eb9a1a) Dedication (#u469ea526-f851-5f47-8fa4-3af6734b89aa) Introduction (#u36abf8d4-2fac-5b2b-a689-ed7460e7d234) A (#u48371333-1bc9-5003-af9c-29c425176e17) B (#u3f641d51-a5e4-51e6-8239-d415068035ee) C (#u8b9f687e-b122-5093-bc56-c0a96b97a1fa) D (#u438143c6-f757-5a47-8417-db07bf668dd6) E (#u63f14c16-b494-5b03-97f2-3bb0d26ca317) F (#u4b7a8b1f-57c9-55b5-8dca-e4e365dee3e1) G (#ub3e32232-fd74-5935-b352-9175cccf8b70) H (#litres_trial_promo) I (#litres_trial_promo) J (#litres_trial_promo) K (#litres_trial_promo) M (#litres_trial_promo) N (#litres_trial_promo) O (#litres_trial_promo) P (#litres_trial_promo) R (#litres_trial_promo) S (#litres_trial_promo) T (#litres_trial_promo) U (#litres_trial_promo) V (#litres_trial_promo) W (#litres_trial_promo) X (#litres_trial_promo) Y (#litres_trial_promo) Z (#litres_trial_promo) Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo) Other Books By (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) INTRODUCTION (#ulink_6abb175b-e924-5dc4-8ce7-901edd2f5660) In 1853, a Reverend Samuel Wells Williams—in Japan to act as translator to Commodore Matthew Perry (SeeBlack Ships, The)—declared the Land of the Rising Sun to be ‘…the most lewd of all the heathen nations I have seen’. As it transpired, however, the good Reverend was a bit of a dork who couldn’t even speak Japanese all that well, so we shouldn’t take his opinion too seriously. He was merely distressed that women laboured bare-breasted in the paddy fields—a fact which, if he’d lightened up a little, may well have actually put a smile on the miserable old coot’s face. Since then, a host of academics and other experts on Japanese history, language, culture and customs have pondered such important questions as: Why did nearly every Japanese woman under the age of thirty go nuts over David Beckham during and after the 2002 World Cup? Why will saying ‘Chin-chin!’ at a Japanese drinking party result only in stony stares and an awkward silence? And is it really true that many samurai warriors liked—in their spare time—to get ‘down and dirty’ with one another? Here, finally, are explanations concerning these and many other weighty matters. (Around 200 of them, in fact.) I have compiled this book while residing in Japan, teaching English for a living (surprise, surprise), immersing myself in judo and karate training (the origami course was full) and occasionally indulging in the mystical, ancient art of karaoke. In A Gaijin’s Guide…, I set out to record everything that struck me as being relevant to this fascinating country. You hold the end result in your hands. Hopefully it will entertain, enlighten and otherwise delight you. Now, hajimashou—let’s begin… A (#ulink_8a167855-481e-53bb-97a8-777d640ff7c9) ABE, SADA I can pretty much guarantee that any male reading this is shortly going to be crossing his legs and wincing…You ready? Okay—born in 1905 to a respectable family of tatami makers, Sada Abe became a rebellious teenager whom her parents, in despair, sold to a geisha house. Unwilling to undertake the years of rigorous training necessary to become a geisha, however, Abe became a prostitute instead. She seems to have had an insatiable appetite for sex, indulging in a string of lovers, as well as paying customers. However her physical desire came at a cost: on several occasions throughout her life, she would require treatment for syphilis. It was when Abe quit prostitution to become a waitress that she met the man whom she thought would become the love of her life. Kichizo Ishida was the (married) owner of the Yoshidaya restaurant in Tokyo where Abe worked, and the pair were soon embroiled in an affair. His sexual stamina left even Abe reeling; on occasion the pair remained in bed for anything up to four days, with Ishida sometimes demanding that a shamisen player perform for them as they made love. When Ishida rejected her for a time and returned to his wife, Abe was devastated. They briefly resumed their affair—this time experimenting with ‘erotic’ asphyxiation (they tightened an obi or ‘belt’ around each other’s neck at the moment of climax)—but Abe was paranoid that Ishida would leave her again. Early on the morning of May 18, 1936, Abe strangled Ishida to death (using their treasured obi) as he slept. Then, using a knife, she hacked off his penis and testicles before depositing them—wrapped in newspaper—in her handbag. (Kind of makes the old bunny-boiling routine all seem a bit tame, really.) Using the blood to write ‘Sada and Kitchi together’ on the bedsheets, Abe then went on the run, managing to evade the police for three days before being captured (by which time the ‘Abe Sada Incident’ had successfully scandalized the whole of Japan). She told the police: ‘…I knew if I killed him, no woman would ever touch him again.’ At the resulting trial—and contrary to her own wishes, as well as those of the prosecution—Abe was not given the death penalty. She instead received a mere six years for the murder of her lover and the subsequent mutilation of his corpse. (The luckless Ishida’s genitalia, meanwhile, were put on public display for a time at Tokyo University’s Medical School. Nothing like letting the poor sod rest in peace, was there’) Ultimately, Abe served only five years’ imprisonment, being released in May 1941. She attempted to resume her life under an alias, and again had a succession of lovers—but each time the relationship ended when her real identity inevitably became known. (Can’t think why…) In the end, Abe accepted a curious form of employment, being paid to appear at a succession of inns, to cause the male patrons to experience a pleasurable frisson of fear as she stared haughtily at them. Later in her life, Abe largely disappeared from public view, and it’s not known exactly when she died. But it’s believed to have been some time around 1987, when Abe would have been aged approximately eighty-two—for only then did she finally stop putting flowers on Kichizo Ishida’s haka (tomb). The ‘Abe Sada Incident’ was the inspiration for the sexually explicit (of course) 1976 movie, In the Realm of the Senses. AINU Comparisons between the Ainu and the native Indians of North America abound, although the Japanese wouldn’t thank you for saying so. According to Ainu legend, they were in Japan ‘100 000 years before the Children of the Sun’—but as soon those 100 000 years were up, they began losing territory to the Japanese pretty darn steadily. The Ainu resided mainly to the north of the country, particularly on the island of Hokkaido, which would eventually become their final place of refuge. Their story is depressingly familiar the world over: bullied and hounded from anywhere the Japanese wanted for themselves; forced to agree to unfair land-share deals that were then broken anyway, and brutally dealt with on the few occasions when they tried—always unsuccessfully—to meet force with force. For a while, the Ainu were left in relative peace in Hokkaido, although following the Meiji Restoration the large and sparsely populated island began to be viewed as the perfect solution to what, in the rest of Japan, was fast becoming an overcrowding problem. More and more Japanese began to move to Hokkaido. In case they should be disturbed by the indigenous population—who if they were male didn’t shave once they’d entered adulthood, and who if they were female commonly had a variety of facial and body tattoos—the Meiji ‘government’ (in truth more like an oligarchy) outlawed the Ainu language and many of their customs, while forcing them to live on state-owned ‘farming plots’. Today, an estimated 150 000 Ainu remain, although many choose to keep their identity a secret due to the discrimination they continue to suffer. Their language is also threatened with extinction: there are well under 1 000 native speakers left. AKACHOCHIN The closest thing Japan has to a Western-style public house, the akachochin is readily identifiable by the large red lanterns hanging outside. (Akachochin literally means ‘red lantern’—in days gone by these signified that somewhere sold alcohol.) Just open the sliding door and venture inside, and if you can’t make head nor tail of the food menu that’s usually written entirely in Japanese, it probably doesn’t matter. There’ll often be at least one customer who speaks sufficient English to help you decipher the ? la carte menu, or you can just gesture—with a polite and very Japanese-like movement of the hand—at something you see being eaten that looks quite tasty. Perhaps you fancy some yakitori (pieces of chicken and onion barbecued on skewers) or maybe you’re willing to try grilled squid. And to go with it—beer or sake? The choice, as they say, is yours. AKANAME Commonly used by parents to scare children into cleaning the bath, an akaname (a combination of two words: aka or ‘dead skin’, and name, which comes from the verb nameru—‘to lick’) is a human-cum-frog-like creature with wild hair, an incredibly long tongue and a single clawed toe. It has a penchant for entering dirty bathrooms in the dead of night and licking them clean, which would be very nice of it, if its left-over saliva did not subsequently cause an illness in any human who came into contact with it. And by ‘illness’ I don’t mean a nasty rash or a touch of flu. No, the akaname is frequently credited with causing such serious maladies as pneumonia and cancer. Which is, if you ask me, a bit much, even to scare the most unruly of children into cleaning the bathtub. B (#ulink_801bb200-dbf2-5f4c-9de1-15542c8e2581) BASEBALL In Japan, it’s popular. Real popular. Just like football in England, for many it’s more like a way of life. Amateur adult teams across the country meet up at some ungodly hour in the morning to practise before work. Two middle-aged women to whom I teach English, have previously requested to end a lesson early so that they could get back home to watch a particular game. Every high school has a number of young men whose dream is to be the next ‘Godzilla’—otherwise known as Hideki Matsui, the craggy-faced batter and pitcher, who now (following a nine-year spell with the Yomiuri Giants) plays for the New York Yankees. It was an American, Horace Wilson—working in Japan as a Professor of English at what is now Tokyo University—who introduced the game of baseball to the Land of the Rising Sun. Sometime in 1872/73, he organised a team to play during the students’ lunch-break. Baseball’s popularity consequently spread like wildfire—and, for his efforts, Wilson was inducted into the ‘Japanese Baseball Hall of Fame’ in 2003, some seventy-six years after his death. BECKHAM, DAVID He was mobbed everywhere he went! Japanese boys and young men wore their red Manchester United shirts with pride as they bellowed their adoration! Some female office workers even styled their hair into a bleached blond Mohican in tribute! And then David Beckham allegedly had an affair and lost it all. Such a loss of face is serious stuff in Japan, and the resulting public disgrace and humiliation (which will, of course, only occur if you’re famous) can last years. You might stand half a chance of regaining the limelight if you wait a suitable length of time before grovelling for forgiveness, but, let’s face it, Becks had basically cleaned up by then anyway. When I was in Japan in 2003/2004, there seemed to be scarcely a product—from cars and phones, right down to bars of candy—that he wasn’t being paid squillions of yen to advertise. Strangely enough, Posh was quick to jump on the bandwagon, hence the slightly vomit-inducing advertisement for a ‘his-n-hers’ perfume that featured a head-and-shoulders snap of her and Becks together, the single word underneath—Beauty. It all depends on your personal definition of the word, I suppose. BENKEI One of Japan’s best-loved folk heroes, Benkei was either the supernatural offspring of a temple god or the son of a blacksmith’s daughter, depending on which story you believe. In any case, he came kicking and screaming into this world with hair and teeth already in place. A natural troublemaker, he soon earned the nickname oniwaka or ‘young devil child’, which to be honest probably just made him act up even more. In spite of this misbehaviour, he was trained as a monk, and by the age of seventeen stood a two-metre tall giant with the strength of a small bull. ‘I’ve had enough of living in stupid Buddhist monasteries,’ he said at this point, in a teenager’s surly grunt. ‘I’m going to go and hang out with the yamabushi [mountain priests who were quite handy at fighting] who sound way cooler.’ Suitably trained in martial arts and warfare—and particularly expert in his use of the sword—Benkei then decided to place himself by Gojo Bridge in Kyoto, where he set himself the target of beating 1 000 thousand men using his sword. Rather unsurprisingly, 999 men were beaten without any problem whatsoever. It was that very last man who proved a bit of a tricky bugger. Along he sauntered, playing a jaunty tune on his flute, a little sword flapping at his side. ‘Hah! I’ll easily best this pipsqueak,’ gloated Benkei. ‘Hey!’ he called as the small, slightly built man drew closer. ‘If you want to cross this bridge with all your limbs intact, just you hand over that sword! Otherwise it will be the worst for you, see?’ ‘You big oaf,’ laughed the slightly built man. ‘My name is Minamoto no Yoshitsune, son of the infamous warlord Minamoto no Yoshitomo. If you don’t get out of my way right this second, I’ll thrash you like the insolent dog you are.’ ‘Oh, I just love it when I get a wise guy,’ declared Benkei, his eyes betraying a feral light as he rushed towards his intended victim. Stepping nimbly out of the way, Yoshitsune then used his flute to hit the giant sharply around the head. Benkei let out a roar and flashed his great sword all around him—but each time, Yoshitsune was simply not there. This battle required such little effort on Yoshitsune’s behalf that he was frequently able to play a little tune on his flute (he was undoubtedly a bit of a smart-arse, but then having a famous warlord dad can do that to you). Finally, exhausted with cutting through nothing but thin air—and really wishing that Yoshitsune would stop playing that same bloody tune—Benkei slumped to the ground and conceded defeat. ‘Okay, you win,’ he told Yoshitsune. ‘Here—I demanded your sword, so it’s only right that you should now have mine.’ But Yoshitsune only laughed, probably played his flute a bit more, and then sat down beside the fallen giant. He explained that he’d been trained in martial arts and swordsmanship by the tengu (mythological creatures), which meant that he only ever needed to draw his sword in times of extreme peril. ‘No offence, Benkei,’ he said, patting the much larger man on one of his ox-like shoulders, ‘but you’re all mouth and no trousers.’ At which Benkei apparently begged to become Yoshitsune’s loyal follower, for however long they both should live. So off they went and had lots of adventures, until it all turned a bit nasty and Yoshitsune found himself being betrayed by his powerful brother. Holed up in Takadachi Castle, an entire army just about to force their way inside, Yoshitsune killed first his family and then himself, to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. Benkei, loyal to the last, remained outside the room where his fallen master lay, defending it until his great body was finally brought down by over one hundred arrows. A rather dubious postscript is occasionally added to this story, which entails four or five people walking along a remote track a few days later, their features concealed under rough brown cloaks. ‘Phew,’ says one of the group, casting off his cloak to reveal a small sword and a flute by his waist. ‘I think we’re far enough away from the castle now, boys and girls.’ ‘What a good job you found some people who looked uncommonly like you, me and your family, master!’ declares another, far larger man. ‘Even more fortunate that they didn’t mine dying for us.’ ‘Rather!’ say Yoshitsune’s family (the members of which remain somewhat anonymous), as they all head towards the sanctuary of a forest above which hangs the slowly setting sun. BLACK SHIPS, THE In 1853, Japan was a country largely closed to the world. The foreign policy of the ruling Tokugawa Shogunate was sakoku—‘closed country’—and had been since 1639. The only real exception to the rule that prevented the Japanese from leaving Japan, and the gaijin from entering, on pain of death, was in Nagasaki. Here there was Dejima, an artificial island that was the official trading post for the Dutch; Holland being one of four countries, along with Korea, China and the Ryukyu Islands, with whom the Tokugawa Shogunate consented to trade. From 1837, three separate attempts were made by the Americans to ‘open up’ Japan trade-wise, both to themselves and, by implication, to the rest of the world. Effectively, the Americans were demanding that Japan put an end to its long period of self-imposed isolation. ‘Not on your Nelly,’ returned the Tokugawa Shogunate (or words to that effect), on a number of occasions actually opening fire on their unwelcome visitors. Finally the Americans decided that they were gonna kick some ‘A’, or at least threaten to. Step forward Commodore Thomas Perry, who, in charge of a fearsome-looking squadron of steam frigates (this was the nineteenth century, remember), set sail from Norfolk, Virginia, reaching Uraga Harbour near Edo (now Tokyo) on 8 July 1853. Slightly in awe of the steam-driven fleet’s obvious firepower, the Tokugawa Shogunate politely asked Perry if he wouldn’t mind sailing along to Nagasaki, which was, after all, the only place where gaijin sailing vessels were permitted to dock. ‘Actually, I would mind,’ said Perry, presumably through a translator. ‘I’m here to present a letter from President Fillmore of the United States of America, requesting that Japan ends its period of isolation,’ And by obvious implication, he added: And if you don’t accept this letter and at least start to consider therequest—which is actually more like a direct order from the most powerful nation on earth—then I’m going to use those nasty-looking cannons onboard my ships to start blasting the crud out of you. ‘Oh dear…’ muttered the Tokugawa Shogunate delegates. ‘As and when my boats and I return from a trip to China,’ continued Perry, ‘you’d be well advised to have a positive response to that letter.’ Perry wasn’t to be disappointed. When the black-hulled ships returned the following year, belching ominous clouds of smoke, the Tokugawa Shogunate signed a treaty committing it to ‘relations’ with the USA. This marked the beginning of the end for the feudalistic Shogunate, who would finally be overthrown by the Meiji Restoration in 1868. BON Commonly called Obon (the ‘O’ is honorific, as in okane— ‘money’), this is the Buddhist ‘Festival for the Dead’, which occurs from 13—15 July in the east of Japan (where the Western solar calendar is favoured) and the same dates in August in western parts of the country (where the Chinese lunar calendar is still followed). You’ll see the countless sprawling cemeteries within Japan full of people cleaning the family haka (a Buddhist tomb) and paying their respects to the spirits of their ancestors, who return to earth on the thirteenth of either month for a total of three days. During this time, the spirits generally fly around and look in on their loved ones, who as well as cleaning the family haka may also hang lanterns outside their homes by way of welcome. BONSAI In the film The Karate Kid, Daniel LaRusso first comes to know Mr Miyagi through helping him tend his many bonsai. As bonsai require constant care and attention, Mr Miyagi would have needed all the help he could get. In fact, with that many bonsai to look after, it’s doubtful that Mr Miyagi would have been able to hold down his job as a handyman, never mind teach young Danny boy the finer points of Japanese fisticuffs. One of the things The Karate Kid doesn’t teach you—or maybe it does; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen it—is that bonsai first came to Japan from China, where they’d been around since the days of the Tang Dynasty (that’s a long time, believe me). Controversy amongst bonsai aficionados continues to rage as to whether Chinese bonsai were merely trees already dwarfed by nature, thus making the Japanese the first people who were able to stunt a normal, healthy tree so that it can grow only between twenty-five centimetres to one metre tall. Of course, you can’t just stick a young sapling in a pot and expect it to flourish. Because it wouldn’t; it would die. No, what you must do is to continually prune the fledgling bonsai, carefully removing every excess branch and twig until you’ve created the image you want for it. Perhaps you’d like it to resemble a wind-gnarled tree that’s situated on the very edge of a seaside cliff—your choice. With sufficient care and attention—including frequent re-potting, root pruning and fertilisation—bonsai can last hundreds of years, passed down through generations. Though I suspect that the one Mr Miyagi gave Daniel’s mum probably ended up in the bin about a week later. BOWING ‘Oh boy—anything to do with Japanese etiquette is an absolute minefield …’ So runs the usual reply from someone claiming to be expert on all things Japanese, in response to a question concerning when to bow, how to bow, and so on. In reality, if you get an answer like this then the person speaking probably doesn’t know too much themselves—or is just trying to scare you. Certainly, Japanese etiquette can be incredibly complicated. But that’s something to worry about if you’re Japanese, or have lived and worked in Japan long enough for it to become an issue. And even then, quite often it won’t become an issue, simply because, whether you like it or not, you’re a gaijin who’s presumed not to know too much about such matters. Smile—but not too broadly—when you meet someone (excessive smiling can be an indication of unease in Japan, and can also make you look a bit weird), and for the purpose of this exercise give something like a ‘half-bow’ from the waist. Don’t just nod, because that looks a bit half-arsed in any country. If you’re male, keep your hands by your waist; females should put their hands on their thighs with their fingers touching. When saying goodbye, another bow can be given, though not as deep as the first one. And that’s about it. I’ve given the information about where to put your hands as general guidance, though to be honest the fact that you’re prepared to give any sort of bow will be appreciated by most Japanese people. Oh, and by the way, it may well be that some Japanese people will offer to shake hands. It’s not true that the Japanese never shake hands; I’ve shaken hands with numerous Japanese men, as well as several women (albeit in a business environment). But let the person you are meeting offer their hand first—if they don’t, stick with the bow. One final piece of advice: don’t ever try to embrace or kiss someone upon meeting them, even if it’s for the fourth or fifth time and you think that you’re getting on just fine. It might just result in you being branded a chikan and arrested. BUDDHISM Obviously anything like a detailed account of Buddhism is not going to be supplied here. All I can do is to provide the briefest overview, as the Japanese perceive it. Around 623 BC, a baby boy was born to the king of a tribe who existed on the Indian border of present-day Nepal. Siddh?rtha Gautama, as the boy was named, was destined for a life of great luxury and indolence, his father determined that he should never be exposed to human suffering. At sixteen, Gautama married his cousin, and all in all spent twenty-nine years of his life stuck behind the walls of his father’s palace. Then one day he grew so sick of his cosseted, uneventful existence that he ventured outside the palace. And what he saw shook him to the core: there was Old Age (an elderly man), Illness (a leper or someone with an obvious disease), Death (a decaying corpse) and—spot the odd one out—an ascetic. Gautama was profoundly depressed by three of these sights, and so decided that the only way to defeat Old Age, Illness and Death was to follow the ascetic’s example and become a monk, disowning his inheritance and trying to understand how he could overcome suffering through meditation. And meditate he did, on his own and with other hermits and monks; but still this didn’t give him satisfaction. So off he roamed around India, where he decided to try and gain ‘Enlightenment’ through depriving himself of all creature comforts, including food. After nearly perishing of starvation, Gautama decided that starving himself wasn’t really such a good idea. He instead chose what Buddhist’s refer to as the ‘Middle Way’: neither over-indulging nor denying himself something to the extent that this denial became physically harmful. Aged thirty-five, Gautama decided to sit beneath a bo tree, and not stand back up until he’d achieved Enlightenment. Which, to cut a long story short, is eventually what happened. Ignorance was the principal course of human suffering, he realised, and he had the Four Noble Truths (which are really a bit too deep to go into here) or ‘steps’ that anyone could follow to defeat ignorance and thus become Enlightened. To bring this story to a rather abrupt conclusion, Buddha (as he was now known) spent the last forty-five years of his life travelling extensively and gaining many followers. He died aged eighty, having fallen ill after eating a meal of what is commonly believed to have been pork. Exercising true benevolence, however, he refused to blame the man (named Cunda, a blacksmith) who’d given him the meat dish. ‘All composite things pass away. Strive for your own salvation with diligence,’ were Buddha’s final words before dying. What’s important to point out here is that Buddha didn’t claim to be any sort of god. Nor was he unique; he was merely the last in a long line of people who could also be called Buddha, people who’d also gained Enlightenment. In fact, according to my brother-in-law Taigi, who is the Buddhist head-priest of a temple belonging to the Jodo—‘Pure Land’—sect of Buddhism, there are (and this is a direct quote, including the pluralising of the word ‘Buddha’) ‘…as many Buddhas as there are grains of sand in this world…’ I suppose it just so happens that because he was the last of all these trillions of ‘Buddhas’, the Buddha who was previously Siddh?rtha Gautama is the one getting all the attention. In other words, it’s been rather a long time since anyone new became a Buddha. Failing to gain Enlightenment, humans are instead endlessly reincarnated, moving among the Six Realms that are Ten (basically heaven, which can’t be all bad), Ningen (which is the world as we know it, Jim), Chikusho (inhabited by animals), Shura (described by Taigi as being filled with an ‘everlasting anger’), Gaki (where you suffer from a general dissatisfaction and want of everything) and, finally, Jigoku (hell). One of these days, then, someone will succeed in gaining Enlightenment and will thus break this vicious circle, thereby creating a new Buddha. In the meantime, Buddhists do their best to stay out of the ‘lower’ Realms by filling their lives with selfless acts of charity. BUD? The ‘umbrella’ term given to all types of Japanese martial arts. Bud? itself is a compound of two Japanese words: bu meaning ‘war’, and d? meaning ‘way of’. Bud? best describes the myriad fighting skills a samurai warrior would have needed to master in order to survive the battlefield. He (not many female samurai in feudal Japan, though check the Naginata entry for the inevitable exception) would have been highly skilled in not only archery and swordsmanship—from which come kend? and iaid?—but also in striking and grappling. Hence the martial art jujutsu (there are various spellings of this word, but my Japanese laptop recognises only this one, so that’s the one I’ll use), which was born on the battlefields of ancient Japan. Jujutsu was then—and sometimes still is today, depending on where, and from whom, you learn it—a comprehensive fighting system, with the violent, ‘anything goes’ philosophy that you’d expect from a martial art that was learned very much ‘on the job’. BURAKUMIN In a country that remains as obsessed with a person’s ‘roots’ and family history as Japan, coming from burakumin stock can still cause someone some serious prejudice. The word itself means ‘people of the hamlet’—which is a nice way of saying that feudal-era burakumin were confined to an almost ghetto-like existence, forbidden to associate with non-burakumin to the extent that they were even required to have their own temples and shrines, so that they should live as isolated a life as possible. In fact, burakumin were commonly known then as eta, or ‘full of filth’, and endured pretty much the same existence as the ‘untouchable’ class in India. They did the sort of jobs that were wholly necessary yet at the same time were considered unclean—think undertaking, tanning, and really anything that involved dead flesh and bodies—all the while being informed by Shinto priests that they were contaminating themselves with the impurities created by death. In fact, for sheer revulsion, their occupations were ranked equal to the crimes of bestiality and incest. Hence the reason why they were forbidden to associate with anyone of a ‘higher’ position than themselves in the feudal caste system—and they were right down there at the bottom. Anything between 1—3 000 000 burakumin descendants live in Japan today, some (like the Ainu) doing their best to disguise their background, while others continue to live in the—mainly rural—areas where burakumin have traditionally had their ‘hamlets’. BUSHID? Or ‘Way of the Warrior’ (literally ‘Warrior’s Way’, though that doesn’t sound half as good), encompasses the typical ‘manly’ characteristics, such as self-control, perseverance, courage, honesty, loyalty and so on. Inazo Nitobe, in his famous book imaginatively entitled Bushid? (it would probably have to be called Fighting Techniques of Japan’s Deadly Flying Samurai Ninja Warrior Monks of Death to succeed in today’s market) observed that the samurai’s code of practice wasn’t that different from the Western knight’s chivalric code, and most fighting forces dating from the beginning of time would probably claim to possess the above attributes. Bushid? expected the samurai to readily meet his own death at a moment’s notice—a death he was often required to mete out to himself through the act of seppuku, or the cutting open of his own belly with a short sword. This was thought to release the samurai’s spirit in the most dramatic way possible (I’d have to agree with that), and was the only way to escape defeat on the battlefield or to avoid some other source of great shame. Naturally, seppuku was extremely painful. Hence the usual presence of another samurai, armed with a long sword with which to cut off his friend’s head and end his suffering the moment the act was completed. BUSHUSURU On January 8, 1992, at a state dinner given in his honour during a visit to Japan, President George Bush Snr. repaid the hospitality of his hosts by throwing up in the lap of Prime Minister Kiichi Miyazawa. The unfortunate incident was quickly blamed on a feeling of ‘nausea’ that had plagued Bush all that day; but soon the verb Bushusuru—literally, ‘doing a Bush’—had been invented to describe those who vomited without warning. BUSH WARBLER, JAPANESE You’re much more likely to hear rather than see this little critter, though to be honest you won’t be missing all that much. The Japanese Bush Warbler, or uguisu, is usually small, brown (sometimes with a hint of dark yellow around its belly) and…er…that’s about it really. The beauty of its mating call—which I won’t even attempt to transcribe here—commences from around the start of spring, and once led to it being dubbed ‘the Japanese Nightingale’. This name, however, completely ignored one important point: namely, that the uguisu never chirps away at night. This bird also lends its name to that special type of ninja-defeating flooring, uguisubari. It’s also often mentioned in haiku, given its association with spring, sakura, and other things that tend to get the Japanese excited. And if that’s still not enough, an enzyme found in its droppings is used both as a skin-whitening agent and to remove stains from a kimono. BY?BU Folding screens that originally came from China, by?bu (‘wind wall’) could at first be found only in the Emperor’s court. By?bu acted as draught excluders (hence the name), room sub-dividers and in general livened the place up a bit with the colourful pictures of dragons, mountains, lakes, great trees and the like that were painted upon them. Around the fifteenth century, however, by?bu had become so commonplace that nearly everyone—rich and poor—owned at least a couple. Hence their fall from favour: by?bu are nowadays commonly seen gathering dust inside temples and museums, dragged out every now and then for such occasions as weddings. C (#ulink_84af8495-5de2-51b5-90be-f37d06a003d4) CHIKAMATSU, MONZAEMON Renowned seventeenth century playwright, whose enduring fame has often led to him being referred to as the ‘Japanese Shakespeare’. The son of an unemployed doctor, he began his career writing haiku, before really making a name for himself by knocking out well over 100 plays. Few of these plays, however, are what you might call cheery. In fact, with titles such as The Love Suicides at Sonezaki and The Love Suicides at Ami-jima, the audience knew that they were going to be watching something a tad ‘deep’. Later in his career, Chikamatsu transferred his formidable talents to bunraku, or the ‘puppet theatre’, where frequently just one person would chant the lines for any number of puppet ‘actors’, all the while accompanied by a lone shamisen. Sound a little more cheery? Don’t you believe it. Chikamatsu was a man obsessed: suicide (and death in general) in his plays—for puppets or otherwise—remained a common theme. CHIKAN Means ‘molester’ or pervert. Commonly refers to disturbed males taking advantage of packed Toyo commuter trains to grope whichever female is squashed up nearest to them. But sexual assaults of this nature are just as likely to occur at rock concerts and in crowded shopping malls. There are even signs by some bicycle parking lots, warning women to be on their guard as they bend down to undo their bicycle locks. At the time of writing, an economist named Kazuhide Uekusa (formerly a well-known TV commentator) has been indicted by public prosecutors in Tokyo for allegedly molesting a female high school student on a train in September 2006. If found guilty, it will be Uekusa’s second offence: he was convicted in 2004 of using a handheld mirror to look up a schoolgirl’s skirt while the pair of them were stood on an escalator. Fined ?500 000, his career and reputation in ruins, he was also ordered to surrender his precious mirror, net worth ?100 (about fifty pence). You’d have thought that would have taught him—I mean, those ?100 mirrors must surely mount up—but here’s Uekusa, apparently back to his old tricks. Despite having only ‘hazy memories’ of the whole incident, due to his earlier consumption of twenty cups of Chinese wine, Uekusa vigorously denies this latest charge. ‘My hand touched the student when the train rattled,’ he’s been quoted as saying, ‘and I may have been misunderstood.’ To which the majority of the Japanese population reply: ‘You certainly are misunderstood, wacko-boy.’ However, the nature of his defence does raise a serious point. Namely that on some trains during certain times of the day—and especially during the Tokyo morning and evening rush-hours—people are packed together so tightly that it is impossible not to have some sort of physical contact with the person next to you. Chikan have commonly relied on this fact to disguise their nasty deeds, and are assisted by the traditional reluctance of Japanese women to cause a scene, even if they suspect they are being assaulted. But times are changing. Kazuhide Uekusa himself was captured after the female student he was allegedly groping shouted ‘Stop! Stop!’ and then—assisted by other commuters—performed a citizen’s arrest on him. But there is a growing, discomforting feeling that many men have met a similar fate through what has been a genuine accident. Take, for example, Hideki Kato, who whilst on a packed train was grabbed, apparently at random, by the man next to him when a thirteen-year-old began to scream that she’d been groped. The Japanese legal system has an unfortunate habit of presuming guilt, and commonly favours those who confess (an expression of sincere remorse by a murderer often helps them avoid the death penalty, and may even result in a reduced prison sentence). So many men accused of being chikan feel that they have no choice but to pay the fine, if they wish to avoid going to prison. Not so Hideki Kato, who stubbornly proclaimed his innocence in court, only to end up receiving an eighteen-month jail sentence. He continues to fight back through the ‘Victims of False Accusations Network’, although in a few similar cases the accused male has ended up committing suicide. Many trains now have carriages adorned with pink lines and signs stating that they are Josei Senny? Shary? : ‘For Women Only’. Hopefully this will reduce the number of women being assaulted—and also the number of men who are undoubtedly being falsely accused of being chikan. CHIKATETSU SARIN JIKEN (SUBWAY SARIN INCIDENT) On the morning of 20 March, 1995, at around 7.30 a.m., five men boarded trains at various stations along the Tokyo subway system and dropped a couple of small, polythene packages upon the floor. Inside these packages was the deadly nerve agent sarin—a pinhead-sized drop of which is more than enough to kill an adult. Piercing these packages with a couple of jabs from an umbrella, the five men then hastened off the train, each meeting with a ‘getaway driver’ at a pre-arranged spot. One man called Kenichi Hirose, however, was not quite quick enough—beginning to feel the effects of sarin poisoning, he was obliged to inject himself with the antidote each of the men carried. The five men—along with their getaway drivers—belonged to the Aum Shinrikyo, a shadowy religious cult whose leader was the fat, partially sighted son of a tatami mat maker. This man, Shoko Asahara, lusted after a violent coup that would topple the government from power and install him as emperor—deciding that this was something of a tall order, however, he instead elected to unleash a poison on the 5 000 000-plus civilians who use the subway system every day. Twelve people died in the attacks, and close to a thousand were injured—one woman so seriously that she later lost both her eyes. Asahara and his followers’ lunacy deeply distressed a country that had, until then, considered itself to be virtually free of crime—at least of the violent variety. At the time of writing, Shoko Asahara remains on death row, sentenced to hang. Three of the ten men who carried out his orders—poisoners and getaway drivers—remain at large. ‘CHIN-CHIN’ So, you’re there at an akachochin and are having a whale of a time with your Japanese friends. You’ve probably figured out by now that kanpai means ‘cheers’ but, after saying it numerous times—while also teaching your social circle its English equivalent—you begin to wonder how else you can initiate another round of beer-glugging. ‘I know,’ you think, brain just a little fogged with Kirin lager and lovely warm sake, ‘I’ll say “chin-chin” instead!’ Don’t. Because plenty of gaijin before you have had to learn the hard way—through an awkward silence and shocked stares from their Japanese companions—that “chin-chin” is, in the Land of the Rising Sun, slang for ‘penis’? CH?MEI, KAMO NO Famed writer, monk and hermit, born around 1155. His father was a Shinto priest in charge of an important shrine. When his father died, it was naturally assumed that young Kamo would step into his shoes. As it transpired, however, this was not to be. ‘Sorry,’ said whoever it was who decided such matters, ‘but we want someone with a wee bit more experience for this job.’ Deeply disillusioned by this, and grieving still for the loss of his father, Kamo turned to a priest called Shomyo (who may, in fact, have been the young man’s grandfather) for some words of wisdom. ‘Concentrate on composing poetry,’ was Shomyo’s rather obscure advice; and with a shrug of his shoulders and a sigh, this was just what Kamo proceeded to do. In fact, he had something of a knack for it. Within a few years, he’d had an anthology of some one hundred poems published, with a few finding favour within the imperial court. Kamo, however, soon considered his emerging fame and fortune to be something of a fickle thing. He was becoming obsessed with the Buddhist concept of muj?, or impermanence—the idea that this world, and everything in and of it, from gods to insects, is in a constant state of flux. With this in mind, considered Kamo, what was the use of money and material items? To the bemusement of everyone around him, Kamo retreated to a group of mountains called Ohara, where he changed his name to Ren’ in. A move to another mountain called Toyoma followed, before Ren’ in performed his anti-materialistic and wandering-hermit-like masterstroke: determined as he was to live in a sublime state of poverty, renouncing all worldly wants and desires, he built himself a shabby hut that, at exactly ten foot square, was what an estate agent might call ‘cosy’. It was here that Ren’ in wrote his masterful essay H?j?ki (often translated, with an obvious eye on the bestseller list, as ‘An Account of My Hut’). Its opening sentence perfectly defines muj? thus: ‘Ceaselessly the river flows, and yet the water is never the same…’ Ren’ in saw things through to their logical conclusion, expiring in his hut a few years later. CREATION MYTH, JAPANESE Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there was nothing. But then something that was lighter than nothing rose to the top of nothing and formed heaven. (This is, quite honestly, the only way I can think of interpreting the original telling of the Shinto creation myth, as related in Japan’s oldest chronicle, Kojiki.) The heavier mass of nothing, meanwhile, formed what was to become earth. But for a long while ‘earth’ was nothing more than a vague, watery substance, from which sprouted ‘like reeds’ lots and lots of gods. But as this vague and watery place wasn’t exactly packed full of things to do, the gods soon became bored. ‘Look,’ they said to two of their number (‘Izanami’, a female deity, and ‘Izanagi’, who was male), ‘why don’t you both pop up to the Floating Bridge of Heaven, and while you’re up there see if you can’t somehow form some landmasses down here?’ ‘And how in the name of Shinto are we supposed to do that?’ demanded Izanami and Izanagi (or just ‘Iza and Iza’, on the occasions when they didn’t need to be distinguished between). ‘We haven’t got the foggiest,’ replied the other gods, ‘but take this bejewelled spear with you, in case it should come in handy.’ So up went Iza and Iza to the Floating Bridge of Heaven, where they gazed down at the foggy, watery void. ‘Let’s see if we can’t stir things up a bit, by using this extremely long spear,’ suggested Izanami. ‘Okay,’ replied Izanagi, doing just that—although he was surprised when the spear touched something solid that lay underneath the vague, watery substance. ‘What the…‘’ he began in surprise, retracting the spear. As he raised it back up towards the bridge, great drops fell from its points. And lo! Instantly as they hit the foggy, watery substance they formed a solid landmass—an island. Iza and Iza went from the Floating Bridge of Heaven to the island they’d formed, and decided that they now quite fancied indulging in a bit of hanky-panky. But in the ensuing courtship ritual, Izanami flattered Izanagi first, which for some reason was something that was strictly forbidden by the gods who dwelt in heaven. Punishment was dealt to Iza and Iza through the birth of their first child, who was ‘boneless like a leech’ and otherwise generally unsatisfactory. Thus the unfortunate child was put on a tiny raft made out of reeds and set adrift on the foggy, watery substance that surrounded the island. A second child (called Awashima, or ‘faint island’—presumably something of an insult) proved just as repellent as the first, and met a similar fate. In despair, Iza and Iza went up to heaven to ask the gods what they could do to make amends. ‘Re-enact your courtship ritual, only this time make sure it is the male who compliments the female first,’ said the gods sternly. ‘Understood,’ nodded Iza and Iza, muttering under their breaths, ‘Jeez, lighten up…’ But doing as they were told, they were consequently blessed with children who proved so satisfactory that they were able to become Japan’s three thousand-odd islands. In fact, so fertile were Iza and Iza that they also gave birth to gods of wind, trees, mountains, rivers, sea—although when it came to giving birth to the god of fire, it all proved too much for poor old Izanami; the effort killed her. D (#ulink_1fea0c3c-0da2-5a6b-b600-12be820e7fac) DAIBUTSU In 743, Shomu, the forty-fifth Emperor of Japan, ordered an urgent meeting of his most trusted advisors. ‘Look,’ he told them, ‘things can’t go on like this. Recently we’ve had a smallpox epidemic, widespread crop failure, and—stone the crows—even an attempted coup. I’m beginning to get the feeling that someone up there doesn’t really like me, you know what I mean?’ One of Shomu’s advisors awkwardly cleared his throat. ‘If by “someone” you mean Buddha, master, then I have a plan…’ he declared cautiously. ‘Oh aye?’ yawned Shomu. ‘Let’s hear it, then.’ As he spoke, the advisor warmed more and more to his idea. ‘Why don’t we build an absolutely flippin’ humungous statue of the Buddha, say around sixteen metres tall, with its fingers alone each the size of a human being? It will use up almost the country’s entire stock of copper, but you wait and see if any more droughts or whatever occur after we’ve erected that little effort at Todaiji temple in Nara…master.’ ‘You mean like a dedication, right?’ said Shomu. ‘Sounds great—get cracking, lad.’ Nine years later, the statue finally completed, an Indian priest named Bodhisena conducted the ‘eyeopening’ ceremony in front of some 10 000 people. Since then (and it has been rather a long time) such calamities as earthquakes and fires have caused the Daibutsu of Todaiji to have to be rebuilt on several occasions; but—though a little smaller than it was originally—it can still be visited to this very day. DHARMA DOLLS Expect to see these in many Japanese homes and businesses, as a general sort of good-luck charm. The doll is a depiction of Bodhidharma, the wandering monk who’s often accredited with having started the Chinese kung-fu style of fighting, along with establishing Zen as a means of attaining Enlightenment (SeeBuddhism). Bodhidharma generally favoured walking as a means of transportation; although on occasion (legend informs us) he chose to float across a river on a single reed. However, after nine years sat facing a cave wall in a state of deep meditation, his legs and arms either atrophied or fell off altogether, depending on what version of the story you choose to believe. In any case, this is the reason why the Dharma doll has no limbs painted upon it. (I can only assume that Bodhidharma introduced kung-fu to the world before he suffered such grave injuries.) Dharma dolls are bought without their eyes having been painted in; the owner is supposed to do this him-or herself—one eye at a time—when a particular wish or desire has been fulfilled. Bodhidharma is said to have had a particularly piercing stare—caused, no doubt, by the fact that he once amputated his own eyelids in a fit of rage after he fell asleep while meditating. These eyelids fell to earth and from them, believe it or not, sprouted the first tea plants. DIAZ, CAMERON Just what does your average Hollywood superstar do when their bank-balance needs topping up? Well, they can always—in the case of Ms Diaz, or indeed Brad Pitt—appear in a Japanese television commercial for a mobile phone company. Such commercials play upon an actor’s general image: Diaz hams up her familiar ‘kooky’ role by awkwardly pushing a loaded supermarket trolley with one hand, advertised mobile firmly clamped to her ear with the other, one high-heeled shoe about to fall off as she walks pigeon-toed while chattering away. Brad Pitt, meanwhile, is strolling through an exquisite garden as he talks into his phone. He passes two attractive women, who distract his attention and with whom he exchanges flirtatious glances. Not looking where he is going, he stumbles into an ankle-high water feature. Ho ho! While they are undoubtedly paid ludicrous amounts of money for such commercials (the soundtrack for which, incidentally, is Aerosmith’s Walk This Way), Ms Diaz and Mr Pitt do seem willing to poke a little fun at themselves. Catherine Zeta-Jones, however, in a commercial for a brand of shampoo (or conditioner, or something) appears to have been transformed into some kind of modern-day Greek goddess: eyes sparkling, lips pouting and black hair dutifully gleaming as she stands upon a floodlit podium with (in near-darkness), a cast of thousands below her, all of them pointing, gasping, taking photos, fawning, fainting, etc. It’s tastefully done, anyway, and doubtless helps sell said product. D?J? Traditional training hall for Japanese martial arts. A d?j? may have bare wooden floorboards for such martial arts as karate or kend? , or a special type of tatami for bud? that involve throwing, i.e., jud? and aikid?. Strictly speaking, a d?j? should be cleaned by the lower-grade students either prior to or after the training session, although in all but the strictest d?j? that’s gone rather out of the window. It used to be that a student wishing to join a d?j?—particularly if its head sensei had a particularly good reputation—was permitted to do nothing else except clean the d?j? for anything up to a year before they were considered a student and allowed to begin their training. Unlike some d?j? nowadays, then, it wasn’t all too common to find lots of fourteen-year-old black belts strutting around. D?KY? A Buddhist monk, D?ky? was present at the Imperial Court in Heijo-kyo (present day Nara) when, in 761, the Empress Koken fell sick and seemed likely to die. Somehow D?ky? succeeded in curing her, and the grateful Empress subsequently made him her Prime Minister. Soon it was popularly believed that the Empress and the monk were embroiled in an affair; D?ky? himself was rumoured to be extremely well-endowed. (A saying of the time was that ‘…when D?ky? sits down, three knees protrude’.) The monk, however, was getting greedy for more power. In fact, he declared that no less than a Shinto god or kami had declared that he was to be the next Emperor. Curiously, this seems not to have annoyed the Empress Koken (or Sh?toku, as she was now known). In any case, D?ky? continued to live within Nara, enjoying his many privileges and doubtless exercising his third knee on occasion. But his arrogance had angered many within the Imperial Court—and when Sh?toku died in 770, D?ky?’s enemies were at last able to have their revenge. D?ky? was banished to a distant part of Japan, where he languished in obscurity for the following two years until his death, aged seventy-two. DRINK DRIVING Alcoholism has long been recognised as being almost epidemic within Japan, particularly manifesting itself in drink driving. In fact, in any given week you can almost guarantee that several police officers will be arrested for the offence (and this is an entry that I will, for obvious reasons, leave entirely free of any ‘comic’ exaggeration). On television, news reporters can frequently be seen running up to people who are obviously not sober, and demanding to know why they are about to get inside their vehicles. To which the frequent response by the intoxicated driver runs something along the lines of, ‘Dakara nani?’—‘So what?’ The near-daily interviews with the relatives of those killed by drunken hit-and-run drivers could tell these halfwits exactly ‘what’, though, depressingly, no one seems to be taking the slightest bit of notice of those people whose lives have been left shattered. E (#ulink_df82e8cf-b671-5cb3-805c-9914ab3f37e7) EARTHQUAKES Over 1 000 a year in Japan, although it’s unlikely that you’ll even feel the majority of these. Start to worry when an earthquake measured on Japan’s shindo scale starts to be less of a one and more like a five, six or seven. In Tokyo’s Great Kanto Earthquake in 1923, over 100 000 people lost their lives; and some seventy-two years later, an earthquake killed more than 6 000 people in Kobe. So why is Japan so prone to earthquakes? Well, the fact that it’s got around one-tenth of the world’s total number of volcanoes, along with its many onsen or hot springs, points to some pretty severe disturbances going on within its core. And indeed Japan is situated right above the point where several of the Earth’s tectonic plates meet. All of which explains why there are frequent televised reports detailing the evermore ingenious ways in which construction engineers are building earthquake-resistant homes and businesses. It also provides a reason for why, on the anniversary of the Great Kanto Earthquake each year, Japan’s self-defence force and paramedics practise an emergency drill in anticipation of Japan’s long-overdue—given that earthquakes in Tokyo should technically occur about once every seventy years—‘big one’. EATING A bewildering array of kata is attached to the above activity, which is only partially understood/practised by many Japanese themselves. However, the following basic points may assist a gaijin to endear him/herself to their dining companion(s). 1 Before commencing dining, clasp your hands together as though in prayer, slightly bow your head and say ‘Itadakimasu’. (Ee-ta-da-ki-masu.) This has roughly the same meaning as ‘For what I am about to receive, may I be grateful’. 2 It is likely that you will have a variety of shared dishes from which to choose. Don’t pick up something with your hashi (chopsticks) and then change your mind and put it back. Deposit selected food on your own personal plate which will have been given to you, along with your own rice bowl. 3 Don’t pick up your plate, which contains selected food (i.e. sashimi), when eating from it. You can, however, do this with your rice bowl and (if served) soup. 4 Don’t use your chopsticks to point at someone, or even something. A major faux pas. Also, don’t leave chopsticks standing up in your rice bowl; Japanese Buddhists only do this when honouring their ancestors at household shrines. 5 Appreciation for your meal can best be signified by saying ‘Oishii’ (‘Tasty’). The Japanese are not, as a rule, noisy eaters. 6 When finished, say ‘Gochisosamadeshita’ (‘Go-chi-so-sama-deshi-ta’). It means something along the lines of ‘I have eaten a feast’. A gaijin’s ability to say this correctly is genuinely admired by the Japanese. Don’t say ‘Gochisosamadeshita’ before everyone else has finished eating. In conclusion—chopsticks and difficult lingo aside—the experience really isn’t that daunting. Following the above few points, however, will ensure that you help create the necessary wa at the dining table. Incidentally, it’s not considered polite to eat whilst ‘on the move’—i.e. walking along a street—or, generally speaking, on public transport. EEYORE Listen to the Japanese talking amongst themselves—especially those who are below the age of thirty—and you may well come to the conclusion that they possess some sort of bizarre fetish for the donkey from Winnie-the-Pooh. However, what can be pronounced exactly like the donkey’s name is in fact ii-yo, or ‘that’s fine’. Just to let you know, as I am not the only gaijin who’s initially been baffled upon overhearing this. ELECTRIC TOILETS Commonly encountered all over Japan. Pressing one button, should you so desire, warms your seat. Pressing another causes jets of water to gently cleanse those intimate nooks and crannies. If you’re embarrassed about ‘noises’, the electric toilet upon which you are perched may emit the sound of running water, or birdsong, while you perform your business. A ‘medical’ toilet is apparently being developed, which will analyse a user’s waste for any sign of diseases such as diabetes or bowel cancer. Talking toilets have even been mentioned, though quite what their topics of conversation will be is anyone’s guess (‘Hi there—how you doing today? Oh boy, do you seem desperate! That’s it, get nice and comfy. Though you might want to check out the toilet-roll situation before you get started—the last person before you used quite a lot of paper. It’s okay? Right then—chocks away, eh?’). It’s not all fun and games, however. Recently, on three separate incidents, electric toilets made by the firm Toto burst into flames. Fortunately, none of these toilets were occupied at the time of their spontaneous combustion (caused by a faulty bidet function), although, declared a Toto spokeswoman helpfully, the ‘…fire would have been just under your buttocks’. No s@*%, Sherlock! ENGLISH, JAPANESE Okay, the meaning of what’s written in the window of my local panya (bakery)—We sell you plenty tasted bread and cake for you enjoy! ‘—is basically obvious. Similarly, the sign by the entrance to the strangely named ‘Bar Granddad’—‘Don’t worry if come here alone. We serve you plenty cosy time and intoxication’. Sounds like my kinda place! But then you encounter ‘sentences’ plastered across T-shirts worn by hip young men and women, consisting of words apparently thrown together at random. The following are just a few of the bizarre ‘messages’ I’ve hurriedly scribbled down, glimpsed on the fronts and backs of unsuspecting people in shopping centres and in the street, recorded here for posterity: Cookie nuts crazy chick with empower jealousy, yeah!, and Sometime live just learned hard on the road too much, and Never saying back—world in space this time. And it’s everywhere: on clothes, in shops, on food packaging, posters—absolutely everywhere. English is cool in Japan, regardless of whether or not it makes any sense. As a result, approximately every two minutes an English-speaking gaijin arrives at Narita airport, sees this corruption of their native language all around, and thinks something along the lines of, ‘I can clean up here! All I have to do is offer my services to this shop or that manufacturer, to put their slogans into “good” English, and I’m bound to get paid a packet!’ Sadly, it never works out that way. Because Japanese English is Japanese English—it makes the product it’s advertising seem ‘cool’ to the consumer, while also giving a reassurance that it is, at heart, Japanese. Perfect English would just make a product seem foreign, and therefore to be treated with caution. Sales would suffer; jobs would be on the line. Besides which, there’s American English, Australian English, Caribbean English—why not Japanese English? The fact that it often doesn’t make any sense should be neither here nor there. It’s wonderful stuff: sheer poetry…Almost. ENKA At some stage during your stay in Japan, you’ll probably turn on a television to see a (typically) middle-aged man or woman clad in a kimono, fronting a full band which consists both of such ‘modern’ instruments as drums and electric guitars, as well as traditional Japanese instruments such as the shamisen. Whether male or female, whoever’s singing will be wearing a plaintive expression, and you may well notice the almost excessively ‘warbly’ nature of their voice. Well, that’s enka—a traditional form of Japanese ballad singing. The subject matter of the lyrics is popularly claimed to reflect something along the lines of a ‘sweet resignation towards life’s misfortunes’. Though, if you ask me, it can all get a bit bloomin’ depressing, packed full with references to death, the desertion of a lover, having a general lack of family and friends, being skint, etc. Recently, however, a handsome young devil named ‘Jero’ has been pretty much turning the traditional enka ‘scene’ on its head. Jero (real name Jerome Charles White, Jr.) is an African-American from Pittsburgh, born in 1981, whose Japanese grandmother first began to teach him the lingo in which he would eventually sing. Following his graduation from the University of Pittsburgh, Jero came to Japan to teach English, but released his first single Umiyuki (‘Ocean Snow’) in February 2008. Jero has a distinctly ‘hip-hop’ image, with baggy clothes and a cap worn at a jaunty angle. He also has a singing voice that has proved to be of huge appeal to many older Japanese (it also helps that Jero comes across as being a polite and intelligent individual). And his general image is credited with having caused something of an ‘enka renaissance’ among younger generations, who had previously largely abandoned enka in favour of such other musical styles as rap and heavy metal. Now, if only he could make those lyrics a bit more cheerful… F (#ulink_adce0284-09b0-5a00-a418-ae36e07d2cef) FUGU Full name takifugu—the kanji characters for which read ‘river pig’—a member of the pufferfish family. Although it carries the poison tetrodotoxin in its skin, its testicles and, particularly, its liver and ovaries (to say nothing about fugu also being extremely expensive) there are still many people who are rather fond of eating it. For this reason fugu can only be prepared by specially trained chefs, using knives that are otherwise kept under lock and key. However, a certain number of people (estimates vary quite dramatically, from under ten victims per year to well over a hundred) do still fall ill and die after consuming fugu. Most fatalities are believed to arise from an ill-advised desire to taste a little of the poison along with the flesh of the fugu, which is reputed to be quite bland. (I’m neither rich nor brave enough to try it myself.) Ingesting just a little tetrodotoxin apparently livens up the proceedings by causing a ‘prickling’ sensation of the lips and tongue—which really does sound great, I have to say—though have too much and you can expect your circulatory and respiratory systems to shut down fairly rapidly. In almost all cases where there is no medical intervention in the shape of a life-support machine—and even in some cases where there is—death by asphyxiation soon follows. However, some people have previously been known to recover from the total paralysis that mimics death—on a couple of occasions just before they were about to be cremated. FUJI-SAN Should really get a mention, given that it’s probably Japan’s most recognisable symbol after the geisha. The facts are, then, that Fuji-san lies almost exactly in the middle of Japan, and although classed as a volcano has been dormant since 1707 (which, if you’re planning to climb it, will probably come as something of a relief). Recognised since ancient times as a symbol of the divine, women were not permitted to climb Fuji until after the Meiji Restoration, which had something to do with the fact that only men were permitted to be priests and monks. Nowadays, expect to see a fair amount of rubbish on your way up the mountain, with the surrounding forests in particular being well known as a ‘fly-tipping’ spot for unwanted furniture, freezers—even cars. And at the very top of Mount Fuji, alongside the 200-metre-deep crater, you’ll find, to your undoubted delight, an assortment of neon-lit vending machines. According to a well-known Japanese proverb, climbing Mount Fuji once makes you a wise man; climb it twice and you’re a fool. FURIN You might see one of these hanging from the eave of a house—it’s a small bell that’s commonly constructed from glass or metal, and attached to its clapper is a strip of paper called a tanzaku. Upon this tanzaku there might be written a classical Japanese poem or verse—and when a light summer breeze catches the tanzaku, the bell emits a slight chime. In spite of the delicacy of this chime, however, furin are not really to be found in built-up areas, as they don’t half annoy the neighbours. FUTON A first-time visitor to Japan, transferring by coach from Tokyo’s Narita airport to their hotel, or perhaps to the domestic airport Haneda for a connecting flight, can’t help but be struck by the thousands of futon that have been placed out to air on the balconies of Tokyo’s countless apartment blocks—assuming, of course, that it is a fine day. Many ‘beds’ in Japan are made up of a futon covered by a sheet that is put out in the evening. Otherwise futon are kept in a cupboard known as oshiire, which serves to free up space in what are often slightly cramped living conditions. You’ll encounter futon rather than beds if you stay at a ryokan—a traditional Japanese inn—as opposed to a hotel. G (#ulink_ab657ded-b61b-5241-9080-cd532d2384de) GAIJIN Shortened form of the word gaikokujin, which means ‘outside country person’. A person born outside Japan will still be considered by most Japanese to be gaijin even after they have lived in the country for most of their lives, thus coming to understand the language and culture perfectly. Put it this way: you can have a seventy-year-old professor of ancient Japanese (or something of the sort), born in Oxford, England, but living in Japan since the start of the 1950s. He has a Japanese wife, and they have two grown-up children. The professor is, of course, completely fluent in Japanese; his wife jokes that he speaks it better than she. When he dies the professor will have a Buddhist funeral, and his ashes will be interred in the family haka. He doesn’t expect ever to go back to England again—it’s a long flight, and anyway his family, friends, work and life in general are all in Japan. Then one day—now in the autumn of his successful life, and while walking serenely to the university where he continues to lecture on a part-time basis—two schoolboys giggle and shout ‘Herro!’ and ‘Zis iz a pen!’ at him. So go to Japan for anything longer than a holiday, and you will soon a) be driven mad, b) give up and go home, or c) resign yourself to the fact that you will be considered as an ‘outside country person’ for the remainder of your stay. GAMBATTE Beneath the polite, patient and often slightly reserved exterior of the ‘typical’ Japanese person there lurks a beast. This beast is at all times ready and alert for a challenge, although any outward indication will rarely be given. This beast is the reason why Japanese students can get by on four hours’ sleep when studying for exams and why the typical Japanese sarariman thinks nothing of staying at the office till ten o’clock at night, only to then apologise for his rudeness should he leave before his colleagues. This beast can trace its roots right back to the dawn of the samurai, and their code of bushid? . It has at its heart the samurai ‘do or die’ philosophy: to commit to something—anything—wholly, and to succeed in this field or else to die in the attempt. All of the above and much, much more—entire books have been written about the ‘do or die’ factor—is contained within one single word: Gambatte. ‘Gambatte,’ says the midwife to the mother about to give birth. ‘Gambatte,’ says the mother to the child as it takes its first faltering steps. ‘Gambatte,’ says the father to the teenager, as he studies beyond the point of exhaustion for the all-important university entrance examinations. ‘Gambatte,’ says the employer to the young man, now working for a firm that must pull out all the stops—and work all the hours—in order to secure an important contract. And so it goes on, through generations, until the word is effectively etched on the heart of every newborn Japanese child before he or she even utters their first cry. ‘Gambatte’: ‘do your best!’—and, by implication, never, ever give up, no matter how seemingly insurmountable the odds. Because to give up was a source of great shame to the samurai, and if you’ve read this far, you’ll know how they dealt with that… GAME SHOWS, JAPANESE Japanese game shows—of the physical rather than the mental variety—commonly involve four things: water (usually freezing), a number of contestants wearing silly costumes (who will invariably enter said water at some point), an audience of limited mental capability (who will act as though someone getting wet is the funniest thing they’ve ever seen) and a presenter (often male) who requires medication to control what is obviously a serious hyperactivity disorder. It is interesting to note that Japanese game shows are never watched by small children, who find them tiresome in the extreme. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/ben-stevens/a-gaijin-s-guide-to-japan-an-alternative-look-at-japanese-life/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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