Haircuts continue to be adventures. This time I decided to try somewhere new. Unfortunately, it was still fairly expensive, but the conversation more than made up for it.
The man who cut my hair is 28, has a two year old son who likes to play his toy taiko, and a one year old girl who likes to dance. He wants to go to America but it is expensive to travel and he has forgotten most of his English. I learned all this from speaking to him in Japanese. We had a great conversation.
Halfway through my haircut he pointed at the "Earth Salon" business card on his mirror. He pointed to the "E" and pulled the comb out of his apron and held it up and said "E." Then he pulled out his scissors and held them open in a cross shape and pointed at the "H." Then he covered the E and H and what was left? The word "art." Out of a comb and a pair of scissors comes art. I thought that was pretty cool. It was one of the most creative uses of the English languages I've ever seen.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Senior Citizens
Some societal things are just different. For instance, in America how do you know that the car in front of you is driven by an elderly person? (Must....resist...jokes....) If the actual driving doesn't give you a hint, you might notice a blue tag hanging from their rear-view mirror. If you get a good look at that tag, you'll see a white symbol that represents a person in a wheelchair. Not all elderly people are handicapped though, so the tag isn't a sure sign.
In Japan, elderly people are required to put a special teardrop shaped sticker on their rear bumper or window. The sticker is half yellow-orange and half orange. I recently read in the news that the government is introducing four-leaf clover stickers to replace the old autumn leaf stickers. Why? Because many elderly people have complained that the autumn leaf stickers look like dead leaves, which seems like a crass thing to require an elderly person to plaster to their car.
In less amusing news, the Japanese government is trying to check on the many centenarians that they have lost contact with. The impetus behind this search is summarized in the article above, but I'll give you my short version. Someone in Tokyo was checking the records and there was a man who should be the oldest man alive residing in Tokyo. No one had heard from him in decades. He was supposed to be living with one of his children, so a government official went to check on him. It turns out the man had been dead for over 30 years. Dead, and still in his bed. It is one of the more bizarre stories I've read. The family had never reported the death...and had continued to collect pension checks.
Now the government is trying to check up on its oldest citizens.
Another sad piece of this story is that many of these older people have slipped through the cracks because the elderly are isolated. Since World War II, fewer and fewer elderly people are living with their children. As they age, some people lose touch with society and no one knows how they are or if they are even still alive.
To combat this loneliness, I read of some people forming community groups with end-of-life matters in mind. People who are aging and have no family are getting together and talking about death and helping each other when the time comes. It seemed strange when I read about a few months ago, but in light of these other facts, it seems like a good idea. One of the strengths of Japanese society is the emphasis they place on community.
This post is a little bit heavier reading, but I think it is enriching to read about how other cultures deal with difficult issues like death and aging. And if it wasn't, at least it was interesting.
Hopefully the four-leaf-clovers are better luck than autumn leaves.
In Japan, elderly people are required to put a special teardrop shaped sticker on their rear bumper or window. The sticker is half yellow-orange and half orange. I recently read in the news that the government is introducing four-leaf clover stickers to replace the old autumn leaf stickers. Why? Because many elderly people have complained that the autumn leaf stickers look like dead leaves, which seems like a crass thing to require an elderly person to plaster to their car.
In less amusing news, the Japanese government is trying to check on the many centenarians that they have lost contact with. The impetus behind this search is summarized in the article above, but I'll give you my short version. Someone in Tokyo was checking the records and there was a man who should be the oldest man alive residing in Tokyo. No one had heard from him in decades. He was supposed to be living with one of his children, so a government official went to check on him. It turns out the man had been dead for over 30 years. Dead, and still in his bed. It is one of the more bizarre stories I've read. The family had never reported the death...and had continued to collect pension checks.
Now the government is trying to check up on its oldest citizens.
Another sad piece of this story is that many of these older people have slipped through the cracks because the elderly are isolated. Since World War II, fewer and fewer elderly people are living with their children. As they age, some people lose touch with society and no one knows how they are or if they are even still alive.
To combat this loneliness, I read of some people forming community groups with end-of-life matters in mind. People who are aging and have no family are getting together and talking about death and helping each other when the time comes. It seemed strange when I read about a few months ago, but in light of these other facts, it seems like a good idea. One of the strengths of Japanese society is the emphasis they place on community.
This post is a little bit heavier reading, but I think it is enriching to read about how other cultures deal with difficult issues like death and aging. And if it wasn't, at least it was interesting.
Hopefully the four-leaf-clovers are better luck than autumn leaves.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Engrish, part 2
Here's something that'll leave you scratching your head.
PLUS: The Dental Studio of Art
What the?!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Where Taikos are Born
Did you ever watch Mr. Rodgers neighborhood? Do you remember when Mr. McFeely would bring a fun video that showed how things were made? I remember the crayon video and the matchbox cars. If I'd had a video camera, I'd send Mr. Rodgers a video of a taiko workshop.
All the taikos our club play were made by a man who lives two hours away. We met him before our performance but we didn't know that he had made them.
Saturday our taiko leader took us to get bachi (drumsticks). They are basically just poplar dowels cut to the proper length. When the plan was being made to go get drumsticks, I figured we would go to a local music store. Only after we were in the car and headed south did we find out that we were going for a two hour drive. Alright, just roll with the punches.
Out in the hills, not even in a town, we pulled up to a house with a workshop and shed nearby. Our taiko leader went to the house and greeted Mr.______ with a small gift, as is polite. He invited us into the shop. The front half is a store. It is filled with drums and other wood crafts. There were small shrines that are carried by four or eight men during festivals. There was a stuffed horse with a saddle on it and a samurai helmet on the saddle. I wonder if it was all authentic. It looked like it. I tried not to stare like a giddy nerd. There were also traditional masks, carved from wood. Some of them were painted with crazy mustaches. There were a few samurai wigs, used in a traditional form of dance. All in all, it was awesome.
We chose the right size drumsticks from the display models and then the owner took us in the back to cut them to length. He asked us not to take pictures of the shop (I think because it was messy). It was cool to see a shop where at least two generations of this family have been making drums. All the tools were there, although I'm not sure what all of them were. There were stacks of drum heads ready to be applied to new drums or old drums that need fixed. There were saws and lathes.
It was pretty awesome to see. That sense of wonder kicked in. Here, was living breathing culture. Here was history, continuing into the present and hopefully far into the future. Here, I was the guest. It was awe inspiring and humbling. Kelli and I are so lucky to live here and see things like this. It's a blessing, no doubt about it.
All the taikos our club play were made by a man who lives two hours away. We met him before our performance but we didn't know that he had made them.
Saturday our taiko leader took us to get bachi (drumsticks). They are basically just poplar dowels cut to the proper length. When the plan was being made to go get drumsticks, I figured we would go to a local music store. Only after we were in the car and headed south did we find out that we were going for a two hour drive. Alright, just roll with the punches.
Out in the hills, not even in a town, we pulled up to a house with a workshop and shed nearby. Our taiko leader went to the house and greeted Mr.______ with a small gift, as is polite. He invited us into the shop. The front half is a store. It is filled with drums and other wood crafts. There were small shrines that are carried by four or eight men during festivals. There was a stuffed horse with a saddle on it and a samurai helmet on the saddle. I wonder if it was all authentic. It looked like it. I tried not to stare like a giddy nerd. There were also traditional masks, carved from wood. Some of them were painted with crazy mustaches. There were a few samurai wigs, used in a traditional form of dance. All in all, it was awesome.
We chose the right size drumsticks from the display models and then the owner took us in the back to cut them to length. He asked us not to take pictures of the shop (I think because it was messy). It was cool to see a shop where at least two generations of this family have been making drums. All the tools were there, although I'm not sure what all of them were. There were stacks of drum heads ready to be applied to new drums or old drums that need fixed. There were saws and lathes.
It was pretty awesome to see. That sense of wonder kicked in. Here, was living breathing culture. Here was history, continuing into the present and hopefully far into the future. Here, I was the guest. It was awe inspiring and humbling. Kelli and I are so lucky to live here and see things like this. It's a blessing, no doubt about it.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
These Things Happen...At the Worst Times
As fun as living in a foreign country is, sometimes it can be difficult. Little problems feel gargantuan. Take for instance--hypothetically only, of course-- that you realized your refrigerator was dead. What would you do?
You would probably call someone who could call a repair man for you or tell you where to take it to have it fixed.
In Japan everyone uses small fridges. I've seen them at the thrift store and would go get a replacement--if this wasn't a hypothetical situation-- but there is one other little problem: we already have two fridges. That's right, we have( I mean would have two dead fridges if this wasn't a...Oh forget it, our fridge is kaput) two dead fridges. One was in our apartment when we moved in. I have to draw the line at having three fridges. Three fridges and you start to feel like the punchline to a joke.
So, our fridge went from purring like a kitten to standing like a small black monolithic magnet support. We don't know who to call. We don't know where to take it. We can't talk to anyone on the phone and explain what happened.
When I first noticed that my yogurt seemed a little runny and checked to see if the fridge was working, I got pretty down. How am I supposed to take care of this? As a man, this is clearly in my arena. But I'm helpless.
I carried all the perishable stuff to a neighbor's house and asked to borrow some freezer space. Now, as I sit here typing away, stealing glances at that indolent, glib, black set of shelves I waver between being grumpy and cracking up. I'll let you know what happens but it'll be a few weeks. In the mean time it looks like we'll be eating a lot of peanut butter and..Doh the jelly is gone! We'll be eating a lot of toast. That is unless the toaster decides to turn itself into a tiny book rack.
You would probably call someone who could call a repair man for you or tell you where to take it to have it fixed.
In Japan everyone uses small fridges. I've seen them at the thrift store and would go get a replacement--if this wasn't a hypothetical situation-- but there is one other little problem: we already have two fridges. That's right, we have( I mean would have two dead fridges if this wasn't a...Oh forget it, our fridge is kaput) two dead fridges. One was in our apartment when we moved in. I have to draw the line at having three fridges. Three fridges and you start to feel like the punchline to a joke.
So, our fridge went from purring like a kitten to standing like a small black monolithic magnet support. We don't know who to call. We don't know where to take it. We can't talk to anyone on the phone and explain what happened.
When I first noticed that my yogurt seemed a little runny and checked to see if the fridge was working, I got pretty down. How am I supposed to take care of this? As a man, this is clearly in my arena. But I'm helpless.
I carried all the perishable stuff to a neighbor's house and asked to borrow some freezer space. Now, as I sit here typing away, stealing glances at that indolent, glib, black set of shelves I waver between being grumpy and cracking up. I'll let you know what happens but it'll be a few weeks. In the mean time it looks like we'll be eating a lot of peanut butter and..Doh the jelly is gone! We'll be eating a lot of toast. That is unless the toaster decides to turn itself into a tiny book rack.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Thunderstorm
One of the great things about living in the southwest is watching thunderstorms in the evening. Last night we got to see a Japanese thunderstorm. It was awesome.
We heard the constant rumble of thunder. It sounded like a truck idling outside. We pulled back the curtains and saw the frequent flashes. We put on our shoes and walked across the street. We sat on the curb, looking over a rice field toward the mountains, and watched the fireworks.
It was one of the more impressive storms I've ever seen. It was so bright and powerful we could've taken photographs. Strike after strike hit the hills. The clouds lit up as lighting ran from horizon to horizon. Thunder rumbled ceaselessly.
One of our neighbors came out to watch too. We watched for half an hour. Over twenty strikes hit the ground and dozens more stayed in the clouds. It was a beautiful storm. There might not have been fireworks for the fourth of July, but this more than made up for it.
We heard the constant rumble of thunder. It sounded like a truck idling outside. We pulled back the curtains and saw the frequent flashes. We put on our shoes and walked across the street. We sat on the curb, looking over a rice field toward the mountains, and watched the fireworks.
It was one of the more impressive storms I've ever seen. It was so bright and powerful we could've taken photographs. Strike after strike hit the hills. The clouds lit up as lighting ran from horizon to horizon. Thunder rumbled ceaselessly.
One of our neighbors came out to watch too. We watched for half an hour. Over twenty strikes hit the ground and dozens more stayed in the clouds. It was a beautiful storm. There might not have been fireworks for the fourth of July, but this more than made up for it.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Hachimantai National Park, Part 1
Kelli and I went camping this weekend. We did far too much and took far too many pictures with my (awesome) new camera to post everything in one go, so I'll post bits and pieces and lots of pictures.
After a bus ride up the narrowest, windiest road I've ever been on we started to climb Oneme-dake. We had prepared for a full-blown backpacking trip. Instead we had a brisk 2.5 kilometer climb. Oh well, it is better to be over prepared than under prepared.
Most of the mountains near us were low rolling peaks. Oneme-dake was the tallest we climbed at 1,637 meters.
From the summit of Oneme-dake we could see O-dake (center) and Me-dake (left).
Here you can see the steam coming out of Me-dake which is an active volcano.
Just below Me-dake is this strange crater. The ridge in the background is actually part of a huge caldera. Me-dake is a peak inside that caldera. O-dake is a peak on the rim of the caldera.
This shrine was on top of O-dake.
You don't see things like this in Colorado.
We stayed the night in that hut. We tried to sleep outside, but it was so humid that our sleeping bags were getting damp. As soon as it started to cloud up, we went inside. For those of you who have been following this blog, there is actually something worse than a squatty potty: a squatty potty latrine. You get all the squatty potty awkwardness with that awful latrine smell too. At least with the latrine you didn't have to worry about squatty potty splash.
All day the clouds kept rolling over the peaks. We had to wait around for clear moments to take pictures, as most of the time we were enveloped in mist. Late in the evening the clouds cleared up and I got this picture of Mount Iwate (2,041m), the tallest mountain in the region. Hopefully we get to climb Iwate-san soon.
These are a few views of the mountains we saw. It was a mixture of disappointing and surreal. The mountains were so easy to access, so many people were there, and you could see so many cities from the peaks that it didn't seem wild. Then the mist would blow in, you'd catch site of a volcanic crater and the foreignness of it all would catch your breath. After getting over the minor disappointments the sheer wonder of exploring overwhelmed my thoughts. Japan is a serenely beautiful place. I'm so blessed to live here and see this.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Spiders
If you are an arachnophobe, let me tell you right now that Japan would be hell for you. I've never seen so many spiders in my life. When I say "so many spiders" I mean both number and variety. Bleh, it gives me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it.
Our little porch has a rail around it. On that rail there is a spider web every four feet. There are spiderwebs in our plants outside. Under our porch light, on the eaves over our entry way and on the posts holding up the floor above, spiders can be seen dangling. The spiders on our railway are all tiny, almost cute little guys. They appear to be the same species, maybe from the same brood. Unfortunately spiders are about as friendly with each other as the Hatfields and McCoys. Kelli moved a spider back onto what she thought was its web. It didn't end end well for that little arachnid.
If only all spiders were so benign on the gross-out scale. Some spiders are BIG. When you see cobwebs spanning more than six horizontal feet, you know you don't want to see who calls it home.
Our little porch has a rail around it. On that rail there is a spider web every four feet. There are spiderwebs in our plants outside. Under our porch light, on the eaves over our entry way and on the posts holding up the floor above, spiders can be seen dangling. The spiders on our railway are all tiny, almost cute little guys. They appear to be the same species, maybe from the same brood. Unfortunately spiders are about as friendly with each other as the Hatfields and McCoys. Kelli moved a spider back onto what she thought was its web. It didn't end end well for that little arachnid.
If only all spiders were so benign on the gross-out scale. Some spiders are BIG. When you see cobwebs spanning more than six horizontal feet, you know you don't want to see who calls it home.
Take this guy for example. the red on the left edge is part of a political campaign poster. The other end of the web was attached to the rail beside the sidewalk, over eight feet away. That was a big nasty spider, but we saw one that was even bigger. Fortunately for you, we always forget our camera, so we didn't get a picture of it. I'm not a fan of spiders. I don't want to see spiders that are two and a half inches long repelling off of sheds. What are you supposed to do with spiders that big? When they are that massive you can't mercilessly step on them. You always pause first, wondering which is grosser, the spider or spider guts all over your shoe.
So far we haven't found any in the house. When I mentioned the spiders in passing to my neighbor she said, "Just wait until the fall!" Oh boy! I can't wait....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)