This email was sent on July 11, 1995. 

Japan Journal #8

Last week, I moved my workstation to a new location, about 6 metres away. Now, instead of having to walk by the smoking section anytime I want to go anywhere, I sit right beside it. (Okay, there are two people who sit closer.) So whenever someone takes a smoke break, my stomach starts churning. Argh.

Linguistic lament

I spend roughly three hours in transit each day to get to work and back. I spend the time either sleeping or studying Japanese, most of the time studying. It takes an incredible amount of restraint at times not to tear the pages out of the book I'm using. I memorize a group of words, or a grammatical structure, or something on the way to work. By the time I'm on the train back to my dorm, I can remember two words of the ten or twenty I could recite that morning. By the following morning, it's down to one. So I re-study. And the same damn thing happens.

Why is it I can memorize Shakespearean monologues with relative ease, but can't remember three counting systems in Japanese?

(In case you didn't know, Japanese has a (seemingly infinite) number of counting systems. Just counting (1, 2, 3) you say one thing. If you're talking about people (say, four people did this) there's another set of words you use. And if you want a round of beers, there's another... and so on. There are a LOT. For an English example, there's five, pentagon, quintet, etc. In Japanese, there's just a lot more. And of course you have to know which system to use when — there's one for short, flat objects and another for long, slender objects. I'm not kidding.)

And large numbers become intuitively difficult. English uses base units of a thousand. So we have one, ten, hundred, thousand, repeat. Ten-thousand, hundred-thousand, million, ten-million, etc. In Japanese, the base unit is ten-thousand. So there's ichi (1), ju (10), hyaku (100), sen (1,000), man (10,000), ju-man (100,000), hyaku-man (1,000,000), etc.

So if you want to say hundred thousand, what you have to translate that to is ten ten-thousands. It's mathematically simple, but a bugger to remember in conversation, when you're trying to recall how to say every other word, and string it together in a grammatically understandable (though not close to correct) manner.

I think my goal of becoming more or less fluent in Japanese by the time I leave here is going to be leaning considerably to the less and certainly not to the more. (The first one to make a connection between this paragraph and my given name, gets it.)

Myth Busters

I thought soy sauce was a staple of Japanese cuisine, but it isn't. I have never seen anyone add soy sauce to their food since I've arrived here. It's maybe part of the cooking, and it's been the base for a number of sauces used in various dishes, but no one adds it to their food. It's available everywhere — much like the salt and pepper shakers back home — but I've not seen it used. Rice is eaten white, though eating it with seaweed, a poppy seed powder (I'm not quite sure what it is), or natto is not uncommon.

Conspiracies Everywhere

In North America, there are these pictures called "Magic Eye". The idea is that this random blob of colour, if you stare at it long enough and cross your eyes just the right way, becomes a three dimensional image. There are several posters available with different "pictures", and at least two books full of various such illustrations.

They're a huge hoax. I spent close to an hour staring at one of these posters during exams last fall. (Hey, it was better than studying.) My study partner swears up and down, to this day, that there are dolphins to be seen. She's a part of the conspiracy. There's nothing there but blobs of colour. Many, many people are a part of this conspiracy. They all say they see something so they can laugh at me behind my back. (Or, depending on their chutzpah, to my face.)

The Japanese, to their credit, are not a part of this Magic Eye conspiracy. But that's because they have one of their own, that they like to play not just on me, but on all foreigners.

It's natto. Natto is fermented beans, soft and mushy, which are immersed in a sickly yellow ooze. You are supposed to place it in your bowl of rice and eat it. It is conceivably the most unappetizing thing in the known universe to set your eyes upon. It tastes even worse. When I tried it for the first (and last) time, it was with considerable effort that I did not spit it out with a velocity approaching the speed of light. Oh, I'm sure a lot of people were laughing about that one.

(I have a theory that members of the Yakuza (Japanese mafia), when they disgrace their clan, are now given a choice. They can:

1. Follow tradition, and remove their pinky finger at the first knuckle, or
2. Accept a worse fate, and eat natto with every meal for a year.

That many Yakuza members are missing digits tells you something about the appeal of option 2). I have yet to verify this hypothesis, but am reasonably certain of its accuracy.)

Where are my Ruby Slippers?

There's lots of things that are fascinating, new, intriguing, and different here, but after a while (in my case, a month and a half) one wants to feel comfortable, in familiar surroundings, again. It's hard enough finding people who appreciate my unique brand of humour in Canada. I think it's well nigh impossible in Japan. I miss being able to understand the signs on billboards, the announcements on intercoms, and the conversations of people in streets, trains, and cafeterias. I miss the theatre — the cheapest seats for no-name productions (in English) run 3,000 yen. Most stuff is considerably more. (Ah, to have Sunday matinees PWYC (Pay What You Can) — alas, Yokohama is not Toronto!)

I miss my friends and family. And I'm tired of feeling like a bumbling fool. The novelty has worn off, but it hasn't been replaced with a competency in Japanese knowledge, language, culture, geography. I've made a lot of progress since I arrived, but it's all specific — I know how to get to work and back, how to go to Yokohama and Tokyo, etc. But plunk me in another area of Japan and I'm floundering all over again.

I've lost a lot of my independence, and that's tough to deal with. I guess you can say I've been feeling homesick this week.

What Happened to Nintendo?

Video game entertainment is completely dominated by Sega. Every video game and home system is a Sega. The overwhelming favourite type of game is, just like in North America, the two-person combat game.

(Those who don't know anything about video games and couldn't care, can just skip ahead to the next section.)

The overwhelmingly most popular game here is Virtua Fighter 2. It looks good enough. It has one feature that places it way above similar games I've seen in Canada. Unlike Street Fighter version X, or Mortal Kombat, this game is truly two dimensional. The two combatants don't stand in a line and just move back and forth. It makes it far more interesting, at least from a (geek) programming perspective.

Of course, there's lots of other games, too, including a host of various Tetris variants. But at 100 yen a pop, I'm not too keen on much experimentation. I'll play for a quarter back home, when the mood strikes.

I did find two pinball machines, in the back corner on the third floor of one arcade, but aside from that, everything here is dominated by Sega. I noticed in the past year or so they were making huge efforts to crack into the North American market. Looks like they've completely won the domestic one.

Music to my Ears

A curious thing about Japanese law — apparently it is illegal for a shop to have a sale on Japanese artists and recordings. So full retail price must be paid for all local CDs, but you can find imports (from the States and/or Europe) on sale and get a really good deal (even counting the exchange). It strikes me as weird that an import costs considerably less than a domestic CD, but who am I to argue?

I saw an incredible slew of live recordings, each for 1,000 yen. There were tons of big names there — Phil Collins, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, Pink Floyd, Eric Clapton, Led Zeppelin, U2, David Bowie, The Police, Sting — and on and on. Name a big artist, and they're probably there. I bought a Genesis CD, and the quality is actually pretty good. Not quite the same level as Gabriel's Secret World, but considerably better than Genesis' rather lame The Way We Walk cash grab.

I also found a used CD shop. I browsed in there for a while, and came away with the soundtrack to Gypsy. At 500 yen, it was cheaper than lunch. And now that I have a CD player... I almost went nuts on a buying spree. I miss my music. (Add that to the homesick section.) It's not the original recording though, as it's Bette Midler instead of Ethel Merman singing the lead.

The Real Sumo

While walking around Akihabara on Sunday, I saw a Sumo match being televised live. Now, I've seen Sumo wrestling before, but always in highlights, after the fact. (Heck, I've even done a rather bastardized version of Sumo wrestling myself, which was loads of fun, but a separate story entirely.) But watching a few matches in their entirety was quite illuminating.

What I had always seen was two hulking masses launch themselves at each other, and within a few seconds, one pushes the other out of the circle. But that's really the shortest part of the match, though it's the only part that will ever make it into Headline Sports.

The two men first throw rice into the ring. Then they enter, bow to each other, and to the referee. Then they squat, do a few stretches. Then one walks out and throws more rice into the ring. The other is rolling his neck in circles. A few more stretches, squats, and withering stares at his opponent, and Sumo One takes his position. Sumo Two sees this, and approaches the ready position, then decides to walk out of the ring and throw in more rice. Sumo One meanwhile stands up and continues stretching.

Sumo Two enters the ring, and shuffles his feet around to clear the ground of the rice he just threw in. Sumo One, meanwhile, is talking with his coach. Sumo Two glares at Sumo One, and slowly assumes the start position. Sumo One also gets into position, but at the last second remembers Sumo Two's previous insult, so Sumo One leaves the ring to throw more rice in. Sumo Two stands and continues his preparations. Then both stare at each other and start lifting their legs on either side. Sumo One squats while Sumo Two gets into position. Sumo One gets into position and BAM they collide in the middle. Sumo Two is smaller than Sumo One, but is slapping him in the upper chest and chin and Sumo One is soon forced out of the ring.

So you see how the highlights really don't capture what really goes on in a Sumo match, though you do see all of the "action". Maybe I'll get to see a match in person before I leave. That would be neat.

Here Comes the Sun

Yesterday was the first time in three weeks I saw blue sky and sun. The weather has been hot, humid, perpetually overcast, with occasional rain. Today is extremely hot, humid, and sunny. Not that that makes a great deal of difference — I spend all day, every day, indoors anyway. The hotter temperature just means I sweat more on the route from the station to my dorm. Hopefully the nice weather will continue into the weekend.

Japan: Internationalists or Isolationists?

Trying to make an international telephone call in Japan can be brutal. You first have to find an international phone. Local public phones are everywhere, and there's no problem finding them wherever you may be. You can phone anywhere in Japan with them. International phones are much harder to find. They are only in the big train stations, or in extremely busy and crowded parts of Yokohama and Tokyo. Furthermore, most international phones will not allow you to use your telephone card to place a call. (Apparently this is due to phone card fraud which is common.) So you have to carry a huge pile of 100 yen coins, in the hopes that your travels will bring you to the coveted grey international phones. Calling home on a whim is not an easy task.

And if you have your own line, you have to specifically request international calling capacity. Otherwise, you won't be able to make a call to anywhere outside Japan. Brutal!

On the other hand, Japan is very aware that they are not alone in the world. Walk into a Japanese bookstore and you will find just about every magazine imaginable available. The titles are all in their original language (the majority, though not all, English), but the content is of course in Japanese. This goes for "light" magazines like Newsweek, Elle, Runner's World, etc., but also for just about every computer, scientific, and specialist publication that exists, too. Japan has a large number of professional translators, who translate papers, studies, and other academic and professional material from its original language into Japanese.

No wonder Japan has a technological (or at least engineering/manufacturing) edge over the rest of the world. Japan draws on the resources of not only its own pool of scientists and engineers, but it also has almost immediate access to the discoveries, breakthroughs, insights and achievements that are published anywhere in the world. If a paper is published in Japanese, how long does it take before Americans are aware of its contents? Or, for that matter, what is the time lag between a discovery made in Germany, and published in German, and its acknowledgement elsewhere? In Japan, it would be available almost immediately in Japanese. Can we say the same?

Take care, everyone! Enjoy the rest of your summer.

Until next time,

Leslie