Lights out, Fukuoka

   Following the Fukushima nuclear accident, concerned citizens throughout Japan have demanded that the nation's nuclear power plants be shut down until the safety of the reactors can be determined. In Kyûshû, where some thirty percent of electricity production comes from nuclear power, this has meant residents, businesses, and governmental bodies have been asked to conserve energy by 15% during the summer months when demand for electricity peaks.

   Efforts to lower demand can be seen everywhere. Public offices have raised the thermostats on their air conditioners to 28℃ (82.4°F), and turned off the air conditioning completely in half of the city's subway stations. Interior lights on trains (pictured above) and university hallways have also been turned off.

   In a country where an abundance of illuminated billboards and flashing neon lights ensures that it is bright enough for a person to read a newspaper outside in the middle of the night, this new darkness will take some getting used to. 

Light . . .

   Every now and then we get a reprieve from the dark, wet days of the rainy season when sullen, gray skies clear and summer clouds float playfully across the blue welkin. Light at the end of the tunnel. The rainy season will soon pass and you'll find me at the beach with a cold beer sweating in my hand. 

Nagasaki

Nagasaki after the bombing.   Today people throughout the world are familiar with Nagasaki because of a tragic episode in the city's history when the U.S. detonated atomic bomb, Fat Man, over it on August 9, 1945. Some sixty to eighty thousand people are estimated to have died, half on the day of the bombing and the rest with in four months from burns and radiation sickness.

   Although August 9th falls in the middle of summer vacation, the day is a school attendance day for students in Nagasaki. On that day, we offer the victims of the bombing a string of a thousand folded paper cranes.

   Today, the Atomic Bomb Museum and Peace Park commemorate the event, lest we ever forget.

A panoramic view of they hypocenter, the area directly below where the bomb was detonated

   Fortunately, there's a lot more to the city of Nagasaki than the atomic bomb.

History

  With the establishment of a port in 1571, Nagasaki quickly grew from a sleepy fishing hamlet into a bustling commercial city. Many of the exotic curiosities from the west, such as tobacco, bread, textiles, sponge-cake (called kasutera) and tempura, were first introduced to Japan through this town, and still bear their Portuguese names today.

   In addition to goods from Europe and China, the traders also brought Christianity. The growing influence of the Catholic church in southern Japan, and the aggressive actions of the Jesuits who at one time had Nagasaki under their administrative and military control, would cause Catholicism to come under the suspicion of the shogunate. In 1614, the missionaries, having worn out their welcome, were ordered to leave and Christianity was officially banned. The Portuguese living on the specially-constructed island of Dejima were expelled, replaced by Dutch traders more interested in gold than god. 

   During Japan's 200-year-long isolation, Nagasaki was one of the few windows that remained open to the outside world. Depictions of the city in the art and literature of the time depicted the city as an intriguingly cosmopolitan port.

   Following a lifting on the ban of western literature in the 18th century, Nagasaki came to be an important center for the study of European science and art, known as rangaku, or "Dutch Learning" until the reopening of Japan in 1868.

   The Chinese living in Nagasaki enjoyed relatively more freedom than their Dutch counterparts at the time. Rampant smuggling from China in the 17th century, however, resulted in the leash being tightened, and the local Chinese residents were forced to live and work in a ghetto of sorts, known as Tojin Yashiki. After the Meiji Restoration, Tojin Yashiki became an important conduit for Chinese goods and culture. Both merchants and artists sailed between the Chinese mainland, and Nagasaki and the city flourished.

   The Lantern Festival of today celebrating the Chinese New Year is a testament to the enduring spirit of the Chinese community in Nagasaki. In 1994, the city endorsed the festival and since then it has grown into the major event that it is today with more than fifteen thousand lanterns bringing a festive glow to the city. The Lantern Festival makes it an excellent time to visit this colorful city.

Dejima

   During the 200-plus year-long period the doors to Japan were double-bolted, trade with the Dutch and Chinese was permitted on a fan-shaped artificial island called Dejima. As Japan's only point of contact with the outside world, Dejima played a important role in the country's economic, cultural, and scientific development during the period of isolation. Penned in behind great wooden barriers, the Dutch traders were allowed to emerge once a year in order to visit Edo (Tôkyô) with gifts for the Shôgun. Once there, the Dutch were grilled for information, and, made to perform indignities, such as dance and sing. In return, two ships laden with precious cargo were permitted into Japanese waters annually, introducing billiards, beer, coffee, and so on to the secluded nation. Although a large number of Dutch were housed on the island while their ships were anchored there, only 15 or so remained to manage the day-to-day affairs. A short walk from Minato Park, the restored Dejima offers a unique glimpse into medieval Japan and the Age of Exploration.

Higashi Yamate
   A stone's throw away from Nagasaki's foremost tourist attraction, Glover Garden, you'll find this quaint enclave of western style houses and buildings dating back a century or more when Japan opened her doors to the world and began her headlong rush into modernization. Of particular interest is the Chinsei Gakkuin ruins where, legend has it, the principal's wife relayed events occurring in the port town to her novelist brother, Luther Long, who penned the short story "Madame Butterfly," basis for Puccini's famous opera.

Siebold Memorial Museum
   Opened in 1989 in honor of the German doctor's immense contribution to the development of modern science in Japan, the museum was built on the site of Siebold's original clinic and boarding school known as Narutaki Juku. Arriving in 1823 as resident physician at the Dutch Trading Post on Dejima, Siebold conducted exhaustive research on the flora and fauna, geography, history, customs and arts of Japan. His "Nippon" published in 1832 was a catalyst for the Japonism movement in Europe. The museum displays 206 items detailing Siebold's six-years in Nagasaki, including the infamous "Siebold incident". 

Written by Champons and Aonghas Crowe

Goal!

   I neither shined nor puked on the pitch last night in my first soccer game in well over two decades (See Advice). 

   Our team played three matches--one against a group of North African graduate students, a second against a team of firemen, and a third against the staff of the university on whose field we practice.

   Let me tell you, I thought my heart would explode in my chest and today my whole body is sore as hell. (Must remember to sign up for a double hip replacement in fifteen years.) Still, it feels pretty damn good to be in this much pain. Looking forward to our next practice. 

Beacon 2

The Beacon of Rebirth Poster project (復興の狼煙、Fukkô no Noroshi), offering messages of hope, inspiration and determination to the victims of the Tôhoku earthquake and tsunami.

Beacon

   As I was riding the elevator up to my favorite Sri Lankan restaurant I couldn't help but notice a poster that had been taped to the wall. It showed two young men, dressed in work clothes and standing on a muddy road with piles of debris stretching as far as the eye could see into the background. At the bottom of the poster was a resolute promise: mae-yori ii machi ni shiteyaru (We'll make this town even better than it was).

   More than three months have passed since the Tôhoku earthquake and tsunami which claimed more than fifteen thousand lives and destroyed the homes and livelihoods of countless others. Nearly eight thousand people remain missing.

   It's easy to turn the TV off, to close your eyes to the news, and lose yourself in quotidian struggles. But while we grapple with mundanity, there are people who are facing once-in-a-century challenges with admirable courage. We should never allow ourselves to put them out of our mind. And, as the posters say, we shouldn't feel sorry for the people affected by the natural disaster, we should do everything in our ability to help them move forward.

   For more information on the Beacon of Rebirth Poster Project, please visit their homepage. 

Ramen

   Living as I do in the very heart of what some consider to be the highest concentration of bars, restaurants, and pubs in Japan, I was anxious about the prospect of working full-time at a university that was located dead center in an expansive, unremitting culinary desert. 

   Three months into my new gig, the only place I have found that is within reasonable walking distance is a sad little diner by the name of Hifumi Shokudô (一二三食堂). I'll get around to writing about Hifumi later. 

   So, it is not an exaggeration to say I was delighted to discover that a new râmen shop had opened up down the street. From the outside, it looked promising: a modern building with large windows and white-washed walls. The râmen shop stood out among the rusting shutters of neighboring establishments that had long given up the ghost.

   As soon as class got out, I hurried off campus where I bumped into two of my students. They were on their way to a takoyaki joint in the neighborhood.

   "You wanna join us," one of them asked.

   "For takoyaki?" I said, screwing my face. 

   "They also have o-konomiyaki," she replied.

   "Maybe next time. Today, I've got a date with a bowl of râmen!"

   Since we were heading in the same direction, we continued to walk together, shooting the breeze and talking about past boyfriends and girlfriends along the way.

   Everything about the day had been perfect up to that point. For one, it was our first sunny day in lord knows how long. In the morning I had gotten a lot of writing and translation done in the morning, and my classes had gone well. If only I had joined the two of them for lunch, the day would have continued to stay right on course.

   But no, I had to go to that goddamn râmen shop.

   One of the rules I try to maintain when eating out is to avoid restaurants that have just gone into business. Better to wait a few months until they've ironed out the kinks, trained the staff, and got the food up to standard. I can't tell you how many times I've broken that rule, though.

   Not surprisingly, my impetuosity was rewarded once again with a dismal dining experience. It would be a waste of both of our time to go into how the food tasted or where the service could have been better. It's not even worthwhile tell you the name of the place.

   At least they had ice cold beer. 

Boshita Festival

   You may never have heard of Kumamoto's Boshita Festival, but it is one of the most popular events in our city. 

   Also known as the Drunken Horse Festival, the Boshita Festival is believed to trace its origins to Hôjô-e (Pronounced Hôjô-ya in Fukuoka), a Buddhist ceremony, similar in some respect to Thanksgiving in America, in which animals are released into the wild. That said, nothing of the original ceremony remains in the present festival.

   The highlight of the festival is the Zuibyô Gyôretsu (随兵行列, parade of the samurai) which originated with the return of the daimyô Kato Kiyomasa from a military campaign to Korea (See Japanese invasions of Korea (1592-1598). Kiyomasa went to the Fujisaki Hachiman-gû Shrine to thank the gods for his men's safe return. This custom continued throughout the Edo Period, the decorations on the horses becoming larger and more ornate over time. Since the Meiji Restoration when the samurai class was abolished, the horses have been decorated by townspeople. Today, some 60 horses take part in the parade.

   Incidentally, the name of the festival Boshita comes from custom of shouting, "Horoboshita! Horoboshita!" (滅ぼした or 亡ぼした) "We destroyed the Korean army! We conquered Korea!" Not the most politically correct of names. Naturally, many resident Koreans took offence and since 1990 the festival has been officially, and more innocuously, called the Fujisaki-gû Aki no Reitaisai (The Fujisaki Shrine Autumn Procession). Ho hum.

   The festival lasts for 5 days, culminating in the Zuibyô Gyôretsu which is held on the fifth and final day. Starting in the wee hours of the morning, Shintô priests lead the procession, followed by lion dances, people with portable shrines, and finally groups leading decorated horses through town.

  Team members dance wildly and shout, "Dô kai? Dô kai?" (How 'bout this? Whaddya think of this?) along the 30-kilometer parade route. Interestingly, each team gives their horses sake during the parade, getting the beasts nice and drunk. It is not uncommon for the horses to spook and crash violently into the spectators. Such fun!

Do come to this festival if you are ever in the region.

Written by Bear Book, edited by Aonghas Crowe

Miyaji Daké

   I first went Miyaji Daké Shrine about five years ago when I was on my way to see the fireflies at a nearby river. Although the shrine was holding its annual iris festival at the time, there were very few visitors. What a shame, I thought, because I had never seen anything like it. The inner courtyard between the shrine's main gate and the grand shinden had been filled with purple and white irises that were just starting to bloom. 

   When I returned a week later with my camera, there were still only a handful of worshippers.

   Only a handful, and yet one of them was a young woman dressed in a beautiful kimono the color of irises.

   Every June I try to return to the shrine and explore its grounds in order discover something new about the place. I have posted some photos of my most recent visit here.

Akasaka Mon

   You never know what an Internet search will dredge up.

   Trying to find old pictures of the Chikuho district for another posting, I came across this water color of the Akasaka Mon Market (赤坂門市場), a half-shuttered, derelict arcade some fifty meters long, which on better days smells of old cat piss. The next major earthquake that strikes Fukuoka will surely bring this already canting collection of vegetable shops and empty diners to completely topple over, but until then I will continue to pinch my nose and use it as a short-cut.

Little Big Country!

   The Chikuhô region, which centers around present-day Iizuka City, was once the most productive coal producing area in Japan. Following defeat in the Pacific War, Chikuhô saw a large influx of people as it was one of the few areas that had jobs at a time when Japan was suffering from the devastation of its industries.

   Thanks to the large number of men working in the coal mines, the region developed a reputation for its rough-and-tumble way of life. To say the least, the nights were always exciting in Chikuhô.

   In the region's heyday, a number of confectioners set up business in town. Three of these, Sakaeya, Chidoriya, and Matsuo Confections, have become major companies with brands that are known throughout Japan today. 

   We'd like to take this time to introduce some of these company's more popular products.

SAKAEYA

Namban Ôrai (lit., passing of the "southern barbarians" i.e. foreigners) is a famous confection made with almond flour wrapped in a crispy pie and containing a jam filling in the bottom. We recommend the raspberry jam ones.

CHIDORIYA

Probably the most famous of the three sweets maker, Chidoriya produces a number of Japanese and German-style confections. They have more than three dozen shops located throughout Fukuoka prefecture. Our favorite item from Chidoriya product line is the Tirolian cookie which is filled with vanilla, coffee, and strawberry creme. We often snacked on this when we were small children.

MATSO Confections

There probably isn't a single Japanese person who doesn't know Tirol chocolates. Its tiny package is not only cute, but the huge variety of chocolates and fillings available, as well as it's price--each chocolate only costs about ten yen--have made this product a long-seller. 

 Written by Matsuo W Choco, edited by Aonghas Crowe

Sorry, 'bout that

   Only in Japan do the trains and buses pass out apologies when they are late. 

   You can take these slips of paper, called chien shômeisho (遅延証明書) to your workplace, school, or even your parol officer and they'll forgive your tardiness. Make sure, of course, that they are stamped with the proper date.

   The above paper says, "The train on which the passenger was riding was delayed ... minutes. Today the train was late causing trouble and inconvenience." That's our friend meiwaku about which I have already written. If I can teach you anything about dealing with the Japanese, by all means avoid causing meiwaku.

   Note: "This paper does not entitle passengers for compensation in the event that the delay caused damage." Damn!

Ôita's Moé Girls

   Ôita has employed the help of 18 "Moé" characters to better promote cities and towns in the prefecture. Hailing from the cities of Yufu, Usuki, Bungotakada, and Kokonoe, we would like to introduce the character that represents each of our hometowns.

   First off, Yufu City's girl is a twenty-four year old enchantress. She sometimes appears at spas.

   Next, the girl representing Usuki City is a naive princess. She dreams of a prince riding white horse. Her hobby is talking about love.

   Then, there is Bungotakada City's girl, who is a beautiful, lithesome bus guide. Her hobby is backstairs gossip. Her favorite words are "humanity" and "nostalgia". She is 25 years old.

   Finally, the girl for Kokonoe town is a wild Western girl who grew up in the countryside. She is tolerant and sketchy, but everyone depends on her. She is 176cm tall and 23 years old.

   These characters are currently being used on the packages of snacks, in posters, and as the "image characters" for prefectural campaigns.

  

   If you would like to know more about these pretty girls, please visit the Moe More web site.

Written by Moé Girls, edited by Aonghas Crowe

The Hunt 2

   I have already written about the job hunting process for students in Japan elsewhere. Although there is still a good ten months to go before the young women I am teaching graduate, some of them have already got jobs lined up. One will be working as a flight attendant, another will be employed by a media-related company in Tôkyô. It is with the latter, whom I'll call Jun-chan, that I put the above diagram together, retracing the steps she went through to land the job. 

   The process began at the start of the year. Students who are after the more competitive positions in the airline industry will have started their search the preceding autumn. 

   From January to May, Jun-chan attended what can be roughly translated as "explanatory meetings" where the companies that are hiring give presentations that explain their company philosophy, employment needs, and hiring procedure. Jun attended twenty such meetings.

   From February on she sent out hand written applications, called "entry sheets". Of the five she sent out, she heard back from three different companies with formal invitations to take SPI (Synthetic Personality Inventory) tests. I have not yet met a single student who was confident she had done well on any of these tests. But that's the nature of tests in Japan. They're not designed to test what one understands, but rather to eliminate applicants, narrowing down the field candidates that will be called in for an interview.

   Although Jun-chan took the SPI at three different companies, only one company invited her back for an initial interview. Most companies seem to favor the group discussion method of interviewing candidates in the first round. I find this very Japanese. How better to ascertain whether a potential employee is a team-player than by observing how they function within a group. It's also a more efficient way to meet a large number of candidates over a limited amount of time.

   Having passed that stage, Jun was then asked to come in for an individual interview. By mid May, almost 11 months before the applicant will start working, the company had made its decision and invited my student in for a final, casual interview, and what must be the Japanese equivalent of a hand-shake. 

   Having successfully run the gauntlet of tests and interviews, Jun-chan received a formal notice of employment in late May and is now able to kick back and enjoy the rest of the school year. Although she won't actually begin working until April of 2012, she will be invited to take part in training sessions and other events next winter. I wish her all the best.

Rubber Town

   There are three major rubber-producing companies with head offices located in Kurume, so the city has come to be associated with rubber manufacturing. We'd like to introduce the most famous of these companies: Bridgestone.

   Bridgestone was a founded on March 1, 1931 when the tire division of Nihon Tabi became independent. The new company was named after the name of the founder, Shojiro Ishibashi (Ishi = Stone, Bashi = Bridge).

   Rather than depend on western technology, the Bridgestone Tire Co., Ltd. set its eyes on manufacturing tires based solely on Japanese technology. The foundling company experienced many difficulties in the areas of technology, production and sales in the early days. Eventually, improvements were achieved in quality and manufacturing processes which led to the business rapidly expanding on both the domestic and overseas markets.

   As Japan's automobile industry grew, Bridgestone expanded its business, becoming Japan's largest tire manufacturer. The company also actively expanded overseas, particularly in Asia. In 1988, the company acquired The Firestone Tire & Rubber Company, transforming Bridgestone into one of the world's largest tire and rubber companies.

   We'd like to say a word about the traditionally Japanese footwear known as tabi, which is how the Bridgestone Group got its "lowly" start.

   Tabi were, in essences, a two-toed sock originally made entirely of cloth. Early in the Meiji Period, Unpei Kurata, who would go on to found Moonstar, started to produce consumable tabi while he was still an apprentice kimono tailor. In order that the tabi be worn not only in inside but outside as well, he added a rubber sole to the bottom, creating the first rubber-soled tabi, which he called tsuchiya jikatabi. They sold very well and were soon mass-produced throughout the whole town.

   Ishibashi's Nihon Tabi and Asahi Kutsu would soon join in the action further strengthening Kurume's relationship to the rubber industry. For more on this history click.

Written by Glow Girls, edited by Aonghas Crowe