Friday
Mar182011

Tenjin Tremblin'

   This is something I wrote for a local magazine five years ago we we had our own earthquake drama:

 

   I thought Fukuoka wasn't supposed to have earthquakes. Tectonic growing pains were other prefecture's problems, not ours. That, of course, was until Palm Sunday's M7.0 tremor.

   I was at a friend's condo in Momochihama when the quake hit, and, faithful to my grade school drilling, ran for cover. Oddly enough, I was the only one to do so. Several minutes later, NHK confirmed both the obvious--it had been huge, the largest in living memory--and the not so obvious--it's epicenter was along a previously unknown fault. I wonder how many other seismic surprises are in store for Japan.

   Once the fear of tsunami had been allayed, I started to head home. Here and there muddy water shot up through the ground, making me question the intelligence of erecting so many high-rises on such freshly reclaimed land. Across the Hii River, both the Sea Hawk Hotel and Yahoo Dome had been evacuated. Thousands milled about nervously, many trying in vain to contact loved ones with their virtually useless cellphones.

   With traffic into town paralyzed, I had little choice but to walk. The nearer I got, the more alarming the damage--cracks in the roads and sidewalks, shards of glass and wall tiles everywhere, and buildings rattled violently at their foundation. Though my building in Daimyo appeared at first to have escaped the worst, I was shocked when I opened the front door.

   Everything was in disarray. Cabinets had been toppled, their contents smashed to bits, and a pond of water was spreading across the floor. After locating the source of the leak--my washer and dryer unit had also fallen over, dislodging the hose from the faucet in the wall--I turned the water off and hurried over to another apartment I had in Kego.

   With massive cracks in the walls, an elevator wrenched free of the upper floors and broken tiles littering the halls, the three-year-old building looked practically uninhabitable. Even if it were, my shaken neighbors were too frightened to return, a good number of them would move out entirely.

   Back in Daimyo, it would be another hour before I could finally get through to my niece who was marooned with her boyfriend outside the Tenjin Bus Center. Aside from the self-evident fact that an earthquake had brought the city to a standstill, the two were clueless. Not speaking Japanese, they were also victims of a dearth of information accessible to them. They were not alone. Apparently, in the hours following the earthquake when accurate information was critical, Love FM was flying the airways on auto-pilot. For a radio station established ostensibly to serve as a reliable lifeline for foreigners, broadcasting canned music during such a crisis is a sobering reminder of how conditional love can be when it's needed.

   Later as I was putting my home in order and taking an inventory of the loss, the battle-ax who had a room below mine came to my door and ordered me to follow her downstairs.

   In her apartment I was greeted a group of humorless old biddies who glared at me. Above their heads was a ceiling that was leaking like a sieve. They wanted to know something that had also been on my mind: was I insured?

   "Yes, yes, of course, I'm insured."

   I had no choice in that matter when I rented the apartment. But, covered for earthquakes? Well, like 85% of Fukuokans I would learn later that afternoon that I wasn't. I should have known better. The insurance business is a not-so distant cousin of the protection racket. Those friendly insurance salesmen peddle confidence and security, but when you try to get them to actually pay up, they become suspiciously self protective. The lucky 15% of people in the city who were indeed covered might expect to recoup a measly five percent of the damage. While I've managed to be philosophical about my own loss, the battle-ax downstairs hasn't been as magnanimous.

   Sleep was out of the question that first night, fitful at best that entire week, thanks to the aftershocks which did a splendid job keeping me sharp. The nausea and migraines influenced by these not so subtle reminders that the earth was indeed alive and kicking made me feel as if I were paddling across the Pacific in a leaky swan boat.

   The next afternoon, an army of police with the media in tow descended upon Daimyo and began cordoning off the streets and evacuating tenants from their buildings. When I asked an officer why, I was politely told to shove off because it was dangerous. Not very helpful. A sign at the entrance of my building issued a dire warning: an unspecified building was threatening to collapse. All tenants were ordered to take refuge at the local elementary school. Not wanting my miserable puss to be broadcast on national TV like those unfortunate residents of Genkai Island, I chose to camp out at a friend's instead until the evacuation order was lifted several days later.

   All in all, I'd say Fukuoka got lucky this time. Inclement weather and timing alone could have made the situation far worse. With a large earthquake along the Kego fault no longer a question of if but when, let's hope that the public and private sector will then use this opportunity to prepare for future catastrophe.

Tuesday
Feb222011

Clever Kanji

I came across these designs on the i+dea International Design College's website while trolling for illustrations of a drunk to use in yesterday's bit on chidor ashi. Clever, aren't they?

 

Mune (胸), chest or breast

Hashi (橋), bridge

Tsuru (鶴), crane

You (酔う), drunk

Isogu (急ぐ), hurry

 

Mukuro (躯), corpse

Monday
Feb212011

Chidori Ashi

   This morning it’s a group of beginner's, made up of six housewives ranging in age from their late thirties to early fifties.

   When the oldest of the group, Mieko, asks me how I spent the weekend, it is tempting to say that it was spent lying naked on a wooly throw rug tossing about with a girl I'd just met. I tell her, instead, that I spent Sunday studying Japanese, which produces a cackle of praise from the students. Mieko says she respects me and wishes her husband were as diligent as I was.

   The woman should be careful of what she wishes for.

   Mieko then tells me that her own weekend was horrible.

   "Really?” I say. “Why's that?"

   "Finished dinner, my husband . . . "

   "After dinner," I correct.

   "What?"

   "After dinner," I repeat. "Not finished dinner, after dinner."

   "I see. Thank you." MIeko looks down at her notebook, studies what she has prepared for today's lesson, then starts over: "Finished dinner, my husband . . ." I tap the surface of my desk to convey my irritation. The message seems to get across. "Oh, I'm sorry," she says. "After . . . After dinner, my husband . . . How do you say . . . chidori ashi?"

   It's thanks to good old Mie that I know chidori ashi, literally chicken legs, means stagger. "My husband staggered," I answer.

   "What?"

   "Staggered."

   Mieko says she doesn't understand.

   "Your husband, he was drunk, right? Yopparai, right?"

   "Yes, very, very yopparai," she says, laughing.

   "Okay then, he staggered."

   "Sutahgah . . . ?"

   "Staggered."

   "Sutahgahdo?

   "Yes, staggered. He staggered."

   "What does that mean?"

   I feel like a dog chasing its own tail.       

   "What does that mean?" she asks again.

   "Staggered? You're husband was drunk. He staggered. Chidori ashi."

   "Yes, yes. Chidori ashi. How do you say that in English?"

   I'm am this close to going losing it. "Chidori ashi means Stagger."

   "Huh?"

   "Chidori ashi equals sutahgahdo." This really is how they speak English here.

   "Oh, I see, I see. Thank you. Finished dinner, my husband staggered . . ." 

 

Excerpt from A Woman's Nails. To read more here.

© Aonghas Crowe, 2010. All rights reserved. No unauthorized duplication of any kind.

注意:この作品はフィクションです。登場人物、団体等、実在のモノとは一切関係ありません。

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A Woman's Nails is now available on Amazon's Kindle.

 

Monday
Feb212011

Iizuka

   In a day or two I'll get around to uploading some photos of Iizuka, Japan, a former coal-mining town in the center of Fukuoka prefecture. 

   The low con-shaped mountain on the left of this picture is a slag heap. The locals call it the Mt. Fuji of Iizuka (I think they're all delusional). Incidentally, if you look up "slag heap" on Wikipedia then go to the Japanese page, you'll find some pictures of Iizuka's famed slag heap.

   I walked around this old pile of rock and dirt the other day and was surprised to discover how large it was--nearly as big around the base as the Great Pyramid of Giza (approx. 1600 m). There's wasn't much to see from up close, unfortunately.
   As I made my way around the mountain, I couldn't help but wonder what remained below ground if all that rock and dirt, plus coal had been dug up. How long will it be before the earth collapses in on itself and swallows up Iizuka like the town of Macondo in Gabriel García Márquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Monday
Feb142011

Walkabout - Jigyô

   There is an urban legend of sorts regarding the Jigyô (地行) neighborhood which claims that the area was in olden times a killing field of sorts, a place where the condemned went to die. The name, people will tell you, actually means go to hell (獄にく, jigoku ni iku) and because so many people were executed there it is to this day haunted. 

   I don't know if there's any truth to that story. There is frankly so much conflicting information about where executions were conducted  in the city during the Edo Period that you can pretty much be guaranteed to bump into ghosts no matter where you happen to venture. That said, considering how undeveloped Jigyô is compared to the neighborhoods around it, there must be enough people who still believe in the legend to avoid this otherwise nice piece of real estate.

   The first several shots are of Torikai Hachiman-gû, an unassuming shrine located in Imagawa, just across the street from Jigyô. One of the main attractions of this area (incl. neighboring Tôjin Machi), for me at least, is the large number of shrines and temples, a testament to how old this part of Fukuoka City is.  

 

On the grounds of Torikai Hachimangû, you'll find a small shrine dedicated to Ebisu (恵比寿). The patron god of fishermen and good luck, as well as the guardian of the health of small children, he is one of my favorites of the Seven Gods of Fortune (七福神, Shichifukujin). Ebisu is often paired with Daikokuten, another of the Seven Gods. You can find displays of the two patrons in small shops and pubs throughout Japan. 

 Ring the bell and make a wish.

From the shrine I walked over to Fukuoka Yahoo! Dome where an event featuring local spirits (shôchû and awamori) was being held (See Kampai section). The event itself wasn't something of a disappointment, but being able to wander around the baseball field and see the Dome as the players see it made it worth the visit.

On my way home, I cut through the neighborhood of Tôjin Machi (唐人町). The origin of the area's name (lit. Chinaman's Town) is not clear, but according to the Chikuzen no Kunizoku Fûdoki (筑前国続風土記) the area was once home to residents from Goryeo (modern day Korea) and ships from China would lay anchor there.

I could be wrong, but I believe this temple and charnel house (pagoda) behind it is called Daiteidaien-ji (大悌大園寺). Business seems to be booming. 

 

Notes: 文献上に始めて登場するのは、1627年(寛永4年)に成立した『筑前筑後肥前肥後探索書』である。江戸時代には唐津街道に沿って町家が立ち並び、これが後の唐人町商店街に発展したと考えられている。1784年(天明4年)には、福岡藩藩校として亀井南冥館長による西学問所「甘棠館」が設立された。しかし、1792年(寛政4年)10月に商家から出火した火災で炎上。そのまま廃校となり、生徒は東学問所修猷館に編入され、その後も再建されることは無かった。

Tuesday
Jan182011

Walkabout - Hakozaki

 

Unfortunately, little remains of Hakozaki's former charm.

The university has become all but a ghost town since the opening of the Itoshima campus on the extreme opposite side of town. What will happen to the campus's Taishô and Meiji Era buildings is yet to be known, but you never can underestimate Japanese government officials' ability to turn architectural heritages into dreary, unkempt parks that no one ever visits.

The thousands upon thousands of wooden houses that once stood along Hakozaki's narrow streets have all but disappeared, torn down and replaced with shabby apartment buildings, prefab houses, and parking lots. The few that do remain are more often than not covered with ugly plastic or tin siding.

 

It's a terrible shame, but nobody seems to be shedding any tears over it. Most Japanese have come to accept it as "normal", and in a sense it is: the same thing has happened virtually everywhere in Japan.

There's a lot of talk in Japan these days of machi-tsukuri (街作り), town building or community development. I come across the word a lot in my translation work. The fact of the matter is, however, that government has been willingly complicit in what I call machi-tsubushi (街潰し), the wasting, destruction and crushing of towns in its misguided rush towards "modernity" and "development". 

 

With that now off my chest, I went for a long walk around Hakozaki and Maedashi while I was waiting for the Tama Seseri Festival to begin at Hakozaki-gû Shrine several weeks ago.

 One of the nicer homes in the area. Modest, yet sophisticated. 

A small, nicely maintained shrine I found at the end of an alley.

A shime-nawa is hanging above the doors of the shrine. 

The wall surrounding the old Kyûshû University campus. The sign says "No Parking".  

The front gates of Kyûshû University, constructed I believe in the Meiji Period. 

 Mandarin oranges 

 Another small shrine, a block away from Hakozaki-gû. 

A nicely maintained private residence in, I believe, the Maedashi neighborhood.

Friday
Oct152010

Throw me a feckin' bone, will ye!

   We’d just had a three-day weekend, so I asked the kid if he had done anything fun.

   “I went out,” he replied.

   “Out?”

   “Yes.”

   “Where to?”

   “The park.”

   “You went out to a park.”

   “Yes.”

   “By yourself?”

   “No. With my friend.”

   “You went to the park with your friend?” I said. “What for? A walk?”

   “No.”

   “Then, what?”

   “Baseball.”

   “Baseball? Were you and your friend playing catch?”

   “No. We played baseball.”

   “The two of you?”

   “No.”

   “No?” The conversation was going nowhere fast. “Who else were playing with?”

   “Pardon me?” he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. They were so clouded over with smudges I don’t know how he could possibly have seen through them.

   I asked him how many people he was playing baseball with.

   “Ten,” he answered.

   “Well that makes more sense. So you went to the park with some friends and played baseball.”

   “Yes.”

   “Friends from school here, from this university?”

   “No.”

   “Friends from high school?”

   “No.”

   “Who were you playing with, then?”

   “I don’t know.”

   “What d’ya mean you don’t know?”

   “Do they go to another university?” I asked, wondering if he had taken part in some kind of inter-collegiate game, or something.

   “Maybe.”

   “Maybe?” I gave my head a good shake, and tapped the side of it as trying to dislodge water from my ears. “Who the hell are these people you played with? Are they strangers?”

   “No.”

   “No?” C’mon, throw me a feckin’ bone! “Friends?”

   “Yes, friends.”

   “And they don’t go to school here.”

   “Yes.”

   “Yes, they do?”

   “No.”

   “No, they don’t?”

   “Yes.”

   Argh!

   “Okay, let me get this straight,” I said, taking a deep breath to keep my blood from boiling over. “You went to a park with ten of your friends to play baseball, right?”

   “Yes.”

   Progress!

   “And these friends, where did you meet them?”

   “At the park.”

   “Agh!! I mean, where did you first meet them?”

   “In kindergarten.”

   Let me tell you, teaching English in Japan can sometimes feel like dentistry.

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