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Uetake 1 Chome Charity Mochi Tsuki

May 5, 2009
japan, japanese family, japanese food
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Uetake 1 Chome Mutsumi Kai

Uetake 1 Chome Mutsumi Kai

Step-by-Step Guide to Holding a Mochi Tsuki (or How to Pound Rice Cakes)

Sunday April 26 dawned sunny and warm after a rain-soaked Saturday. It would turn out to be one of the hottest days of Spring 2009, but by that time most of us had retreated to our futon, weary muscles pleading for relief and bone-dry throats seeking something cool and frothy.

I belong to the Uetake 1-Chome Mutsumi Kai (植竹１丁目睦会) in Saitama City (formerly Omiya City), and every April we hold a charity mochi tsuki, or rice cake-making event, using the proceeds within the neighborhood to pay for a new portable shrine (o-mikoshi) or to put solar-powered clocks in the parks, among other things.

This is my seventh year with the Mustumi Kai. We also take responsibility for the annual Uetake Matsuri, Summer Bon o-dori, Kita-ku Matsuri, Curry Sports Day, Year-End Neighborhood Patrol and Hanami Kai. Anyone seeking a better understanding of how Japanese society functions at the ward or block  level is encouraged to join their neighborhood association. Grass roots democracy in action (with a Japanese twist, of course).

Our particular association is often accused of being a glorified fraternity for old men. Heh heh. That’s not far from the truth, actually, but when it comes to getting off your butt and contributing to the neighborhood, we’re often the only people who respond. I’m a non-drinker by choice — fodder for a different blog — but I’ve never been accused of raising the respectability quotient. All in good fun.

But I digress. The 2009 Charity Mochi Tsuki consumed 150kg of rice, 10 cases of daikon (radish), and several kg of azuki bean paste and kinako (powdered soybeans). We sold mochi cakes in packs of 6 for 300 JPY/pack and sekihan (red bean rice) separately for the same price. All told we generated 240,000 JPY on an outlay of 100,000 JPY. The profit will be banked and combined with the profit from the 2010 event to pay for another solar-powered clock. (The neighborhood decides what the money will be used for, and apparently the mothers place a priority on timeliness; the new clock will be the third we’ve built to date)

We got going Sunday morning at 7:30, gathering at the Uetake Jichi Kai Kan (植竹１丁目自治会館) to prep the rice, beans and daikon. The Jichi Kai Kan is the local neighborhood self-government association center — everything of importance to Uetake 1 Chome is discussed and agreed in this fine little hall and then announced to the residents using the kaidanban (a clipboard full of information that is passed from house to house).

We use special glutinous rice for both the rice cakes and seki han. After softening the red beans, they are mixed with some of the rice and then divided into individual steamers; this will become the seki han. The mochi rice is also placed into steamers. Once they’ve been prepped, all the steamers are taken to the o-kama (pots) where the water should already be on the boil. Here we stack ‘em and track ‘em — a paper note attached to the cover of each steamer tells us how long each has been cooking. We usually set up 10 konro (gas burners), of which four are set aside for the seki han stacks, another three for the mochi, and two to three for hot water.

Inside the center they’re prepping the daikon: cut off the tops, peel the roots and then cut them into four pieces lengthwise. These are then fed into an auto-grinder to produce the daikon oroshi (crushed daikon) used to dress the mochi cakes.

Time to get to work. We use a mortar and kine (mallet). First task is to clean off the dust, check the mortar and kine for damage and cracks, then wet them down and grab a bucket of water. We’ll soak the kine in water in between shifts to keep it moist and slick; this prevents the rice from sticking to the mallet. A few years back the rice cake went airborne, launched by a particularly robust thrust of a sticky kine. So, yeah — bucket of water is essential.

Once the rice is ready it is transferred from the steamer to the electric kneader for 5 minutes of activity. This little machine uses an inverted l-shaped hook to twist the rice into a single “loaf”.  From the kneader it’s into the mortar. The loaf weighs about 2.5 kilos and is steaming hot. Pounding is a synchronised exercise between the kine man (pounder) and the “folder” — the folder is responsible for keeping the rice cake wet, properly positioned in the mortar and, the toughest job, folding it over itself after each smack of the mallet. We have a bowl of cool water for the folder, whose fingers can get uncomfortably hot.

Handling the kine is not easy. The handle is about half the length of a broomstick with a slightly larger circumference — much like the pole from a clothes rack. The mallet head is shorter by a third, but thick as a god sized log. The handle is attached to the head so that the two form an “L” with a slight heel. Clearly, then, handling the kine is a constant struggle to compensat for this designed imbalance. The key point: gravity is your friend, so let it help you.

The pounder’s job is to position the mallet above the mortar so that the head  strikes the mochi more or less in the center. Here’s how we do it:

Step 1: Place the left hand at the end of the handle; use this hand to position the kine over the mortar.

Step 2: Place the right hand anywhere from halfway to three-quarters of the way up the handle. This hand’s sole task is to heft the kine above your head.

Point 3: Loosen the grip of your right hand and allow the kine head to fall. The head should strike the mochi with little or no deflection.

Point 4: Lift the kine handle to angle the head and then use your right hand to lift the kine back into position above your head.

Step 5: Repeat Steps 1-4 until exhausted or the mochi is ready. Intermittently dip the kine head in water to keep it moist.

The mochi is now ready. Place half a ladle of hot water into a large bowl and use this to carry the mochi to the assembly line. The mochi is gripped in one hand and forced through the circular opening formed by the thumb and forefinger. The forefinger slides along the thumb and cuts off a ball of mochi, the free hand trasferring it directly into the clear plastic container in which it will be sold. We use hinged containers that can accommodate six mochi cakes 2.5 to 3 inches in diameter. Now we add the toppings — azuki paste, powdered kinako and/or daikon oroshi — close the containers and slap on a rubber band.

We began selling the mochi and seki han at 10:30 a.m. We used a sound truck to promote the event around the neighborhood, and by 10:00 a.m. people were lined up around the corner. 800 packs of mochi and seki han sold out in about an hour.

Some points to remember:

1. Keep the kine and mortar moist, but go easy on the water. You don’t want the mochi cake soaking in a puddle.

2. Gravity provides all the power you need; don’t swing the kine, let it drop.

3. Never smack the mortar with the kine or you’ll be picking slivers of wood out of your mochi.

4. Have an official time keeper for the steamers and know how each stack performs — some run hot, some warm, so steaming times will not be uniform.

If you want to learn more about mochi-making, drop me a line. And feel free to come visit us next April when we’ll be at it again.

Umami – The 5th Flavor

April 22, 2009
japan, japanese food
3 Comments

Sweet, sour, salty, bitter – the four basic flavors. But since 1998, we’ve also had umami, a word borrowed from the Japanese. Umami, often translated as “savory”, can be described as the flavor found in chicken soup – the deep, robust, hearty flavor found in meat – especially pork – as well as tomatoes, parmesan cheese and shiitake mushrooms.

2009 marks the centennial of umami’s discovery by Kikunae Ikeda, who isolated the flavor’s source – glutanate – in 1907 and began to market it as aji-no-moto (“the essence of taste”) in 1909. Many of you know this product as monosodium glutanate (MSG).

The Umami Information Center was at the Foreign Correspondent’s Club of Japan (FCCJ) today for a panel discussion about “Umami – The World’s New Culinary Dimension.” Hosted byUIC president Dr. Kenzo Kurihara, the main event was a tasting produced by well-known Japanese chefs Yoshihiro Murata (Kikunoi, Kyoto) and Kunio Tokuoka (Kyoto Kitcho Arashiyama).

The press pack included a DVD: “Ambition: The Story of Kikunae Ikeda, Chemist”, a gold award winner at the 2009 World Media Festival. Umami is serious business for the UIC.

Konbu (kelp) varieties: the best are from Hokkaido

Konbu (kelp) varieties: the best are from Hokkaido

katsuo (bonito) is dried and then shaved to add flavor to soups and other Japanese dishes. You shave it using a device simiilar to a carpenter's plane, collecting shavings in the box below.

Katsuo (bonito) is dried and then shaved to add flavor to soups and other Japanese dishes. You shave it using a device similar to a carpenter's plane, collecting shavings in the box below.

Chef Tokuoka's risotto, topped with bonito flakes, was simple but tasted great.

Chef Tokuoka's risotto, topped with bonito flakes, was simple but tasted great.

Junior’s first day of middle school

April 9, 2009
cram school, education in japan, japan, japanese family, juku, Uncategorized
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Three years of juku (cram school) now a distant memory, Ryu was officially inducted into his middle school on Monday.

They say “It’s the journey, not the destination”, and I tend to agree, although today’s journey on a jam-packed train left my man wondering what he’s gotten himself into. He had a choice between a school in Tokyo and another near our house, and he chose the former. What that choice means on a practical, day-to-day basis wasn’t clear to him until we hopped on the Shonan-Shinjuku Line at Omiya Station.

Once we arrived at school, however, he recovered his enthusiasm. The 90-minute ceremony was held in a century-old hall that somehow survived the bombing of Tokyo – impressive.ryu-was1

Trademark – A Farce

March 2, 2009
absurd humor, japan, Uncategorized
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Mr Cheeky: Say “Cheese!” Perfect!

Mr Suzuki: Anoo … Do I know you?

Cheeky: Actually, we’ve just met. Can you hold on a sec? Didja get it yet, Muscle?

The Muscle: Yep. Processing application as we speak … awaiting confirmation from Trademarks …

Suzuki: Umm … sorry to bother you, but …

The Muscle: Confirmed! Who’re we selling this one to?

Cheeky: Dog Food Conglomerate No. 1. They’re out of Guangzhou.

The Muscle: Okay, found it. You wanna get his John Hancock while I finalize the deal?

Suzuki: You see … it’s not … I don’t … complete strangers taking my photo isn’t …

Cheeky: My friend … Can I call you “friend?” You see, I prefer “friend” to “stranger.” It’s positive and, frankly, I took you for a positive kinda guy. You ARE a positive kinda guy, right? We’re not wasting our time, are we?

Suzuki: Umm … ahh … gee, I …

Cheeky: I didn’t think so. Now lissen up …

The Muscle: It’s a done deal. Money’s in the bank. Cases are … in stores … now!

Cheeky: Gotcha. Now, Mr …?

Suzuki: Suzuki.

Cheeky: Suzuki-san, let me give it to you straight. We’re in the trademark business. We canvass the globe looking for the perfect puss. We travel light but pack the most up-to-date technology. We snap, trap, snip, ship, deal, dole, and decamp.

Suzuki: Trademark?

Cheeky: Yes. We’ve just trademarked your face and licensed it to a Chinese dog food manufacturer. It’s worth 20 grand for the next 10 minutes. For your role in this transaction, you stand to receive 50 bucks. If you’d just sign the screen …

Suzuki: No! Never! You can’t just …!

Cheeky: Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, pal. We’ve got PhysioProfile-SignPro. Show him his probable signature, Muscle.

The Muscle: We submitted your photo and got this …

Suzuki: Crikey!

Cheeky: What’ll it be: 50 bucks or a kick in the pants?

Suzuki: Well, I …

The Muscle: Look at this — according to Yahoo!, Make-Inu Chow Down’s risen to No. 2 in San Francisco …

Cheeky: Yeah, but the label’s been adulterated!

The Muscle: The Fung brothers are really gettin’ quick!

Cheeky: We’re gone. Here’s a sawbuck. Now get lost.

Suzuki: Wha?

Lawyer: You Suzuki? The Fungs are preemptively suing you for trademark infringement. However, you can avoid litigation by consenting to wear this bag on your head …

Katakana English

March 1, 2009
japan
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The older you get, the more complaints you have. Among the Japanese silver-hair set, a common monku has to do with the desperate state of the language. To which assertion you might reasonably respond: “Is that unusual for homo sapiens superannuati? Doesn’t every generation divine the fall of civilization in the crude utterings of its linguistically fecund but irresponsible progeny?”

Well, maybe, but whereas English, as a derivative tongue, has for centuries vigorously embraced the catchy new idioms wading ashore with the immigrants or flapping out of some hipster’s flip-flops, the Japanese language has been somewhat more rigid. At least until recently.

The national tongue has been under attack from Katakana-English – phonetic renderings of English words and phrases – for a while now, much in the same way non-native species in ballast water displace, dominate and then destroy native fauna.

I recall one night at the office, burning the midnight oil with some other unfortunates, when a breathless young lady whirled in and reeled off something that sounded like “Global positioning system malfunction on the transmission interface quadrant!” before rushing back out again, a sheaf of paper slup-slup-slupping onto the floor in her wake. All I could think was: “Damn. Not a word of Japanese.”

Seems the youth of today are not interested in learning the Japanese equivalents of common English words. When it comes to the above example, I can hardly find fault with our whirling dervish: The Japanese is something along the lines of “Zenchikyuusokui soshikimou no housou chuukanryo shibungi ga kinoofuzen da yo!”

Not everyone is so forgiving, however. A buddy of mine – a rather bloody-minded Londoner – has taken it upon himself to use Japanese at all times, even when the Japanese prefer to use Katakana English. It is his personal, all-too-quixotic crusade to defend the language.

We were in a coffee shop the other day, and I ordered the native way: “Hotto kohii. Kuriimu; satou nuki.” (Hot coffee. Cream, no sugar.) The waitress understood perfectly. Then she turned to my buddy Paul:

Paul: Atatakai ocha o kudasai. Gyuunyuu.” (Hot tea. With milk.)

Waitress: Eh? Kuriimu, desu ka? (With cream?)

Paul: Chigaimasu. Atatakai gyuunyuu. (No. Warm milk.)

Waitress: Atatakai gyuunyuu desu ka? (Warm milk?)

Paul: Hai. (Yes.)

When she brought our orders, I got a steaming cup of java, and Paul – a glass of warm milk. When in Rome, my man, do as the Romans.

My Book-Self

March 1, 2009
books, japan, Uncategorized
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Herewith a list of 100 favorite books. It is nothing more than a sampling of what I enjoy reading. Non-fiction features prominently (I concur with Samuel Clemens), as do non-Western writers. I’ve attempted to avoid the core syllabus of Western lit since most people are already familiar with it. Manga are included because this genre is significant but often dismissed.

Harp of Burma and Fires on the Plain are unique in that Kon Ichikawa has made films of both — one ultimately uplifting, the other perhaps the most stark and unflinching examination of war ever made. This Scheming World is a comic look at the human condition in medieval Japan. The 47 Ronin is revenge served cold.

The Leopard and Midnight in Sicily should be read one after the other, as the former is referenced heavily in the latter, a compelling survey of contemporary Italian politics and, uniquely, cuisine.

David Maraniss is a superb writer. They Walked Into Sunlight juxtaposes a brutal battle in Vietnam against the seizing of the administration building at the University of Wisconsin (Madison) by protesters; the events happened simultaneously. Cheney was studying in Madison at the time, BTW. When Pride Still Mattered is about Vince Lombardi in all his strength, determination and frailty.

Halberstam — these are personal favorites. Summer of 49 because it’s the Yankees against the Red Sox, DiMaggio against Williams. (The Teammates is also great) The Fifties because the seeds of our current state of affairs were planted when America exchanged frightening reality for perverse fantasy.

Rankin’s Inspector Rebus books have the impact of a Glasgow Kiss but are immensely more enjoyable. Michael Dibdin’s Inspector Zen may never solve a crime, but that’s not really the point.

Jonathan Raban, British expat living in the US, prefers the seamier side of American life; Simon Kuper, Dutch expat living in Britain, the seamier side of football. Formerly of the Guardian, he now writes for the Financial Times.

Parkman’s Montcalm and Wolfe is history at its best. Had it not been for anti-Huguenot sentiment in Versailles, we’d all be speaking French today.

Morbo examines the bitter rivalry between Real Madrid and Barcelona, the roots of which are, of course, cultural and political. Brilliant Orange investigates the psychological impact on the Dutch of their loss to West Germany in the 1974 World Cup Final.

Two books about Primo Levi – one an examination of his death, the other his well-known affirmation of life.

Derek Robinson’s books strip the romance from the air war of WWI and the Battle of Britain. Barbara Tuchman was a housewife who decided she was an even better historian – an exceptional book about the defense of France in WWI.

Homecoming is about a Japanese survivor returning from war; Requiem, the story of a young female student living in Yokohama during wartime; Black Rain, fallout and prejudice in Hiroshima.

Sebald was the first German author to speak out about Dresden; Travers, the first woman in the French Foreign Legion.

Roth was an Austrian journalist/writer whose specialty was the feuillton; he drank himself to death as war approached.

Toland’s tome is perhaps the most balanced look into the causes and effects of the Pacific War I’ve read to date. If you’ve never read Bierce, here’s your chance. The Oath is about a Chechen doctor; if you watch ER, you know which character is modeled on his life. Savage War of Peace is out of print; it’s about the Algerian war.

Alan Furst takes Eric Ambler to a new level. Perez-Reverte is a master, a stunning wit.

Neal Stephenson gathers the minutiae of history and weaves them into rich tapestries.

The premise of Nakamura’s Saint Young Men is that Jesus and Buddha are a couple of twenty-somethings sharing an apartment in Tokyo; unfortunately, this manga is only in Japanese. Real is about wheelchair basketball, Vagabond about the lives of rival swordsmen Miyamoto Musashi and Sasaki Kojiro – Inoue’s art is stunningly beautiful, his reinterpretation of Eiji Yoshikawa’s “Miyamoto Musashi” unique in that Kojiro is now deaf. Urasawa is arguably Japan’s best sci-fi storyteller (he’s also responsible for 20th Century Boys). Y: The Last Man is now being made into a live-action movie; screw the movie, read this series instead.

The rest, I think, are self-explanatory.

1. Harp of Burma – Michio Takeyama
2. Fires on the Plain – Shohei Ooka
3. This Scheming World – Ihara Saikaku
4. The 47 Ronin Story – John Allyn
5. The Leopard – Lampedusa
6. Midnight in Sicily – Peter Robb
7. They Walked into Sunlight – David Maraniss
8. When Pride Still Mattered – David Maraniss
9. Summer of ’49 – David Halberstam
10. The Fifties – David Halberstam
11. The Falls – Ian Rankin
12. Resurrection Men – Ian Rankin
13. Rat King – Michael Dibdin
14. Hunting Mr Heartbreak – Jonathan Raban
15. The Right Stuff – Tom Wolfe
16. Montcalm and Wolfe – Francis Parkman
17. Football Against the Enemy – Simon Kuper
18. Morbo – Philip Ball
19. Brilliant Orange (The Neurotic Genius of Dutch Football) – David Winner
20. The Double Bond (The Life of Primo Levi) – Carole Angier
21. If This is a Man – Primo Levi
22. The Forgotten Soldier – Guy Sajer
23. Piece of Cake – Derek Robinson
24. Goshawk Squadron – Derek Robinson
25. Boyd: The Fighter Pilot Who Changed the Art of War – Robert Coram
26. The Guns of August – Barbara Tuchman
27. Homecoming – Jiro Osaragi
28. Requiem – Shizuko Go
29. Black Rain – Masuji Ibuse
30. On the Natural History of Destruction – W.G. Sebald
31. Tomorrow to Be Brave – Susan Travers
32. Report from a Parisian Paradise: Essays from France, 1925-1939 – Joseph Roth
33. What I Saw: Reports from Berlin 1920-1933 – Joseph Roth
34. The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1936-1945 – John Toland
35. Tales of Soldiers and Civilians – Ambrose Bierce
36. The Oath – Khassan Baiev
37. Savage War of Peace – Alistair Horne
38. The Polish Officer – Alan Furst
39. The World at Night – Alan Furst
40. The Quiet American – Graham Greene
41. The Painter of Battles – Arturo Perez-Reverte
42. Captain Alatriste – Arturo Perez-Reverte
43. The Fencing Master – Arturo Perez-Reverte
44. Gates of Fire – Steven Pressman
45. Dracula – Bram Stoker
46. Books of Blood – Clive Barker
47. Dune – Frank Herbert
48. Stranger in a Strange Land – Robert Heinlein
49. Foundation – Issac Asimov
50. Solaris – Stanislaus Lem
51. Fahrenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury
52. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep – Philip K. Dick
53. 2001: A Space Odyssey – Arthur C. Clarke
54. Dancing Wu Li Masters – Gary Zukav
55. Cryptonomicon – Neal Stephenson
56. The Baroque Cycle – Neal Stephenson
57. Hard Times – Studs Terkel
58. The Good War – Studs Terkel
59. Studs Lonigan – James Farrell
60. The Jungle – Upton Sinclair
61. The Outfit: The Role of Chicago’s Underworld in Shaping Modern America – Gus Russo
62. Boss – Mike Royko
63. Surely You’re Joking, Mr Feynman – Richard Feynman
64. Gangs of New York – Herbert Asbury
65. The Murders in the Rue Morgue – Edgar Allan Poe
66. Saint Young Men – Hikaru Nakamura
67. Real – Inoue Takehiko
68. Vagabond – Inoue Takehiko
69. Pluto – Urasawa Naoki
70. Monster – Urasawa Naoki
71. Akira – Otomo Katsuhiro
72. Buddha – Tezuka Osamu
73. Y: The Last Man – Vaughan and Guerra
74. The Watchmen – Alan Moore
75. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns – Frank Miller
76. On Bullshit – Harry Frankfurt
77. In the Wake of the Plague – Norman Cantor
78. Orientalism – Edward Said
79. My Traitor’s Heart – Rian Malan
80. Life and Death in Shanghai – Nien Chang
81. Gulag: A History – Anne Applebaum
82. Going Up the River: Travels in a Prison Nation – Joseph Hallinan
83. The Crucible – Arthur Miller
84. God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything – Christopher Hitchens
85. Zero: The Biography of a Dangerous Idea – Charles Seife
86. Coal: A Human History – Barbara Freese
87. Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World – Mark Kurlansky
88. Shadow Divers – Robert Kurson
89. Devil in the White City – Erik Larson
90. A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush – Eric Newby
91. Lost Horizon – James Hilton
92. The Happy Isles of Oceania: Paddling the Pacific – Paul Theroux
93. Kitchen Confidential – Anthony Bourdain
94. Glengarry Glen Ross – David Mamet
95. Things Change – David Mamet and Shel Silverstein
96. Master and Commander – Patrick O’Brian
97. On Writing Well – William Zinsser
98. The Art of Peace – Morihei Ueshiba
99. Meditations – Marcus Aurelius
100. The Analects – Confucius

Called Home

March 1, 2009
absurd humor, japan, mobile phone, Uncategorized
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Mind your manners

They’ve erected a memorial to unfortunate moderns who’ve met their makers through their mobiles. The Cenotaph for Cellular Casualties is located on a tiny bit of parkland in the shade of the expressway running through Akihabara – Tokyo’s shrine to high technology.

It’s made of some composite material or another, and shaped like an open clamshell cell phone in the palm of a large hand. The vertical, three-foot-high LCD display meets the equally large cantilevered keypad at an angle of 135 degrees. So very ergonomic.

It’s a moral memorial. If you died by your own hand and took no one else with you, then you can be transformed into bits of data and committed to memory. No chatting drivers or preoccupied pilots, thank you.

It’s also an interactive memorial. The keypad allows you to scroll through the ever-swelling list of names. Make your selection, and a digital rendering of the dearly departed is displayed. You are allowed to offer virtual incense and a personal message. Now clutch your handset and bow three times.

Before you go, why not request a requiem from the ring-tone database? Or perhaps a bouquet of CG carnations? These will have to suffice for the time being, since Nirvana’s outside the service area.

Responsibility for the memorial rests with the Society for Promoting Proper Mobile Phone Manners, which was established to assuage the guilt of the mobile communications industry. The grant from the cell phone sector is supplemented by a condolence charge assessed on every text message sent. It’s a very small charge. They say it’ll be phased out in a year or two.

The day I visited the cenotaph, several society members were updating the Dearly Departed Database. Here are a few examples:

Noriko S. (1989-2009) – She walked off Yokohama Station’s Platform 2 and into the path of an express train while reading her mail. The fateful message from a friend: “I think I’m constipated again.”

Ai T. (1982-2009) – Trampled at the Boston Marathon after wandering in front of the starting line while talking to her mother in Kawasaki. The costly conversation: “Can you hear me? You can? I can’t believe the clarity . . . BANG! . . . RUSH! . . . Ahhhh . . . beeeeeeeeep!”

Teruo R. (1986-2009) – Construction worker who walked off a beam into eternity while engrossed in a riveting exchange with his buddy. Highlights: “Really?!” “Really.” “You mean it?” “Really!” “I don’t believe it!” “Really! It’s true!” “Really??” . . .

So young.

So absorbed.

So long!

If you’re ever in Akihabara shopping for a cheap computer or DVD recorder or figurine, why not pay your respects to those submerged by modernity’s neap tide? Meantime, mind your manners.

The Last Chin-don-ya

February 23, 2009
hollywood, japan, ninja
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In honor of the Academy Awards, I offer my take on a Japanese director trying to make it in Hollywood. A chin-don-ya is a one-man band (“chin-don-ya” is onomatopoeic). Once popular in the merchant districts (used to promote the opening of a shop or a major event), they’ve now virtually disappeared.

Hollywood producer: So, let me get this straight … the hero’s a street performer?

Agent: Well, sort of … I mean he’s more than your typical performer. He’s a one-man-band, very skilled …

HP: What, like a ninja? We’re really interested in ninjas. They had ninjas in The Last Samurai.

A: Tekiya sensei?

Japanese director: Ohh, yesss. Yesss. He’s like a ninja. Crash-boom-bang.

A: Very much like a ninja. You should see him wield his cymbals. Killer!

HP: ‘Cause we would position it as an action flick, okay? Straight musicals are out.

A: No no no. Don’t worry. He’s extremely percussive.

HP: Excuse me?

A: He’s always beating on something!

HP: Good. Very good. Now, I’m still trying to visualize this … uh … chinpira?

JD: Chin-don-ya! Chin-don-ya.

HP: Right. Whatever. So he’s dressed like those taiko guys, right? Loincloth, headband … bulging muscles, lots of sweat?

A: Something like that, only more so.

HP: Which means what, exactly?

A: Umm … more clothing … very colorful … a big bass drum strapped to his back …

JD: Like a ninja. Don’t worry! Ninja chin-don-ya.

HP: I thought ninjas were dressed in black …

A: Colorful in the sense of action! Street tough colorful! Always fighting for his turf … for his life! He’s the last of a dying breed!

JD: Ninja. Chin-don-ya. Both are dying traditions!

HP: Who’s he fighting?

A: It’s not so much “who” as “what.” He’s fighting … modernization!

HP: Maybe you’d better call Robert Redford …

JD: Too old! He’s not a ninja. Keanu Reeves!

HP: After further consideration, I don’t think …

A: Did I mention the Glockenspiel of Death?

HP: I’m going to have to cut this short …

A: From the future! Travels back in time to silence our hero!

HP: Schwarzenegger’s tied up at the moment. If you’ll excuse me …

JD: You don’t like chin-don-ya? Nobody likes chin-don-ya! Too noisy. Ninja is quiet.

A: That’s true … quiet …

JD: Like a mime.

HP: What’s that?

A: Just like a mime. Say!

JD: Za Last Mime!

HP: What happens to him?

JD: Something terrible.

HP: Make it The Last 10,000 Mimes and it’s a deal.

Luddites in Japan

February 15, 2009
commuters, japan, luddites, mobile phone
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I wrote this back in the early 2000s, when the tide of ubiquity had turned in favor of mobile phones and the commute was no longer a quiet sanctuary for reading or catching up on much needed sleep but instead an unnatural orgy of texting thumbs, one-sided conversations and the sound of countless clamshells opening, closing, opening again. For a time, traditional Japanese decorum simply vanished.

These days, most people behave themselves on the trains. Few make phone calls. Most music plays at a reasonable volume. Handsets are quieter, too, so texters make less noise than they used to. My only complaint are the PSP players — they’re using headphones and so are oblivious to the noise they make tapping and clicking through Monster Hunter. That’s it for the gripes.

Anyway, I was trying to get into the head of someone who couldn’t come to grips with mobility, a modern Luddite, and how they might handle the evening commute home ….

Section chief Yamada, with one final scan up the platform, grips the doorway and swings into the train. Waiting nearby is his subordinate, the earnest Takiguchi. Yamada begins making his way up the aisle, nodding to the others, Takiguchi falling in step behind him. Aside from the odd snippet of muffled conversation, their footfalls are all that disturbs the tense silence of Car 13. The defiant — two to a doorway, four to a bench — continually search the platform and track for signs of encroachment.

Yamada: (over his shoulder) Everyone accounted for?

Takiguchi: (somewhat uneasy) Ye … Yessir.

Yamada stoops to peer through the bulkhead leading to Car 12; satisfied, he leans against it, offers a knowing grin to his aide.

Yamada: Friday, eh? It’ll be a tough night, Tak-kun.

Takiguchi: (avoiding eye contact) Yes, sir.

Yamada: Not like it used to be. Six months ago this car was packed with willing defenders. That virus gets into you, saps your resistance …

Takiguchi: Few newcomers, sir … though Kimi-chan’s back again tonight.

Yamada: Ahh, the irony of youth — the poison and the antidote, all in one. How’s the immunization plan going?

Takiguchi: (glances furtively at Kimi, a senior high student dressed in sailor uniform and loose socks, who’s crouching sullenly near the second trackside door) Her friends scoffed at her.

Yamada: Well, she’s resilient. Once the calluses have disappeared, she’ll feel brand new.

Takiguchi: Speaking of which, I’ve something to … ahh …

Yamada: Cat got your tongue?

Takiguchi: (evasively) Er …. um … a bug, actually.

Yamada: You’ve lost me.

Takiguchi: The riding bug, sir. Um … I’ve been wanting to tell you, sir. Uh … umm … sir, I bought a motorcycle. I’ll be riding into work from Monday.

Yamada: (crestfallen) Not another …

Takiguchi: I’m tired, sir. The cause …

Yamada: Don’t say it!

Takiguchi: … it’s lost, sir! Can’t you see?

Yamada: (intense sotto voce) You’ve been infected … (flush with anger) Sound the alarm! (all eyes engage the pair) Detrain this … this …

Takiguchi: (giddy, eyes wide, he thrusts his hand into his jacket to retrieve a spanking new mobile phone) This modernist! Hahahahahahaha …

Yamada: (bear hugs a crazed Takiguchi from behind, nods to several nearby heavies) Quick, grab the phone! We may save him yet! Hurry …

Takiguchi: (delirious) You’ve got maiilllll! You’ve got maiiillllll!

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