Just a Little Country Boy

The neons are brighter, the subways busier, the high-school girls' miniskirts shorter, and the giant buddha bar restaurants more giant than anywhere in the world. Tokyo is certainly an amazing place. Everywhere and everyone is so young and fashionable that Derek Zoolander would look like a bum, and the whole city is so wired that I felt like prescribing it Ritalin.



It was like a giant candy store for this little rice-paddy country boy from Kochi. In my three days in the capital, I climbed a skyscraper in Roppongi, caught up with friends in Takadanobaba, ate shabushabu in Harajuku, saw some live rock in Shibuya, hung out with a band in Shinjuku, Christmas shopped in Ikebukuro, and got lost in Tokyo Station. It was hard to whipe that bucolic awe-struck look off my face. In Kitagawa the most happening place is the Retirement Centre and dressing up means wearing something other than slippers. Tokyo was all a bit overwhelming. My supervisor had warned me. He was kind enough to drive me to the airport for my 'business trip,' and he told me he thought I was brave going to Tokyo alone. He'd been there once - about 16 years ago, got lost and never wants to go back.



It is an easy city to feel lost in! Estimates put the population of greater Tokyo at around 34 million. That's about 1.6 times the population of the whole of Australia, and 22,065 times that of Kitagawa! And that mass of humanity is not idle. Central Tokyo is said to have about 80,000 restaurants (compared to London's 6,000 and Kitagwa's one), and no one's ever even tried to count the bars. Single train stations in Tokyo are bigger than whole cities in some countries. It took me more than half an hour to just walk between lines at Tokyo Station (and that's when I didn't get lost), and Tokyo Station is by no means to biggest. Shinjuku Station is the busiest in the world, with about 3 million passengers passing through its gates each day.



Back home in the rice-paddies again now. Kitagawa doesn't have a train station. It does have a bus. The bus comes twice a day. It's empty most of the time.

Phew... It's good to be back...



click to Tokyo photo gallery

Curry Toothpaste and Oyster Ice-cream

If you thought corn, potatoes and mayonnaise on pizza was a little too strange to stomach, read no further!



In the West the line between sweet and savoury is a clearly delineated one. Dessert is one thing; eel, eggplant and raw horse meat is most certainly another. But in the East, this age-old sweet/savoury divide is regularly flaunted, and often with the most ghastly of results.

This cultural gap was never more apparent than when I took some students of mine to a Ben and Jerry's in Seoul for some Chunky Monkey, New York Fudge Brownie and Cookie Dough ice-cream (if you're unlucky enough to live in a country without one, Ben and Jerry's is surely up there with the best ice-cream in the world). One of the students pulled out a pack of prawn-crackers, and with squeals of delight, all the students began scooping up the ice-cream with their crackers! I'd never felt so far from home...

But prawn-crackers and Chunky Monkey is only the beginning, and it is surely in Japan that this blurring of divisions has been taken to its most alarming extremes.

Mint. Spearmint. Peppermint. Until now, the range of toothpaste flavours has been monotonously minty. But this minty monopoly is finally over. How about spicing up your brushing with some Indian Curry Toothpaste? Or sweetening your breath with the White Peach? Japanese brand Margaret Josephin has released a range of 31 alternative toothpaste flavours, one for each day of the month:

Sweet Salt, Tropical Pineapple, Peppermint, Fresh Yogurt, First Crop Green Tea, Rose, Monkey Banana, Honey, Kiwifruit, Cafe au Lait, Plum, Tsugaru Apple, Vanilla, Indian Curry, Strawberry, California Orange, Kyoto Green Tea, White Peach, Kisshu Ume, Lavender, Darjeeling Tea, Cinnamon, Budou (grape), Lemon Tea, Bitter Chocolate, Blueberry, Caramel, Espresso, Grapefruit, Pumpkin Pudding, Cola*



Cakes are another of these fusion food hot spots. Last night I watched a show on TV all about "Fushigi-na Keki" - Strange Cakes. Featured cakes included Abalone Cake, Eel Cake and Natto Cake (natto is rotten soy beans, and must surely beat durian for the title of worst-smelling-food-in-the-world), and none of them were savoury (I believe the Eel Cake was chocolate!)

But the king of weird food must certainly be Japanese ice-cream. Brace yourself for what is surely the vilest ice-cream ever made: "Raw Horse-Flesh Ice-Cream".



There's also Goat (and no, that's not just the milk!), Wasabi, Cactus, Octopus, Prawn, Oyster, Eggplant and Whale Meat flavours, to name a few. If you've got a strong stomach, you can check out all the awful flavours by clicking here.

In all fairness, many of these things are almost as repulsive to an average Japanese person as they are to me. But then again, there's must be a market for these sins against sweetness here somewhere.

*I don't think these toothpastes are available outside of Japan, but if you just have to try the Bitter Chocolate or the First Crop Green Tea, let me know and I can try to ship some out to you (210 yen each).

Need a lap?

A little lonely this Christmas? Need a shoulder to cry on? A lap to rest your head? Japanese ingenuity to the rescue again!

Introducing the "Lap Pillow". Made of foam and selling for about 10,000 yen (US$85), this life-like woman's lap is just the thing to relieve the lonely Christmas blues.



As Mitsuo Takahashi of the manufacturer Trane KK, points out, the Hizamakura, or lap pillow, fulfills a primal need. "From the time people were kids, people have laid their heads on their mothers' laps to get their ears cleaned," he said.(!!)

But single ladies needing a snuggle needn't feel left out either. Introducing the "Boyfriend Arm Pillow". Guaranteed not to snore, drool or run of with a younger woman this friendly pillow with a price tag of 8000 yen (about US$76) consists of a stuffed headless torso and an arm to curl around the user.

The Serbian Ambassador's Daughter

Chaired the international conference on sustainable global development. Met with the minister of education to give him – and in no uncertain terms – my views on reforming the Japanese education system. Negotiated the release of 12 foreign nationals caught up in a week-long hostage crisis. Translated an international trade agreement that promises to bring Japan's slumbering economy out of the doldrums. And still found time enough to accept the advances of the visiting Serbian ambassador's rather foxy daughter. A fairly routine day in the life of a CIR at Kitagawa village. And all this before I even woke up...

It's a flash sounding title, but truth be told, a delightful but vanishing little rural village of 1550 in a far flung corner of the least developed of Japan's four big islands seldom has need for a 'Coordinator of International Relations.' The rice paddies outnumber the people about 4 to 1 and other than my predecessors and a couple of Filipino 'hostesses' there's scarcely been a foreign visitor in living memory. There just isn't much need for someone with my job description. Alternative, and altogether more accurate job titles would be 'Token White Villager,' 'Entertainer of Children,' or my personal favourite, 'Show Pony.'


thats me with the pretty mane

But I can't complain really. I'm well groomed, the stable hands are gentle (if the reigns a little short at times), and the hay is good.

-- Signing off for today, a well-fed pony, secretly pining for open pastures.

Silent kono Yoru

Attempts at "internationalisation" this week extended to passing around different versions of Silent Night written out in 10 different languages and having the kids to try and pick the country. Arabic and Zulu were my favourites, but there are even Klingon and Tolkien Elvish translations out there (link)! Some people have even more time on their hands than me...

Click here to listen to the first verse of the Japanese version (Kiyoshi kono Yoru) in mp3 - sung by 1st grade kids.

きよしこのよる
Kiyoshi kono Yoru

きよしこの夜　星は光り
Kiyoshi kono yoru hoshi wa hikari
救いの御子は　まぶねの中に
sukui nomiko wa mabune no naka ni
眠りたもう　いとやすく
nemuri tamo-o. itoyasuku.

Art of the Almost Useless

Chindogu (珍道具) - the art of the almost useless invention. With a cult-like following in Japan and growing world-wide, Chindogu are largely the brainchildren of Kenji Kawakami. Fed up with Japan's obsession with convenience (case in point here), these "unuseless inventions" are his subtle protest against modern consumerism. Whatever the reasons, they always crack me up.


Baby Mop
make him earn his keep


Earring Safety Net
never lose an earring again


Personal Rain Collector
free rain!


Solar-Powered Torch
when broad daylight just isn't enough


Portable Crosswalks
cross the road in safety - anywhere!


Hold-It Helmet
don't waste your day watching the road


Umbrella Tie
ready for rain and looking sharp

click here for more almost useless inventions
and here for full article on Chindogu

School Lunches and Surgical Masks

Lunch-time at Kitagawa primary school is always one of those “We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!” moments.


photo by Ged

Lunch at primary school back home was generally a matter of finding a free bench and wolfing down a couple of sandwiches before getting stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

Lunch at Kitagawa Primary is a complex series of rituals that would give a Master Mason a head spin. Here’s the basic rundown:

1. At 12:30, 3rd, 4th and 5th graders file into the Dining Hall in white aprons, white hats and white surgical masks.


2. With chopsticks and ladles, they divide the day’s menu (chosen months in advance by the school nutritionist) proportionally among the members of each table, serving-sizes determined by age and indicated by colour-coded tags on top of each milk-bottle.


3. When the food is served and the third, fourth and fifth graders are seated, a buzzer is rung by a chosen representative and a red flag is waved.


4. Remaining students file into the room and silently take their seats.


5. Another student representative at the front of the room goes through the day’s menu on the board with a wooden pointer, briefly explaining the nutritional balance of the meal by indicating on a large diagram the food groups each menu item falls into.


6. Surgical masks are removed and placed in the apron’s front pocket.


7. The clock is consulted and the time by which meals must be eaten is set and announced - 20 minutes, to the minute, from time of announcement.


8. Everyone bows and says in unison “ittadakimasu”.


9. Meal is eaten.


10. Buzzer is sounded at set end time.


11. Everyone bows and says in unison “gochisosamadeshita”.


12. Representative asks each table for their report.


13. Each group’s representative stands in turn and announces the number of table members who failed to meet the weekly and monthly lunch-time objectives (this week was “Not stuffing one’s mouth with food” and this month was “Finishing the meal in the given time”).


14. Numbers of those who failed to meet the objectives are recorded on a large poster at the front of the room.


15. Tables with a perfect record for that day are applauded.


16. A card with a green circle is held up if numbers are within acceptable parameters, and card with a red cross if not.


17. Bowls, plates and utensils are stacked and returned, tables wiped, chairs stacked and floors swept.


18. Table members stand to the side of the table as a student inspector comes to each table in turn to check that clean-up has been completed satisfactorily.


19. If the table is given the ok, group members bow to each other and say in unison “owarimashou” (“let’s finish”).


20. Everyone exits room and returns their aprons and surgical masks to their respective rooms.


21. Students race outside and get stuck into the more serious business of some low-down and reckless playing.

A military commander would envy the efficiency on display here.

But let me not give the impression that the kids are just cold-hearted soulless robots. Despite the strangeness of their ritual lunches, and as cynical as I'd like to be, the truth is that I couldn't imagine a nicer and more thoughtful group of robots anywhere.

But seriously... they are great kids. I don't think there's a bad egg or bully among them. Whenever any of the kids see me around the village they always smile and shout out "Andoryu, Andoryu!" The bolder ones run up to give me a high five or a massage(!), or point out for the 10th time that day how tall I am, and try to jump up and touch the top of my head.



For all their insistence on procedure and uniformity, I have to admit it does seem to produce uniformly good-natured kids. This year for Xmas, it'll be white aprons, surgical masks and stopwatches all round...

A-bombs and Okonomiyaki

I cremated my oldest daughter Naoko (three-years-old). The tears flowed without stopping. 'You go first, I'll follow you!' I joined my hands in prayer.
My second son Tatsumi (nine-years-old) was still missing. I prayed that he had fled to safety somewhere.
As she burned, the oil in her body gradually flowed out. A huge amount, what a healthy child! So piteous! I couldn't stand to watch, I thought I would go crazy. How could this be the real world? It was hell....
I have continued to live for 30 years feeling guilty towards my two dead children. Forgive me! I didn't keep my promise, a parent's responsibility. (I didn't have the courage).
--Tamaki Ishifuro (35 at time of bombing, 65 at time of drawing)

Not many people leave the Hiroshima Peace Museum smiling.


ok, so Stuart may have been blinking rather than blubbering... but it was still disturbing

Though we couldn't have asked for better weather on our trip, the irony is that it was precisely the fine weather and clear skies on 5 August 1945 that sealed Hiroshima's fate, and made it's name synonymous with the horror and inhumanities of modern warfare. With an unprecedented 2.2 billion dollars already invested in the Manhattan Project, the US military would settle for nothing less than a clear and unobstructed view of the effects of their latest toy. A few clouds in the sky and it might just have been another Japanese city that ushered in the nuclear age that day. But Hiroshima was chosen, and the rest is history.

We spread our visit to the Peace Park and Peace Museum over 2 days, but it was still pretty overwhelming. This is no sugar-coated version of the events. There are pictures of victims bodies with the patterns on their kimonos etched into their skin; a photo of a little girl lying in a makeshift hospital, her eyes melted by the blast and her face burnt beyond recognition; a life-size diorama with wax models of a mother and her two children burning in the aftermath, their skin melting off their arms; a 13-year-old boy's steel lunchbox bent and warped in the extreme heat, the carbonised remains of his uneaten lunch still inside (his mother found his body lying on top of the lunchbox, still clutching it in his hands). Outside in the park are monuments everywhere to those who died as a result of the blast. There is the Children's Monument dedicated to Sadako who folded paper cranes while dying in hospital of leukaemia.



There is a somewhat belatedly erected monument to the Koreans who died in the blast (largely working in Japan against their will). (click for image)

And there is the park's centrepiece – the A-dome – the skeletal remains of a government building, preserved lest we ever forget what happened.



But the truth is that other than the Peace Park and the A-dome there are few reminders left now of Hiroshima's horrific past. Hiroshima today is a thriving metropolis, and as much as it symbolises mankind's capacity for destruction, equally now it must also symbolise mankind's capacity for survival and rejuvenation. Roads that once served as mortuaries for the hundreds upon thousands that died are now paved-over and bustling with traffic. City blocks that were once nothing but tortured rubble are now filled with high-rises, neon lights and "Delivery Love Rooms".



Where once there was a city with nothing left but despair, now there are nightclubs with Hiroshima's friendly youth bouncing to Brit-pop.



And where once there was radiation and starvation, now there is okonomi-yaki (sometimes called a Japanese pancake, though that hardly does it justice). I recommend the pork...



click to hiroshima photo gallery

All polar bears are left-handed

Six reasons to start a weblog:

All polar bears are left-handed.
A crocodile cannot stick its tongue out.
A cockroach will live nine days without it's head, before it starves to death.
Elephants are the only animals that can't jump.
The Earth is slightly egg-shaped.
A pig's orgasm lasts for 30 minutes!!!

There is only so much of this kind of stuff that anyone one person should know. I do like my job (no, really!), but it does occasionally leave me with an unhealthy amount of free time (though admittedly I've been quite busy lately). Some people might study for a masters degree, work on a charity for underprivileged children or set up a water-tight investment portfolio. All I have to show for it is a stiff neck, an encyclopaedic knowledge of useless information, a fine set of glow-in-the-dark Dracula fangs (Halloween party I organised for the kids), and a brooding resentment that I wasn't born a pig.

Starting a blog won't exactly get me a Nobel Prize, but at least it should keep me productive. Hope you enjoy...