JAPAN

WORK HABITS AND KIND BODY GUARDS

Well, the blog was to be built around photos and the photos disappear from the blog just moments after I post them, so technology and I are not friends at the moment. And the Internet is breaking down regularly. And Eudora will receive but not send. I can’t believe that I am using ten million high tech gadgets, all of them made right here in this country and none of them are capable of producing a good day’s worth of work.
UPDATE: Blogger and I are the best of friends! Oh, what that nice blogger rep did for me! Thank you so very much.

…As opposed to the people here, who have absolutely lost all perspective on the subject of work. How can you schedule a meeting with me from 7:00 pm, be done with it at 10:30 pm and then return to your office to continue with the work that you interrupted for my benefit?

But this morning I beat them to it! I was looking for a cup of coffee at 5 am and was deeply disappointed that the hotel was not about to recognize my cravings at what seemed to me to be a decent time to start a fresh day. The night clerk was, however, very polite about it and expressed great disappointment at not being able to oblige.

Sometimes I think that the people here should just blow their cool at the likes of me. It seems they should be saying things like “and who are you to come here and expect every one of us to speak your confusing language and to understand your weird gestures and requests when you yourself have memorized only five Japanese words and continue to violate virtually every social ritual known to us?” But no one says this. Instead, I am allowed to blunder along, and I am greeted everywhere with a desire to make my walk through this country an easy one.

In my work, I go from one meeting to another with my “guards.” These are the kind people who have agreed to translate for me – from foreign grad students to deans and professors, they all humbly undertake this, with no compensation, nothing at all from me except a thank you and a dumb little gift from Wisconsin (you can just imagine how creative those are—though to my credit, I have yet to hand over anything with a picture of a red badger on it, thinking perhaps that you would have had to at least pass through WI to work up any enthusiasm for our local mascot).

But I view them also as guards of sorts, as they protect me from my own ineptness, always apologizing, I am sure, for my ignorance. I know this to be true because I am beginning to pick up little signs here and there: like this afternoon when my ‘translator' swooped down to take my shoes and move them to a spot where I should have placed them; or earlier, when another handed me a fresh hankie as I made my way to the Japanese washroom without thinking to bring one; or this evening when I was too busy writing down answers to questions to reach for the proffered Hokkaido treat and found my “guard” gently placing one on my pad so that all could then begin to enjoy theirs.

WALKING THE WESTERN HILLS OF SAPPORO

“The sun so bright, I froze to death,” aptly describes this day: trees here are a month behind Madison (as opposed to the area around Tokyo where they are a month ahead; so where on Japan’s map is Madison??) and there is still an occasional patch of snow in the hills, but that not withstanding, it was a bright, bright day, one that needed a walk. The early morning was a perfect time for it.

Nothing is as uplifting as watching schoolchildren sail off to their elementary schoolhouses – in packs, on bikes, alone, with a parental hand clutching theirs. In France it may be all navy and white for the left bank private l’ecole set, but here, the colors of kid clothes are bright and mixed in interesting ways, so that the pink ‘little kitty’ sweatshirt will be on top of yellow ‘Tony tiger’ pair of pants, with perhaps a fluorescent pink ‘Astro man’ backpack to really set things right. Children appear to like cartoon characters generously sprinkled across every surface that lends itself to this sort of thing.



Eventually I reached the hills on the outskirts of the city. Not surprisingly, a bright red shrine stood halfway up the steep incline. Outside, a wooden stand had hanging garlands of beautiful origami cranes and a thick leather book, resting partly open, with a pen stuck inside, obviously inviting … who knows what. Is it one of those books where you’re expected to write something like “Hi! I am from Wisconsin! Glad to be here! Hey, how about that, I see someone from Pennsylvania visited last month! Go Pirates!” or maybe comment on the natural beauty of the setting (“you have one great shrine here and the view is like wow, like terrific!”), or is it maybe something that I am not getting, like a sinners book, so that if you sign in you are admitting to having killed your neighbor and lied to your own mother? I left it alone.

Sapporo is not a wealthy town. In fact, Hokkaido is a not a wealthy island. The already small Japanese houses are even smaller here. ‘Modest’ is a good operative word as you pass through residential neighborhoods. I paused in front of one mansion (that would have comfortably fit into the average Madison kitchen) to take a photo of the city below (note missing photo here as well) and I played “no, you go first” with the gentleman who lived here and was taking out the garbage and almost walked in front of the camera. After many gestures and words of protest, he won. I had to go first.

LUNCH AT THE FAC CLUB

I had my first official meal on of the trip – with the various faculty who are helping with my work here. We went to the faculty club – a beautiful modern building that looks exclusive and swank, though I was assured that it was open to anyone, including tourists if they chose to visit the campus of Hokkaido University. They said it was a disappointment because none ever came – too far off the beaten path.

And now the chopstick game begins. I am offered western eating utensils and I politely refuse. Big smiles all around for that one. I am adept enough at the chopstick thing that I can, as I’m sure most Americans can, transport food from plate to mouth without losing half of it, no matter how slippery or small – a feat that never ceases to bring forth great exclamations of praise and wonder. (Japanese people must think us to be such indelicate eaters!) But the game isn’t over. I then have to decline having any such skill. And so we go back and forth on this and end the exchange with a mutual bow of acquiescence, each acknowledging that the other is right, followed by a minute’s silence to contemplate the miraculous wonder of this. The chopstick game happens quite frequently. I am happy, because at least I think I know how to participate in this one.