Category: Japan

Things Japanese, including thngs that will not spark joy in the hearts of Japanophiles, many of whom harbor some misconceptions about the country and culture they adore.

Some Improvements in Japan over the Last Few Decades

What do these four arguably Japanese things have in common?

  • a group shouting “ikki! Ikki!” in unison at an izakaya to prod someone to chug their drink
  • urinating against the side of a building
  • chucking noodles onto the sidewalk after drinking too much
  • swinging an imaginary golf club while waiting on a platform for a train.

What these things have in common, at least as I observe them, is that they are considerably rarer than they were some decades ago here in Japan.

The first three are related to improved drinking habits and manners, and perhaps a heightened realization that looking like a jerk is not cool.

I’m not sure why the imaginary golf clubs have become rare. Perhaps it is because it is rather difficult to maintain your imaginary golf swing form while holding a phone in one hand. Maybe someone closer to the problem could offer a suggestion.

Yokohama beat Kasumigaura at Koshien. 

Seeing Kasumigaura reminds me of things wartime. People who know about the Japanese military might pick up on the connection. There is a well-known wartime song that mentions Kasumigaura in the first verse. 

I remember it from among the numerous war songs I learned back in the 1960s. 

When I was in a yakitoriya one time—I’m always in some yakitoriya, right? Lot’s of stuff going on there—a right-wing thugmobile truck drove by playing that song at somewhere over the pain threshold and with about 35 percent distortion.

Feeling mischievous, I commented to the guy sitting next to me (another regular) “I know it’s wrong. I really do know it’s wrong, but when I hear these rousing war songs, I’m overtaken by an urge to go to China and stab babies.”

The fellow immediately launched into all the reasons why I should not repeat the horrible mistakes made by the Japanese military during World War II, apparently feeling compelled to warn me of making the same mistakes.

Sarcasm and black humor don’t work in Japan.

Some thoughts on foreign workers here in Japan

Much of the view of foreigners here can be attributed not just to social media, but also to the main news media. When you hear ○×国籍の… (a … of XYZ nationality), because of being preconditioned by the frequency of such news in the major media, it is safe to think that you are going to hear a report of a crime. Where are the stories about the more common foreigners not doing things to get them in such news stories?

My experience with recent foreign workers here has been different.

The young woman who helped us change our smartphone plans recently was from Nepal. She handled the rather complex transaction in very good Japanese, as efficiently and competent as Japanese staff member could have been. The only clue that she was not 100% culturally native was when she referred to us as お父さん and お母さん. We thought that was cute and didn’t have a problem with it, even though she was a bit young to be even our daughter.

Language is a major problem for the majority of foreign workers. If your daily environment is mostly dealing with a compatriot intermediary or you don’t otherwise need Japanese to work—this is apparently the case with many foreign workers here—you will be less incentivized to learn Japanese.

Just some thoughts from this very non-recent arrival—50 years ago is not very recent, and cannot lay claim to being a “real” expat.

Taking care of 仁義

Around 1977, I was in a large cabaret on the west side of Yokohama station, the Hollywood, which subsequently morphed into a Yodobashi store.

It had a band and often featured previously well-known singers who were no longer a thing; 一節太郎, and the like. The Hollywood was sometimes used as the location of movie scenes. Typical scenes would have Kobayashi Akira descending from the rafters in a gondola while holding a white guitar. But I digress.

A young thug walked in one day, evidently heading to a table already occupied by others of his party. He made the serious mistake of passing by the table of someone he should’ve shown proper respect to, but ignored.

There was a kerfuffle that went on between two tables—I was one table away—and the ultimate resolution was that someone from the late-arriving thug’s table came to the offended thug’s table to make things right, doing something I had only ever seen in movies (仁義を切ったわけ), as the band played on.

If this had happened today, I imagine a bunch of jerks would take out their iPhones and take photos of it.

I gave at the office, thank you.

Years ago, returning from a yakitoriya I frequented in Shimbashi, I was in the toilet at the JR station, and the guy at the next urinal made what he thought was a complimentary remark about me—or, more precisely, part of me. He must have had bad eyesight. When I ignored him, he continued. When I told him 間に合っている (essentially, “I gave at the office”), he became annoyed, working himself gradually into a mild rage, and ultimately said that we should go to the police box, a move he would soon regret. It was like music to my ears. Here a guy essentially propositions me in the toilet and he wants to take me to the police. Fine, I said. And off we went to the Karasumoriguchi police box (which I believe subsequently morphed into a small soba or ramen shop).

When we got there, the police officer asked us what was up. After I told my story (just as noted above), the fellow prefaced his story with 外人は皆変態だろう？ (All foreigners are pervs, right?). The cop’s reaction was “お前が求めている外人はそうだろうが、この方は整然としているよ” (I imagine the foreigners you’re looking for are, but this guy seems on the up and up.)

I could have kissed the cop but, having gotten him on my side, and considering the nature of this incident, that would probably have been counterproductive to say the least. Then the officer turned to me and said essentially “What shall we do with this guy?”

I need to note that the guy’s business card was sitting right in front of me on the table in the police box. His name and title were clearly visible. He was a mid-level manager at a Japanese company that has many gasoline stations all over Japan. He was on a business trip to Tokyo.

Knowing his vulnerable situation, I simply said that it would probably be best to let the legal system take care of this. The guy surely imagined his career going up in smoke. I can just imagine the excuse he would need to make to explain away a trip to Tokyo for a court appearance, and such cases can involve more than one court appearance. If this happened today, one option would be to out him up the yin-yang on social media. Hang on, he might have actually liked that, especially the getting stuck up his ying with a yang.

He apologized profusely, I agreed not to bring charges, and we left the police box. See what a nice guy I am? Actually, I had no desire to go to court to accuse this lout.

This happened some time in 1984.

時は昭和59年のころであった、ピシッ !!