Iris – Page 74 – goinggaijin.com

Weekend Project # 1

I have been studying soroban for more than three years now. Since I still want that first dan degree, and I am now training almost daily again, I consider myself a serious student.

Of course, you wouldn’t know that by looking at my equipment. My soroban is second-hand (and it shows if you look closely). And, during all this time of studying, I carried it with me simply wrapped in a sheet of newspaper.

I wanted to have a nice soroban cover for a while now, but finally last weekend, I took out some time to sew one. This is the result, and I am quite pleased with it:

Except for two full afternoons of time from the planning stages to the finish, it didn’t cost me anything: The outside is cut from an old pair of jeans, and the lining (the cover is fully lined, not just on top) is made from the leftover of another project. The cover is a little tighter than I had planned, probably because of the lining, but for a first try it turned out very well indeed.

And now, you would even guess by looking at me that I am a serious student!

Gyoza

I am slowly trying to japanify myself, and a friend of mine helps me to do so by teaching me how to cook. Last Friday, we spontaneously decided to make gyoza – Japanese meat dumplings.

You need gyoza wrappers – thin, round wrappers made of noodle dough. I guess if you can’t find those, it would be possible to make them yourself. Those are filled with a mixture of cabbage and pork and a few other things and are relatively easy to make. The recipe is below. I would recommend making a really large batch and freezing whatever you can’t eat. It is best to freeze the fresh gyoza before frying them.

Also, extra tip: the meat mixture described in the recipe is the same as for meat balls. Japanese tend not to fry those in a pan, but rather, they put them on a stick and grill them. Something I will also try out eventually.

Gyoza à la Junko san
(25 pieces)

– 180 g (Chinese) cabbage
Wash the cabbage leaves and cut them in smaller pieces. Boil them in hot water until the hard stalks are soft. Wring out thoroughly (use a towel to get all the water out) and chop in very small pieces.

– 30 g thin leek or spring onions
Chop into thin rings.

– 150 g finely minced pork
– 1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
– 1 piece of ginger, finely chopped
– salt, pepper, a few drops of soy sauce
Mix all of the above together thoroughly with your hands. Make sure the result is a very smooth paste. Let it rest for 10 minutes or so to enhance the flavour.

– 25 round gyoza wrappers
Fill each of the gyoza wrappers with about 1 teaspoon of the meat mix. Moisten the edges of the wrappers with a bit of water (special tip: dissolve a little bit of flour in the water for even better results) and close the wrappers, making a half circle. To make sure the gyoza will not open during frying, fold the round edge over itself a few times.

Fry a batch of the gyoza (5-10, depending on the size of the pan) with a little oil in a pan. When one side is nice and crisp, turn them around, add a little water and put a lid on the pan. The gyoza are finished when all the water is gone. To make them extra crispy, turn them around again and fry them a few minutes longer.

For the dipping sauce, mix 1 tablespoon of vinegar with 1 tablespoon of soy sauce and a few drops of sesame oil.

Suspect

I regularly receive pamphlets from my local koban. A koban is a local police station, usually located in a tiny building somewhere in the neighborhood and staffed with a handful of police officers.

Their main purpose is to provide assistance to the locals, like answering to emergency calls, going on the beat, or being the local lost-and-found. Personally, I have once been there when I moved into my apartment to ask directions to a number of places, and even though they don’t speak English (what do I expect), they were very friendly and helpful.

As I said, I receive regular newsletters from my local Koban, covering various topics that may or may not be interesting. They talk about fire safety for example, and one lengthy issue talked about how to safely ride a bicycle without running anyone down. That particular pamphlet did not tell old people to look at the traffic before stepping onto the street, but maybe there will be another issue to come…

In the latest pamphlet, which I received a few days ago, there was this mug shot of a suspect in a murder case. The Japanese murder rate is very low, the country ranks 212 among 215 countries (to compare: Austria is 208 and the US is 94), so there is no need to feel unsafe here. However, what I found funny about the mug shot is that it looks like any other Japanese guy and I would find it very, very difficult to recognise the man (okay, maybe not the one on the left picture without the nose…) And I am wondering: Is this simply because the picture is not good enough for me to make a connection? Or is it that I am too much European and not integrated in the country enough, where all Japanese still look the same to me?

Anyway, if you come across that guy, call the number in the picture. They say that even insignificant information will be valuable.

Cat Scribblings

There was an exhibition of ukiyo-e and maneki neko from the Edo period in the Museum of Kyoto. I took some time out last week to see it, and as an avid cat lover I was not disappointed.

The exhibition was a large one, on two floors there were different themes displayed mostly as woodblock prints of cats and women, ghostly cats, 19th century cat manga, anthropomorphised cat images, little paper cat dolls that could be dressed in little paper kimono and many, many more…

What I found most interesting were some prints by Kuniyoshi Utagawa, a very famous ukiyo-e artist of the Edo period. This one for example: It consists of cats playing with catfish (called namatsu in Japanese) and thus forming the hiragana for namatsu. While the hiragana na and ma are easy to read, I cannot make out the tsu at all. To me, this looks more like gawa, the kanji for river. I wonder what’s the idea behind this.

Anyway, at the end of the exhibition, there was the obligatory museum shop. I’m not usually buying more than a few postcards, but this time, I have to admit, I got myself quite a number of cat paraphernalia…

Toseikyo

The Toseikyo is a very old Japanese game. Although it seems very simple, it takes great skill to win it.

On a small block of wood, some 20 cm high, there is placed a little cloth target with bells that looks a bit like a jester’s cap. The player sits about 2 metres away from it and gets a small paper fan. The opened fan is then thrown towards the target – and if you can knock the target off the block, you win. Usually one player tries a few times and counts the hits before the next person may throw.

Sounds easy, right? But it isn’t! You are not allowed to throw the fan sideways with a flick of the wrist; the proper way is to throw the fan in a straight line from you towards the target – and that makes it really difficult! You need to gauge the force with which you throw the fan just right – too much force and the fan will turn downwards and bury itself in the tatami, too little force and you won’t get far enough.

It takes a lot of practice to do it right. Apparently, the game is ancient and was already played 1000 years ago at the Heian court. I suppose all those court ladies of leisure had enough time to perfect their skills… Interestingly, I have seen new Toseikyo sets for sale at high-end shops in Kyoto. Nice to see that there is still a market for these kind of things.

Routines

Is it because I’m getting older? I notice that I am becoming less flexible and that I am greatly relying on routines for so many things these days… For example: I have to go to the hospital for a regular checkup every three months. There are always two visits: The first one to have my blood taken and the second one where the doctor confirms that everything is just fine and I should just keep doing what I’m doing.

Usually I get my blood taken in the week before the doctor sees me, and I usually go to hospital on Tuesdays. This is a good day because in the mornings I have another appointment nearby the hospital, so I go there during lunch time. This sounds awful, but it is really nice: By this time the blood center is empty, all the patients are gone, and the whole procedure including paying for it at the end takes maybe 20 minutes, at most.

So, this week is doctor’s week again. But my Tuesdays appointment fell flat – and promptly, my routine fell to pieces as well: I didn’t go on Tuesday, and yesterday it was raining so I didn’t want to go. Because I had an appointment this afternoon, I had to go this morning and it took me about an hour because there were so many people, of course. And now it’s 9 pm and I’m still lagging behind of today’s schedule, because of course my Thursdays routine is all over the place…

Sigh. I have never been a very spontaneous and flexible person, but things seem to get worse year by year. Do you think I should start worrying?

Hairdressers

What is it about hairdressers that there are so incredibly many everywhere? In less than five minutes walking distance from my home, there are six already. Half of them are located on the ground floor of one and the same small apartment building. Their prices vary obviously, and the cheapest being a chain, but I always wonder how all of them can survive in the long run.

Anyway, one of the things all those hairdresser have in common is the “menu”, like the one shown here. These are usually displayed outside of the shop, both as an indicator that it is open, and as a way to give you an idea of how much it will cost. But, why are they called menu and not price list? They are everywhere, it must be one of those funny translations that got started somewhere and nobody bothered to correct (just like the “close” sign on many shops, restaurants, and bars in town).

Also, while I’m at it: I cannot help wondering if the above hairdresser is better at English or at his job. I mean, would you have much trust in a salon called “Oops hair”?

Soroban Testing

After quite a while, I finally went to another soroban test last Sunday. I reached first kyu last year, and I want to go one more step further, to first dan, which in a martial arts context would be equivalent to a black belt.

I have to admit that I did not train hard enough to pass the exam – and I knew that beforehand. A big part of the reason is surely that I don’t go to class any longer, and it is hard to keep up regular training when there are so many other things keeping you busy. This is why I wanted to take the exam anyway, just to get me back into the training rut. Passing any of the dan grades are essentially a question of speed.

The exam was as expected, interestingly this time it was my own soroban sensei who was in charge of overseeing the test. He is not one to scream and shout like other people I have met, so this was not a problem. For all of the dan tests, there is the same exam – your level depends on the number of exercises you can solve correctly. You need to have more than 10 correct on all three basic ones – multiplication, division, addition – as well as more than 10 on the four additional ones – dempyo, mental arithmetic, word problems and roots – for the first dan level.

I passed the additions only, all the others I had 7 to 9 exercises correct, so I think it is just a question of getting a bit faster and a bit more accurate. The next test will be end of July, and I will try again. It took me five attempts to receive the first kyu grade, I am certainly willing to go that far for the first dan as well.

Kokyu

Last Saturday I went to a small open air concert in a temple in the centre of Kyoto: koto and shakuhachi. The two instruments go well together, and the flute was the main reason why I wanted to go. I had been to koto concerts before, but never heard a shakuhachi live. And I have to say – I was disappointed by it.

I am not sure what was wrong with the shakuhachi player – a rather old monk from said temple – whether I could not hear him because the microphone was not well-adjusted or functioning (there were a number of total outages throughout the concert) or whether the player himself didn’t have enough breath do make himself heard.

The two koto players were very good though, so my time was not wasted. Interestingly, I was the only non-senior in the audience, something I had not expected at all. But maybe because of this, I was treated to a very special performance: The last song (and the encore) must have been well-known tunes, because at some point, people in the audience started singing along! Man and women alike accompanied (or were accompanied by) the koto and the shakuhachi. It was lovely!

As a bonus, I learnt something new: In one of the pieces, a so-called kokyu was used. It looks like a half-sized shamisen, but is played like a cello. A kokyu has three silken strings and the bow is a thick handful of horsetail hair. The bow-strings (do you call it like that?) are slack, and you need to use the ring finger of the bow hand to tighten it while you play.

This is not easy, and I know that because I was allowed to try it after the concert – obviously the foreigner bonus. To be honest, the sound of the kokyu is not very pleasant to Western ears. It is reminiscent of the Chinese erhu, but the tones of the kokyu are less crisp. I guess this is either because the bow is never really taut, or because of the silken strings.

All in all I had a nice afternoon, even though I will have to try and catch another shakuhachi concert. I hope that I will hear about more concerts and events like this – there is so much to do and learn in Kyoto!

I am a Cat

I am a Cat
by Soseki Natsume

The cat in question, which has not been named, lives in the house of a schoolteacher, Mr. Sneaze, a somewhat stingy and definitely dyspeptic man with a wife and three children. As soon as the cat arrives at this household, it begins to quietly observe his master and the friends that come to visit: Mainly Coldmoon, a former student of his master and now looking for a wife, and the rich Waverhouse telling his stories, whether true or false, and a number of others. The cat is always there, occasionally taking matters in his own paws, but mostly observing from the background and commenting on the three men and the things that happen to and around them.

The cat’s observations are pointed and witty, sometimes scathing, and always come from a somewhat aloof position. This way, the reader is presented with an interesting picture of humanity in general, and those living in Tokyo of the Meiji period in particular, where Western influences creep into Japanese culture and make for an especially interesting mix.

I am not entirely sure what to think of this book, and I have read it twice now. It has been written as a series of short stories that appeared in a magazine. The first story is hilarious, and its success prompted the author to write more stories about the nameless cat. The stories can stand alone, but there is a common arc throughout, which would have been better if the book had been planned as such from the outset, I think. And towards the end of the book, the cat (or rather: the author) loses himself in long and rambling philosophical meanderings, which are sometimes hard to follow. Friends have assured me though that the Japanese original reads much better than any translation. Okay – I may get back to it again in a few years.

Soseki Natsume is considered the best writer of Japanese (modern) history, and he is still widely read today. He was born in 1867 in Tokyo and studied English literature from 1890. He spent two years in England, which he thoroughly disliked, and when he returned to Japan in 1903, he started publishing his works. “I am a Cat” was among his first published books, and is considered a masterpiece. Soseki died in 1916.

Get I am a Cat from amazon and let me know what you think!