Iris – Page 96 – goinggaijin.com

Soroban Town

As promised on Monday, here is my report about the soroban class’s trip to Ono. Ono is a small town near Kobe which calls itself the Town of Soroban. Indeed, we have visited one soroban museum, two soroban factories and one master who makes handmade soroban, there is a soroban shrine and a bridge with soroban theme, and you can buy soroban senbei… But, let’s start at the beginning.

When we arrived in Ono after a two hours drive from Kyoto, we first went to the soroban museum. There is a huge soroban showing the current year on their parking lot outside, so it is hard to miss. Their general displays were nice, but once you have seen Ogaki-san’s soroban collection, there is not much left to surprise you. I did like the display of the various roots of the soroban, from Egypt, the Middle East, and China though.

Also, somebody obviously had too much time on his hands in which he built a small model of Himeji castle out of thousands of soroban beads. One room of the museum was dedicated to the process of soroban making, which until today is still largely manual work. There were machines on display, and photos of workers, the numerous parts of a soroban and the materials they are made of, i.e., different types of wood and bamboo. I knew that soroban beads are made from wood and are cut out of thin wooden disks, but I did not know that at that point already they would be provided with their holes… Afterwards, we went to see an acquaintance of sensei’s, who owns a soroban factory, and there we could see some of the machines in action. Unfortunately, this particular factory does not make the beads, but even so, there are lots of soroban in different states of completion lying around everywhere. Although the factory is quite small – there are less than 10 employees only – they produce 18.000 soroban each year – and a variety of different wood toys on top of that.

In this factory, you even have the possibility of making your own soroban. As this activity is geared towards kids, there are numerous colorful choices for both the frame and the beads. We were invited to make our own soroban; sensei made a red one with white beads, I made a green one with all beads in all colours of the rainbow, and here is my friend working on his yellow soroban. We visited another soroban factory as well, where we learned that soroban making – as probably most of the crafts in Japan – has carried division of labour almost to the extreme: For a really good soroban there is one master who makes the beads, another one who produces the rods, and a third one who makes the frame. Interestingly, although they are so thin, the bamboo rods have a lighter inside and a darker outside, and it is very important that the outside of the rods (which once pointed to the outside of the bamboo plant) is installed towards the top of the soroban, as it is obviously harder than the inside…

Both factories naturally also had a display of soroban, from the very old to the brand new ones. My favourite was the sample that was made to showcase all the different colours of the wood – the wood here is not painted – but in the olden days, the white beads would have been made from bones or shells.

After a short stop at a soroban master who works in his garage, we went to visit the other sights of the city: From a small bakery we bought senbei with soroban motif burned onto the top, and we took pictures of bridgeheads showing soroban, of course. Finally, inside an obviously both expensive and popular onsen, there was a soroban shrine; an unofficial one, unfortunately, so prayers won’t really help, although there is indeed a god of soroban – but he resides only in China. Although the day was very tiring, it was great fun too. Before we went home, we enjoyed another speciality of Ono’s: For dinner, we had special fried noodles called hormon yaki soba. But that is a tale for another day…

Daytrip

I have just returned from a daytrip to Ono machi, a small town near Kobe that boasts to be the Soroban town of Japan…

Right now, I am too tired to post any details, and I will need time to go through my photos too, but you may expect a full report on Wednesday!

Census

Living in Japan is hard work! No, I’m not referring to the fact that all that Japanese people do is working, because mostly it’s not true, at least not in Kyoto. I mean that being simply a resident in Japan is hard work already. Only yesterday, I have received mail from those two:

May I introduce you to Sensasu-kun (Censusboy) on the left and Mirai-chan (Futuregirl) on the right, who are the mascots for this year’s census in Japan. Before you ask, no, you cannot do anything in Japan without mascots, not even – or rather: especially not – if you are the government.

Apparently, every five years, every resident in Japan, whether foreign or native, is asked to take part in the census. At first I was a bit worried, but everything could be done online and in English, there were lots of explanations in case anything could possibly be unclear, and the whole thing indeed only took the ten minutes they promised at the front page.

The questionnaire surprised me on various levels. First of all, it was extremely short. There were only 14 questions in total, and only one of them had a subcategory if you answered the first part in a specific way. I dimly remember a census I had to fill out in Austria 20 years ago or so, and that was a lengthy list of questions covering several pages.

For the one I filled in today, at first you had to answer questions about all the persons living in your household: Name, birth year, nationality, marital status, etc. It was interesting that the questionnaire was not anonymised in any way, but then again, if everybody must participate, there’s probably not much point in it. Also, there were no questions that could in any way be construed as private: No questions about religion, preferred mode of transport, which party you’d lean towards, how often you’d go to museums, theatres, sports events, not even the exact birthdate or birthplace were required.

With the typical Japanese sense of priority, the main part of the questionnaire, 7 or 8 questions, was about work: Which work do you do, where do you work, what is the name of your workplace, what kind of business is that, and what exact position do you have there, etc. The interesting part was about my type of work: As the owner/director of my own company, according to this census, I am neither employed nor self-employed. In between those two categories there was an extra one “Board member of a company etc.” The non-working housewife-student-and-pensioners category was at the very right, by the way (so as not to be confusing for me either, I guess).

The last two questions asked about the type of house I was living in – and there was the one and only subcategory, wanting to know on which floor my apartment was. That was it, the whole thing. It seems to me that all the information is already available though, and I cannot help wondering whether it would not be easier to check the existing databases rather than create a new one. On the other hand, it’s probably good to every now and then weed out all those zombie records…

Matching

For three weeks now, it has been raining on and off: Each and every day it rains a little, it stops a little, it starts again… It drives me nuts. Not that I have anything against rain. As long as I don’t have to go out then, that is. But now, no matter when and where I am going, it starts raining just when I leave my home. And even if it’s not raining very hard and there is little wind, I am soaking wet within five minutes anyway.

As it is still relatively warm, the Japanese solution to the problem is to either wear flipflops or crocs. As I shall only be seen in those after suffering a severe brain injury, I was looking for other options when yet again I had wet socks within only 10 minutes of jumping around to avoid the deepest puddles. And I found said option in rather nice rainboots. Essentially there are two types: the practical, knee-high ones in black and the barely ankle-grazing ones in pink Hello Kitty design. Luckily I found something with a slight Scottish feel in blue and green and about calf length. I must have done something right, because I have already received the most coveted of all Japanese compliments: Kawaiiii!!! (which means cute).

Unfortunately I totally failed the test for becoming an honorary Japanese when I bought a new umbrella after the old one did not survive the last typhoon. The reason is that I went shopping like a normal Western person: I wanted an umbrella small enough to fit in my handbag in case the rain is just a threat and remains one. During a break in the rain, I went to my nearest shopping centre and found a tiny umbrella, weighing less than 100 grams. I asked the shop assistant if we could open it to check the size (for emergencies it will do just fine) and then I watched her folding it again (there’s a trick to it, but she assured me that it was standard Japanese) and then I simply bought one in the brightest yellow they had. For recognition value, obviously. Perfect! I was out maybe 15 minutes altogether.

Now, a decent Japanese woman would have gone to a decent umbrella shop and spent at least 30 minutes there. The standard umbrella buying procedure for a Japanese, or generally Asian, woman is as follows: Go to the shop and peruse all the umbrellas on display. Scrutinise their outside (the part that’s on top), if necessary, open the umbrella to get a better idea. If you find one deemed suitable, definitely open the umbrella to check its inside (that part that usually does not get wet). Many umbrellas for sale here have a pattern on the inside as well, especially if it is only a parasol that many women of all ages are using in summer.

Once an umbrella is found with suitable colour and pattern both in- and outside, look for a mirror. Place yourself in front of it, the open umbrella over your shoulder and make absolutely sure that the pattern, the colour and the distance between the stretchers goes well with your hair and favourite makeup. Repeat until you are entirely satisfied.

I know how this must sound, but I am serious, I have watched several Japanese women going through the whole procedure… It seems that people here have scores of umbrellas. There is a family in my house who stores their collection outside – all eight of them for two adults and a toddler. To be fair, it’s not just women trying to go for the cute look. My neighbor has a serious looking dark green one – with an inside showing a bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds. Wishful thinking, obviously.

Gas

It was a really great weekend. Until Sunday noon, that is. I’m not a big cook, I have never seen the point in cooking just for me. I like cooking, but cooking alone, eating alone, and then doing the dishes alone is just something I don’t enjoy. Besides, right now, when I only have a single pot, cooking is even less fun than usual, even though I have to admit that the whole cleaning part takes only five minutes which is just bearable.

Anyway, sometimes, fancy strikes me and I feel like cooking. For Sunday lunch, I had planned fish with potatoes and salad, which is quite elaborate for single me. When the potatoes were ready for boiling, I put them on the oven, turned the gas on, pushed the ignition button – and nothing happened. Nothing besides the rapid clicks of the firing mechanism could be heard, no flame was coming. I had had the problem a while back, and I just tried to repeatedly push the buttons just as I did then – but this time, nothing happened.

I was hungry, the fish was looking at me accusingly, but no amount of pushing or turning the gas on and off did make any difference. I became agitated, so much indeed, that I picked up the manual and rather painstakingly translated that part referring to error code 11 – which was shown to me on the only electronic panel of the gas range. It said “Your ignition is not working.” No, rly? “Just keep pushing the button.” No rly? I tried all three buttons repeatedly, nothing happened. At some point I thought it would be the gas, but then again, hot water – also gas heated – was working.

In case of grave distress, my to-do list is short: I call my friend with the inexhaustible patience or knock on my neighbour’s door. My friend was not reachable, and my neighbour played dead for the time being (I had the impression he was leaving later).

I panicked and decided to take matters in my own hands: I checked the gas company’s website. Their English site is blissfully short, and I found instructions of what to do in case there is no gas: essentially you must try to restart your electronic gas metre and wait for a while. Of course, despite me trying twice, it did not solve the problem.

Back to the English website: it’s devoid of any phone numbers. The gas company at least is honest and tells you that if you need something, it’s better to have a Japanese friend call them, and that the numbers could be found on the Japanese page. The only number there is on the English page, well hidden, is the emergency number for gas leaks, and it states that it is not allowed to call there in case of any other problems. Ever.

Their Japanese homepage, of course, is nicely cluttered with all sort of stuff people would not need in a hundred years instead of a simple large button “phone numbers here”. It took me 20 minutes to try all sorts of links to arrive at a page that looked like something containing numbers for their customer service. To be honest, I left it there. It seems that there is one of those awful menus behind every number, and I cannot deal with those in Japanese. It’s okay to speak to a person to whom I can explain that I’m an idiot, but electronic messages are usually not so forgiving. Thus, I sent an email both to my friend and my neighbour detailing the problem and asking for help. And then I put the fish back into the fridge and made myself a sandwich.

Help arrived at 11 pm in the form of my neighbour. He looked and prodded at the gas range, pushed the same buttons as I did and then also declared defeat. He did promise to call the gas company though, and finally, today, at 2 pm, a service technician came.

I showed him the gas range, pushed some buttons, and told him that the hot water is working. He only grinned, then he removed the tube that connects the gas range to the gas faucet, let’s call it like this. Now, inside that gas faucet is another little plastic tube. He took it out, blew through it a few times, put it back in place and reconnected the gas range. Then he pushed buttons – and everything was back to normal.

The whole thing took less than five minutes; it probably took the technician more time to get up and down the stairs… I was deeply embarrassed, but then again, how I am supposed to know that there is something inside that gas faucet, and that it needs cleaning? In all my 6 years of cooking with gas, this was never necessary. I can only assume that this little tube will stay clean if the gas range is used more regularly.

Anyway, my Sunday lunch – grilled salmon with mashed potatoes and green salad, mint ice cream afterwards – turned into Monday dinner, but it was no less delicious. And now, I can even have that Japanese red wine I wanted to try as deserved after dinner treat.

Accountant

This afternoon, I have met with my friend’s accountant as planned, and everything went smoothly. Although my friend had warned me that his accountant was not speaking English very well, I was pleasantly surprised – obviously another case of Japanese understatement.

In our hour-long meeting, it turned out that the accountant has worked at the tax office for 35 years, and this is his second career. By the way, my preparations paid off: I was asked for a few documents (initial tax documents, incorporation papers, etc.), and whatever he asked for, I could produce it without flinching, which impressed him mightily. I had almost stacked them in the order he asked for them… (To my lawyer: Thank you!).

In return, I received a list of 4 pages containing financial terms in Japanese and English, and a 12 page long “Guide to Japanese Taxes and System of Certified Public Tax Accountants”, in English, thankfully. I have taken a glance at the latter, and it seems you can file taxes now electronically, at least the individual ones. And if you are not happy with the decision of the local tax office, there are three layers of appeal, the last one being taking the case to court. Fun fact: One of the taxes on private consumption is called “Golf links tax”, levied by the prefecture. I am glad I am not sporty at all…

As I had feared, the accountant insists on me doing the basic bookkeeping with Japanese software. My friend says the program is very user-friendly, but of course, it’s all in Japanese with about a million Kanji… I have resolved to make a screen shot of every page I will be using, translate all the terms, and then, whenever I have to input something, put the translation right next to me. At least, the accountant will visit me once a month in my office to check what I have done, and with my business volume as low as it is at the moment, I hope I will be able to learn at least those parts of the software that I absolutely must use before things get busy.

All in all the meeting was very pleasant, and I can state that I now have an accountant! He is a very nice person, he obviously knows what he’s doing, and I feel I can trust him, which is the most important thing. For now, his fees are ridiculously low, and I am almost embarrassed about this, but we have agreed that when my business grows, so will his income. I think this is very fair of him, and I am very happy with this arrangement. It’s good that I went with a small, local company that can be so flexible. This is exactly what I needed.

Numbers

After a month-long search, I still have not found an accountant. Although I received an initial reply to my query from one in Osaka, there has been deafening silence ever since I asked for clarification on a few points – and a possible meeting. A friend of mine promised to bring me into contact with his accountant, and we have made an appointment on next Friday. It seems that this accountant only speaks rudimentary English though, so working with him might be difficult.

In any case, I was asked to bring my files and paperwork for the meeting, so he can check the current state of the accounts. And I’m thinking: What accounts – what state? Does this mean the large envelope into which I stuffed all my bills so far? And that single piece of paper on which I scribbled my income until now (and a number of assorted other stuff)? Somehow I have the feeling this will not entice him to work for me…

So, I will have to sort out all the papers and bills and at least make a neat list somehow. Obviously, I am not using any accounting software yet, but I hope that either my spreadsheet version will do for a while, or that the accountant will provide me with some software – and an explanation on how to use it. You can probably guess how much I am looking forward to using Japanese only software to track my money… Well, this is something that needs to be done in any case, so I better get going with it. I love paperwork, I love paperwork, I love… Ommmmmmmm….

Somehow related to this was today’s excursion to my bank: I wanted to know how to transfer money from abroad onto my company account. Yes, I anticipate lots of international clients… and as I know how terribly nitpicky Japanese banks can be, I wanted to make sure I get information that is 100% correct. Interestingly, they already had a paper ready with the necessary information, but then I wanted to double check how my company name transliterates into the Roman alphabet, and whether I can omit anything, which made it a bit more complicated. The clerk I asked did not know for sure herself, and I even saw her making a phone call. Well, given that she could not even read the Kanji correctly, this was probably a good idea…

Furniture

That time of the year has arrived where summer is shutting down and you’re slowly getting used to the idea of spending more time at home – and the new IKEA catalog comes with it. Yesterday I spent some time to browse through it, but I must say that I did not get as excited as I used to. I mean, I still love those sofas and armchairs in all their plushy magnificence, and don’t get me started on those PAX wardrobes with the million-and-one interiors and designated space for everything… but in the end I have to admit that there’s simply not enough space for that in my apartment.

However, there are some pieces of furniture I need in any case. Bookshelves for example, although not all of them will be out in the open. My apartment has rather large built-in closets in every room, but their sizes are unpractical: The one in the livingroom is as high as the room, almost one metre deep, with a fixed shelf at about 90 cm height that splits the closet in half horizontally. Those otherwise completely empty spaces are meant as storage for futons and other bedding, and I am glad I finally have enough space for my large suitcase and sewing machine, but for anything else, they are not practical.

Thus, I wanted bookshelves to put at the back of those closets, so I can make use of at least some of that vertical space. Well, as I am a rather stingy person, I don’t see the point in buying new bookshelves that will literally never see the light of day, so I have been browsing the local craigslist ads for a while now to find used furniture. Finally, I got lucky last week and found some in a sayonara sale (good-bye moving sales when people are leaving Japan) not far from where I live.

I went there late this afternoon, and the person selling them turned out to be a lovely young lady from the US who had just spent a year in Kyoto for her studies. Somehow, we hit it off and what was planned to be a short money-for-goods exchange turned into a chat of more than one hour where we mutually compared our experiences in Japan and laughed and complained about the same things. It was great fun.

What surprised me, however, was her disappointment with the university she studied at. For example, although they had an official exchange program with her home university in the US, and all her courses were in English, no provisions were made for her to actually learn Japanese. The classes the university provided were denied her for some reason, and going to a language school was too expensive. She also confirmed the experience of a friend of mine who, although specifically promised an English environment at his university, still received important emails only in Japanese. All in all, she had hoped to get more out of that one year here in Kyoto, and she’s happy to go home again.

I’m sorry that she leaves Japan with a bad taste in her mouth, but my own experiences are similar. Japan is not an easy country to come to; if you expect to be welcomed with open arms you will most likely be disappointed. There are so many things that are done in such a peculiar way – and it’s insisted to do it this way and no other – that it is hard not to be exasperated at all the road blocks coming up in your way. To be happy here, I guess you have to be completely crazy about Japan. Or maybe just crazy…

My Neighborhood

Today I found a detailed map of my immediate neighborhood in my mail. It shows every house in the vicinity, the larger buildings with several apartments show up with their building names, for example “Riverview Heights”, the private houses are marked with the names of the family living there.

The map also indicates places where you can find water tanks in case of a fire – underneath my building there is one marked with the number 20, which probably means 20000 litres – although I’m not sure a private person would be able to access them; as well as the closest public Automated External Defibrillators – in my post code area alone there are four, and three more just across the boundary. There are also two disaster shelters in nearby schools, but it seems they can only hold a total of 700 people, which is not very much. Probably they are meant only for the very old, very young, and very infirm, and middle-aged, middle healthy people like myself may sleep on the streets in case of a strong earthquake.

What surprised me looking at the map were the sizes of the area reserved for the schools, but then again, every school seems to have their own athletic grounds attached, so not all of the space is used up by buildings. Also, there seem to be an awful lot of parking lots all over the place, some of them – called garage even though they may not be covered – belonging to the larger apartment buildings, but many others are just small paid parking lots, which often pop up temporarily whenever a house is torn down and not rebuilt immediately. There is one nearby that provides space for exactly two (in numbers: 2) cars. I don’t really see the point in this, it would have been nicer to plant a tree there, but unfortunately there’s no money to be made from trees…

I was looking forward to discover some new restaurants around here, but I was disappointed. The map was paid with advertisements, so only the advertiser’s shops are highlighted, and obviously most of the ads use Kanji I cannot read – so I am none the wiser. Some of the ads that I can read, however, are hilarious in their use of English. For example we have the Natural Foods shop “Help”, a restaurant obviously employing a “kitchengorilla”, and there is this shop called “pet feeling Mink”, the purpose of which I’ll leave to your imagination…

Ups

Things are starting to move with my company: I have found three clients already, and just today I had a short one hour gig for an audio recording – given the nature of this one, it will probably not be repeated though.

I have also finally received some quotes from one of the local accountants I have contacted, and as expected, they are much cheaper than the large company in Tokyo. Hopefully they are more flexible as well, for I will try to negotiate a bit more, as there are still things I don’t really need (according to my lawyer), so maybe there is a way around those too.

It’s nice to get things done and nice to be busy, and for now, I cannot complain to be overworked. Let’s see how long this state will last…