Category: experiences

One thing that keeps baffling me after all the years in Asia are working hours. I’m not talking about those seemingly 12 hour days you have to spend in the office. Seemingly they are indeed, because often it is a question of “warm body on chair” rather than being productive throughout. A colleague of mine, for example, upon returning from lunch, would reach for the large pillow in his drawer, put it on the desk and then take a nap for an hour or so, all openly and undisturbed by anybody else in the office. Surely there is a huge peer pressure going on in such a case – you have to be there before your supervisor and cannot leave before she does. In Japan, there is even a fixed phrase that is employed when leaving before anyone else: Minna-san, osaki ni shitsurei shimasu, which essentially means that you are sorry to be so rude to leave early.

Anyway, these are big companies. But even small businesses seem to have interesting hours. For example, when I returned to Ebisu’s from Europe, one of the faucets in the bathroom was leaking badly. I informed the landlady and she called a plumber to come by and at least have a look at the problem. For a week nothing happened, except that we had to keep the front door unlocked so the plumber could enter at any time. Finally, when I left the house yesterday afternoon to go the library, there he was, rummaging around in the bathroom, fixing the faucet – on a Sunday afternoon at 1:30 pm… Strange working hours indeed…

I had a most exciting afternoon today…

First I went to an appointment with my (future) business partner, and for about 2 hours we were discussing how, when, and what, and if we needed a plan B and what it would be. Afterwards he asked me whether I was free in the afternoon, and when I said yes, we went to see a friend of his in town.

The friend turned out to be a woodblock print artist – and, just so that you know: I love woodblock prints!

The idea of a woodblock print is simple: You carve a design into a block of wood, paint it in a single colour and print the design (or rather, its negative) onto paper. Each colour of the picture gets its own carving, so you need at least as many woodblocks as you want colours in the finished image, and the image slowly grows layer by layer, colour by colour during the printing process.

We spent several hours in the gallery/workshop, and I got to ask all sorts of questions: How exactly does he make the prints, how many carved blocks does he need for one finished image, what is the colour he is using, how long does it take for a design to be completely finished, can he really recreate a print he has made before, how does he trace the design onto the woodblocks, what paper is he using… I was very eager to ask all those questions and find out all the details and he seemed to be equally happy to answer them. Finally I was so bold as to ask whether I could see some of his actual carved woodblocks – and he picked up a whole package of an old design from his storage in the first floor. I was – and still am – extremely excited, as I said, I love woodblock prints!

By the way, the artist’s name is Masahiko Honjo and his homepage is here: http://www.eonet.ne.jp/~marugo/index.html

I will not go into further details about woodblock printing in this post – this topic deserves an elaborate and well researched Saturday posting – but here is one of my favourite prints from one of my favourite artists, Hashiguchi Goyo.

When I first came here, I wrote about the difficulties in finding my way around in the tiny little alleys of the neighborhood and remarked about the problems of finding a particular address without a map or detailed directions. Since then I have found out that there are actually maps posted at various, seemingly random, places that show the immediate neighborhood. They depict – often in a charming, apparently handdrawn style – street names and houses and temple boundaries, and the name of the family occupying a particular house. They are often posted next to a signboard with (local) advertisements or event posters and other information.So, to find your way around in a strange neighborhood when looking for a particular address, all you have to do is to locate the appropriate neighborhood map. How to accomplish that is something I will find out eventually.

Japanese people of all ages spend an enormous amount of money to learn English. Hundreds, if not thousands of (native!) English speakers are sought every year to teach the language – from pre-school immersion kindergarden song-and-games to specialized classes for employees of a certain company. And still, when you go out and about, the amount of Engrish you will encounter is striking.

Engrish is the noun describing the English – or rather the mistakes – that many Asian people make; so chosen because it is very hard for Japanese and Chinese to distinguish between the sounds of L and R. Some people even say they cannot hear the difference at all – which makes correct pronunciation virtually impossible. Katakana – the way of writing foreign words – which often has to insert unnecessary U’s and O’s to keep the syllables intact – is no help either. But I don’t want to talk about spoken English, most people, once they dare talking to you, are perfectly understandable.

Engrish (here also Japlish) is more often used to describe written English that can be found on many signs all over the place. It can range from the occasionally switched L/R to the literally translated sign; from the advertisement in Engrish-gibberish to the funnily offending T-shirt. Here is only one example: A common mistake that has since become a personal pet-peeve of mine is the sign OPEN – CLOSE at shop entrances… I have seriously considered patronizing only those where the final D is correctly in place, but that would limit my choices too much. One thing I have made my peace with by now is the sign at my favourite French bakery (and many others) which advertises “Chou a la creme” in Katakata that are pronounced “shoe cream”… It helps to assume that this is simply the way those things are called over here.

Other translations and loan words can be funny too. Arubaito (often shortened to baito) means part-time work, and comes from Arbeit, the German word for (full-time) work. A bike is always a motorized two-wheeler, the ones where you have to pedal yourself are called jitensha. A sign saying Happy Merry Christmas I considered almost embarrassing, but the funniest sign I have ever seen was in the window of a small shop advertising “obi body bags“. Remember that an obi is the wide belt worn with kimono, often made from exquisite cloth that can be very expensive. A friend of mine later explained that a body bag is not something containing a recently deceased, but is rather a type of obi that has a zipper somewhere so it can be put on more easily, much like a western style belt. Isn’t it nice to enlarge your horizon…

Often, English signs are simply a way to attract attention. The majority of the writing is still done in Kanji and Katakana, so English advertisements in Romaji stand out much more. I have heard that many Japanese are aware of the mistakes, but they deem them unimportant and ignore them, they don’t even read the signs. I still do, however, and what annoys me greatly – and probably will for the rest of my life – are signs like this one: This is a sign advertising rice cookers. Each of the different models has a sign like this, and let me assure you: none of them make sense in English, nor do they make sense in Chinese (according to a friend). All you can hope for is that they make sense in Japanese… Such things infuriate me because this is not a tiny shop in some back street, this is a sign at Yodobashi Camera, a national electronics chain with 22 stores. I have found numbers that in 2011 they had a revenue of about 9 billion US$ – and with all that money they cannot afford two freelancers doing their translations?

Anyway, to end this post on a nice and positive note, there are lots of funny examples of Engrish all over the internet. Here is only one page: Engrish.com, with pictures of real, live Engrish from all over Asia. The webpage is a major time suck though – beware! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

When I took the photos of the newlyweds last Sunday at Heian shrine, something strange happened: At some point the groom took out a mask of a white fox and held it in front of the bride’s face. In her white robes, it had a quite striking effect: A bit later, he put the mask on the back of his own head. Not knowing what to make of this, I asked the father of the bride for the meaning of this. He explained that the (white) fox was the messenger of Inari, the god of rice (read: wealth, read: money) and as such, this gesture is meant to bring wealth to the couple. The main shrine dedicated to Inari – Fushimi Inari Taisha – lies in the South of Kyoto, so this explanation does make sense, but to be honest, I am unconvinced.

In Japanese folklore, the fox is generally considered a rather mischievous fellow, although he is capable of good deeds as well. A housemate said there was a story of a man marrying a beautiful woman – who in the end turned out to be a fox in disguise, with not so healthy consequences for the husband. The internet is surprisingly quiet about this though, I could find only find the old story The foxes’ wedding, but this is about a happpy wedding of two “real” foxes leading to lots of offspring – in a sense supporting the wealth theory. I could also find a saying that a foxes’ wedding takes place when there is rain during sunshine. Finally, a friend of mine from Tokyo sent an email to a local shrine asking for clarification, but there the custom appears to be unknown.

If anybody has a suggestion as to the meaning of the fox mask, please do let me know!

Allow me to deviate a little from the usual weekend post format of “general interest”, because I’d like to tell you about the absolute glorious day it was today. Come, follow me…

I woke up at 7:30, much earlier than usual. It was completely quiet and I could see this silvery-white gleam through the window, which can only mean one thing:

SNOW

Let me admit that I am a very odd creature: I like it hot and hate being cold, I even try to avoid going out when it rains. At the same time I love when it snows and when there is fresh snow on the ground, as yet undisturbed, it awakens the little kid in me and from then on, the adrenaline starts rushing and resistance is futile…

Hence, I was out and about 15 minutes later. No breakfast, no brushing of teeth, I’m not even sure I combed my hair. I went to the other side of the hill to Shinyodo temple – and was actually quite upset that I had come too late – people were already starting to clear the paths. I went around the temple grounds through the ginsekai, the silver world as the Japanese call it, to take photos. The sun came out on occasion, but most of the time it was overcast. At some point, I started talking to an elderly lady about the snow and Japan and Austria… and she spontaneously invited me to a tea ceremony that took place in the temple. I told her I was not dressed appropriately, but she insisted, and even paid for me. So, I ended up sitting there in the beautiful (but unheated) tearoom with the gorgeously painted fusuma (300 years old or so) among the men in suits and women in kimono with my old faded jeans, four layers of T-shirts, and possibly unkempt hair, and felt totally out of place and was constantly worried of making a mistake – which was unavoidable because it was my very first tea ceremony… I guess life would be boring if you were always prepared. In the end, I got permission to take some photos of the Japanese garden surrounding that particular building – a privilege you usually have to pay for. Note the “borrowed landscape” in the background with the daimonji:Afterwards, I went down to Heian shrine. It was quite late, and the sun was shining much stronger by then, so much of the snow was gone already. Anyway, I decided to go to the shrine gardens and see if there was still the opportunity for taking decent pictures. Yes, there was, but the sun caused much of the exposed parts to be dripping already, and the ones where there was still snow were often too dark to take decent photos. I tried my best anyway. The best part of the Heian gardens, however, pictures of which I promised not to share so I have to leave that to your imagination, was: A newly wed couple in the clothes appropriate for a shinto wedding had their pictures taken in the gardens… They allowed me to take pictures too, and I can assure you that both of them looked stunning. The groom wore a traditional kimono-hakama-haori ensemble in black and white, while the bride was clad in an all white kimono with a white coat over it that was embroidered with cranes – a sign of good luck. In the end, when she took off her white watabōshi hood she revealed a coiffure with lots of hairpins which I have so far only seen geisha wearing. It was splendid.

By that time, I was completely elated – and freezing, so I decided to return home. I went past the Budokan and just wanted to sneak a peak at the archery range to see if there was any training – there wasn’t – but there was Aikido training in the main hall, which I just had to see. I got the dojo’s address, so I may go and watch normal training there some time soon. Finally, I bought some sushi for dinner – a perfect ending for a perfect day.

And all that because of a little bit of snow (which has melted by now, sadly…)