Well, once again I revert to writing this when I’m at work in obscure hours. This time I might as well call it ‘what I did on other people’s holidays’. The sun is shining, not a cloud in the sky. It’s about 20C on a perfect Spring day. At least that’s what I see on my rare toilet breaks – through the window next to the trough that overlooks the main pathway into the plant from the gatehouse. I’m not game to actually go outside because I know I won’t want to come back in.
I’m working at a local plant doing some of that work you can’t do when real people are around. Actually, in my case it’s called baby-sitting. Someone else is doing all the work, but I have to be there for the look of it. Too many times I’ve had to be on site to make sure there are no stuff-ups, but the others on my team are going to be more use for that this time. (ed – there were stuff-ups, but I still didn’t feel particularly useful because every time the customer, me, comes near, all 10 contractors stop working to make sure I’m happy – in that way I was more hindrance than help)
So anyway, outside – in the real world – it’s a weeklong holiday and a large chunk of the other foreigners have shipped off to Korea for the week. All the other people I know are sitting at home playing with their babies. I’m spending 11 hours a day in a factory and another 4 in transit. Still, the money’s good.
HANAMI
As I said, it’s Spring. That means that we’ve just had the flower-viewing season. Having only just arrived during that season on past visits, I never got invited to the associated BBQs. This time I was invited to 4 in 2 weeks. I made it to 2 of them and had two completely different experiences of this special event. The first saw the cherry blossoms in their prime. These trees had been bare all winter and were suddenly covered in flowers – no leaves, just flowers. I joined the throngs of people to get the prime spot, dreading the crowds I’d have to share my lunch with. Luckily, I was heading for a park in the hills, while the throngs were aiming for the ‘drains’.
To be fair, they’re not drains, but Mark Stan always called them that. It may be even worse to realise that these concrete ditches sprouting weeds are actually rivers. The industrial revolution taught Japan about erosion and they scrambled to cover all their rivers to avoid losing all their houses. I’m probably making light of something that is a real problem in a country built on piled up earthquakes, but it’s very sad to see after knowing what a river is meant to look like.
This park (sorry, mind’s skipping all over the place today) was almost empty. Definitely short on people, but surrounded by cherry trees. We set up in a corner so that when I lay down and looked up, I had a perfect view of all the pretty pink blobs on a sky blue background. That was when I got all poetic and started thinking about how well this tree represented Japan. A very stark tree made beautiful by the pale petals. I thought of the country that at first glimpse is so drab – all buildings and power lines and pollution – but the Japanese work their beauty into it. There will be a gorgeous temple tucked in between 2 sky scrapers. The effort they put into wrapping the most simple of presents. Food presented with such precision that it seems a waste to eat it, even if it is mostly rice. The forced minimalist lifestyle is touched up by making everything down to the shoe rack into a decoration.
By the time I finished my philosophising, the BBQ was almost over and I had to make do with the left over BBQed Pringles.
During the next week it rained heavily and threatened an early end to the 2 week show. When I got to the final BBQ though, I was not to be disappointed. Another gorgeous spring day, this time so hot that I regretted wearing all black and had to be content embarrassing myself, becoming known as the foreigner who didn’t wear shoes, and to my friends as ‘Itakunai?’ (doesn’t that hurt?). The wind was up and the remaining petals had a precarious grip on their branches. Each gust brought down a shower of petals that became the backdrop to many smooching couples and an orbital soccer ball. I might have become philosophical again, but I was too caught up in kicking a soccer ball at smooching couples.
PLANNING
The other highlight since the last update was my party. It finally worked, though not in quite the way I’d imagined. It started out with one of the Japanese guys I party with occasionally saying that he wanted to have a western style party, so I agreed to organise it with him. We each invited about 15 people of Japanese and other origin, ending up with about 10 of each showing up. It wasn’t very western and I was quite shocked at having to spend a couple of hours in a negotiation with him when planning. We ended up ‘compromising’ and charging everyone 500 yen ($7) for snacks but asking them to bring their own drinks, starting the party at 6pm and having the music so low I couldn’t hear it unless I was in the same room.
I faced the same problem last year when I joined the committee that organised the department night out. The prime objective of the team was to make it different from previous years, but every time I suggested something, they’d say that they couldn’t change that because it wasn’t what people expected. This aspect of inflexibility along with the need to plan inconsequentials down to the finest detail are the most frustrating thing about Japanese people. I remember ending up in hysterics when my class was planning an excursion.
This was 9 years ago when I was in a year 11 class at a school in Nagoya. The timetable allowed 1 hour per week for ‘home room’. This was basically a team building session that was used for outdoor games, voting on class leader and deciding the seating arrangement in class for the next few months. On this particular memorable occasion, they were planning the seating arrangement for the 1 hour bus trip. You understand why I say ‘they’. I sat back and watched the whole process with incredulity.
I watched them debate for more than half an hour, drawing pictures of the bus and seating layout. I watched people draw numbers on little sheets of paper that were submitted to the class leader for collation. I watched everyone else watch the class leader sort the papers into groups and cheered with everyone else when they finally made a decision. The thing was, the decision turned out only to be on exactly how to decide who would sit where. Then the real fun started. I crawled my way to the window and decided that I would sit next to the ugliest, fattest, dumbest, most boring person in the class if it would save doing this again.
CORRECTION
I have a confession to make. Firstly, Beef IS still $50 per kilo. I was tricked by the fact that prices are given per 100g and when I bought some for Y300 per 100g I found it was the worst beef I’ve ever had. The real stuff costs more like Y900 per 100g. You can get Kobe beef, the best grown in Japan for about Y500 per 100g, but it’s all fatty. Apparently the cattle here are fed beer and given regular massages to soften the meat. My IBM account manager told me when I first arrived that it’s popularity is dwindling in favour of Ozi beef because Japanese men prefer their beef, beer and massages separately.
Sub note: The Japanese pronounce Ozi more like ‘orgy’. I tell them that they can call us Ozis, orgies or bastards and we won’t mind, but that they should know what it was they were saying. When I tried to explain, in as uncrude a way as possible, what orgy meant to the department secretary, she looked blank for a long while and then, as realisation spread across her face, shouted out ‘SANPEE’ (three people). Of course, she then turned bright red and dropped down behind her desk leaving me to face the stares of the rest of the department who were obviously impressed that I had the nerve to propose that to the secretary.
Hope you enjoy my holidays.