As I entered the mall recently, I noted a mother with a stroller heading toward the doors. As I walked from my door to the door she was approaching, she looked at me with a puzzled, even irritated, expression. When I opened the door for her, she immediately changed her demeanor, smiled, and thanked me more than once. I shouldn't read too much into someone's expressions, but I don't think it's a reach to assert that she was "worried" by my behavior initially.
Have we reached the point where opening a door for a mother and child is so unexpected?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Shall We Dance?
As the vacation portion of my trip to Japan ended, I found myself lost in transition. After getting a little oriented to Tokyo, I needed to shift into business mode. I started worrying again about proper protocol and whether I would end up offending my hosts, who easily lived up to the legendary reputation for Japanese hospitality.
I visited another city, Kanazawa, which affirmed my impression that Tokyo is only one view--albeit a prominent one--of Japan. Kanazawa and Kyoto are apparently the most popular tourist destinations for the Japanese. I was told that one of the reasons is that neither city was bombed during World War II. I suppose Japanese history and culture might be more well preserved in these cities. What must it be like to realize that entire cities disappeared?
Kanazawa was definitely different than Tokyo, given its agricultural base and industrial presence. I saw a truck driver who looked like a character out of the movie Tampopo. I saw large swaths of land devoted to various crops, but I did not see a single sign of livestock. I had the pleasure of visiting Kenrokuen Garden and a couple of (restored) samurai homes. As the days moved on, my appreciation for Japanese attention to detail, balance, and presentation grew. I enjoyed meals that appealed to every one of my senses. I was overwhelmed by the way in which a garden was seamlessly integrated into one of the samurai homes. It seemed perfectly natural that a tree had grown through the roof. Even though there was plenty of noise nearly, the trickling stream eventually became the only sound I could hear. The balance between private/public and indoor/outdoor is something I had never fully appreciated about Japanese architecture and design. When I returned to Tokyo, I noted that even in the midst of the most dense urban jungle, there are attempts to fold in green spaces, even on building roofs and sometimes within buildings. This reflective aspect of Japanese culture was captured in one of my favorite movies Afterlife.
Another one of my favorite movies is Shall We Dance? At our farewell dinner, I was asked to offer a few words for a toast. I offered the following: "When asked about this visit, I described it as a dance. When a group begins a dance, there is awkwardness and nervousness as people get to know each other. But as the evening goes on, if all goes well, eventually everyone moves as one. Thank you for inviting me to this dance, and I look forward to the next time we dance."
I visited another city, Kanazawa, which affirmed my impression that Tokyo is only one view--albeit a prominent one--of Japan. Kanazawa and Kyoto are apparently the most popular tourist destinations for the Japanese. I was told that one of the reasons is that neither city was bombed during World War II. I suppose Japanese history and culture might be more well preserved in these cities. What must it be like to realize that entire cities disappeared?
Kanazawa was definitely different than Tokyo, given its agricultural base and industrial presence. I saw a truck driver who looked like a character out of the movie Tampopo. I saw large swaths of land devoted to various crops, but I did not see a single sign of livestock. I had the pleasure of visiting Kenrokuen Garden and a couple of (restored) samurai homes. As the days moved on, my appreciation for Japanese attention to detail, balance, and presentation grew. I enjoyed meals that appealed to every one of my senses. I was overwhelmed by the way in which a garden was seamlessly integrated into one of the samurai homes. It seemed perfectly natural that a tree had grown through the roof. Even though there was plenty of noise nearly, the trickling stream eventually became the only sound I could hear. The balance between private/public and indoor/outdoor is something I had never fully appreciated about Japanese architecture and design. When I returned to Tokyo, I noted that even in the midst of the most dense urban jungle, there are attempts to fold in green spaces, even on building roofs and sometimes within buildings. This reflective aspect of Japanese culture was captured in one of my favorite movies Afterlife.
Another one of my favorite movies is Shall We Dance? At our farewell dinner, I was asked to offer a few words for a toast. I offered the following: "When asked about this visit, I described it as a dance. When a group begins a dance, there is awkwardness and nervousness as people get to know each other. But as the evening goes on, if all goes well, eventually everyone moves as one. Thank you for inviting me to this dance, and I look forward to the next time we dance."
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
A Taste of India
There are so many western influences in Japan, it's possible to forget at moments that I'm in Asia. I have heard from fellow Asians some resentment about Japan's alignment with the West, rather than the rest of Asia. The current G-8 Summit is a reminder of this tension. Perhaps hosting the conference in Japan will allow for greater emphasis on China and India. It's strange to imagine an economic consortium without explicit representation from China and India, or Brazil for that matter.
At one point during a trip between hotels, my taxi stopped in front of an Indian restaurant. Almost anyone of South Asian descent will know the moment. No matter our origins, no matter our self-perceptions, South Asians in these circumstances will often look at each other and smile. As if to acknowledge a bond that transcends national or cultural boundaries. Even the vast differences between Indians, Pakistanis, and Bangladeshis seem to disappear when we leave South Asia. I suppose we finally focus more on what is common, rather than what is different.
In this case, each of the people in the restaurant smiled and bowed slightly. One of them came up to the taxi and handed me a menu from the restaurant. I can't deny a certain comfort when I saw curry, naan, and mango lassi on the menu. He spoke to me in Japanese. When I said "thank you" in English, he must have realized I do not live in Tokyo. He made the leap to Hindi, which I also do not understand. I'm embarrassed enough not understanding Japanese, but I'm even more embarrassed not understanding Hindi (after all, my wife speaks it fairly fluently). I miss out on so much because of my poor language skills.
One language that does seem to transcend boundaries is business. I'm struck by the Asian business shows, with men in suits and ties, using the same jargon as the Wall Street pundits. It's a 24 hour a day obsession, spoken in the language of currency. It's difficult to translate English into Japanese, but it's easy to find out the latest conversion rate between the British pound and the Japanese yen. BBC Asian Business Report featured a story on malnutrition in India. The story focused on a young woman who mentioned that her four children are starving. They certainly looked that way. The report mentioned that malnutrition causes $29 billion of lost productivity in India, or nearly 4% of its GDP. India's long-term productivity might be adversely affected if "they can not tap properly into these human resources". We should feed these people only because they can contribute to the economy?
When did human misery and suffering become measured as an adverse impact on GDP?
At one point during a trip between hotels, my taxi stopped in front of an Indian restaurant. Almost anyone of South Asian descent will know the moment. No matter our origins, no matter our self-perceptions, South Asians in these circumstances will often look at each other and smile. As if to acknowledge a bond that transcends national or cultural boundaries. Even the vast differences between Indians, Pakistanis, and Bangladeshis seem to disappear when we leave South Asia. I suppose we finally focus more on what is common, rather than what is different.
In this case, each of the people in the restaurant smiled and bowed slightly. One of them came up to the taxi and handed me a menu from the restaurant. I can't deny a certain comfort when I saw curry, naan, and mango lassi on the menu. He spoke to me in Japanese. When I said "thank you" in English, he must have realized I do not live in Tokyo. He made the leap to Hindi, which I also do not understand. I'm embarrassed enough not understanding Japanese, but I'm even more embarrassed not understanding Hindi (after all, my wife speaks it fairly fluently). I miss out on so much because of my poor language skills.
One language that does seem to transcend boundaries is business. I'm struck by the Asian business shows, with men in suits and ties, using the same jargon as the Wall Street pundits. It's a 24 hour a day obsession, spoken in the language of currency. It's difficult to translate English into Japanese, but it's easy to find out the latest conversion rate between the British pound and the Japanese yen. BBC Asian Business Report featured a story on malnutrition in India. The story focused on a young woman who mentioned that her four children are starving. They certainly looked that way. The report mentioned that malnutrition causes $29 billion of lost productivity in India, or nearly 4% of its GDP. India's long-term productivity might be adversely affected if "they can not tap properly into these human resources". We should feed these people only because they can contribute to the economy?
When did human misery and suffering become measured as an adverse impact on GDP?
Monday, July 07, 2008
Smoking or Non-Smoking
It's been awhile since I've been asked that question in the US, but I've been asked this question on more than one occasion in Tokyo. I have seen a lot of vending machines around the city, most of which offer water and other drinks for sale. I have also seen a few vending machines that sell cigarettes. I've also noted that cigarettes are relatively inexpensive. One of my standard price benchmarks when I travel is McDonalds. The extra value meals in Tokyo cost anywhere from 500 to 650 yen (about $5-6 with current exchange rates). A glass of orange juice at a restaurant has cost me 400 yen. Cigarettes sell in the vending machines for about 300 yen. Marlboro seems to be a very popular brand.
I had read that US big tobacco companies had shifted their attention to Asia. It would seem they have done so quite effectively.
I had read that US big tobacco companies had shifted their attention to Asia. It would seem they have done so quite effectively.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Diversity in Japan
The Japan Times is one of the English newspapers in this country. Its motto is "All the News Without Fear or Favor". The front page on Sunday, July 6 has articles about the upcoming G-8 summit in Japan, Pakistan's nuclear program, Iran's nuclear program, Robert Mugabe, and Nathan's annual hot dog eating contest in Coney Island. Apparently, an American named Joey Chestnut defeated "celebrated Japanese rival" Takeru Kobayashi. I guess that's an accurate description given that Kobayashi has won the event six times. It's interesting to note the Japanese-specific elements in the newspaper (for example, a cartoon featuring a sumo wrestler). But it's equally interesting to note the common themes of surging gas prices, sagging economic times, and concerns about health care (and, given today's headlines, nuclear proliferation).
There's also an interesting interview with David Peace, an English author who lives in Tokyo. He does not believe in the "myth of one Japanese mind, as if everyone's got f**king ESP or something." He also states: "And yet there's 120 million people in this country, and I've been here 14 years and every single person I've met has been a unique individual." Good point. I suppose making inferences or assertions about Japan based on Tokyo would be like making inferences or assertions about the US based on New York. Make that Manhattan. Tokyo has a population of over 12 million people. Today, I managed to encounter some of the diversity of its people--because my computer crashed.
My wife believes that I can't cope without being on my computer for any length of time. Perhaps she's right. I did feel a sense of deep frustration. The disorientation combined with the loss of my "self" as captured by my computer was too much to take. The hotel concierge kindly pointed out the nearest Apple Store in Shibuya, noting it on a map. The taxi driver didn't exactly know where to take me. When I realized he was just stopping randomly, I said, "OK...here" I think he was relieved. I showed my map to one man who walked with me for some time before pointing down a street. Another man helped me until I found myself in the Apple Store, which looked like any other Apple Store. Eventually, I found myself at the Genius Bar with a man who spoke fluent English and told me confidently he would fix my computer. He also told me it would take an hour or so.
I walked out of the store, looked out on the street, and randomly chose to go right. I saw a Denny's! I've never seen a Denny's outside the US. I was sorry not to have my camera because one of my good friends would really enjoy seeing Denny's in Japanese. As I kept walking, I heard music. Not the music on the radio, but live music. I entered a park where several individuals were playing music. All kinds of music. Even what sounded like country songs with Japanese lyrics. A little further along the path, I was in the middle of an arts and crafts fair. There were items from all over the world. I also noted booths for Amnesty International, green energy, "Radio freedom", and free trade exchanges.
And there were people dressed in every imaginable way, laughing, sitting together, drinking together. They would smile at me when I would look at them. These folks were not self conscious. They were being themselves and enjoying it. I should not be surprised that some people in Japan care about many of the same things that I care about. I am glad that I encountered these folks during my visit.
When I returned to the Apple store, the genius (yes, I was ready to call him that) had fixed my computer. I asked him if there was a charge for his work. He replied, "Of course not...enjoy your stay in Tokyo". He said it to be friendly, not just polite.
I've never been so pleased that my computer crashed.
There's also an interesting interview with David Peace, an English author who lives in Tokyo. He does not believe in the "myth of one Japanese mind, as if everyone's got f**king ESP or something." He also states: "And yet there's 120 million people in this country, and I've been here 14 years and every single person I've met has been a unique individual." Good point. I suppose making inferences or assertions about Japan based on Tokyo would be like making inferences or assertions about the US based on New York. Make that Manhattan. Tokyo has a population of over 12 million people. Today, I managed to encounter some of the diversity of its people--because my computer crashed.
My wife believes that I can't cope without being on my computer for any length of time. Perhaps she's right. I did feel a sense of deep frustration. The disorientation combined with the loss of my "self" as captured by my computer was too much to take. The hotel concierge kindly pointed out the nearest Apple Store in Shibuya, noting it on a map. The taxi driver didn't exactly know where to take me. When I realized he was just stopping randomly, I said, "OK...here" I think he was relieved. I showed my map to one man who walked with me for some time before pointing down a street. Another man helped me until I found myself in the Apple Store, which looked like any other Apple Store. Eventually, I found myself at the Genius Bar with a man who spoke fluent English and told me confidently he would fix my computer. He also told me it would take an hour or so.
I walked out of the store, looked out on the street, and randomly chose to go right. I saw a Denny's! I've never seen a Denny's outside the US. I was sorry not to have my camera because one of my good friends would really enjoy seeing Denny's in Japanese. As I kept walking, I heard music. Not the music on the radio, but live music. I entered a park where several individuals were playing music. All kinds of music. Even what sounded like country songs with Japanese lyrics. A little further along the path, I was in the middle of an arts and crafts fair. There were items from all over the world. I also noted booths for Amnesty International, green energy, "Radio freedom", and free trade exchanges.
And there were people dressed in every imaginable way, laughing, sitting together, drinking together. They would smile at me when I would look at them. These folks were not self conscious. They were being themselves and enjoying it. I should not be surprised that some people in Japan care about many of the same things that I care about. I am glad that I encountered these folks during my visit.
When I returned to the Apple store, the genius (yes, I was ready to call him that) had fixed my computer. I asked him if there was a charge for his work. He replied, "Of course not...enjoy your stay in Tokyo". He said it to be friendly, not just polite.
I've never been so pleased that my computer crashed.
Land of the Rising Sun
I am sitting in my room at the Westin Tokyo. During the fourteen hour flight from EWR to NRT, aside from time eating and going to the bathroom, I slept the entire way. I'm thankful for frequent flyer miles that allowed me to fly business class, but this also makes me realize that I'm almost certainly sleep deprived. I wonder how this will play out in a city that supposedly never sleeps.
I received meticulous instructions from my hotel about purchasing tickets from the "Friendly Airport Limousine Bus" company. Given how polite and friendly everyone has been so far, I think the "friendly" in their name is redundant. As I waited for the bus, I noticed that the two displays on either side of the driveway noted the same time, but different temperatures. I don't know why, but I thought it was strange that this discrepancy hadn't been fixed or reconciled. When I boarded the bus, every time I looked at a woman sitting by herself, she would smile and turn away. I had the distinct feeling those smiles stemmed from nervousness (please don't sit next to me!). I sat next to a young Japanese man wearing sunglasses who ignored me throughout the ride. In fact, the only people speaking on the bus were speaking in English. I started to consider the possibility that the Japanese are incredibly polite, but not necessarily friendly.
As we drove into Tokyo, I noticed a lot of building developments that look like building developments you might see anywhere, with lots of clothes--and mini satellite dishes--hanging on the balconies. I also saw two gigantic ferris wheels. And the Tokyo Disney Resort. As our driver approached the toll booths (that seemed completely automated), he must have used something similar to EZPass. Each of the booths had a gate that went up after a beeping sound (perhaps confirming payment?). For a culture that is seemingly so intent on appropriate behavior, I thought it was odd to have such enforcement in place. The bus offered announcements and signage in English for which I was grateful. I noted the statement over the announcement system: "Please do not use portable phones as they annoy the neighbors." That's a very different way of saying "Cell phone use is prohibited". And the Japanese do seem to care about whether they annoy their neighbors.
As I left the bus, I noted the only person to ignore the request to remain seated until the bus stopped was another American, who left his trash near his seat (another unique action). When our bags were brought to the curbside, I noted that everyone waited before picking up their bags (except the aforementioned American). The bus driver eventually said something and everyone started handing him their bag receipts. He matched each ticket and bag before people walked off with their bags. There was clearly an expected manner in which we would collect our bags.
I find myself wondering whether I'm offending someone or everyone with my action or inaction. When the housekeeping staff asked me if I wanted turndown service, my first reaction was to say no. But I felt so badly at the thought of his reaction such that I let him into my room. Everyone else keeps apologizing to me for one reason or another, even though I'm not offended in the least. Every time I travel to a new place, I experience the same feeling of nervousness that arises from being unsure of myself. It's the reason I go out of my way to help visitors to the US. I'd like to believe the other American on the bus is basically a decent guy; he may be reacting to nervousness in a different way than I am. First impressions lead me to believe that many folks here are unsure of being themselves.
I received meticulous instructions from my hotel about purchasing tickets from the "Friendly Airport Limousine Bus" company. Given how polite and friendly everyone has been so far, I think the "friendly" in their name is redundant. As I waited for the bus, I noticed that the two displays on either side of the driveway noted the same time, but different temperatures. I don't know why, but I thought it was strange that this discrepancy hadn't been fixed or reconciled. When I boarded the bus, every time I looked at a woman sitting by herself, she would smile and turn away. I had the distinct feeling those smiles stemmed from nervousness (please don't sit next to me!). I sat next to a young Japanese man wearing sunglasses who ignored me throughout the ride. In fact, the only people speaking on the bus were speaking in English. I started to consider the possibility that the Japanese are incredibly polite, but not necessarily friendly.
As we drove into Tokyo, I noticed a lot of building developments that look like building developments you might see anywhere, with lots of clothes--and mini satellite dishes--hanging on the balconies. I also saw two gigantic ferris wheels. And the Tokyo Disney Resort. As our driver approached the toll booths (that seemed completely automated), he must have used something similar to EZPass. Each of the booths had a gate that went up after a beeping sound (perhaps confirming payment?). For a culture that is seemingly so intent on appropriate behavior, I thought it was odd to have such enforcement in place. The bus offered announcements and signage in English for which I was grateful. I noted the statement over the announcement system: "Please do not use portable phones as they annoy the neighbors." That's a very different way of saying "Cell phone use is prohibited". And the Japanese do seem to care about whether they annoy their neighbors.
As I left the bus, I noted the only person to ignore the request to remain seated until the bus stopped was another American, who left his trash near his seat (another unique action). When our bags were brought to the curbside, I noted that everyone waited before picking up their bags (except the aforementioned American). The bus driver eventually said something and everyone started handing him their bag receipts. He matched each ticket and bag before people walked off with their bags. There was clearly an expected manner in which we would collect our bags.
I find myself wondering whether I'm offending someone or everyone with my action or inaction. When the housekeeping staff asked me if I wanted turndown service, my first reaction was to say no. But I felt so badly at the thought of his reaction such that I let him into my room. Everyone else keeps apologizing to me for one reason or another, even though I'm not offended in the least. Every time I travel to a new place, I experience the same feeling of nervousness that arises from being unsure of myself. It's the reason I go out of my way to help visitors to the US. I'd like to believe the other American on the bus is basically a decent guy; he may be reacting to nervousness in a different way than I am. First impressions lead me to believe that many folks here are unsure of being themselves.
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