A short walk from the Imperial Palace sits Tokyo Station, host to more than 3,000 trains and nearly 416,000 passengers every day. However, the station is more than just a transportation hub. Completed in 1914, it’s seen war, assassination and rejuvenation over the last 100 years.
In 1921, Prime Minister Takashi Hara was assassinated at the station on a trip to Kyoto. Nine years later, Prime Minister Osachi Hamaguchi was shot in an attempted assassination and died a few months later. In 1945, much of the station was destroyed by Allied powers during the Second World War.
Today, Tokyo Station is a standard Japanese combination of function, commerce and history. Last week, we visited the station for the first time to buy our Shinkansen (bullet train) tickets for our upcoming trip to Osaka and Kyoto. We quickly got lost in the underground labyrinth of the station. Passageways are given “street” names to help navigate between the different lines as well as the myriad of shopping, dining and cultural opportunities throughout the station known as Tokyo Station City.
Fortunately, there are information desks in each area of the station with English-speaking attendants. We were given directions to the ticket counter, but first we needed to eat!
We hadn’t had a purpose to go through Tokyo Station before, so we’d been saving a special stop for this occasion. T’s Tantan is a vegan ramen shop located inside the JR gate of the station. We actually had to pay fare (140 yen) to enter the restaurant area even though we weren’t boarding a train.
Awesome signage at T’s Tantan and our meal, Shirunashi Tantan, Daizu Karage (fried soy meat) and Midori Tantan
The place was busy for 5 p.m. in Japan. There were a couple granola-types, but also a lot of people in business suits who showed up because the food was good. We ordered a couple amazing Tantan bowls, which are flavored-up ramen with fresh vegetables, and a side of fried soy meat.
T’s philosophy is playfully illustrated on the walls of the shop. One sign shows roughly-drawn figures of animals and a human surrounding the English words “We live to eat vegetables.” That’s when I knew this place was for me. We even scheduled our return trip from Osaka to arrive at Tokyo Station around dinnertime. Get ready T’s… I’m coming for you!
Enjoying a couple Oregon beers at Popeye Beer Club in Ryōgoku
Popeye Beer Club was another stop on this side of the city that hadn’t fit into previous visits, but today it was just a short train ride from Tokyo Station in the Ryōgoku area. What started as a standard izakaya 60 years ago is now one of Tokyo’s best destinations for both local and international craft beer. Popeye even has several of their own brews among the 70-plus beers they rotate on tap.
For once, we took the approach of “Hey… we’re in Japan for awhile!” and skipped the local beers in favor of a taste of home. I had a Breakside Brewing IPA from Milwaukie, OR and a Rogue Shakespeare Oatmeal Stout from Newport, OR. Incidentally, that Breakside IPA recently won the 2014 Great American Beer Festival gold medal for best American-Style India Pale Ale. Viktoria had the Rogue Old Crustacean Barleywine, which was appropriately served in a snifter to trap the aromas of the macadamia nut and strawberry notes.
Sumo statues outside of Ryōgoku Station
We did a lap around the neighborhood before getting back on the train for our 90 minute ride home. The famous Ryōgoku Kokugikan sumo hall is on the opposite side of the station from Popeye. While it was dark and locked up tight, you could still sense the grand tradition of this religious ritual-turned-sport. The outer walls were adorned with ukiyo-e murals of wrestlers and the modern temple (built in 1985) rises with an agelessness unmatched by its neomodern neighbors.
After seven months, we already have our standard stops in Tokyo, so it was great to explore a different part of this massive city. There’s a fair chance this day will see a repeat in about a week when we return from Osaka.
Sorry folks… no dirt here! That’s what they call “clickbait” in the internets biz.
I’ve been doing a lot of “here’s what we’re up to” posts lately. I’d like to dig back into some topics related to the overall experience and I’d like your help!
If you have some burning questions about the experience, differences between life in the U.S. and Japan or the easiest way to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit in your head (Celsius temperature × 2 + 30 ≈ Fahrenheit temperature), post them in the comments section below.
I still have a few things in the hopper, but I’ll work in these posts along the way too. Can’t wait to see the ideas!
Everyday at 5 p.m., the loudspeakers around town play a charming little tune. At first, I thought “well isn’t that a nice little tune,” but as the weeks went on, I wanted to know what purpose it served. End of the workday? Not likely with all of those salarymen shuffling home at 9 p.m.
My Japanese googling skills are getting better and today I finally found the answer, although the next question is why I was thinking about the 5 o’clock song at 9 in the morning.
Turns out, it really is called the 5 O’clock Chime (五時のチャイム or goji no chaimu) and each city has its own version. It’s actually a daily test of the Municipal Disaster Management Radio Communication Network. Much like the Emergency Broadcast System in the U.S., if you hear the chime at any other time than 5 p.m., trouble is a’brewing.
In Kawagoe, our song is called “Wild Rose” (野バラ or nobara). In addition to its official purposes, it’s also a reminder for Japanese children to head home before dark. During the day, public information announcements are played over the loudspeaker as well, although they’re all Japanese to me at this point.
School is back in session, so October has been about settling back into routine and planning the next round of adventures. But Japan is still throwing twists and turns our way. Here’s a few interesting tidbits from the last couple weeks:
Phun with phones
One of the reasons we decided not to get phones in Japan is, frankly, there’s not really anyone to call here. The international plans are expensive and the video chat technology is way better for keeping in touch with family and friends back home. But, there’s the occasional need to make a local call, so with a little finagling, I can now make local phone calls from my computer.
However, there’s still the problem of the language barrier. I’ve been running a lot over the last few months. It’s a great workout, but it’s also high impact and leads to a lot of aches and pains, so I decided to schedule a massage. I got a recommendation from one of the GTFs for a local masseuse and decided to try and schedule an appointment over the phone. As usual, I wrote out my script and dialed the number.
Gogo wa yoyaku dekimasu ka? Do you have an appointment for this afternoon?
The voice on the other end of the digital line indicated that she didn’t have any availability today. I asked about the following Monday and that I was available anytime. She seemed to say that anytime on Monday would be fine. Itsudemo daijōbu desu.
Monday morning, I headed over to the massage place. As I walked up the stairs, I saw someone leave the office. As I approached the door, the office was dark and locked up. I’d been bitten by the Japanese cultural characteristic of never saying no.
But, as usual, it turned into a positive. I wandered around the floor and found another massage studio right around the corner. A small, one-woman operation called Sun and Moon. We established that an appointment that day couldn’t happen since she had a dental appointment. We began to set a time for the next day, but both of us were a little unclear of the details.
She asked me to follow her across the hall to a shop owned by a couple from Nepal who both spoke English. After settling the details of the appointment, the man asked me to sit and have tea. We sipped Masala chai and talked about Nepal, Japan and America. I mentioned that we’d like to travel to India and Nepal. He offered his brother’s home if we needed a place to stay. We chatted in English for about 30 minutes before I headed out.
As usual, for every frustrating experience, several positive experiences follow that highlight the kindness of the people we encounter everyday. The following morning, I had an excellent massage. She served me a cup of green tea at the end of the appointment. I told her I was a runner, so zenbu ga itai ne! Everything hurts! She laughed, said she could never be a runner and asked if I was running the Kawagoe Marathon, which got a laugh out of me. When we hit a snag in our conversation, she grabbed her phone and translated from Japanese to English… Did it hurt?
In fact, nothing about this particular experience hurt at all.
Blue beer
Don’t adjust your sets. This is Abashiri Brewery’s Okhotsk Blue Draft, colored with blue seaweed. The accompanying meal is shiitake mushroom french dip sandwiches on homemade rolls.
The beer section of the local grocery store rarely surprises me anymore, but a shock of blue caught my eye the other day. Hokkaido’s Abashiri Brewery is playing with color as well as flavor with their Okhotsk Blue Draft. The beer pours a greenish-blue (I backlit the glass to see more of the blue color), but instead of using dyes or other horrible chemicals, they’ve achieved this naturally. The water comes from melted icebergs that have floated into the Sea of Okhotsk. The color comes from blue seaweed and gardenias. It’s categorized as a “vegetable beer” thanks to the use of Chinese yams (which have copious health benefits).
How’s it taste? Well, it’s light and bubbly with a subtle beer flavor. But it’s blue! Abashiri also makes green and red beers using plant pigments for the coloring.
Blood moon
August’s blood moon in the sky over Kawagoe
I know I’m a couple weeks behind on this one, but the blood moon from the lunar eclipse visited us at a reasonable hour. While Cascadians had to get out of bed early to see the sight, we got to see it around 8:30 p.m. and managed some good pictures before going to bed.
I’m a beer snob. Let’s just get that out of the way. I’ll gladly pay $8 for a local craft brew on dollar domestic beer night at the ballpark. For a Cascadian, access to good, locally-made beer is as natural as rain on Labor Day. Oregon alone has more than 170 brewing companies in 70 cities across the state.
When we decided to come to Japan, one of the first things I did was check out the ji-bīru or local beer scene. It was bleak… the Land of the Rising Sun has long been ruled by the “Big Four” regional brewers—Suntory, Sapporo, Kirin and Asahi. Not unlike Anheuser-Busch (Budweiser) and Molson Coors in the U.S., these brewers produce similar-tasting lagers focused on appealing to a large market.
Small-batch brewing is a relatively new industry in Japan with restrictions removed in 1994. But, the industry has slowly grown over the last two decades and more than 200 microbreweries now represent the local flavor of nearly every prefecture in Japan. Here’s a sampling of some of the Japanese breweries that have earned the Cascadian Abroad stamp of approval.
Enjoying Coedo Brewery’s Shikkoku Black Lager with a margherita pizza at Wood Bakers in Koedo
Coedo Brewery
Coedo Brewery makes their five signature beers right here in Kawagoe. The flagship Beniaka Imperial Amber is brewed with local sweet potatoes and earned a Silver Medal at the 2010 World Beer Cup. Each beer is named after “The Rich Colors of Japan,” from the Shikkoku (jet black) Black Lager to the Shiro White Hefeweizen. The Kyara India Pale Lager will make you shout “There ARE hops in Japan!”
Yo-Ho Brewing’s Aooni IPA is a regular occupant of our refrigerator
Yo-Ho Brewing Company
Nagano’s Yo-Ho Brewing has generated incredible word of mouth, with brewmaster and Japan beer ambassador Toshi Ishii leading the charge. The flagship Yona Yona Ale has spent the better part of the last decade winning gold medals at international beer competitions all over the world. The Tokyo Black Porter rivals any bottled or draught stout I’ve had while the Aooni India Pale Ale brings a pleasant bitterness that will appeal both to new IPA drinkers as well as old pros. Fortunately, the store down the block from us carries a wide selection of Yo-Ho beers.
Kiuchi Brewery
Kiuchi started as a sake brewery in 1823 and has operated continuously ever since. Hitachino Nest Beer, known to us foreigners as “Owl Beer” due to the unique owl character on the label, is the brand name for Kiuchi’s ever-expanding beer line. True artisan brewing can be found in the Red Rice Ale (brewed with ancient red rice) and the uniquely Japanese Nipponia, made with native barley and Sorachi Ace hops.
The taps at T.Y. Harbor Smokehouse in Harajuku. Oregon’s Rogue Ales’ 7 Hop IPA was the guest tap on this day.
T.Y. Harbor
Brewmaster Kazunaga Abe is a student of brewing and his American-style craft beers are a favorite in the T.Y. Express family of restaurants throughout Tokyo. The flagship Pale Ale gets its citrus flavor from authentic Pacific Northwest Cascade hops while Czech hops and organic barley malt give the IPA a floral finish. Rotating selections showcase seasonal ingredients like pineapple, mango and hibiscus.
Baird Beer
Baird Beer is an interesting entry. While exclusively located in Japan, Brewer Bryan Baird is an American who cut his teeth in the beer mecca of the American Pacific Northwest, including an apprenticeship at Washington’s Redhook Brewery.
We visited the Harajuku taproom back in April and noticed a Portland, OR postcard on the wall at the end of the bar as well as a business card for Alpha Beta Hops in Ashland, OR. I told the bartender we were from Oregon and he got a little excited. He disappeared into the keg cooler and emerged with a 22-oz. bottle of “Seven” from Portland’s Upright Brewing. He’d just returned from a beer vacation in Portland.
Baird now has five taprooms in the Kanto region, including the original location at Numazu Fish Market where you might find yourself drinking with the brewers themselves. Baird offers 10 beers year-round and rotates seasonal selections to highlight local ingredients, many of which will be grown at the new brewery in Shizuoka.
Up-And-Coming
There’s an energy around the local beer scene that is reminiscent of Portland in the early-to-mid 00s or Bend in the early 2010s. Several breweries are making a living at beer festivals around Japan and have small cafes and taprooms opening soon.
Hokkaido Brewing: We found Hokkaido Brewing at the Keyaki Hiroba Spring Beer Festival in Ōmiya. There was a long line, which always means something good in Japan. They specialize in playfully-crafted seasonal beers, so we tried their Melon Wheat and Raspberry White ales and they didn’t disappoint.
Y.Market Brewing: Y.Market is another one we found at the Spring Beer Festival. They’re making a lot of noise on the ji-bīru scene and are selling their beers faster than they can brew them. They have a taproom scheduled to open this year which will feature specialties like the White ACE! Belgian White brewed with Sorachi Ace hops and highlighting spicy and citrus notes for an interesting blend of flavors.
Brimmer Brewing: Like Baird, Brimmer is an American brewer making American beers in the heart of Japan. Brewmaster Scott Brimmer utilizes his depth of international brewing experience to create three primary beers and a rotating seasonal made from all-natural ingredients. The Beer Box taproom in Omotesando feels like a backyard barbecue and offers all four beers on tap or in bottles to go. The Golden Ale session-style beer was great on a hot summer day.
Growing up near the Columbia River Gorge, strong winds and rain are a part of my DNA. As kids, we’d play catch in those winds and pretend we were fielding fly balls at Wrigley Field in one of those 23-22 final score games. Maybe that’s why the recent string of typhoons—starting with Phanfone last week and Typhoon Vongfong rolling through today—don’t get my heart racing much. I certainly won’t be venturing out this afternoon when winds will range between 25-50 MPH, but the forecast shows the storm weakening to tropical storm strength by the time it reaches us in Saitama. It’ll be no worse than a December day back home.
Typhoon Vongfong as photographed by ISS astronaut Reid Wiseman
The images have been spectacular considering the danger that lurks within. Photos from the International Space Station show Typhoon Vongfong engulfing the entire planet. Vongfong reached Category 5 strength at one point last week and is the strongest typhoon of 2014… so far.
Sadly, not everyone went unaffected by Typhoon Vongfong. The typhoons have taken a predictable path through the Pacific Ocean. Okinawa takes the brunt of these storms for Japan and Japan’s national network NHK is reporting several serious injuries and damage in the area. Flooding and potential landslides have resulted in more than 90,000 households in Okinawa being evacuated. If there’s a bright spot, it’s that Vongfong weakened to a Category 1 status by the time it made landfall.
ThinkProgress has a story today about future storms and how the damage and resulting financial impact will continue to grow if we don’t decrease the carbon emissions that cause global warming. The report estimates Japan being impacted the worst, facing $4.4 trillion in losses by 2090, nearly four times that of second-place China.
Ironically, today is Columbus Day on our calendar. In 1962, the “Columbus Day Storm” hit the Pacific Northwest as Typhoon Freda made its way across the Pacific Ocean. When everything was said and done, the strongest storm in a century killed 46 people and can still be recalled vividly by those who experienced it (my family included).
The tower of Campbell Hall on the Western Oregon University campus crumbles in the Columbus Day Storm of 1962 (Wes Luchau)
One of the most indelible images for me is the destruction on the campus of the Oregon College of Education (now Western Oregon University) in Monmouth. WOU is my alma mater and photos of the damage were part of our heritage. Campbell Hall‘s bell tower collapsed during the storm. Student Wes Luchau captured the moment with a photograph that would be used by local newspapers and later appeared in LIFE magazine.
For now, we’ll sit and wait. It’s been raining for a couple hours, but the worst of the storm will roll through overnight. Hopefully the wind and rain will bring nothing more than a few childhood memories.
“He who does not climb Mt.Fuji is a fool, but he who climbs Mt.Fuji twice is also a fool.” —Japanese proverb
One of the items on our Japan short-list was climbing Mt. Fuji. More than 200,000 people reach the summit of Fuji every year and numerous tour companies offer trips up the iconic mountain, which leads you to think “how hard could it be?”
The answer: One of the most physically demanding experiences of my life! And one of the most rewarding!
Early in the climb, full of energy despite the rain
We had a couple warm-up hikes during the summer, reaching the 1,200-foot peak of Hiwada, Takasasu and Monomi and Mitsumine’s 3,600-foot summit in July. But they certainly didn’t prepare us for the physical overnight grind of Fuji’s 12,388 foot (3,776 meter) ascent.
We started out from Fuji’s 5th Station, around 7,500 feet (2,305 meters) above sea level, at 11:30 a.m. The 5th Station is the most common starting point for the ascent with regular bus service, parking, restaurants, lodging and gift shops. Smartly, we took advantage of our tour company’s rain suit rental. The weather was temperamental at the beginning with strong winds and rain.
The rain gave way and the natural beauty of Fuji took over
Fortunately, the weather broke quickly and we were able to shed some of our layers before too long. The lower part of the climb is mostly packed dirt and rock trails with a reasonable incline. We saw several families with kids early on, likely making a short day hike.
About an hour in, we reached the 6th Station and stopped for a short break to take in the view. Our trail guide, Midori, gave bits of information about the mountain along the way. Fuji is still an active volcano that last erupted in the 1700s. During the Edo Period (1603-1868), an entire religion (Fujiko) was built around worshipping the mountain. Due to it’s cultural importance, UNESCO named it a World Heritage Cultural Site in 2013 instead of adding it to the Natural Site list.
Looking down at the trail switchbacks as we approached the 8th Station
Beyond the 6th Station, the trail becomes a series of switchbacks with rest stations at regular intervals. The views of the cities below, as well as the view of the part of the mountain you’ve already conquered, give you the sense of being on top of the world. However, Fuji still has a lot of surprises in store.
The drastic slope of Mt. Fuji. This is what you’re up against.
Beyond the 7th Station, the climb starts to get pretty technical in some places. Fortunately the rain had stopped, so the rocks were dry and traction was good. A side benefit of the rain was that the ash-covered paths had dried firm, making the non-rocky parts of the path fairly easy for walking.
The terrain starts to get more technical as you move closer to the top
Our goal for the first day was the Tomoi Hut at the 8th Station (11,154 feet/3,400 meters). Our good fortune ran out about 20 minutes before we reached the hut as the skies opened up and rain poured down. By the time we reached the hut, we were soaked from head to toe. While the rain gear did its job, our backpacks were soaked through (including the plastic-wrapped change of clothes) and our shoes and socks collected the rain like a dish sponge.
Drenched to the bone, we reached the hut around 5 p.m. As we entered, a man blew the water off us with a leaf blower. Then, three or four people with hand towels wiped off the excess rainwater. We had to remove our wettest items on a tarp in the dining area and received a patdown to make sure we were dry before being allowed into the sleeping area.
Sharing a bed with our new French friends, like Charlie’s family in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory
So… the sleeping area. It’s basically a large wooden platform with six sleeping bags in a space made for about five people. They’re set up bunk-style, so there’s another platform below us with another six climbers. We were paired up with a group of tourists from France. Fortunately, they were pretty cool and didn’t snore.
Dinner with our international assortment of friends
After a short rest, we were called for dinner. We sat at a long table and had udon noodles with rice, relish (tsukemono) and green tea. It was a perfect meal to warm up the insides. We ate with the rest of our hiking group: Our bunk mates from France, a woman from Brazil and a couple from Baltimore who were visiting her brother, a Navy man stationed in Yokosuka.
After dinner, we were encouraged to get as much sleep as we could. We’d have a 1 a.m. wake-up call to start our ascent to the summit. I’m not much for sleeping in strange places and, making the mistake of getting in the bunk first, I was between everyone and the window. I’d guess I got about an hour of sleep tops and had to do a bit of meditating to get past the claustrophobia that set in more than once.
The view from our hut window around 1 a.m… a never-ending string of headlamps joining us for the climb to the summit
Our guides woke us up a little after 1 a.m. and I peeked out the hut window. Little white lights dotted the night sky for as far as I could see. We wouldn’t be alone in our trek to the top. While the last 1,000 feet from the 8th Station to the summit is only about 30 minutes worth of climbing, it actually takes about two hours because there are so many people. The rain never let up during the night, so there was a lot of stopping and waiting with nothing to do but get wet.
The summit of Mt. Fuji! We made it!
Around 4:15 a.m., we finally made it to the top. It was cold and rainy, but exciting to be at the summit. A large crowd waited for their turn to get into the snack shed where a small paper cup of 500 yen coffee waited for us. We tried our best to warm up for about 15 minutes. Our guide offered a tour around the crater, but there were no takers on this morning. The hut had packed up breakfast to go, which consisted of rice and a piece of fish. We gave the fish to our hiking buddies from Baltimore and carb-loaded on the rice.
Beginning the descent down Mt. Fuji
So, here’s the thing you don’t really think about when you say “Let’s climb Mt. Fuji!” There’s only one way down and it involves another four hours of climbing. “It’s all downhill,” you tell yourself. But the ash on the descent path is thick and filled with round rocks that are perfect for tripping over. I only fell once on the way down and used my ninja-like agility to get back up quickly.
The reason you try to reach the summit around 5 a.m. is to view the sunrise. With the rain and fog set in so thick, we didn’t expect to see anything. But, a little after 5 a.m., something happened. The rain stopped. A hint of orange started to fight its way through the gray clouds. Finally, the clouds succumbed to the sun… magical!
Watching the sunrise from above the clouds
From this elevation, you’re actually above the clouds. The sun rises at eye-level and it is magnificent. With nothing between you and the sun but a horizon of clouds, it’s as close to Heaven-on-Earth as you may ever find.
A full rainbow stretched out across the sky on our descent down Fuji
Not long after the sunrise, we came around a corner to find another side benefit of that horrible rain. A full rainbow curved across the sky, settling into the ground just feet from us. However, our pot of gold was still a few hours away.
At the beginning and at the end… I think we look a lot better than we felt at the end of the climb!
A little after 9 a.m., we reached the 5th Station. The grueling terrain on the way back still aching in our legs, we were sure glad to be at the finish line. 22 hours, 9,600 feet of elevation traversed and one experience of a lifetime!
Tips for next time
I don’t know if we’ll be the fools who climb Fuji twice, but if anyone out there is thinking about it, here’s a couple lessons learned:
Take the tour. Definitely spring for the tour company (we used Willer Express and would recommend them again) and take them up on their entire rental package. The rain gear was money well spent, but a headlamp and waterproof backpack with cover would have been a great addition. They also handle the hut reservations and dinner/breakfast. Plus, most companies (ours included) take you to an onsen afterwards. There’s nothing better than a soak in the tub after that hike!
Prepare for the rain and cold. I had a base layer, cotton shirt, DriFit pullover, fleece jacket and rain jacket and my teeth were still chattering at the summit. Bring lots of layers as the temperature difference between the 5th Station and the summit is pretty extreme. Make sure to have waterproof boots and waterproof gloves as well. My gloves were soaked and freezing. My two layers of socks were the only thing that kept my toes from freezing off.
Stash a full set of dry clothes at the 5th Station. There are coin lockers at the 5th Station. I wish I’d stashed a complete set of dry clothes, including shoes, in one of those lockers. While the onsen was great, it was awful having to put wet clothes on afterward.
Check the calendar. The climbing season for Mt. Fuji is pretty short. If you’re planning to climb Fuji, make sure to schedule your trip between early July and mid-September. Trails and huts are closed the rest of the year.
I recently started reading a book called The Japanese Have a Word for It. Among other things, it discusses the loaded words of the Japanese language. While there are plenty of one-to-one relationships between Japanese and English (i.e. inu = dog), there are plenty of words that don’t translate cleanly. These words represent complete ideas or cultural nuances that go beyond a simple translation.
For example, the word shoganai is an important descriptor for Japanese culture. In American English, it might translate to “there’s nothing we can do about it, so why worry about it?” but it’s a phrase that defines Japan and its people. The trait helped the country bounce back after World War II and, more recently, the 2011 earthquake and tsunami. It’s also perceived as a weakness by many foreigners as an excuse for people who let life steamroll them, although I know I use the phrase “it is what it is” pretty regularly when things are beyond my control.
The book leads off with a brief history of the Japanese language as a “secret code.” The book claims the complexities were intentional as a way to keep foreign influence at arm’s length. As a result, there’s a cultural belief that the language is so difficult to learn that foreigners would never be able to pick it up. It probably contributes to many of the stereotypes foreigners face here, even those who speak fluent Japanese (the following video is short and hilarious).
So, to veer completely off that topic, the book’s introduction made me think about how difficult it must have been to be a foreigner in Japan before translation dictionaries or the internet. I spend a couple hours most days following internet rabbit holes to figure out how to say things, identify odd-looking groceries or translate the important-looking document that arrived in the mail.
We’re also able to stay plugged in to interests and events from home in a way that we couldn’t have imagined 50 or 100 years ago. When our brains reach Japanese overload (which happens frequently), we can flip on the Apple TV and watch our favorite shows on Netflix or stream the latest episode of The Daily Show on our laptops. I was able to watch the Portland Trail Blazers 2014 playoff run as it happened and caught a bunch of Chicago Cubs games this year.
I even have the audacity to be upset when the 1080p video internet streaming of a real-time sporting event from the other side of the globe has the nerve to pause for 5 seconds to buffer. Oh well… shoganai!
Some of that complexity still gets me on a daily basis though. The difference between kirei and kirai is a subtle “key-ray” vs “key-rye,” but the former means “beautiful” while the latter means “to hate.” Kawaii and kowai are really close (“ka-why-e” vs “ko-why”, but the first means “cute” while the other means “scary.”
Anyway… excuse the rambling nature of this post. It all made sense in my head!
For the last week, there’s been a sweet smell in the air reminiscent of apricots. Are there fruit trees in bloom? Is there some sort of autumn perfume that everyone is wearing?
Turns out, the smell comes from the blossoms of the kinmokusei, or the gold osmanthus. The bright orange flowers and their glorious scent mark the unofficial beginning of fall in Japan.
The blossoms of the kinmokusei. We’ve passed this ordinary green shrub a hundred times, but only now is it demanding attention
The flower is used in various fragrances, including deodorizers and perfumes. They’re so prevalent in our neighborhood that you rarely turn a corner without encountering the olfactory candy known as kinmokusei.
