Japan was uneasy on Thursday morning as the tsunami created by the Chilean earthquake caused ocean tide levels to surge as much as a foot along the eastern coast.
The news coverage isn’t propelled by the need to fill 24 hours of “news” as it is in the US. NHK’s dedicated news channel updated the tide tables every 10 minutes or so, but the other channels continued with regular programming.
NHK’s coverage of the Chile tsunami
A map of the areas affected by the alert overlaid the screen on every channel. Since we’re located inland, there’s not a palpable sense of panic or concern in Kawagoe.
We have two stations within walking distance of our apartment. Kasumigaseki Station is about 5 minutes from the university so about 20-25 minutes from our apartment. Matoba Station is about 10 minutes from our apartment Both lines meet at Kawagoe Station which is the hub for Kawagoe. It’s less than 10 minutes from either station to Kawagoe Station.
Some trains are express, some are rapid… you have to look at the schedule to figure out that an express train skips some smaller stations and a rapid train skips some of the bigger stops. I got on one the other day that skipped my stop, but fortunately it stopped just before it, so I was able to get off and wait for the next train.
Usually there’s a place to sit, but sometimes it’s just standing room only. Today was a different story all together. I caught the 8:32 a.m. train to Kawagoe. It was the commuter train. Basically everyone shoves their way in. It was humid and steamy… couldn’t reach any of the bars, so you just plant your feet and lock your core! Fortunately (?) I was by the door, so I was only surrounded by people on three sides.
There’s one stop between Kasumigaseki and Kawagoe. Being by the door was a good lesson… instead of going around you, the mass of people push through you. I ended up out on the platform, stumbling for balance. I’m a pretty sturdy guy, but the mass of humanity moved me like I was on roller skates. You just get back in line with everyone else at the station and get back on the train. It was a good lesson for getting off at Kawagoe Station, where the doors open on the opposite side of the train. I just plowed my way out the door. Paybacks!
I’ve been watching Japan’s high school baseball championship tournament on NHK this past week. NPR just did a story on the American who initially brought baseball to Japan and mentions the championships in the article. Worth a read.
I love baseball. As a kid, I loved playing it, whether organized as part of Little League or with a tennis ball in the street in front of our house. In the US, baseball takes a back seat to football and basketball at the high school and college level. Even Major League Baseball is less popular than the NFL and NBA in many parts of the country.
In Japan, baseball is revered as the king it is. The Japanese professional league captures the heart of the country during baseball season. The country celebrates its stars who have made the jump to MLB. NHK is broadcasting Masahiro Tanaka’s debut with the New York Yankees live at 7:45 a.m. local time on April 5, 2014. I’m sure many around Japan will be watching.
I’d watched a couple games of the high school tournament before I realized what I was watching. The atmosphere is electric, more reminiscent of a soccer match. I’d guess attendance at 15,000-20,000 people. Rhythmic music pumps from the stands, inciting the crowd… as if they need it. The spectators are a nonstop discharge of energy, chanting along to the music, banging together thundersticks and shaking pompoms. Speaking of pompoms, there are honest-to-goodness cheerleaders for each team.
The Risei crowd celebrates a game-tying home run in the 9th inning.
Post-game press conferences rival those of a World Series game. 16-year-old Japanese boys paraded in front of a room of waiting journalists, peppered with questions about their performance. Coaches look less like math teachers doubling as the baseball coach and more like grizzled veterans of the dugout.
On this particular day, the team from Risei is battling the team from Toyokawa. In the bottom of the 8th, Toyokawa explodes for five runs, coming back from a 6-2 deficit to take the lead. In the top of the 9th inning, a Risei batter slugs a solo home run to tie the game at 7-7. The crowd erupts! We’re momentarily reminded that these are kids as they laugh, cheer and slap the back of the hero of the day.
Risei player crosses home plate after tying the game with a solo home run in the 9th inning
Toyokawa melts down in the top of the 10th as walks and errors allow Risei to plate five runs of their own. Risei wins the game 12-7 in 10 innings.
Risei celebrates the game-tying home run
At the end of each game, the players line up across from each other, bow and shake hands. A sign of respect for themselves, their opponent on the day and to the game they love.
The television cameras capture the players from god-like angles, playing up the drama of the game. On this day, they are bigger than life. They are baseball players.
Trust is a tricky thing. It can be earned, lost, regained. But most importantly, it can be given.
In an environment where you can’t read, speak, or understand the language, you find yourself putting a LOT of trust in strangers to guide you in the right direction.
For example, we just purchased a couple pieces of furniture from a great second-hand/factory store called Treasure Factory. Since they were larger pieces, we needed to schedule delivery. We’ve got the purchase thing down pretty well, but delivery was new.
Our new sofa
Most conversations go something like this: We say something in partial Japanese, but mostly English. The clerk replies in mostly Japanese with a couple English words. We all laugh nervously with puzzled looks on our face, but eventually work our way through with a series of wild hand gestures, pointing, and more broken non-native language.
The fine folks at Treasure Factory had the added challenge of explaining a form required for delivery. The clerk had just enough English to explain that there were no returns and that we accepted the items as-is. There was also a mystery box that, after a few minutes of trying to describe its meaning, the clerk suggested “just check.” We agreed that would be the best course of action.
Our new table
This transaction included a wonderful round of Pictionary as the clerk expertly drew, and we successfully guessed, “we agree the delivery person will be able to actually get this massive piece of furniture into your little home.”
We checked that box, not knowing whether or not they’d actually be able to maneuver the furniture up our narrow staircase and right-angled doorway. Watching the delivery guys work was like a life-sized game of Tetris as they twisted, turned, and flipped the furniture into our apartment.
We’ve also accepted the challenge of directions without a smartphone. This usually requires asking strangers on the street where places are located on a zoomed-out printout of a Google map. “Kore wa doko desu ka,” or “where is this?” has become a useful tool in our language toolbox.
On our search for the Kawagoe International Center, the question was met with a response in English! The wicked native tongue never sounds as sweet as when you’re lost. The man was originally from Egypt and spoke English and Japanese equally well. He took a few minutes to actually walk us to our destination and show us a shortcut out of the bustling Kawagoe Station.
The patient and helpful nature of our new neighbors continues to impress me everyday. Whether it’s someone on the street or a fellow shopper at the grocery store, we’ve yet to be brushed off when asking for help and usually it is offered before we have to ask.
Since arriving in Japan, the big topic of conversation has been the tax rate change. As of April 1, 2014, the sales tax rate is increasing from 5 percent to 8 percent. There has been a mad rush to buy goods before the change, especially higher-priced items where the rate has more impact.
NHK’s news had an interesting side story related to the hike. The one yen coin is basically a throwaway here. Most prices are rounded to the nearest tenth, so there isn’t much need for them with a 5 percent tax rate. However, the 8 percent rate increases the need for the coins.
Japan’s one-yen coin supply isn’t sufficient enough to handle the increased demand, so production of the coin has been restarted with new coins being created for the first time in four years. Since the coins are made of aluminum, there’s also an impact on acquisition of raw materials to make the coins.
As a former tax agency employee, I know lawmakers typically don’t think of all the impacts associated with a tax rate change. Apparently it’s a universal issue.
The internet connection hasn’t been set up at our apartment yet, so it’s a constant search for a WiFi connection. While free WiFi is abundant in the states, it’s been hard to come by so far in Kawagoe. There are plenty of paid options, but seriously, who wants to pay for internet access?!
On Tuesday, I found a free trial at the Market Place, a strip mall near our apartment with really nice public spaces. I found a shady spot and started catching up on e-mail, when the local pre-school class surrounded me for storytime.
These little guys climbed on the table right next to me. They talked to me a little bit, which made me feel even worse about my level of Japanese proficiency. But mostly, they listened intently to the story, which contained two chefs consoling a superhero, a box that spit coins on little alien-looking creatures, and some sort of caterpillar, I think.
It must have been a good story because they were pretty excited at the end. In between all of the “so far from home” moments, there’s been a lot of moments like this to remind me that we’re not all that different.
