May 31, 2008

Tokyo (JAPAN)

Soccer practice was scheduled at 10:00 a.m. this morning, and despite heavy rainfall, it is never cancelled. So, after eating a king's breakfast with Kumagai-san, I rode the trains to Ookayama campus to meet the TAIKAI soccer team (サッカー大会). Practice was somewhat light today since there is an important match tomorrow, but that didn't make it any more enjoyable with the chilly weather and wet playing conditions. I have yet to hear a single person complain in Japan (seriously!), so I went with the flow and がんばってed all the while. GANBATTE is a Japanese word meaning "work hard," but it carries a lot more weight than the English equivalent, so I have adopted it into my English vocabulary (hence the use of the "-ed" ending). Actually, がんばって is very similar to the Chinese JIA YOU (加油) meaning "add oil."

Rather than returning home after practice, I showered and changed into a fresh pair of clothes so I could work at the laboratory. First on the agenda was helping another graduate student, Robert Kloepper (Germany), put the final grammatical touches on his conference paper in preparation for a trip to Belgium. He is one of the most brilliant engineering students I have ever met (which is saying something because I have all six continents and most of the major universities covered). I was hardly surprised at the complexity of his findings, which are related to bettering a specific technique for modeling dynamic systems.

Afterward, I did some more work with my MATLAB programs, inching ever-closer to producing presentable results. I won't talk much about this process until it is completed because it hardly interests me, so there is ZERO chance anyone else cares.

What was interesting was when, at 2:30 p.m., Okuma-sensei ("sensei" means professor, and Okuma means "big bear") called us into his office and served freshly ground Japanese coffee. His "door is always open," so to speak, but today there was real purpose behind his joviality as he was being featured on Japan's national broadcasting network, NHK. Six of us sat at a table in his office watching a 60" jumbo-sized plasma television while he was featured on a discussion panel for improving the safety for mother's transporting children on bicycles.

Using simple demonstrations that everyone could understand, such as a spinning top (emphasizing the gyroscopic effect), he answered questions about the inherent dangers for small children mounted on bicycles. His "expert opinions" were supplemented by government facts, testing of prototype designs for new bicycles, and the obligatory movie actress/mother offering her input to the discussion. I could not keep up with much of what was being said (it was all in Japanese), but one thing I did catch were the ridiculous striped-socks Okuma-sensei was wearing! I pointed them out to everyone, and we all broke out laughing because it was all we noticed afterward. Fortunately, my professor does not wear his pride on his sleeve. (He later confessed that many people called him and sent him emails about the very same thing, so it was good that I prepared him for the playful abuse.)

I hung around the laboratory until 5:30 p.m., transitioning my efforts from research to studying Japanese. However, I had a dinner engagement with Fumiko Shogase, a Japanese girl who studies at Haverford University in Pennsylvania, and we met at Gotanda Station (五反田駅) at 6:30 p.m. She only recently returned to Tokyo, so knowing she would be craving Japanese food I took her to a great OKONOMIYAKI (お好み焼き) restaurant introduced to me by Takumi Kumagai. Okonomiyaki, which is a kind of Japanese pancake, wasn't the only specialty dish on the menu: it shares the spotlight with MONJAYAKI (もんじゃ焼き), a concoction that bears a startling resemblance to vomit (see below).

All of the food mentioned above is cooked on the pan in the middle of the table, although the proprietor of the restaurant frequently comes around to make sure everything is cooking properly. I have tried chatting with her on numerous occasions, but her Japanese is always in rapid-fire mode. The conversational sequences go something like this:

I say something... She replies with no fewer than 100 words per breath... I scratch my head, hopelessly trying to figure out what she just said. Eventually, I say something like, "One more time, but slowly please"... She pays no mind, and repeats herself equally as fast... I smile... She smiles... (Awkward silence)... She checks on the food, and then walks away to spare me further embarrassment... Writing this makes me wonder why I like the restaurant, and the unaccommodating woman, so much.

After dinner, I walked Fumiko back to Shinagawa Station so she could catch her train home. The story of how we came to know each other is actually somewhat interesting: we met while traveling in China nearly one year ago. I had recently finished my research work for the National Science Foundation and was backpacking overland from Beijing to Singapore. Fumiko had taken part in a summer volunteer program for China's under-privileged youth, and was doing some touring before heading back to the United States. Being a lone traveler, I naturally hooked up with the group of 10 or so Americans for a night out in the backpacker's haven of Yangshuo. My old travelogue from the day can be accessed here, and a blurred picture of Fumiko can be seen in the last picture on the page. However, since that picture is so obviously useless, I will ask her permission to steal one from Facebook.

Afterward, it was back to the house where Kumagai-sensei, my KYOIKU MAMA (教育ママ, or study-minded mother), took over my Japanese lessons. It is in such ways that my collection of TANGO CHOU (単語帳, or vocabulary flash cards) now number in the quadruple digits!

May 28, 2008

Tokyo (JAPAN)

Personally, I am convinced...

Check out another example here.

May 27, 2008

Tokyo (JAPAN)

Tuesdays are seminar days in my laboratory. The lab seminar is a weekly event whereby my lab's 15 Japanese graduate students (including one German and one Iranian), the laboratory professors, and I pile into a conference room while research papers are presented. Although the research journals being cited are always written in English, the presentations still proceed in Japanese, which detracts from my getting much out of them. Unless I find a particular subject interesting, which is usually only 25% of the time, I take out my Japanese flash cards and quietly "better myself."

Laughs inevitably arise as other Japanese students take hold of my cards to see what kind of words I am learning. (I am probably not the only one fending off boredom during these 2-3 hour seminars.) Today's highlight was the Japanese word, BUNBURYOUDOU (文武両道), which translates as something like the "sporting and academic way" - basically someone who is entirely focused on studying and taking part in physical activities. I use the word to describe my Tokyo Tech soccer teammates, whose lives revolve around their academic studies and our soccer team. (Being the arrogant American that I am, I also like to include myself in that category, but I doubt I am fooling anyone!)

After the seminar finished, I went back to work on my research project. I have accumulated enough data to swamp the super-computers of Langley, and I am currently in the process of manipulating the numbers with MATLAB. Fortunately, my professor and I get along well and he frequently checks on me so that I do not get snagged by anything.

At 16:00 I got dressed out for soccer practice and ran over to the athletics field. As a team, we spent 20 minutes raking the ground so that it would be playable after last Sunday's mudfest. This was a grueling process that felt like forced labor, but nobody complains in Japan, and neither did I. Practice then went on for a 2.5 hour stretch, but stringing passes together was impossible because of the uneven ground - it's path was as unpredictable as a ball rolling down stairs. Instead, we played games where the ball needed to be juggled. For example, we had one drill where it was 6v3, starting at the half-way line, and we had to score without letting the ball touch the ground. After practice ended, we had an obligatory 30 minute muscle-training session that inevitably leaves me sore for a couple days.

After our final team-meeting, I ran back to the locker room to get changed and clean myself as best I could. I had plans to meet Eric, whose family are visiting from Hong Kong and invited me out to dinner, at Shinjuku's New South Exit at 20:00. I squeezed a soapy gel onto a rag and scrubbed my body in record time before dashing to the Ookayama train station. I used my mobile phone to access Jorudan's website, where I figured out the timing of my transfers, and sent Eric a text that I would be 15 minutes late.

We had dinner at a classy TONKATSU (とんかつ) restaurant that served Japanese-styled fried pork, shredded lettuce, pickled vegetables, a variant of miso soup, and unique GOHAN (ご飯). The prices on the menu dictated the kind of clientele dining here, so I felt somewhat bad about being dressed in jeans, sneakers, and bearing a backpack. However, I am a student, so it doesn't really matter.

After Eric's father bought us all dinner, we posed for a picture together near the lobby of the building. Several of my friends went out for Krispy Kreme donuts afterward, but I was still in need of a shower and a rest after a long day.

May 26, 2008

Tokyo (JAPAN)

Immediately following World War II, Japan was a defeated country - in economic, political, and even social terms. Most westerners overlook the fact that Japan first occupied Manchuria in 1931, meaning that they were "at war" for twice as long as Germany. As such, this island-nation was in "war-mode" for such a long time that the generation behind the bubble-economy of the 1960s and 1970s grew up knowing what hunger pains feel like. But all of that was soon to change...

With the help of the United States, who were intent to fend of the threat of the Soviet Union, Japan built the world's second largest economy over the next 40 years. I mention the United States not to direct credit in their direction, but rather to emphasize that they "stopped the rot" so Japan could begin building from scratch (which is essentially what was needed). In truth, it was the widely-heralded Japanese work ethic, entrepreneurial ambition, and a high level of education that was behind the 10% annual GDP growth over a 40 year period. The original "Asian Tiger" was made up of exactly that - a generation of hungry, Japanese economic tigers whose lives were devoted to economic endeavor. Without going into too much detail, life revolved around the workplace, and a tremendous amount of stress naturally went along with the newfound success.

Looking back, it is not surprising that an influx of spare cash, a history of want, and a life that revolves around business led to a culture of excess. The only uncertainty was how that excess would manifest itself, and the answer came in the form of business drinking parties, or NOMIKAI (飲み会). A NOMIKAI is the standard means by which people get together, and it is typically done at a kind of Japanese drinking establishment called an IZAKAYA (居酒屋). What makes Japan unique is that businesses encourage, and even arrange for their employees to engage in such an activity - often on weekday nights. Further, it is socially unacceptable if someone does not get drunk because it makes them appear as though they do not wish to open up with everyone: a good night of drinking may lead to vomiting or passing out, but this is still better than going home sober.

To better understand why drinking became (and remains) the outlet for Japan's workaholics, it is important to understand a few important ideas. Firstly, Japanese culture is very much inward-looking; a famous axiom is that "the nail that sticks out gets hammered." Such a culture naturally breeds a shy mentality (shy carries a slightly misleading connotation, but I cannot think of a better English word) whereby people do not easily come out of their shell. Obviously, alcohol has the power to change that. Secondly, for nearly all Japanese businessmen (and certainly the successful ones), life revolves around the office. Even today, men often spend more time with their co-workers than they do with their own families. At the same time, these SALARYMEN often know very little about their co-workers. Again, alcohol has the power to change that by "loosening the tongue."  Lastly, Japanese culture, much like most of Asian culture, places tremendous importance on relationships and trusting those with whom you do business. While a Western country like the United States or Germany prefers to develop such relationships through sports or family outings, the culture is different in Japan (and indeed most of Asia) - the family is a private entity that is kept separate from work while sports are an imported concept. The only real "activity" that existed was karaoke, which is why it is so popular in Asian countries. However, karaoke is no more than a means of supplementing the act of drinking.

In modern Japan, drinking habits are slowly changing. No longer can companies afford to pay for costly nights out that yield less-than-tangible benefits. However, drinking is still the primary means by which Japanese workers interact. On any night of the week late night trains in Tokyo will have red-faced men in business suits on their way home after a 10-12 hour workday followed by a night of drinking with colleagues. Unlike most other countries, drunk Japanese (generally) do not disturb the peace or make a nuisance of themselves. Drunken aggression or drunk-driving, while they probably exist, are an exception to the norm: the worst that will happen is vomiting at the station or passing out in a park. Thus, drinking does not carry any of the negative societal stigmas found in other countries.

The real danger lies in alcohol's detrimental effects on health, both physically and mentally. Internal bodily organs take a severe beating when forced to deal with copious amounts of alcohol, and heavy workloads leave little time for engaging in athletic activities. When further coupled with greasy foods and smoking cigarettes, it is easy for an otherwise healthy person to quickly lose control. The same holds true with one's mental well-being: working in Japan is stressful enough without adding sleep-deprivation into the equation. For these reasons, the culture of drinking is slowly evolving into one that is less-engulfing than what existed 20 years ago.

Next time you are in Japan (for business or otherwise), and someone proposes getting together for drinks, 今度一緒に飲みましょうか, recognize that it is not only an integral part of the culture - one where you will likely become closer than would otherwise be possible - but it is also a lot of fun. Trust me.

May 25, 2008

Tokyo (JAPAN)

It has been raining for the past 16 hours in Tokyo, and it is not even monsoon season yet. What is most worrying about all the rain is how hot and humid it makes the air. I mention this because I woke up at 4:30 am this morning, and was unable to return to sleep. The only logical conclusion I can draw is that the heat was getting to me - the windows in my upstairs bedroom were all open (and screened to keep out the rain) but it was obviously not helping.

By the time I was dressed and went downstairs to make a cup of coffee, Kumagai-san was already working away at her computer - further demonstration, as if any was needed, that she is either the healthiest person on the planet or a cleverly disguised machine. At the kitchen table, I worked on homework and updating the webpage while she continued organizing a trip to Kyushu next month. She also looked into an opportunity to watch kabuki (a form of traditional Japanese theater) next Sunday, which looks like it will go through. I will write more about this as Sunday approaches.

For breakfast, we had white rice, miso soup with diced tofu and celery, cucumbers with sesame seeds sprinkled on top, natto (fermented soy beans), dried fish, a kind of barbequed beef, and a mixed pot of chicken, carrots, mushrooms and baby bamboo shoots. I had more liberty to "dig in" this morning because I would not be playing in this afternoon's soccer match at Ookayama. After eating, we discussed our plans for the day, and then I took a short nap before leaving for the game.

I knew the rain would have an awful effect on the university soccer field, which is all dirt. (Japanese grass is nowhere near as strong as western grass, probably because Japan was formed as a series of volcanic islands.) Although many schools have invested in artificial grass, Tokyo Tech invests its money on research endeavors, not sporting ones.

The field's condition was made even worse by the (American) football team: their early morning practice turned half the field into a mud pit with standing puddles of water and sludge that was four inches deep. They raked the field and apologized for what they did, but I still wanted to fling mud in each of their lockers as a kind of childish retribution.

The match kicked off at around 1:00 in the afternoon, and although half the field was literally unplayable we still took a 3-0 lead into half-time. I could not hang around for the whole match because I had several obligations to attend to, including a small get-together with several of Kumagai-san's friends back at the house. I said goodbye to everyone and carefully tip-toed my way out of the mess - spending 10 minutes afterward to clean off my shoes before riding any of Tokyo's metro lines.

Back at the house, I showered and changed into fresh clothes before joining Kumagai-san and several of her friends for tea and cookies. The other three women are all doukis, meaning they entered a company (in this case Sony) in the same year. Although Kumagai-san is the only one still working for Sony, they remain close ties and frequently get together. Of the 20 or so woman who entered Sony in the same year (30+ years ago!!), a dozen of them met for lunch earlier today - an indication of its significance in Japanese culture.

I could not hang around for long because I was meeting four classmates at Shibuya to "gather material" for a presentation we are making on Japanese culture. The topic is The Role of Alcohol in Japan, so what better way to explore this theme than to go drinking - Japanese style.

Along with Yuu-san (Japanese), Masahiro-san (Japanese), Chin (Thai), and Kenny (Singapore), we started off at a cheap bar near the hachiko exit. The name of the place was something like Pub America, but the interior was unlike anything I have ever seen in the United States. The important thing is that the drinks were dirt cheap from 5:00-7:00 pm - only 240 yen for a draft beer! We stayed here for a couple of hours, after which time we were forced to leave. The place is able to keep prices so low because they have such a high turn-over rate - customers buy a lot initially (food and drinks) and are then made to leave when their pace slows down. This concept is actually fairly brilliant because the location ensures they will always have a packed house.

At this point we decided to keep going by searching out a Japanese-styled drinking bar called an izakaya. There are scores of young men soliciting people with izakaya bargains, and we ended up finding a deal offering all-you-can-drink liquor for two hours. Whereas everyone was drinking beer at Pub America, for the rest of the night I ran the gauntlet of Japanese drinks: cold nihonshu, shouchu on the rocks, chuhai, Japanese whiskey, umeshu, and so on... Everyone was becoming very drunk by this point in the night, but in fairness the conversation stayed on topic throughout the night.

I have subsequently written a brief introduction into the role of Alcohol in Japan.

As is the tradition on Saturday mornings, I was up at around 7:00 am to chat and eat a king's breakfast with Kumagai-san. Despite warning her that I had practice at 10:00, and so could not eat much beforehand, no stops were spared when Kumagai-san prepared seven dishes for me. The real problem is that Japanese food is too tasty to turn down, and it is no exaggeration to say that she prepares some of the best varieties found anywhere in the capital city.

After a 10 minute walk to Gotanda Station and a 20 minute train ride to Ookayama - time that was spent studying my Japanese flash cards - I arrived at the Tokyo Tech soccer pitch 10 minutes before practice started. I quickly changed into my studs and joined the team for the opening kaigou (team meeting). Ogata-san, the team captain, briefed everyone on the upcoming practice and we set off warming up. This was followed by the standard stretching session, in which everyone pairs up and stretches with their partner's help (in unison with the team). Since we have a match tomorrow afternoon, practice was shortened to only two hours today. In truth, this was a welcomed-relief from the severe heat that has recently engulfed Tokyo. I am afraid that as the days tick by, and summer inches ever-closer, the heat will become an even greater problem.

Once practice ended, we raked the field and sat around chatting for an hour. I was invited by Hibino-san (a vice-captain) to join Kono-san and Ogata-san (vice-captain and captain, respectively) on a trip to an onsen (natural hot bath) on Monday. Hibino-san will be driving us two hours outside Tokyo to a place in Yamanashi Prefecture, so it should be an interesting experience. More importantly, it further signifies the progress I have made with the team that I have been invited by the top three players to join them on a non-soccer-related event. No longer are they just teammates, they are becoming true friends.

Upon arriving back at the house in kita-Shinagawa, I drank a couple bowls of miso soup to replenish my liquids and finalized my plans for the evening with Kumagai-san. We agreed on a walking tour of old-Shinagawa that would include: purchasing an outfit for an upcoming omatsuri (お祭り, or a Japanese festival) and visiting a place I found along the Tokyo docks with an amazing harbor view.

As for the omatsuri, Kumagai-san generously bought me a traditional outfit to wear so that I would fully look the part on the weekend of the festival. I will write more about all of this as the festival approaches (June 7-8). I was fitted out along the old-Shinagawa shopping street, which looks like it has not chained one iota since the 1950s (despite the upscale modernization engulfing it on all sides). Coincidentally, we also ran into Ichikawa-san, who is in charge of organizing the omatsuri and earlier agreed to take me under his wing for the event. He is a friendly and highly successful Japanese man in his 40's who speaks great English, so I am sure I will learn much from him during the event.

From the old-Shinagawa district we had a further 30 minute walk through the Tokyo harbor area. There were massive storage containers everywhere, and even larger machines used for lifting the freight onto ocean liners. As a result of my marathon-training and a general tendency to explore the city, I have become somewhat of an expert on the lay-out of Tokyo. In the process, I discovered a cargo-entrance gate that is not guarded by officers, and so can be entered stealthily. I felt bad about putting Kumagai-san through this because she is less-inclined to "bend the rules", so I first approached a nearby gatehouse to ask the guards if, "We can please have a look at the harbor scenery?" Naturally, their response was, "No, it that is not allowed. This area is off-limits" (plus another sentence that I did not understand, but Kumagai-san was keeping her distance so as not to get caught up in any of this).

I subsequently led the way to the lorry-entrance where we walked past slumbering truck drivers (who probably wouldn't say anything even if they were awake) and reached the waterfront. In front of us was an unadulterated view of Tokyo harbor from front row seats. Below are a couple of pictures... In the one to the left, the famous man-made island of Odaiba (お台場) can be seen, including the globe-like Fuji TV headquarters building. In the picture to the right, northern Tokyo is visible in the distance, along with the "rainbow bridge" stretching across the harbor.

As is evident from the storm-clouds in the pictures above, rain soon started to fall, and out came our umbrellas. To this day, I have yet to figure out how the Japanese people always seem to have an umbrella when it is raining, but somehow they do. The smart-asses out there will say they check the weather before going out, but doing so every day when the Tokyo weather is undeniably unpredictable defies my understanding. At least I have finally started getting the hang of it (after purchasing six umbrellas since my arrival - and losing all but two).

On the walk back, we decided to stop at the T.Y. Harbor Brewing Company, which is a local brewery/restaurant serving a high-end clientele in the chic Tenozu area.

Rather than having a full meal here, we sat in the bar area for about an hour sampling the different beer on tap and eating a toscano-styled olive pizza. Besides the great beer and food, I had a great time observing the many customers who came through the doors. Nearly everyone was dressed in the newest fashions, barring a handful of people (ourselves included) who live in the area and were just stopping in for a quick drink.

We decided against eating dinner at the brewery as it would be more interesting to try someplace new. Despite the rain, we walked back toward the old Shinagawa district where Kumagai-san wanted to try an interesting izakaya. The place specializes in the three main forms of Japanese osake ( お酒 or alcohol): nihonshu (日本酒, rice wine), shochu (焼酎, alcohol distilled from potatoes), and umeshu (梅酒, alcohol made from Japanese peaches).

I tried the taster set shown to the left, which included different brands of umeshu served in a variety of styles, such as with honey or mixed with a citrus fruit. All were equally delicious and smooth, which is a trademark of the alcohol (typically with an alcoholic content of 15-18%).

I had a bit of grilled seafood to go along with the umeshu. A large pot, filled with coals and used for grilling the food, was placed in the middle of the table. I sampled several different shellfish, which can be seen in the picture to the right, along with small fish that measure 5-7 centimeters in length. These are a typical izakaya snack, and are basically grilled and then eaten whole - the bones are small enough to chew without causing any harm.

After dinner, it was a short walk back to the house where I picked up my Japanese language books to fit in a bit more studying for the day. I am not sure how productive I was after all the beer and umeshu, but it never hurts to try.

Normally, I possess an uncanny ability to wake up without an alarm. However, given that I have only accumulated 4 hours of sleep over the past two nights, I decided to rely on something more reliable: an alarm (although the one-touch snooze option is a devilish invention). Besides, getting up at 4:30 am is probably pushing my waking ability a little too far – surely there is an ingrained inclination against such foolishness. (As a matter of fact, Kumagai-san overslept this morning, so it was a good thing I did rely on my alarm).

We left the house at 5:20 am, but since it was early on a Sunday morning we could not hail down any taxis. Instead, reached Shinagawa Station the old-fashioned way, via a 15 minute walk. This walk may have been our undoing as we ended up missing our Shinkansen train from Tokyo Station at 6:02 am. While Kumagai-san was her usual productive self, buying coffee and several bento boxes for breakfast on the train, I was far more useless as I used the hour-long wait to catch up on much-needed sleep in the lobby.

We boarded the Shinkansen at around 7:30 am, sitting in the unreserved section having missed our earlier train, but it didn't actually make any difference because there were plenty of open seats on the train. I ordered a cup of green tea from the train steward and settled in to eat my bento breakfast: white rice topped with ground beef in one wooden bento box, and a variety of vegetables, tempura, and salmon in the other wooden bento box. Although I also brought along my Japanese flash cards to study, the food put me right to sleep. The next thing I knew, we were pulling into Ichinoseki Station for a quick transfer to Mizusawa Station in northern Honshu (roughly 450 km from Tokyo) at around 10:00 am.

Kumagai-san and I caught a taxi to her mother-in-law's house in this quiet Japanese city - far removed from the hustle and bustle of Tokyo. The home was a traditional styled Japanese house built (like many homes) during the bubble economy of the 1970s. I was introduced to half a dozen of Kumagai-san's relatives, and spent much of the time looking through a variety of interesting photo albums. When everyone arrived at the house, we climbed into cars and drove to the Kumagai family graveyard (Kumagai-san's husband).

According to Japanese customs, there are certain ceremonies that are to be performed to mark the anniversary of someone's death - and this is the one-year anniversary of Takuya Kumagai's passing. Two weekend's ago, we visited a temple in Kujukuri to collect otouba (shown to the right), and today I observed the custom of planting them at the grave. After Kumagai-san planted the otouba, family members paid their respects by, in turn, laying down incense sticks and bowing their heads in prayer. They also planted new flowers, trimmed the hedges of several bushes, and passed out a mochi treats at the end.

As we left the graveyard, which is old and intimate, we passed an interesting collection of 'nameless' tombstones that were accumulated in a pyramidal fashion. Given the age of the tombstones, the names engraved on them are no longer recognizable and so are not looked after by family members. Rather than leaving such tombstones alone for all eternity, they were gathered by the local community in such a fashion so that people may pay their respects to all at the same time. The closest analogy I can think of is America's own Tomb of the Unknown Solder in Washington D.C.

We next headed into the city where we had a room reserved at a classy, traditional-styled Japanese restaurant. I always find it interesting that many restaurants in Japan occupy several stories - a result of having private rooms as opposed to open dining areas - and so it is common to take an elevator (even if it is only to reach the second floor). Today was no different, and upon reaching the second floor we were greeted by the waiting staff in another small lobby area. Everyone removed their shoes and placed them in the wooden foot locker along the wall before heading back to the private room. Already laid out on the table was a delicious-looking feast of Japanese food: sushi, sashimi, raw beef, small snacks, a seaweed concoction, vegetables, and other specialty dishes were later brought out as the meal progressed. Of course, there were also drinks available: along with beer, I tried umeshu (Japanese plum wine) for the first time, which is a sweet-tasting alcohol that has a 10-15% alcohol content (making it a dangerous drink because the alcohol is well masked).

Below are several photos of the meal before I started eating. The commendable Japanese practice of kaiseki, which is where the art of the presentation is equally as important as the taste, could be seen from the food's layout.

The conversation at the table was all in Japanese, so I had a difficult time keeping up with everything. I felt better knowing that even Kumagai-san had to pay close attention as there is a thick local dialect far removed from that of Tokyo. Given the age of everyone present, there were plenty of interesting stories floating around, including several stories from World War II. Both elderly men shown in the picture above fought in World War II, and although neither wanted to relive the graphic and horrific memories, they still feel very strongly about everything that happened.

For example, part of the conversation dealt with the North Korean abductions of Japanese citizens, a practice that reached its peak between 1977-1983 when 70-80 Japanese were taken by North Korean agents. Many Japanese understandably detest this practice, including North Korea's subsequent denials for all but 16 people, but the men explained that these are nothing compared to the atrocities committed by Japan's occupying forces ("one millionth", according to the men). As teachers and men of learning, they understand much of the intense hatred felt by countries such as Korea and China, which is something most westerners are completely oblivious to (for most, the "Rape of Nanking" is nothing more than a statistical instance of war-time abuse). If I had a more dominant command of the Japanese language there are a whole host of topics I would have raised, but I also figured this was neither the time nor the place to discuss such things.

After we finished eating, we were dropped off at the Mizusawa local train station. On our way back to Tokyo, Kumagai-san and I were planning to visit several famous Japanese cultural sights, including a UNESCO World Heritage sight, located in a nearby city.

We sat around chatting at the station for about 30 minutes while we waited for the next train. It is worth commenting that this was easily the most desolate train station I have ever seen: it looks like something from mid-western America 50 years ago. One can easily imagine how out-of-place we must have looked: not only am I a foreigner, but we were both dressed formally in a town that currently has no use for サラリーマン (Japanese salayman).

The train station was indicative of the city itself, which resembled something of a ghost town. Indeed, many second-tier Japanese cities are experiencing a similar fate as younger generations move to the big cities like Tokyo, Osaka, and Kyoto. Indeed, while Japan itself has a negative growth rate, Tokyo has a growing population (compounding the exodus).

Funnily enough, I joked that despite the long station (shown above), the train would probably end up being only two train-cars long. Sure enough, it was two train cars long. I have truly become a product of big cities.

We alighted at Hiraizuma station, which has a population of only 8,000 people, but which once boasted grandeur that rivaled that found in Kyoto. For three generations during the 11 and 12th Centuries, the Fujiwara family dominated the region. Using the local gold mines as the basis of their power, they sought to create a "paradise on earth" that was devoted to the principles of Buddhist thought. Artisans were brought from all over Japan, including from the rival city of Kyoto, to construct magnificent temples and palaces. At one point during the afternoon, when we were overlooking the area from a hill, we overheard a tour guide commenting that the region had a population of over one million people in the 11th Century! It was hard to believe now when there are only rice fields stretching to the horizon.

We grabbed a map from an information booth near the train station and walked 700 meters down the main road of town to Motsu-Ji (毛越寺). Such was the level of activity that were it not for the cultural sights this town would probably not exist.

Originally built in 850, Motsu-ji was once Tohoku's largest temple complex, however most of the buildings were destroyed when the Fujiwara family was conquered. What remains is a large pond with an enchanting walk along the perimeter, and plenty of beautiful gardens recalling Japan's Heian Era.

The pictures below were taken from Motsu-ji: the picture to the left shows one of my favorite trees in Japan because of the layers of leaves, and the picture to the right is looking out over the complex.

We next caught a designated bus shuttling tourists to Chuson-Ji (中尊寺). It was 3:30 pm when we arrived, and my energy was dangerously low. I bought 300 yen ice-cream to try and bolster my spirits, which certainly helped, but afterward we were faced with a tough 300 meter climb along a peaceful tree-lined path. Fortunately, the views were amazing (*cue comment from the tour guide I wrote about above*).

Chuson-Ji was first established in 850, but it was in the 12th Century that the complex rapidly expanded under the Fujiwara family's influence. Over 300 buildings, including 40 temples, were constructed, but far less remain today because of various natural disasters.

We passed a variety of well-preserved temples, but the highlight of the complex was easily the Golden Hall, or Konjiki-do (金色堂). The hall contains amazing gold detailing, black laquerwork, and mother-of-pearl inlays. There were also three wood-carved Buddhas, each measuring several meters in height. This was followed by a museum-like area that contained old Fujiwara family treasures, including such things as sutras, swords, scrolls, paintings, lacquerware, and so on...

As may be obvious, by this point in the day I was absorbing very little. We completed the walking tour of the complex relatively quickly, and by 5:45 pm we were walking back down the steep path. We caught a taxi back to the train station, where we had a 20 minute wait until the next local train came along. Waiting 20 minutes for a train is something that is absolutely unheard of in Tokyo - I normally get annoyed if there is any more than a four minute wait.

However, there was a much-welcomed 25 minute wait for the next Tokyo-bound Shinkansen train once we reached Ichinoseki. We decided to use the time to search out a local ramen restaurant that was recommended by the staff around the station. Time does not seem to carry much importance in this part of Japan (again, the polar opposite of Tokyo) as we had a 10 minute wait for our ramen noodles to be served. It sounds ridiculous, but neither of us could believe how long it was taking. In the end, we had exactly eight minutes to eat our steaming bowls of noodles before we had to race back to the train station to catch the Shinkansen. We arrived with less than one minute to spare, and after finding seats (accidentally in the reserved section), both of us passed out until we arrived at Tokyo station 135 minutes later.

I finally arrived back at the house in Kita-Shinagawa at 10:00 pm, making this one of the busiest weekends in a long while. But without question, it was worth every second of it.