Dig Deep #9: New Alarm Clock

I had almost wiped them clean from my memory...and was almost fooled by their song, the way a Siren lured the Argonaunts. In screeching unison, their high frequency buzzing led me to believe there was a fire truck down the street, out of view. But, then as I neared their perch, the sound was clearly coming from the trees. I still couldn't catch a glimpse, but I knew exactly what they were. Cicadas. I stopped for a moment to listen to their "song", which was about as melodic as nails grating on a chalkboard. 

They remind me of my childhood in Texas, when I used to collect their dried carcasses and line them up on the windowsill outside my sister's room. Their rust-colored shell even encases their eyes, leaving the skeleton of their oddly outstretched ocular placement. 

Notoriously pestilent although notably popular, cicadas time their chime like clockwork, and in insect alliance, begin singing exactly 20 minutes before I wake up. 

I guess it's better to rely on a natural means of awaking my from slumber albeit to a dissonant sound and symbol of my merry childhood shenanigans. 

The Real Housewives...of Japan

When searching the word "housewife" online, nearly all related articles are about a TV show of some sort. Reality TV or dramatized tramp fest, the term housewife has taken on a whole new 21st century meaning.

In the 1950's, the American housewife was revered as a paradigm of chastity and virtue. A true joy for her husband when he arrived home after a long day of work in need of a cocktail, a foot rub and a hot, home-cooked meal. Everything was on time and with a smile. For a complete guide to The Good Wife's Guide, please read the May 13, 1955 edition of Housekeeping Monthly.

Of course, as soon as women were given the same liberties and opportunities as men in what was once a strictly patriarchal society, this guise of marital perfection folded. The idealistic sense of a housewife, sitting as pretty as strawberry cake on a dessert plate, adorning her home with love and her husband with a seemingly perfect life, became more of a hindrance to a woman's reputation and potential to actually make something of her life that didn't taste like apple pie or smell pine fresh.

Now, we have a media barrage of the modern day housewife plastered all over our TV screens, and nothing about them resembles the former paragon of femininity and wholesome living women once took pride in. Today, housewives in America are seen to be spoiled by their husband's obscenely exorbitant success and don't hold the same values that were once the delectation of a wife's life.
However, since moving to Japan, I have seen the role of a housewife in a completely new light. In fact, I could even venture to say that Japanese housewives have been warped back to 1950's America and instill those wholesome values in their lives to this day.

It is my belief that everyone in Japan does their work with honor and a sense of purpose. From the grocery clerk to the man I see picking up garbage at the park every, single morning (it is still questionable whether or not this is actually his job) to the sweet and mighty housewife.

As a housewife, there is presumed power over the finances and the sex in marriage. The men make the money and then the women distribute an allowance. They decide when sex will be given and they do so sparingly, so as to maintain a delegated puissance in the relationship. But, what makes me respect them more than American housewives, or at least the caricature of what American housewives have become, is that they take care of their families with the same sort of pride we saw in good ol' Betty Homemaker, sans antidepressants and a potential closeted lesbianism to spite their husband's furtive infidelity.

For me, the housewife life will never be. But, I am respectful of those women who do choose this path here in Japan because, like most professions, it's done with diligence and a true sense of function in support of the lives of many children and their husbands, so that they may never be without a bento box for lunch.

The Banana Diet and Other Tales of Folly

Perhaps there is a realm of thought that could be a considered a modern-day wives' tale. Or maybe it's a sort of superstition. And, just maybe, it is the blind leading the blind. 

Either way, I have been informed of various Japanese beliefs in certain concepts that otherwise seem completely inane to me. 

Exhibit A: The Banana Diet. This is a popular "fad" diet that many Japanese believe is an infallible way to lose weight. The concept is simple: Eat only bananas (as many as you like and may be substituted for other fruit) for breakfast accompanied with room-temperature water. Then, per usual, eat lunch and dinner and never think twice about lifting a finger; this diet requires no exercise! Are you there God, it's me, Banana. I saved Japan from metabolic syndrome. 

The diet was designed to be a weight-loss regime that is manageable and easy to incorporate into a busy lifestyle. However, within most trendy diets lies easily recognizable faults. Sure, bananas are loaded with potassium and I would never neglect a fruit because of it's high sugar content. Yet, eating a high-sugar fruit on an empty stomach after not eating for 6-8 hours spikes your blood sugar, so while you're shedding pounds by daylight, you're on a night train express to diabetes or hyperglycemia. 

But, all nutrition facts aside, the fact that a majority of women in Japan were duped to believing this was anything more than just adding some fruit to your diet is what makes me curious. In a country that boasts understanding of nutrition and a healthy lifestyle, wouldn't eating a balanced diet include fruit? I praise the fool who made himself rich off the unyielding desperation of women to try anything that claims will make them thin, and thank him for single-handedly creating a boom in the banana industry worldwide.

Another tale of folly and consequential fodder is about long fingernails. With no scientific or biological evidence (and, I actually had to do a little research on this one), people believe that naturally long fingernails indicates horniness. The longer these extended pieces of tough protein, the more pent up sexual frustration you exude. Also, the rate at which your nails grow supposedly indicates how aggressively lustful you are. 

And now my favorite. I was happy to hear that when my beau arrives, Japanese women will flock to him like bees to honeycomb...all because of his naked noggin. Balding is supposedly a sign that they are excellent physical lovers. His inadvertently tress-less tete precedes him while it screams, "I can rock your world." 

I get a constant sort of bemusement from these far-fetched claims of contemporary society. I'm keeping a journal of them if anyone's interested, but until then, I'll leave the rest to mystery.

This is Ben

This is Ben. 

He thinks my posts are too long and that Men's Warehouse is classy. 

He likes to cook eel and one time he farted in our office and it sounded like a hamster squeaking.

He can probably quote any South Park episode and taught his students how to use the phrase, "Whatcha gonna do?" 

From the mess of foreign males in the country, I feel fortunate to have been paired with him. 

This one's for you, Ben. Short and sweet...if you've made it this far in the post...

yours truly. 

Bridge over Troubled Water

Out of sheer magnanimity and possibly pity for my helpless foreign self, my Japanese teacher offered to take me to Awaji Island. With her strictly Japanese-speaking husband and five year old daughter in tow, she picked me up at nearly the crack of dawn, explaining that she was excited "like child" to take this trip. I'm more than glad for that and willingly complied to the 7:30am meeting time she had prescribed for the start of our island adventure.

There are two (practical) ways to get to Awaji from Akashi. Taco Ferry and the bridge. The Akashi-Kaikyo Bridge is the world's longest suspension bridge that somewhat resembles my beloved Bay Bridge, linking San Francisco to Oakland, California. The bridge spans 3,911 meters/12,831 feet, but when passing over, it didn't feel like the longest bridge in the world. Maybe I have no conception of what that would feel like, but although excited, I didn't get those same feel-good goosebumps I get when crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge, in all is international orange glory. 

There's something exhilarating about crossing a bridge. Looking out across an expansive sea with the feeling like you're this little moving dot in the middle of it all and you have to make it across before you get sucked under. I try and hold my breath over bridges because I was once told it was good luck if you could make it all the way across. I usually give it a shot, but this time the bridges world-record reputation preceded itself and I was defeated before I began.    

Oftentimes in Japan, I am led around blindly by people who actually know what they're doing. In this case, the reason for the early morning was so that we could catch the first boat out. We drove straight through the island to the other end where we boarded what looked like an old pirate ship, replete with rusty masts and anchor.
We rolled out of the dock toward the Shikoku Bridge. Awaji is a small piece of land that connects Honshu and Shikoku. Beneath the bridge are where two water currents meet and clash, like an incompatible married couple arguing on vacation.
The waves attempted to grow, each trying to overpower one another with the momentum of their current, but they were ultimately pulled wayward into an aqueous whirlwind. The energy from the current was caught in what looked like an oversized drain to nowhere. 
And in the meantime, there was water caught between, like the children in the family who have to listen to their parents scream. They don't know where to go or what to do; they haplessly muddle around in their fluidic plight and try to maintain some sort of bearing in this briny mess. 
And like the aftermath of an explosion, the debris implodes and is inhaled. From the safety of the ship, it looked like a spectacular sight of ocean activity and a raw display of the sea's power over man. I clung to my camera with the frightened image of it plunging overboard and engulfed in one of these acrid whirlpools.

This is Emily, my teacher's daughter. She was sass to the max and definitely the boss of the house. Reminded me of, well, me when I was her age. 
After the cruise, we stopped for a footbath. I got shivers when I put my feet in. The warm water raised my bristly, untended leg hair and I felt a tingle up to my head and was immediately relaxed. The water had a creamy consistency, perhaps it had certain minerals mixed. Of course, I would have no way of knowing. But, if this was any indication of the full hot spring treatment, I'm ready for that excursion any day.
We then drove to Keinomatsubara beach, which on a summer Sunday, was packed with campers, grills and inflatable beach toys. A common trend I've noticed at beaches is about 10 meters out in the water, there is a small, floating plastic island where people love to swim to and pack on. I guess being on an actual island isn't fun enough...a cramped bright yellow plastic one is where the real party's at. 
Emily and her pops are playing in the ocean, trying to dismiss any looming threat of kurage (jellyfish) that populate Japanese waters toward the end of July and early August. Even the marine life here lives like clockwork. 

In front of our sand perch where we enjoyed some cold Asahi and tacoyaki, a group of tattooed miscreants buried their drunk friend while he was passed out in the sun. They then proceeded to draw with marker on his face, making this image below. 
Next stop on this magical mystery tour was the aroma factory for the chance to make our own incense. With an old-fashioned pestle and mortar, we mixed a brown-packaged powder that was apparently blue, pink or yellow when a thimble full of water is added. Then, we poured in an aroma of our choosing and used enough elbow grease to form a paste, which we then flattened out and carved shapes from. I fashioned everything from a star to a sausage dog and was proud of my handmade jasmine blend of original aromatics. Trademarked here and now. 
Nothing says success like a Kobe steak dinner. This topped off the generosity and kindness of this lovely Japanese family who had taken this foreign fool around in an air conditioned car to see nearly an entire island, albeit smaller than the size of New Jersey. 

My mouth literally waters uncontrollably thinking about how delicious that steak was. It was the most scrumptious fat-laden piece of meat I've ever tried. It rolled down my throat like butter and I couldn't eat the pieces fast enough to satiate my hunger for more. I felt like such an animal. 

An anti-climactic ending to a more than eventful day as we watched from Akashi the fireworks display in Awaji. There was a drizzle and fog shrouded our less-than-optimal view. Nonetheless, I felt only the kind of comfort you know from being at home in the presence of family and was happy for that.  

It was a divine exhaustion from a day full of sand, steak and sea. 

Matcha Magic

If someone were to ask me the infamous hypothetical question, "If you were stuck on a desert island, what would you bring?" My answer would unequivocally be green tea. 

Green tea makes the world go round, and in Japan, it is hands down the most popular drink around.

From powder to bottle, green tea (or matcha) is the essence of the Japanese diet. And there is certainly a reason for that. Adopted from China, green tea has been used medicinally for over 4,000 years. 
Headaches and depression are assuaged with a daily dose. And recent research indicates that a compound in green tea inhibits the growth of cancer cells as well as lowers cholesterol levels. And the real zinger is how helpful it is to dieters. One cup a day can expedite the fight over fat. Lest we forget it's powers against tooth decay. Like a true crime-stopper, you will be protected against bacteria that cause dental plaque as well as food poisoning. 

The "secret" of matcha is that it is replete with catechin polyphenols, in particular epigallocatechin gallate (EGCG). This is a powerful anti-oxidant that ultimately kills cancer cells without harming healthy tissue and helps decrease the risk of abnormal blood clots by stabilizing a suitable balance between good and bad cholesterol. Magic you say? No, it's matcha! 

Even when I am raising my blood sugar levels and consequently my fat intake by reveling in a sweet, seductive candy bar, I'm eating ones with green tea to help lower my cholesterol and keep fighting that good fight against cancer, although I'm sure this is counterintuitive.
Popular American candy brands like Oreo and KitKat have embraced The Matcha and designed a foreign line of green tea-infused products. And of course, a city can't call itself a city unless there's a Starbucks (sarcasm heavily implied). There is a popular green tea frappuccino in all Japanese Starbucks that will never win my heart over the mocha, but at least it can brag it's the best for you. But, that certainly comes with a price $$.
In sum, I basically piss green tea. I plan to drink so much of it I will live as long as the rest of Japan. I can also stake the claim as most valued organ donor. My insides will be so pristine it will look like a sparkly green wonderland with matcha waterfalls and powder sprinkling from the skies onto all the healthy tea-loving children below. 

Dog Day Afternoon

Not much has changed about my perverse infatuation with other people's dogs. Living in a first world country, Japanese have the luxury of owning and caring for dogs in the same way as those  in the US. Much like San Francisco, people enjoy parading around with their canine companions, showing just what kind of owner they are. With true obsession comes astute observation, and I've been able to summarize the top 5 most popular dog breeds in Japan.

 Shiba Inu

 A native Japanese breed that trots with the pomp and pride of its recent internet acclaim via Puppy Cam. My favorite feature: the swirled tail covered in what looks like the softest of fuzz.

Long haired Dachshund

As a smaller breed, they seem suitable for Japanese-style living, especially in the confines of a bicycle basket, where I often see them nudging their miniature paws over the edge with a sophisticated schnoz pointing ahead. Those stubby little nubbin legs wont take them far, especially in this heat. 
Toy Poodle

I've never cared much for the poodle breed or any mix conceived of a similar likeness. But, Japanese have adroitly pinpointed the most attractive ones sporting the delicious coffee-colored coat with a hint of auburn swirled in. Most of the poodles I've noticed are also well-groomed, which is crucial for the breed since most of their existence lies in their aesthetics. 
Welsh Corgi

With it's wobbly saunter and oversized headdress, this goofy pooch seems to make the perfect park side companion for the Japanese. It could be the exaggerated features or disproportion that makes it so tenderly loved in this country. 

Golden Retriever

A western classic. A dog that needs no introduction. Unless a pup, I would never look twice at a retriever in the states because they are a dime a dozen among white, upper-middle class families, so the breed has almost become cliche for this socio-economic demographic. However, here in Japan, I almost feel a certain nostalgia for American prairies and the urge to watch Homeward Bound. 

5-7-5

Thinking in Haiku. The Japanese have gotten to my brain:

raw meat and raw fish

japanese think it's delish

couldn't rhyme this line

my feet are calloused

you can fry an egg on here

sidewalks steam like rice

I am one who likes

always finding new beaches

Okura kaigen

waiting on long lights

takes up most of my commute

they will never break rules

girls of fifteen years

wave and decide to say hi

they told me i'm cute

everywhere kanji

all characters look the same 

illiteracy

even your eyes smile

do I say what I want yet

cultural blockade 

Dig Deep #8: Dumbing Up to Slim Down

As a woman, I am no stranger to the diet. I have tried many and given it my best shot, at least for a day. But, with America's unhealthy obsession with bloated portion sizes and cavity catalytic sweets, I was convinced the fat kid inside of me would live forever. 

Be that as it may, consider the fat kid one who is also unable to read or write, which has brought me to the ultimate diet: illiteracy. Not being able to read many of the labels, nutrition facts and mere ingredients has limited my diet to only foods that are explained by picture or that are noticeably what they are. For the most part, I am eating fresh fruits, veggies, fish and the occasional meat product along with rice. 

Of course, there has been that more-than-common attempt to try new Japanese sweets and pastries, but even then the sugar amount is lower and the portions are merely bite sized. I also drink green tea (matcha) frequently, which helps my metabolism and also acts as an astringent and keeps my breath tea-time fresh. 

In Japan, they diagnose people that carry even the slightest bit of extra weight with "metabolic syndrome." This is in fact an actual "disease" that affects many people, but for Japanese, it is the same severity as cancer and people will fight tooth and nail to prevent it from happening to them. 

This society takes so much pride in keeping their bodies cleansed and thin that you would literally have to be sedentary for the majority of the day while constantly eating and refusing sunlight or fresh water to gain weight.

In other words, illiteracy has helped stave off unwanted processed foods, but for the most part, being immersed in a society that understands portion control and sugar intake is the first real diet that has worked. 

Killer Deer of Sacred Destinations

Deer. If peaceful were signed to an animal, most likely we would think of these demure doe-eyed creatures lapping cool freshwater with their soft pink tongues. However, the bashfulness of this allegorically amicable animal completely vanishes once they have had a taste of human-fed biscuits.

They swarm and charge, exposing teeth we once thought were dull, harmless and unused. Their antlers are now understood to be weaponry, and for the first time, we can see that they might actually have some sort of innate defense mechanism other than running the other direction. As for the unassuming tourist who revels in the opportunity to become akin with the deer-kind, they ultimately fall into a halcyon-cloaked park of wild animals who's only motivation is food and revenge against the human race.
Nara is known for it's population of deer that are well-accustomed to being fed by passerby's on the way to Todaiji (Great Eastern Temple), a landmark for the former capital of Japan and one of the largest temples in the country.
We gave into temptation and the opportunity to share a false sense of peace with these conventional creatures.
We brought our friend Snow White along. Actually, she is our Welsh friend, Katherine, who dressed for the occasion more appropriately than if I showed up to my wedding in a white dress. The deer, blue dress, alabaster skin and ebony locks, and an apple gave way to an exceptional photo op of such a classical Disney cliche.
The plan before arriving in Nara was to settle in the grass in a seemingly idyllic landscape with sweet bucks staggered and a spread of fine wine and imported cheese. Our very own rendition of Manet's Petit Dejeuner sur l'Herbe. To our dismay, the image of us in a bucolic wonderland melted as fast as my soft serve in the suffocatingly humid Japanese summertime.

Our four-legged welcoming committee had certainly rained on our parade. We walked further into Nara, dodging the lovely meadow muffins the deer had left behind, until we found an area in the woods (technically, it was near a bathroom set off from the road) where it seemed like no deer would reach. We enjoyed our luncheon, with the idea of the perfect picnic still swirling futilely through our minds. It made for a good laugh and we were so hungry by that point it was hard to care...we knew we could take on the deer fist vs. hoof if we had to.
Above: The aftermath of an over-zealous deer with a hunger for gaijin flesh.
As we emerged from our respite, we began to realize that the 500yen you pay for those biscuits were better off up your ass than in your hand, attempting to feed a deer. They come hungry and they come with friends.
It started to rain just as we arrived at the entrance of Todaiji. Once beyond the masses of schoolchildren and feral deer, the temple stood as this wholly divine construction of quietude. There is this silence when in the presence of a temple or shrine- a sound beyond even white noise or the flurry around you. It truly feels sacred and touched by a celestial hand.
The entrance to the Daibutsuden (Great Buddha Hall) was cluttered with black and white cotton from the junior high field trip blitz. There was a group of them gathered around incense, making offerings to Daibutsu.

The rain had stopped for the time being and there was a steam-like presence in the soft light coming in from the slits in the wooden paneling of the Hall.
This monastery-temple was founded by Emperor Shomu when Nara was the capital of Japan. It was the head temple of the network of provincial monasteries throughout Japan. Immense in scale (significantly larger than the temple that stands today), Todaiji represented the culmination of imperial Buddhist architecture.
According to legend, nearly 2,600,000 people helped construct the Buddha — but as that would amount to nearly the half of the people in Japan at the time, this is probably exaggerated. Even so, by the time the Daibutsu was completed in 751, it had consumed most of Japan's bronze production for several years and left the country almost bankrupt.

The Daibutsuden is said to be the largest wooden building in the world. This is especially impressive in light of the fact that the present reconstruction (from 1692) is only two thirds of the original temple's size. The original complex also contained two 100-meter-high pagodas, probably the tallest buildings in the world at the time, but these were destroyed by earthquake. The Daibutsu is made of copper and bronze, weighs 250 tons and stands 30 meters tall. His intricate hairstyle is made of 966 bronze balls and as a welcome ceremony, was blessed by an Indian priest who stood on a specially built platform and painted in Daibutsu's eyes with a enlarged paintbrush.

The magnanimity of the structure itself was enough to put me in awe. I wish I could have been here alone, to feel the full force of this effectual deity display. I always wish this for myself in museums, but then again, this certainly wasn't as much of a let down as the Mona Lisa.
I'll brave the mucky walk back to the train station fulfilled in this excursion, all the while, looking over my shoulder in suspicion of a deceptively gentle doe.