kujira

The first taste of whale. An oily meat. Darker than expected and with little flavor other than a slight tang and chewy texture.

The southernmost prefecture of Shikoku, Kochi, is a hot spot for whale culture. In saying, "whale culture," it is a bit ambiguous, because it is an amalgam of cuisine and cuteness. There are whale icons everywhere and many boat tours take tourists out for whale watching excursions. However, whale is also featured on almost every menu in the city. Is this a sad game of sadistic irony Japan is playing on these massive mammals of the ocean deep? Or is it such a strong bond that every essence of the whale needs to be loved. Of course, the rest of the world would disagree with the latter. But, the Japanese feature whale like an exoticism of a culture past that shouldn't be sent to sea.

the Tokyo Complex

Every great metropolitan city has it's loyal fans. There are those of us who flock to big city living for a chance at a fast-paced style in place that is like an open oyster with many pearls. From fashion to fame, best rated restaurants and international savoir faire, these caliber cities are the mecca of all one could want from life. In it's populated streets and overcrowded transportation, people feel a convenience they couldn't find elsewhere. Big cities have an acclaim, a limelight that never dims if you harness it's energy.

So, what would behoove a worldly, cosmopolitan city-goer to think that there was anywhere else in the world left to see, since of course, where they are has it all. Cities such as New York, Sao Paulo, Hong Kong, Paris and Singapore command an inherent allegiance because of its stature as a culturally diverse beacon of the world's best offerings. Often with such exaltation and air of sophistication comes equal antagonism.

Many often feel that this metropolitan rat race is too hefty of a price to pay for a seeming lap of luxury. The convenience found in global cuisine and high powered jobs are more than willing to be traded for a more subdued lifestyle that adorns smaller cities with less international street cred.

Tokyo is one of the biggest cities in the world and with it comes those who believe Japan offers nothing greater beyond the boundaries of the Tokyo wards. Yet, take a believer out of his prized patch of Japanese city allure and allow him to see the other 46 prefectures. Temples aplenty, abounding natural hot springs, mountainous land and a local ocean breeze.

Venturing over to Kansai, Tokyo devotees see a simpler style of life, but lacking nonetheless in big cities and cultural energy. With Osaka, Kyoto and Kobe, city life can be divided around the area and each seen with a different appeal. Osaka brings the grit, Kyoto the tradition and Kobe the class. In between are smaller cities that are easily accessible by train and each have a distinct feel and a warmth about the people that is often lost amongst the clutter of a big city.

Of course, the razzle dazzle of the big city can charm you with a weekend away, but for practical living, perhaps venturing to the less likely cities will provide a different appeal that will allow a more relaxed lifestyle and a chance to see a side of Japan that is just that--Japanese.

A Sakura Spring

Winter's cold has broken with the first buds of the cherry blossoms. The air is still crisply cool, but just warm enough to host some of the most beautiful natural scenery Japan has to offer. Sakura, or cherry blossoms, glaze tree tops with a beautiful pink and white floral frosting.

The blossoms themselves brighten the sky and canopy walkways with angelic haze that seems to draw sunlight into each petal and enliven trees from the winter's discontent.

When there is a seasonal activity in Japan, people flock to parks and recreational areas and remind us all of how populated this country really is. Considering sakura season is a short and sweet two or three weeks, the famous viewing areas are always the most crowded.

Venturing out of the larger cities and into local areas wont fend off much of a crowd. If there is a cherry blossom tree around, chances are there is a hanami party under it.

Hanami is a simple picnic party in honor of the coming of spring and a chance to view sakura while they're in full bloom. At first, the buds perk open with a virginal white color and as they mature, their color changes to a soft pink.

In Hyogo prefecture, one of the best places for sakura viewing is Akashi park. This park has 1,200 cherry blossom trees, most of which surround the pond in the middle of the park. There are smaller spots tucked away with just a few trees, but the lining of the pond as all the trees hug the edge of the water, is the prime spot for hanami.

In admiring all things sweet and cute, Japan is fortunate to have sakura sprinkle the subtle start of Spring around the country. Sakura season is an embodiment of the classical romantic idea of Spring and it shows in the tired faces of businessmen who have taken respite in a bottle of sake and the company of their co-workers. And in the families and friends who prepare delicious bentos to be shared and savored in the softened sun.

It's a wonderful time of year in Japan and sakura is an excellent adornment for the turn of the Spring season. If only it weren't so long until the same time next year.

been blocked: a lamentation

I hate the false sense of power the Internet holds over people's relationships. What sort of stance are you taking when you block someone or take them off of your chat list? Does it reassure you that some sort of defiance has been taken to sever ties? And the freaking Facebook--it's such narcissism to think that everyone needs to know what you're thinking or exactly how you feel at a particular moment. Are our own lives that uninteresting, and are we that unfulfilled with what we're actually doing that we need to report on it endlessly through a steady stream of social networking for some public validation? I guess this lamentation in itself is a self-indulgent proclamation on a social networking platform. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em?

Dementia for Disney

What's up with the Japanese and Disney? People of all ages are more than eager to go to Tokyo Disneyland and Disney Sea. They love the characters, the rides, the cheesy themed hotels, and especially the parade. On select holidays such as Christmas or Halloween, there is always some kind of special event featuring Disney characters doing even more inanely childish things.

Nonetheless, Japanese adults flock to the Disney amusement park not for their children, but for themselves. They come back with photos and tales of how they almost got to meet Donald Duck as if it was some international (human) celebrity, not just an underpaid part-time employee on his weekend shift.

There must be some sort of psychological reasoning behind why there is such enchantment and motivation behind visiting Disneyland, aside from the movies and characters that even American adults tire of before reaching puberty.

Of course, Japan is a culture that loves all things cute. Things, animals or people can be covered in fur, miniaturized, doe-eyed, or have an inviting color composition that would look good hanging from any accessory. The cutesy factor is prevalent in any icon of Japanese culture, which certainly diminishes the hardened, often cold exterior of the Japanese people. It is hard to strike up a conversation with a stranger and often uninviting. Yet, with a sweet, little Snoopy, Mickey Mouse or Tottoro dangling from your cellphone, it makes a certain social sterility bearable--at least on the exterior.

Still, the question goes unanswered as to why Disney is king. I guess American children grew up with it, and because of it's global prevalence, children from other countries are accustomed to the same fairy tales and characters. Even so, why not let loose a childhood reverence for a dressed up mouse with batty eyelashes? Perhaps comprehending the reality of Disneyland isn't necessary for Japanese, and it could be rightfully so. Maybe growing out of a Disney phase is unnecessary, and those Americans who are collectors or fanatics shouldn't be judged as a stunted member of adult society. Maybe Japanese have it right and it should just be a wonderful weekend away completely void of any notion of reality. It could be for a sense of sanity or a fresh breath of freedom from staunch societal shackles that Japanese adults would wish for such a sensation.

Even still, Disney could represent one overarching metaphor for the suppression of emotion. Only in a place of non-sensical fantasy can Japanese feel a zeal for life. That, or there is a pervasive obsession with American culture, thus the most iconic of American characters, would be revered as a mecca of all things wonderful--a chance to get just a little bit closer to the real thing. If only there were answers to such questions in life.

Uncommon Ramen

In Japan, there is an endless possibility for noodles. They can be eaten at any temperature or texture, accompanied with varieties of meat or fish, seasoned with the strongest or weakest of taste, and featured thick or thin. Any way you like your noodles, there is probably a way to eat it.

Borrowed from Chinese cuisine, ramen is a bestseller in shops and stalls nation-wide. It has been adopted with a clean broth usually made from chicken or fish stock. The noodles themselves are the feature accompanied with a garnish of vegetable and meat, typically pork and green onions. Although the diversity of noodles spread across the board, ramen is traditionally this. However, in those places few and far between, ramen is revamped and made with an uncommon savor.

Keeping in line with Japanese culinary perfection, tomato ramen stands strongly at the top. It is relatively unknown since it diverts from that classical ramen taste; yet, what it stands for is innovation in a bowl of noodles completely overlooked.

Ichiryutei, a local ramen shop in Akashi, hosts tomato ramen among a row of other, now seemingly boring ramen choices. In its bold attempt to combine a tomato soup taste with cheese atop, it is reminiscent of a Campbell's soup, but better. Considering tomato-based broths are relatively uncommon, especially for noodles, only foreigners would understand the warm satisfaction in a good bowl of tomato soup. Especially on a rainy day.

Perhaps its a longing for a comfort food unfound in a strange, foreign land that prefers clear chicken broth for its ramen. Or it could be the Tabasco that is recommended for a little extra kick, or the continuous selection of Beatles music featured in the shop. In any case, tomato ramen is in a noodle class all itself and adds an extra category of an already extensive--yet possibly not innovative--noodle array. Itadakimasu!

Checking out the other side of The Cove

Recent acclaim for Oscar-award winning documentary, The Cove, has unveiled a small Japanese fishing town to be a mechanism of dolphin slaughter. Japan is essentially the only nation that kills and consumes dolphins. Every year, nearly 23,000 dolphins die by the hand of Japanese fisherman in Taiji, Japan. Because of the shock value felt by oceanographic associations and animal rights activists around the world, this issue is seen as a national concern, one which was understood by the heroic efforts of a film crew and dolphin enthusiasts alike who risked arrest to bring the truth to light.

Of course, Americans will see this horrifyingly inhumane treatment of dolphins as a cause for concern. The film shows raw, clandestine surveillance footage of what really happens behind the “No Trespassing” sign of this Wakayama prefecture’s seaside cove. However, the aim of the American activists in making this film was to tug at the heart strings of Americans in theatres across the nation as they watch sweet, innocent dolphins being savagely slaughtered by a race of people relatively unknown to the American majority.

If the filmmakers could demonstrate a deeper understanding of the Japanese culture, one that would present both the traditional side and global opposition, the film could be more effective. Instead, watching ocean water run red with dolphin blood by way of guerrilla camera tactics simply instigates an emotional response, one of moral contempt.

The Japanese feel Westerners are imposing their own standards and values on the Japanese, which could be considered a sort of ethnocentrism. America is no stranger to the ways of propagating ethnocentric behavior around the world. Nonetheless, out of respect to the Japanese and credibility to the facts and filmmakers themselves, one would think that this issue of defining culturally universal values would be addressed. Alas, it was not.

Negotiating and compromising on a factual basis, especially when crossing cross-cultural borders, is the best approach to making a documentary film that should highlight a real issue of global proportion. Filming angry Japanese fishermen from a rural town when a camera crew of foreigners has no intention of civilized conversation or at least a few simple linguistic formalities of the language will of course enrage those who are trying to defend a practice that is globally attacked. This doesn’t make the Japanese fishermen of Taiji victims, but it naturally puts them on the defense.

On the same token, if humans watch anything die, especially in a somewhat unknown land and by people who are unidentifiable to most Americans because they are foreign, it will make us feel something.

So, Japanese would like to know, where is the line drawn? What is the difference between the hundreds of thousands of cows and chickens slaughtered in unkempt, often governmentally protected factories where working conditions are unsafe, laborers are underpaid and oftentimes working illegally as immigrants and the mass-production of meat works for the sole purpose of consumption. Why is it OK, or at least not globally challenged, that Americans kill so many animals? What is the criterion?

The film argued that the self-awareness of dolphins made them a unique mammal, one that can understand physical pain and pleasure more so than other animals. Such self-awareness comes in the form of the intelligence of dolphins to take their own lives under a state of depression from stress of performing in dolphin shows.

Nonetheless, this parallel of the dolphin's self-awareness to that of a human attempted to reason that dolphins are emotional beings. Be that as it may, most animals can feel pain when they are kept in captivity or killed. In the film; however, a self-awareness for an animal with a potentially keen sense of self turned into a sort of American self-righteousness for saving that particular animal. This view conveniently assumes that our own lives are the most precious and valuable form of life on this earth, and from that criteria, we can easily put price tags on all other forms of life in a hierarchical manner.

The argument could be made that dolphins don’t mass-breed in captivity, and are not being farmed or raised in herds for the specific purpose of being eaten. They’re being hunted. And any wild animal hunter either for food or game, should have restrictions so as to protect biodiversity and the homeostasis of the environment.

The purpose of the film was to try and get Japan to stop killing dolphins. It could be argued that the filmmakers and activists weren’t bluntly attacking Japanese society all together, just this “tradition” in which they deemed unknown to the majority of Japanese.

Yet, if Japanese tradition was honestly analyzed, it should have been stated that whale was one of the principle staples of protein during World War II, when the country was in a bleak state of turmoil and, as an island nation, they used the resources they could to survive. Due to dire need, Japanese used every part of the whale, including oils and certain tendons of the mammal as a substitute for rubber or plastic in various manufactured goods such as athletic equipment.

Japanese tend to reserve confrontation as a last resort. By attacking and exposing this ritual dolphin killing doesn’t make the Japanese want to stand up for themselves. It makes them retreat back within and attempt to smooth things out without public debate. This may seem cowardly to the American people, but then again, it’s a clash of culture which seems to be conveniently overlooked to prove some sort of arbitrary point that the Japanese are either ashamed or clueless about the goings on in their society with regard to dolphins.

Most Japanese may not have known about Taiji’s yearly dolphin slaughters, but they certainly knew about the Japanese habit of whaling, whether it was understood by living it or reading about the makeshift survival attempts of the people during times of war. The film seems to blur the distinction between the incident they were trying to document in Taiji and problems that could occur with whaling and sustainability.

Japanese are not blameless in this matter. Their politicians are just as corrupt as those of the Western world, considering how the Japanese bought votes from impoverished countries such as Dominica and St. Kitts to vie for whaling support at international whaling conferences where the majority of participants are opposed to Japanese habits of whaling. However, this doesn’t make Japan any more corrupt of a country than any other.

The film certainly caught the attention as a suspenseful and heart-wrenching story about the inhumanity performed on our mammalian friends of the sea, which it was dually rewarded for in the Academy Awards. However, if the objective of the filmmakers and activists were to stop slaughtering dolphins, they picked the worst strategy, mainly because they decided negate any opportunity to express both sides to a degree that would make Japanese at least seem somewhat intelligible.

Moralizing documentaries such as this one are ultimately just a piece of entertainment for the viewer which offers moral justice to each, and of course, we would be more than willing to pay for that rush of moral superiority. It’s hard to find an audience, or win an award for that matter, with a documentary that is objective and not moralizing since there is no feel-good sense of premature accomplishment.

Yet, we should feel responsible for understanding a situation fully before judging it based off of one film that takes a moral high-ground to chastise a nation of people who are otherwise uninvolved with dolphin hunting. If the filmmakers could exhibit the sensibility and sensitivity to the culture they were scrutinizing, then it would have deserved more than just an Oscar.