Category Archives: Tokyo

Not an ordinary day

March 11th has rolled around again. Until just a couple of years ago it was just another day towards the end of the school year, and we haven’t yet planted the date so firmly in our calendars that we see it coming from weeks away. It’s easy to be caught unawares when planning other things. Last month I was trying to schedule something at school with a friend and we decided that March 11th would be the best date, started to write it into our diaries and then stopped. March 11th. It’s not an ordinary day.

March 11th 2011. At 2:46pm a magnitude 9 earthquake hit off the coast of Tohoku, the northeastern part of Honshu. (The six prefectures are Akita, Aomori, Yamagata, Iwate, Miyagi and Fukushima, the latter three are the ones most badly affected.) In Tokyo, over 300 kilometres away, it felt very big and very long. The tsunami triggered by the quake caused devastation on a scale that even now is difficult to understand. What followed in the hours, days and weeks afterwards shook the Tohuku region and the whole of Japan and gave us a new normal.

I remember someone asking me in the days following the earthquake, ‘Is this the biggest thing you’ve ever experienced?’ and for many of us it was. Even now, it’s hard to find the words to explain this feeling. I wrote often and at length over the weeks and months that followed, and archived all of what I wrote when I started this blog. When I look back over those original e-mails I find myself back there, in that mix of anxiety and determination; anxiety about what was going to happen, and determination to stay, to keep faith with the people of Japan and hoping and praying, day after day, that it was all going to be all right.

For people outside the Tohoku region it has been. Western Japan was of course affected because the whole country was worried about what was happening, but in terms of everyday life they were not, and a lot of people in Kanto went to Kansai when they felt a need to get further away from Fukushima. In Kanto we were of course closer to Tohoku and specifically Fukushima; we felt the aftershocks and were more directly affected by the unfolding situation. But really, by Golden Week (the block of national holidays at the end of April and beginning of May) life was back to normal.

For the people of Tohoku it has not been. According to figures in the newspaper this morning, 700,000 people in Iwate, Miyagi and Fukushima lost their jobs or took leave after the earthquake, and this was 27.8% of the total workforce. The majority of those took leave but in the time since then many have changed jobs and been affected by lower pay. Looking at other figures in the same newspaper, it’s shocking how much has not been done, and even those figures present a picture more positive than the reality, according to local officials. Least progress has been made in what is referred to as ‘town reconstruction’; while all debris has been cleared away from the towns and villages, it has not been disposed of yet. What seems to me to be the most pressing need, for new housing for people who lost their homes, was the worst of all; 20,600 houses are planned, land for only 7,405 has been secured. No mention of how many have actually been built. Two years on, many people are still living in temporary housing.

On Sunday I saw a headline which read, ‘¥1.4 trillion to be carried over in quake-hit areas: most unused funds related to reconstruction’. Apparently this is caused mainly by a shortage of manpower and materials, but really, Japan is in a recession, unemployment is high (for Japan) and people need homes and infrastructure. Just get on with it. Make it happen. Communities have been decimated, as people of working age have moved away to find employment and a safer place to raise their children, leaving behind the elderly. I heard about a school in the affected area from one of the students at school, after she returned from doing some volunteer work there. Of 104 students before March 11th 2011, only six remain.

When I think about the earthquake and all the horror that followed, my memories are contrasting ones; of the facts and figures, of trying to make sense of all the information, but also of how everyone got through it together. We walked softly, we spoke gently, we all kept a lid on what we were feeling. I remember sitting on buses and trains and feeling the air crackling with emotion, but everyone staying outwardly calm. I remember going cherry blossom viewing in Yoyogi Park and feeling so glad to be outside, in the sunny weather, with thousands of other people. Most of all, I feel proud of just being here, witnessing this great country coping with something unimaginably awful. Yes, there were things done badly; TEPCO officials ran circles round the government and only months later did we hear that there had indeed been a meltdown and a partial meltdown at two of the reactors at Fukushima Dai-ichi. But ordinary Japanese people were amazing, and it was a privilege to be here, the scariest and most inspiring time of my life.

Here are the numbers: 15,881 dead, 2,668 missing, 315,196 homeless. Behind every single one, a life lost or changed forever. What does that look like? This photograph was on the front page of the newspaper this morning:

3:11This afternoon I attended a memorial service at St. Andrew’s Cathedral. We prayed in silence from just after 2:30 until 2:46. It felt right to be there, in the same place I was last year, with other members of the diocese, silently remembering. It has taken me a long time to write this, the words didn’t come easily. Because really, there are no words. There is a deep sadness that drags you back down into those dark days, a reminder that for the people of Tohoku they still live with the aftermath, today and every day, but with that there is also love, pride and ultimately speechless admiration for the resilience of the human spirit.

Have stereotypes, will travel

Up unreasonably early again this morning, and on the train to church I read the newspaper. The Daily Yomiuri has a section on Sunday of articles from The Times, so I usually flick through to that section first. Imagine my annoyance when the first headline that caught my eye was ‘The shattering of my dream to be the perfect expat wife in Tokyo’. It was subtitled, ‘Lucy Alexander discovered how hard it is for a Westerner to slip into Japanese society’.

I read the offending article, rolling my eyes and wondering why The Times was publishing this clichéd stuff, imagining that it was indeed by a self-styled ‘expat wife’, uprooted from her career in the UK to move to Japan for her husband’s work. It certainly read like that. It reminded me of some of the articles published as eyewitness accounts after the earthquake in March 2011, my personal favourite being this one: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/expat/expatlife/8426171/A-tearful-sayonara-to-quake-hit-Japan.html .

But no. At home this evening I Googled her, only to find that she’s a professional journalist working in Tokyo, which makes me wonder, why is she misrepresenting herself simply as ‘expat wife’, and why is she peddling such stereotypes? She states early on in her article that, ‘I had moved from London to Tokyo six months previously, towing two toddlers and leaving behind family, friends and work . . . I was now an illiterate trailing spouse in a foreign country.’ Oh, where to start? First of all, I am offended on behalf of all the wonderful, strong women I know who have moved here because of their spouse’s work and channeled their considerable talents and energies into their lives here. Secondly, Ms. Alexander has not left behind her work, she is still very much working as a journalist in Tokyo, so why pretend otherwise?

The article makes a number of claims, all of which I disagree with. The first of her ridiculous statements is, ‘your average British or American woman in Tokyo does find that she is a public novelty.’ I have no idea what she or her acquaintances are doing but no, I do not find that and have not heard anyone I know say that either. I can only imagine that she is behaving in some way that Tokyoites find odd, maybe being extremely loud in public (I have been told to pipe down on a bus when I was chatting at a normal volume with a friend), or alternatively approaching people and speaking English instead of trying to speak Japanese. I don’t think any foreign resident in Tokyo feels like a public novelty; maybe in some rural areas that is the case, I don’t know. Tokyo is a huge international city and no one is going to react with much interest to the sight of one of us going about our day.

Next, there is a reference to ‘the salaryman reading porn manga, . . . the teenager wearing a Victorian crinoline and surgical facemask, with black tears pencilled onto her cheeks’. Right then, to unpack all these images; yes, there is some disturbing porn in manga (graphic novel) form, as I am sure there is in many other countries. The difference in Japan appears to be two-fold; it is readily available and not sold shrink-wrapped, and it is also acceptable to read this kind of material in public, or at least it is possible to read it without anyone taking you to task. I wonder what would happen to the hapless commuter on the Tube with the same taste in reading matter. While it is certainly objectionable to realise that the man standing or sitting next to you is engrossed in such manga, you are far more likely to see him reading one of the so-called sports newspapers, which are published in two different editions. There is one for home delivery, containing sport and tabloid fodder, then there is the other edition, sold at station kiosks, convenience stores etc. which contains the same plus photographs of young women in a state of undress and spread-eagled in a fashion their gynaecologists would be familiar with. These newspapers are the same size as broadsheets, so someone reading one may choose to fold the pages to make them more manageable, in which case you could find yourself suddenly staring at these very unpleasant and quite explicit photos.

The teenager in Victorian crinoline . . . I think she is confused, I don’t think I have ever seen anyone actually wearing such a contraption, but what is quite a common sight, particularly around Harajuku and Shibuya, is young women dressed in a style known as ‘Gothic Lolita’. There are many different sub-genres of Lolita fashion, which has its roots in anime culture but also owes something to Marie Antoinette, apparently. It has nothing to do with the Nabokov novel of the same name. Someone dressed as a Gothic Lolita would wear mainly black and white frilly or lacy elaborate costumes, accessorised with vampy make-up and the odd crucifix or two. No crinoline, though, but plenty of corsetry. The facemask, again, is a common sight here, people wear them to protect themselves from cold and ‘flu germs in the winter (or to protect other people if they are already ill), or to try to block out tree pollen in the spring.

Now I come to what I found the most irritating of all the article’s claims; ‘it is true that Japanese and Westerners rarely socialise because of the profound differences between the Japanese and English languages, the rigid and highly complex set of social rules by which most Japanese govern their behaviour and Western laziness and arrogance.’ Where to start . . . may I ask, if you are reading this in a country where you are a citizen, how many foreign residents do you know? How many friends do you have who are not the same nationality as you? Should someone move from their country to yours and live next door to you, would you befriend them immediately and invite them into your home? Would you push through all the cultural differences at breakneck speed and know them well in a matter of a few short months? No? What this article is ascribing to a yawning chasm of cultural differences so wide no one can get over it, seems to me to be nothing more than human nature. British and Japanese people have some similarities and I would say that one is a general reticence and reluctance to be instantly friendly with people. It’s something pointed out as a foible of American behaviour, this alarmingly speedy commitment to friendship. Japanese people don’t invite each other into their homes much, do you know how small Japanese homes can be? It is far more usual to meet somewhere and go out for a meal, shopping or coffee.

From there, the article degenerates into references to expat wives who ‘may not be actually psychotic but many do develop mild neuroses’, and tales of sordid goings-on at hostess bars. I’m sure it’s an entertaining read for someone not familiar with Japan, but like the BBC articles and reports I’ve taken issue with before, it just isn’t true. The anecdotes in this article are just that, but the journalist has extrapolated a whole culture after being here only a few short months.

I’ve called Japan home for twenty years, and I have a lot of wonderful Japanese friends, but in many cases I haven’t been to their homes, nor have they been to mine. It’s an issue of space, not an unwillingness to socialise. When I first arrived in Japan it did take a while to get to know people, and when I moved to a new job it took time to make friends, but the friendships I have made are with some of the most generous, caring and wonderful people I have ever met. I believe a Japanese person moving to the UK and living my experiences in reverse would have had a similar experience. Sometimes it takes time, but it’s worth it.

Tokyo Snow Day

January 14thAt church yesterday a fairly new Tokyoite asked us about winter here. How cold does it get? About freezing, we answered. And snow? Oh no, we assured him, we hardly ever have snow, and when we do it doesn’t settle.

Twenty-four hours later, and . . . oops. According to an app on my phone the temperature is 1 degree celsius but ‘feels like -7’, and according to a tweet from the UK ambassador we had 3 inches of snow in 3 hours. The transport system is affected; many flights out of Haneda are cancelled and some train lines have stopped. I watched the snow get deeper and deeper this morning and by early afternoon I decided to go for a walk, since we very rarely have a day like this.

Fortunately, today is a national holiday; the second Monday in January is Coming of Age Day (成人の日). It used to be that the ceremony was only for people who had already reached their twentieth birthday, but in recent years it has changed and is now for anyone who has turned or will turn twenty between April 2nd last year and April 1st this year. Also, it used to be held on January 15th and so was a moveable feast, but in 2000 the Happy Monday system was introduced and four National holidays, including Coming of Age Day, were moved from a specific date to a specific Monday every year, to create some long weekends, and therefore, happy Mondays. So, good for most of us, it means we don’t have to work today, not so good for all those new adults who have been trying to get somewhere to mark the occasion. Traditionally, they are invited to the city or ward office to listen to speeches and be congratulated, and then go out with friends or family to celebrate. Men can wear hakama (袴), formal kimono for men (and very smart, too) but can also wear a western suit. This photo, of a bride and groom, actually, will give you an idea, since the groom is wearing a hakama.

Shinto bride & groomWomen traditionally wear a long-sleeved kimono called a furisode (振袖). They are beautiful and elaborate; usually hairdressers advertise months ahead of time that they’re taking bookings for women to go in early on Coming of Age Day to be dressed in a kimono and have their hair and make-up done. The kimono is accessorised with zori (草履) sandals. Beautiful but not easy to walk in if you’re not used to it, which most young women aren’t, and today must have presented even more of a challenge. I saw these two young women walking gingerly along the road near the station:

Coming of Age Day 2Apart from them, I saw quite a lot of people out in the snow. There were some university students chasing each other along the road having a snowball fight, and a primary-school-age boy came out of his apartment building dragging a bright red sled with a look of absolute delight and chattering excitedly to himself about the wonders before him.

I walked across the railway tracks and saw a train waiting at the station. A little further along I saw the two young women in kimono. Just a few metres past them, the pachinko parlour was open, and one of the employees was hosing down the road in front. I saw a lot of shops and other businesses trying to clear the bit of road in front of their building, but usually with a shovel or a broom. This was the only place using water to blast the snow away, but with temperatures hovering around freezing it seemed like a recipe for disaster.

I walked along the shopping street as far as the supermarket. By then my toes were cold, so I was happy to find it was warm and toasty inside. I didn’t really need to go shopping today, but I bought some mikan (tangerines) and extra vegetables and tofu to add to my green curry this evening. On the way back it seemed like the snowflakes were a little smaller and wetter, but there was an icy wind making everything feel colder. Back across the railway tracks, and the same train was still at the station, with announcements being made that one of the lines had stopped, at least.

I trudged back up the hill to my apartment and was relieved to get home, have a mug of hot chocolate and settle down to write this post. I thought I could hear that the snow had turned to rain, but when I went outside to check I found it’s still snowing but it’s quite wet now. Tomorrow we’re all back at work, we’ll have to see if everything freezes overnight and what effect that will have, but for now I’m going to stay warm and snug at home.

January 14th