A Christmas Story in Tokyo

Strolling down the street in Shibuya one evening after eating a very tasty Thanksgiving dinner, I couldn't believe my eyes! Each year I watch A Christmas Story with my family, and we always laugh at the lamp the father buys himself for Christmas. Well, here are two of them, right here in Tokyo! What a fun place Shibuya is. It never disappoints!

Unexpected honor

Last week my three classes at a prestigious university here in Tokyo ended. They were small classes of third-year students and, over the semester, we began to feel comfortable with each other. Each week students had to get up in front of the class to speak spontaneously and problem-solve a particular case study or article they had just read. It would be tough enough for a native English speaker to do this, but these students were speaking English as a second language.

Each week the students worked together in groups and got to know each other a little. At the same time, I got to know them a little. After each presentation, I congratulated them on their courage, and encouraged them to keep practicing their English, even after graduation.

At the end of their final presentations, I again congratulated them on their hard work and wished them well on their life's journey. I told them how much I had enjoyed teaching them, and how honored I was to have known them—even for this brief time.

When I was finished, my entire class rose to give me a standing ovation.

That's when I knew, for the first time, that I really was a teacher. I almost cried.

Up close and personal

There was a fire about two blocks from my house and I managed to get some pictures and videos. Apparently, it started in the small restaurant downstairs and spread to the apartments up above. When I got there, firemen were running everywhere, and a couple of people were being loaded into an ambulance with smoke inhalation. I heard that a man had jumped from the upstairs window and was slightly hurt, but didn't see him.

So many alarms were sounded that I thought it was Armageddon! I suppose with houses and businesses built so close together it wouldn't take much to raze an entire city.

Hot tea. . .and some Vitamin Love

Got a good chuckle from one of my students recently. We were studying from the chapter on health, which included giving and asking for advice regarding health matters, and talking about home remedies.

Here sat a shy, 40-something businessman, married with a couple of kids. Since our teaching method always includes role plays, I said we would do a role play where he was sick, and I would pretend to be his wife and offer him some home remedies.

Me: You look terrible. What's wrong?
Him: I have a terrible cold and a fever.
Me: Can I bring you some hot tea with lemon?
Him: Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.
Me: Do you need anything else?
Him: Yes (with a big, silly grin). Some Vitamin Love.

We both laughed so hard we could barely finish the lesson. Who said Japanese can't be funny?

A plain, brown paper wrapper

One of the sights I've come to know and love around Tokyo comes in a plain, brown paper wrapper.

In America, we think of a plain, brown paper wrapper as something that might contain porn. I was suspicious the first time I saw it. Turns out that plain, brown paper wrappers adorn all books sold in Tokyo (and maybe all of Japan—I don't know for sure). The first time I bought a paperback book, the clerk quickly and skillfully folded a plain, brown paper jacket around it and dropped it into a paper bag, which was then dropped into a plastic bag. (Yes, the Japanese are into overkill when it comes to wrapping things!)

After giving this some thought, I realized that many Japanese read books on their daily train rides. While they may have to ride crowded trains, like sardines in tin cans, they apparently want to maintain their privacy when it comes to their reading tastes.

I've also noticed that the books are quite short—maybe only 100 pages or so. If you're an aspiring author who wants to write for Japanese consumption, you would do well to remember the K.I.S.S. rule. I don't see anyone here lugging around huge, 800-page books, no matter how popular they might be in America. Most Americans have cars and don't need to consider how much weight to put into a bag they have to haul around on a shoulder all day.

So, small books in plain, brown paper wrappers, are quite practical.

Now, if only something could be done about the businessmen who carry sleazy newspapers or magazines and insist on reading them in front of everyone—children and old ladies included. One time, in the middle of the afternoon, I saw a businessman sit with his sex-kittens newspaper folded for all to see as he read something on an inside page. A little boy around 7 or 8 years old jumped out of his seat and dashed over to the man, stood in front of him, bent down and had a good look at the newspaper. The man looked up and gave the boy a withering look. He reluctantly went back to his seat, but kept his eyes on the pictures of feminine delights in provocative poses.

Too bad that certain newspapers and magazines don't come in plain, brown paper wrappers.

A matter of curiosity about the world

As I prepare to leave on vacation in 2-1/2 weeks, I can't help noticing some comments from a few students at our learning center. Thankfully, it's only from a few, but it still managed to leave me scratching my head.

This week I asked one young woman, a high school senior, about her extensive travels. She had gone on a two-week home stay in Australia this past September, but had no idea of the name of the city in which she had lived for two weeks! It wasn't a matter of just forgetting the name because of the different names in Japanese and English.

"Well," I said, "could it have been Sydney or Melbourne?"
"I have no idea," she replied.
"Do you remember any landmarks or sites?"
"No."
"What did you do while you were there?"
"Nothing," she replied. "I stayed in my room."

She truly had no interest whatsoever in where she stayed or what she did. I can only imagine how her host family must have felt!

This student traveled to several countries with her parents, yet resented every trip. When I asked her for something—anything—she might have enjoyed about her trip to London, she quickly answered with a smile, "Nothing." I said, "Nothing? Not one single thing?" "No," she said. "I hated all of it."

Even though this may have been a case of teenage rebellion against parents who try to control everything their children do, I found it quite puzzling and sad. Surprisingly, this same student speaks better English than most—including students and adults!

A few years ago some friends had a Japanese teenage girl stay with them for a month and she acted the same way. She stayed in her bedroom as much as possible—even taking her meals to her room to eat alone. When she had to travel to school each day in the car, she never said a word.

Another teacher told me about one of his adult students who said she had just returned from a 5-day trip to Paris. To his horror, she reported that she had sat in her hotel room for the entire five days because it was "too cold to go out."

On the other hand, fortunately, I had another student, a young business man, who told me all about his third trip to Africa where he stayed out in the bush and photographed wildlife. I could tell by the way he spoke how much Africa had impressed him. He was in love with it!

Unlearned lessons

Don't know why, but for some reason I decided to "google" about the Great Hanshin--Kobe--earthquake in 1995 and came across an interesting article by the Japan Policy Research Institute.

While somewhat shocking to read, it didn't come as a real surprise to know that Japan was so ill-equipped to handle such massive destruction. What's even more troubling is that I don't think Japan has learned from their past mishandling of that tragic event.

I'm guessing that Japan is no better than America when it comes to overstating their emergency preparedness. National pride, as well as a multi-layered bureaucracy, can be a country's greatest undoing. The recent hurricanes in Florida and Louisiana proved how difficult it is to handle a crisis of such magnitude. America's bureaucracy is daunting but Japan's is so multi-layered that in an emergency it would be like trying to move a mountain with a pair of chopsticks.

Here's an abbreviated listing of Japan's shortcomings in handling the Kobe earthquake:

1. Overconfidence in the ability to withstand earthquakes.

2. Lack of local preparedness for natural disasters.

3. Ineffectual crisis management in Tokyo.

4. Private companies appeared more able than the government to respond quickly and effectively to the victims' needs.

5. Reluctance to accept aid from abroad.

6. Differential treatment of foreigners.

7. Selective reporting by the mass media.

Yesterday one of the universities where I teach had an "Earthquake Emergency with Fire" drill. Students and staff were asked to use a cell phone call-in system to report their safety. None of my students, nor I, had been given any information about how to use the call-in system. Worse than that, the alarm never sounded in our building.

This was a prime example of how the multi-layered Japanese system will never be able to pull itself together to manage any kind of crisis, especially natural disasters. After the destructive earthquake in Niigata one year ago, it took the Japanese government nearly two weeks to get simple aid such as blankets and water to victims.

This happened despite the Kobe earthquake of 1995 with its supposed "lessons learned."

Trains and more trains

Bored? Looking for some mindless recreation? OK, take a look here. Be sure to click on the "departing melody" for each train track. Japan loves these little jingles and thinks it gets people boarded faster if they hear "fast" music. Every time I hear it, my heart also races faster!

Shake it up, baby

Over the past week we've been doing a whole lot 'a shakin'. Three fairly large earthquakes in fact, measuring 6.5 , 5.8. and 5.5 have occurred within one week. Fortunately, there was no real damage or serious injuries.

I've tried for months to convince my British boss that we should prepare some kind of earthquake plan at work--and volunteered to organize it--but he's reluctant. Turns out he's worried that once we have a plan in effect a large earthquake will inevitably happen. "This is called superstition", I told him.

So, a language school with 22 small classrooms, that teaches several hundred children and adults weekly, must rely on one child's "Earthquake Backpack" filled with one flashlight, some extra batteries, a small box of bandages, and a quart of water.

We have no call-in plan where teachers could call from wherever they happen to be to confirm their safety. We have no instructions about where to go for emergency shelters. We have no CPR or other emergency training. We have rooms and offices loaded to the gills with heavy objects that aren't fastened to the walls or secured in any way. We do, however, have some sort of apparatus in the third-floor teachers' lounge that's supposed to be a hoist to lower people out the window. No one knows how to use it. We've never had any kind of drill or training whatsoever so consider it somewhat worthless in an emergency where we might have to evacuate within minutes--or less.

Japanese seem intractable when it comes to facing the reality of an earthquake. The government makes an annual attempt to convince its citizens and businesses that they should prepare for an earthquake. The reality is that almost no one does.

Think pink

Everywhere I look, I'm seeing pink! Not just on women. That's a given since I would bet that more woman in Japan wear pink than in any other country. Pink shoes. Pink handbags. Pink t-shirts, blouses, skirts, sweaters, bows, and, yes, some of them carry pink dogs or dogs with pink clothing, bows, and toenails.

What has really astonished me, however, is seeing so many men wearing pink. I'm not just talking about the metrosexuals with their manga-style haircuts. Men of all ages are wearing pink. I just saw the Prime Minister, Junichiro Koizumi, wearing a pink shirt as he worked the crowd during his reelection campaign.

Male newscasters are wearing pink sports coats and pink ties. A significant number of my middle-aged male students come to Saturday classes wearing pink polo shirts.

I can't remember ever seeing more than a handful of men in America wearing pink, but maybe the craze has spread there this summer. American men seem to be too macho to feel comfortable wearing pink, I would think. There's also that whole thing about seeming, well, too swishy if you know what I mean. American men seem to worry about that. A lot.

So, am I out of touch with American men, or is this just a Japanese trend?

7.2 earthquake that does very little damage!

A little before noon on August 16, Tokyo shook from an earthquake of magnitude 7.2 that hit about 200 miles away. In Tokyo, even though buildings swayed side to side, it only measured about 5 on the Richter scale. However, it felt quite intense so I grabbed my cell phone and purse and ran from my house.

Amazingly, this earthquake did very little damage in Saitama Prefecture, its epicenter, located in northeastern Japan. Although some 80 people sustained injuries, no one was killed, and there was very little property damage. The worst damage was a collapsed ceiling at a newly-opened swimming center where most of the injuries occurred. There was also a collapsed house with an 80-year-old woman trapped inside who was pulled out uninjured.

The magnitude 7.4 Kobe earthquake in 1995 killed more than 6,400 people and did significant property damage when entire blocks burned to the ground.

Kanto Prefecture (Tokyo is one of its 23 wards) had a 6.0 earthquake on July 24. According to The Yomiuri Shimbun, the "Geographical Survey Institute said it rated the earthquake an 'A-level'--the highest alert level set by the administrative organization." Even so, no one was killed, and very little damage was sustained.

People in Saitama and Kanto Prefectures are feeling very lucky these days. Very lucky indeed.

How to swim upstream

I keep meaning to write in my blog at least weekly, but here it is, almost two months since my last entry. It's not because I can't find anything to write about. Japan, and especially Tokyo, are filled with millions of things to write about! If you lived here a lifetime, you still wouldn't run out of new observations and impressions.

A few days ago I taught a young businessman who was on his third job! By Japanese standards, this is almost unheard of. Despite a somewhat softening trend, employees are hired right out of college and almost always remain with one company until they retire. It's quite unusual to hear about three jobs by around the age of 32. So, I asked my student to explain his career path.

He, like almost all college graduates, was hired just before he graduated. He worked for that company for a few years until he decided he didn't enjoy the type of work he was doing anymore. He felt the need to get more training in a broader range within his field, so he left and joined a foreign company operating in Japan. There, he spent a few more years until he reached the same plateau with his skills. Unable to broaden his skill base while working at that company, he decided to make another move and joined yet another foreign company operating in Japan. Now, he's been with this company a few years, has exponentially broadened his skills, and expects to make yet another switch within the next two years.

Still stunned to hear about this, in a country that values loyalty above almost anything else, I asked him to explain how his employers feel about his "job hopping." Taking a big long breath and exhaling it slowly, he said, "That's why I always go to foreign companies. They understand the importance of broadening my skills. Now, I could never work for a Japanese company."

I asked him to tell me more about that. He said, "I would never fit in with the corporate culture. You must become a loyal member of the company, and because I have switched jobs, I could never be considered a loyal member."

I continued to prod him about that corporate culture, and to explain to me what that meant, especially regarding promotions. He told me that, in Japan, everyone is hired straight out of college at around the age of 22. He went to the whiteboard and drew an explanation of the way the system operates. At the bottom of the chart was the 22-year-old employee (or "member" as Japanese call themselves). Then he wrote "38" above that starting point. "This is the age," he said, "when you can be considered for a promotion to manager." Above that he wrote "48." "This is the age when you can be considered for director."

"Do you mean that age is the deciding factor for promotion?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied.

"What about merit? What if some guy, or gal, is a real hotshot or has an MBA? Does he or she still have to wait until age 38 to be considered for management."

"Yes."

So, this young man has decided to swim upstream, against the indoctrination of his culture which dictates that everyone swims together, side-by-side. He seems aware of his risks, but also feels that he can't go to a job everyday that he hates or that leaves his career stagnating. He's made a conscious decision to better himself, no matter what the risks.

That's why he's so intent on learning English. He knows that his survival depends on working for foreign companies. He accepts that he would never be hired by a Japanese company--even though he has bettered himself and his skills and could offer the company a truly determined and dedicated worker.

Suicide in Japan

Suicide in Japan has risen sharply since 1998 and now the government wants to conduct a five-year study costing 1 billion yen to see what can be done to treat depression. "The studies will focus on treatment for compulsive neurosis, as previous studies have revealed that most people who attempt suicide suffer from the disease."

As an outsider who has talked to hundreds of people, including business executives and high school and college students, I see a certain perspective that always makes me wonder how people cope in such an overcrowded, controlled society. I'm not a sociologist or a psychiatrist. or pretending to know to any depth what makes the Japanese tick, but I do wonder how people manage to live under such tight restrictions.

For example, I've had an opportunity to talk to a number of people about their workplaces, and have actually seen firsthand how they're set up. In most cases, the employees sit at desks without any cubicles, while their bosses sit at desks facing them, all in one big room. I've asked if this made them feel uncomfortable--to be watched every minute by their bosses. Usually they say "no" and wonder how it would be possible to "communicate freely" with their bosses if they weren't sitting so close. Some, however, say they feel tense and nervous all the time.

I've also talked to people about their level of satisfaction with their jobs, and get a shrug with a look of "what else can I expect?" Many of them talk about looking forward to the day they retire so they can "begin their lives."

In all sorts of advertising--from train posters to magazines to TV commercials to T-shirts--there seems to be a dominant theme of having a "happy life." There's so much focus on finding or experiencing a happy life that I'm left to wonder if Japanese lives are so entirely unhappy that they can only think about the day something happens to transform it into a happy life. Consumerism offers an immediate "fix" for millions, but it seems to leave people feeling even unhappier as they discover they can't buy whatever it is that will make them truly happy.

There's also the sense of isolation that Japanese feel, despite living with 120,000 million other people. Cell phones and text messaging seem to replace the intimacy of real conversation.

These are just my observations, and I suppose similar observations could be made in America, but for a nation that's so absorbed in putting a best face forward, it seems sad that so many of those faces belong to people who will kill themselves. Recently, quite a number of people have met in suicide chat rooms on the Internet. It seems strangely ironic that, while they had no friends they could talk to when they felt depressed, they were able to find other depressed people to meet up with for group suicides. Maybe in their last efforts to feel a part of something, they finally found companionship in the suicide pact to die together.

Global warming in Tokyo

It's not even July yet and already Tokyo has set a new highest-ever record as the temperature hit 36.2. For those who are "Celsius impaired," 36.2 translates to 97.16 F, but with the humidity factored in, it felt like 101. Way too hot for June! This doesn't bode well for the rest of summer.

Around the world temperatures are soaring, including in Europe. In 2003 there were over 30,000 deaths in Italy and France due to sustained high temperatures, and there's worry now that another catastrophic heat wave will claim more lives this summer.

Global warming is a reality, not "misguided science," and the U.S. is foolish and shortsighted to withdraw from the Kyoto Accords to reverse global warming. As a nation that uses more fossil fuel than any other country, and that dumps more chemicals into the atmosphere than anyone else, it seems only fitting that we should take more responsibility for cleaning up the mess.

Isn't it amazing how political coffers lined by big polluters' donations have the potential to kill millions of people around the planet? Where's the outrage?

Need some pampering?

For a long time I put off going to a hair salon because I didn't speak Japanese and worried about how I would communicate what I wanted. Then I had a student who was a hair colorist for a salon right next door, so she said she would help me explain what I wanted to a hair "artist."

From the minute I walked into the salon I was treated like royalty! There to greet me at the door were six or seven technicians, stylists, appointment staff, and a shampoo girl (sorry, I don't know what else to call her).

I sat down in the waiting area until both the (English student) colorist and the artist appeared. From there I proceeded to explain what kind of cut I desired, and the colorist interpreted to the artist. This went on for about 20 minutes and then I was led to a locker and dressing room area where I slipped on a gown and stashed my purse.

The shampoo girl took me to the shampoo area and began her magic. I don't know exactly what all was involved because I soon went into an altered state of bliss and comfort. While American shampoo bowls are cold and rigid, this bowl was soft and warm and comfortable. For the next twenty minutes or so I was treated to the best shampoo of my life!

Now, I've gone to upscale salons before, and have paid lots of money to have my makeup ruined by sloppy shampooing. I've also had my head banged against the sink, and variously scalded or iced with water that wasn't delivered at the right temperature. Most of these shampoos have lasted, maybe a minute or two, tops.

Not in Japan. Here a customer is treated to the ultimate luxury. I had a shampoo that was pure pampering, and included water delivered at a perfect temperature and several head massages with each lathering. Then my head was gently towel blotted and my hair combed out in the gentlest manner. There was no wet hair flipped onto my face or comb ripping my ears off.

As I paid for my haircut (around $50), again a bevy of salon workers lined up to bow and thank me for my business. In almost all shops, restaurants and salons, employees accompany the customer to the door (carrying any packages for them), and thank them for their business.

All this stands in stark contrast to what I'm used to in the U.S. I'm feeling very pampered in Tokyo!

A view inside a Japanese man's head

Something's been troubling me about young, married Japanese men. Several times now I've had students who have told me "their wives were expecting" babies at any time. In the United States we've become used to the notion that both parents were expecting the arrival of their child. It's actually not such a big deal that culturally the Japanese still refer to only their wives expecting a baby.

What really has me scratching my head is how often I hear that the father-to-be isn't that involved with the birth of his child(ren). Usually I hear something like this:

Me: So, it must be getting really close to the time for your baby's birth?
Student: Yes, my wife's gone to stay with her parents. (Note: this is often a few hours away)
Me: You mean she's going to go through labor and have the baby without you?
Student: Yes, but I'll go see her on the weekend (presumably after she's had the baby).
Me: You won't be there for your baby's birth?
Student: (With a puzzled look on his face) No, her mother will go to the hospital with her.
Me: Wow! So you'll miss out on your baby's birth?
Student: (Another puzzled look) No, I'll see the baby probably over the weekend.
Me: Yeah, but you won't actually be there when it's born.
Student: No.
Me: Is that because your company won't let you take time off to be with your wife when she's giving birth?
Student: (Yet another puzzled look with a very long "ehhhhhhhhhhh?")
Me: You know, time to be with your wife during the birth and a few days after to help take care of her and the baby?
Student: Well, I could probably take time off from work, but I don't really need to do that because her mother will take care of her and the baby.

Apparently Japan has never heard of the Family Leave Act which allows both new parents to spend time together adjusting to their new life with their baby.

Last night I had another student, a mature business man in his late 40s or early 50s who wanted what's called "free conversation," where we can talk about anything instead of having a regular lesson. We talked about all sorts of topics. Then I happened to bring up the topic of "what is the most exciting thing that every happened to you?" He told me about a time when he was a teenager and got into a fight where his nose was broken.

I told him I was really thinking of something wonderful that had happened, "You know," I said, "like when your children were born." Again, I saw that same strange look come across his face. He was puzzled. I asked him if he was present when his children were born (they're 14 and 5), and he told me the most amazing thing.

"In Japan, to see a woman screaming 'gaaaaaaaaaahhhh' and giving birth, with all that blood and nakedness, destroys a marriage," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"It ruins it for a man," he said.

Still not understanding, I pressed him for more information.

"You never think of your wife as the beautiful woman that you married once you see her that way."

Apparently to validate his story, and to address the stricken expression that must have been on my face, he said, "It's true! There's been a survey that says almost all men who see such a thing later divorce their wives."

The bell rang and class was over.

Weddings Japanese style

Right this very minute, I should be dressed in my finest party duds and celebrating a friend's wedding. I had planned to go to the party--to what would have been my first almost all-Japanese social event. In fact, I had bought a cute little black velvet jacket for the occasion and had figured out what else I would wear with it. My only worry was that I didn't have a warm dressy coat to wear for these bone-chilling, windy evenings.

Then last Monday I casually mentioned to another friend that I was going to a wedding party Friday night. Her eyebrows shot up and she said, "So, you're paying 30,000 yen ($300)?" For a moment, I wondered if I had heard her correctly. Thirty-thousand yen? Granted, I'm decimal-point-impaired, and I've had difficulty sometimes figuring the exchange rate in my head. When I first heard about the party, in my mind I was thinking 3,000 yen ($30), which I thought was fine, even though I've never experienced having to pay to attend a wedding party. In the United States, weddings aren't done that way--at least as far as I know.

When I realized I would have to pay so much money to go to a party for a person I barely knew, I decided that I should reconsider my acceptance, but it wasn't easy. What should I say? Should I tell the truth--that I couldn't afford to pay 30,000 yen--or make up some other excuse? In the end, I decided that I could decline without having to make up a story or give the exact reason. I simply said, "I'm so sorry, but I won't be able to attend your wedding party after all." I didn't elaborate or dig a hole.

While I was extremely honored to have been invited to an almost entirely Japanese party, and looked forward to an opportunity to "see Japan from the inside," I was enormously disappointed that I couldn't attend.

Since Monday, I've discovered that wedding parties have more than one purpose. While they're meant to be a celebration of the wedding, they're also a means for paying for the wedding. As each guest pays the equivalent of $300 to $500, they're helping to defray the costs of the actual wedding. From what I understand, gifts are usually modest because of the high cost of attending the party.

So, while I'm sitting at home in my jammies, there's a wonderful party taking place right this minute that's celebrating the union of a man and a woman in matrimony, and I wish I could be there.

But most of all, I wish Mayuko and her husband a long and joyful life together.

Lumps in the night

For two weeks I've been apartment-sitting for a friend while she's in Singapore and New Zealand. She has two mischievous cats who sleep all day and are quite refreshed by the time I get home around 10pm. That's about the time they start chasing each other around the small apartment--skidding off tables and counters, "cat"-apulting off bookcases, and banging into anything in their path. This usually goes on until around 2am!

The past two years I've been cat-less, for the first time in my life. Even though I love dogs and all creatures, cats hold a special place in my heart. There's just something about their sleek, feline bodies and conniving little minds. . .

Last night I got home around 11:30 and was ready for bed an hour later. As I unfolded the futon and collapsed into the warm down comforter, I laid my head down on the little pillow and felt a hard lump. Lately I've taken to covering the pillow with a small towel to protect it from. . .well. . .cat bottoms. I had forgotten the towel was still there. Without turning on the light, I stuck my hand under it to see what was making the lump and felt something soft and furry. Zelda, the ocicat, had parked her toy mouse there.

I know it was Zelda because that's her kind of humor. She was probably sitting a cat's-tail-length away, waiting for the scenario to unfold, chuckling gleefully to herself as she awaited my reaction.

All her brother Hootie could manage was a disgusted "harrumph" at her cunning ploy for attention.

A baby stroller and a changing table

At first I thought it was strange to see the baby stroller parked by the curb. This is a residential neighborhood with no shops nearby. Yet day after day for almost a week, there it stayed. It wouldn't have been so perplexing if it hadn't been such a new-looking stroller. There was a cheerful cushioned liner to tenderly enfold an infant or toddler, and a matching protective hood hovered above the seat like a celestial ring of Cherubim. What caught my eye was that it appeared never to have been used. Then it was gone.

A day or two later, an equally new-looking wicker baby changing table appeared at the same curb where the stroller had once stood. It was outfitted in, yet again, a luxuriously thick mat. It would have made any baby happy to be changed and dressed on such a lovely table. Below the changing area were two open shelves displaying a matching fabric liner. After a few days, the matching mat and shelf liners disappeared, but the table remains.

If I were teaching a creative writing class, I would ask my students to imagine the story that went with these discarded items. Day after day, I looked at the stroller and changing table. What would prompt someone to set them out by the curb? In Japan, that's where people set their trash, but these were not put in the specified trash area. No, they were set there for someone to claim. But why? Was there no one this individual knew who could have used these two beautiful items? All young couples seem to know other expectant parents. Were they tainted in a way that made them unwanted? Is it possible that the joy of having a newborn was crushed by its tragic death?

I'll never know the answers to these questions.

Weekend warriors

It's easy to see how quite a few people spent the holidays: hurting themselves, probably on the ski slopes. While it's rare to see anyone using crutches in Tokyo, lately I've seen quite a few young guys, and a few girls as well, hobbling along on them. From conversations with some of my students, it sounds like skiing is a once-a-year "hobby" for a lot of them. In other words, they hit the slopes once during the winter, and that earns them their "ski badge." I wonder if those who were injured ever go back to the slopes.

Domino effect

The funniest thing happened yesterday. Well, maybe not for the guy it happened to, but I was bent in half laughing as I watched the event unfold.

As I went through the train station ticket gate and exited the station, I looked up just in time to watch a young guy park his bicycle in the middle of what must have been 100 bicycles. Just as he turned to walk away, he apparently bumped one of the bikes. . .and the domino effect began. One by one, to the guy's horror, bikes began to fall. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to whip out my new digital camera and take a movie, but the movie's still running in my head.

Amazingly, nobody else seemed to pay any attention. In Japan, people try to avoid embarrassing themselves or others, and I've learned not to offer help, so I just walked away (laughing on the inside).

10-year anniversary of Kobe earthquake

Today marked the 10th anniversary of the "Great Hanshin" earthquake that hit Kobe, Japan on January 17, 1995 at 5:46 a.m. Over 6,400 lives were lost, and countless others affected by the 7.3 quake that leveled much of Kobe.

In solemn ceremonies under rainy, wintry skies, people huddled under umbrellas to light candles for each of those who died. It was a particularly difficult anniversary because of its close proximity to the Indian Ocean tsunami that snuffed out so many lives December 26. People here have been transfixed on that disaster, and feel a compelling need to ensure that such a devastating loss of life never occurs again. This milestone anniversary comes on the heels of that enormous tragedy, and the Japanese psyche is resonating with anguish.

Seattle and Kobe have been sister cities for 48 years. In the Seattle Times today:

Yesterday, at exactly 12:46 p.m., 60 people gathered beneath a cherry tree at Seattle Center to mark the 10th anniversary — to the minute — of the 7.3-magnitude earthquake in Kobe, Japan, that killed 6,433 people. . . At the moment of the anniversary, the crowd lit candles and bowed heads for a minute of silence. Then, led by Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, each person lined up to ring the bronze 600-pound Kobe Bell, a 1962 World's Fair gift from Kobe to Seattle.

Shortly after the Kobe quake in 1995, nearly 3,000 people came to ring the bell in memory of the dead. The bell rang once for each life lost, and the service lasted for four days.

Even though I don't understand or speak Japanese, I have watched the constant stream of news stories on TV about both the tsunami and Kobe disasters. There have been so many feature stories showing the Kobe aftermath, and it's not hard to imagine the loss of so many lives when so many blocks of businesses, homes and apartments either burned to the ground or collapsed entirely. It must have been a terrifying scene to see firsthand. One of the teachers at work was living in Kobe when the earthquake struck, but fortunately for her, she made it out alive. She said it all felt surreal, and that time seemed to stop for a few moments until she realized what had just happened.

Japan is one of the most active earthquake zones in the world, and there will unquestionably be more earthquakes. Despite that fact, since moving to Japan I've noticed an overall sense of denial about it happening again--that is, until the December tsunami. Maybe that horrific tragedy will prompt Japan to finally work out a viable disaster plan. They need to get better prepared, as the Niigata earthquake in October proved. It took an achingly long time before supplies reached the victims of that earthquake. They were without blankets, food, and shelter for way too many days and weeks. Many families had to live inside their cars, and one-third of those people developed life-threatening blood clots.

It seems that lessons should have been learned from the Kobe earthquake in 1995, but Niigata proved that it's still a situation where the government is ill-prepared to handle such an emergency. Lives are unnecessarily lost when survivors are not reached in time to save them. The government needs more provisions, better planning, and the ability to move quickly in such events. Every minute counts. Every life is precious. How many more earthquakes will it take before Japan is able to respond immediately?

While Japan is on the leading edge for its tsunami early-warning system, not all earthquakes produce tsunami's. It's imperative that disaster preparations are firmly in place so that when an earthquake hits, the government is ready to act in an instant. There needs to be a full-force campaign to get people ready for the next earthquake. Denial time is over.