All Posts from the Culture Category
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Sunrise
On Sunday I got up at five o’clock (makes a change from the normal six o’clock routine I suppose) to go and view the sunrise from a nearby mountain together with my new best friend Mr. Nishihara, the guy I met at the yakitori pub during my first week (see story here).
It was a lovely walk up the mountain, starting in the pitch dark and with the light gradually growing as we made our way up to the top just in time for daybreak. And this is the view we saw from the viewing platform at the top.
When we got there:
Start of sunrise:
A couple of minutes later:
What a great experience. And now I finally have some decent photos for my computer screen and phone wallpaper, so it was all worth it.
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Muffin diplomacy fail
Valentines Day is pretty big in Japan.
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The kids at school were all talking about giving chocolates to one another on Friday 12th, the last day of school before the big VD.
Although we couldn’t quite work out whether it was girls giving to boys, boys giving to girls, or just the spirit of giving in general, we all decided that it would be a nice idea if Ruby and Felix baked some chocolate muffins to share with their classmates.
This turned out to be a huge no-no; you don’t eat sweet things at school, you don’t bring sweet things to school, there are no sweet things at school PERIOD. Both their teachers explained to us afterward that the muffins had been permitted as a special treat but only on this occasion, and it was clear to us that we wouldn’t be doing the muffin caper again in the future.
However it’s not just the silly foreign parents who are pushing the boundaries; the local kids are happy to try their luck bending the rules too. Ruby told us that despite the teachers searching their bags for chocolates (can you believe it? they’re not looking for drugs, alcohol or knives… just chocolates) some of the girls managed to sneak some in anyway, and one of her friends even slipped a couple in her bag to take home.
So in the interests of fairness and equity (what about all the Grades 1, 2, 4 and 5 kids who didn’t get any muffins?) we won’t be doing that again. Nevertheless it was all good PR, in the spirit of “any publicity is good publicity”, and the Grade 3 and 6 kids got a kick out of it. And deep down I suspect the teachers probably thought it was an excellent idea too, although of course they couldn’t be seen to admit as much. -
Our first festival
On Sunday, the kids had their first official day of school. But rather than a normal school day, it was the annual Tondo festival, where you welcome in the New Year (a bit late, admittedly) by building a massive bonfire and burning all your ancient traditional cultural New Year bamboo sticks and fronds and bits of paper with New Year’s resolutions written on them.
After the bonfire, the kids had lunch in the tents.
Because Sunami doesn’t have a large public space, the Tondo festival for the local area is held at Sunami Primary School, in combination with the school’s own version. This provides a wonderful opportunity for all the old folk of the district to get together with the kids and teach them stuff that nobody knows how to do any more these days, like pounding and moulding the mochi rice cakes, weaving straw snow shoes and playing with spinning tops. Naturally the new parents in town were only too keen to get amongst the Culture, as you can see here:
The grade sixes were responsible for pounding the mochi too, so Ruby got to have a go:
Once the bonfires died down, we all toasted our rice cakes over the embers on super-long bamboo stakes and shared them with the kids. It was great fun and an excellent way for the kids to get to know their new classmates.
Click here for more photos.
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The adventure begins
The family has been here less than a week but already it’s official: Japan is fully sick.
On Day 1 we went to the local council and did all the applications, then repaired to Mr Donuts for a celebratory morning tea (strictly two doughnuts each). After that we did a quick spin around the shopping centres to pick up some new pants for Gigi—because tracksuit pants are a bad look in pubic, let alone in public in Japan. And we bought a bike for Gigi because one of the shopping centres was having a sale and flogging off brand new bikes for $100. Even though he won’t need a bike for several months at least, it was too hard to resist. Our first week here has been kind of like that.
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Since the kids aren’t at school yet, and since I haven’t got any work on at the moment, and since the house is still lacking in many things, and since Japan is just the best place ever for shopping, you can guess what we’ve been doing all day every day since we got here. The only other thing we’ve done apart from shop, and eat beautiful food, is go religiously to Mr Donuts every day. If you buy enough doughnuts and get enough points, you can trade them in for a very cute little coloured Mr Donuts coffee mug. We have three already, and are angling for a fourth to complete the set. Ruby worked out that each mug is the equivalent of about ¥5000 ($55) worth of doughnuts. I don’t think it would be quite that much, but you get the idea — we like them alot.
Other than shopping and doughnuts we’ve been catching up with our good friends Yusuke and Yoko and their two kids, and on Sunday we even hopped on the ferry and went to the next island and stumbled across a rather nice temple. Here’s the evidence:
Once we get into the school routine things will settle down, but for the moment it’s all about the excitement of discovery. And doughnuts. -
A Japanese weekend
On Friday night, having spent most of the day cleaning the house, I headed out for a bite to eat. I decided to try one of the smaller places near the station area and eventually stumbled on yakitori (grilled chicken) shop. When I went in though, it wasn’t like a normal Japanese restaurant, rather a pokey little place. I started to feel self-conscious and couldn’t interpret the menu. Eventually, having lost my confidence altogether, I asked the guy behind the counter to help me out on something to eat. Whereupon the gentleman next to me immediately pushed over a flask of hot sake saying, “If you want to eat here, son, you have to DRINK!”
It turns out that yakitori places are actually bars in disguise; going out for yakitori is code for going out for a night on the turps.
Though you may speak Japanese, grasshopper, you still have much to learn. (And when Yusuke heard about it, the first thing he said was “so why didn’t you invite me too?” A major cultural faux pas.)
Anyway I soon became Best Friends with the guy next to me, who turns out to be Mr Nishihara (we exchanged business cards—of course—and next month he’s going to take me hiking to watch the sunrise from a nearby mountain) as well as the guy next to him, a Sony consultant visiting from Tokyo. And here’s the proof:
On Saturday morning I introduced myself to the neighbours.
I remember from our time in Tokyo that when you move in to a new apartment, you’re supposed to introduce yourself to the people above (ie upstairs), to the left and to the right. In our case there’s nobody above (in terms of up the hill), only an embankment, so I figured I’d go with across the road (to the left), next door (on the right), and behind (or below, seeing as we’re on such a steep hill).
My first attempt on Thursday night had been an abject failure; nobody was home and I ended up accidentally handing over a gift to the lady two doors down on the right whose house isn’t even visible from here and therefore doesn’t rate. What a waste.
So off I went again on Saturday morning armed with my little pre-prepared bags of ancient traditional cultural tea gifts, and this time met with greater success.
First port of call was Mrs. Hara across the road, a kindly lady of about 60 who I’d bumped into on the street the day before. The goodie bag was duly handed over and there was much bowing and scraping and I think I made a good impression.
Next was Mrs. Masuda behind us, who immediately took me around to visit the leader of our the neighbourhood association, Mrs. Kanda. Neighbourhood associations are big in Japan; everyone is expected to join up and take part in exciting neighbourly activities such as cleaning up the local park, sweeping the streets and making sure that people are putting out their rubbish properly. No, really, I’m sure it’s a great way to foster local community spirit and a collective consciousness that we could all do with a bit more of.
However this created a dilemma in that I ended up giving Mrs. Kanda the gift that I had earmarked for Mrs. Masuda—seeing as you can’t introduce yourself empty-handed—so now I had run out of gifts despite having covered only one of my three key targets.
Mrs. Masuda said she didn’t need a gift but I’m not letting her get away with it that easily; it’s back to the tea shop for more supplies on Monday.
Meanwhile, the people on the right are away at the moment so that reduces the burden slightly.
Then on Saturday evening I went out drinking with Yusuke and young Mr. Kobayashi, who is also the real estate agent who arranged this wonderful house for us.
When you go out drinking in Japan, it appears you must go to at least two places as a bare minimum. On Saturday we managed three, and it would have been four or more had I not started feeling a bit pathetic (the combination of beer, sake, choshu and Japanese plum liqueur may have had something to do with it) and pulled the pin. And because you can still smoke in bars in Japan, my clothes all reeked of smoke when I got home. Just like the good old days!
Things got even better on Sunday: I went skiing in Japan for the first time in 15 years.
Mr. Kobayashi (first name unknown, despite the fact that we’ve been out drinking together) took me along to a ski field about two hours away, with his two kids aged 5 and 6. Unfortunately for Mr. K, he had to spend the day pulling them on the sled up and down the kids’ slope, but I had a wonderful time zooming up and down the daddy slopes unhindered. Once again, though, after just a few hours I was starting to feel my age (the combination of beer, sake etc the previous night may have had something to do with it) and was reduced to standing around minding the kids while Mr. K did a bit of zooming up and down of his own. And on the way back from the ski field, just to cement the Japaneseness of it all, we stopped in at a hot spring to have a communal bath while admiring the views of the snow-covered mountains.
What a great weekend.
After all, how many people can honestly say they’ve seen their real estate agent naked?
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This blog is about the adventures of a family of Australian barbarians spending two years in the islands of southern Japan. Stay tuned for regular updates on the food, the culture, the earthquakes, the wacky festivals, the school system and more. 
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