Life In Japan: Visitors | John Rachel

The best way to see our town!

We’ve had a few visitors here in Japan, from other parts of the world.  It’s certainly always a welcome change of pace to have people come and stay with us.  We have a guest room in a two-story house affording decent privacy for all, and four bicycles.  Taking folks around our charming town is such a pleasure for us and usually a surprise for them.  Most people’s preconceptions of Japan are like what mine were before I finally came to this fascinating country. Big crowded cities, tall buildings, lots of cement and bright lights.  But the truth is, Japan is 70% covered with forest, and there is a breathtaking variety of landscapes: mountains, rivers, volcanoes, lush forests, beaches, valleys, lakes, and vast stretches of farm lands — some terraced — growing everything that can be grown here.

We are fortunate in that our traditional rural town, Tambasasayama, is situated within an hour-and-a-half of three major cities, Kyoto, Osaka, and Kobe, each quite distinctive and offering unique charms.  This affords easy access to the intensity of urban life, when we want a break from peace, quiet, fresh air, and the slow pace of a farm town.  In fact, the train system in Japan makes it possible to travel just about anywhere in the country, except Okinawa which is separated from the main islands by almost 1000 km (620 miles).  An auto isn’t necessary to see everything you might want to see, though the highway system is itself is spectacularly well-built, well-maintained, easily negotiated, and efficient.

Anyway, here are some of the good people who we’ve had the pleasure to host.

Gilly: My dear friend, Gilly, visited in 2012.  She arrived from France, though I actually knew her from Portland, Oregon, my last hometown in the U.S.  Very very sadly, Gilly has passed away, a victim of breast cancer. I’m so glad I got to see her one last time, and she got to meet Masumi. Gilly was an incredibly beautiful, highly evolved person, a respected teacher and skilled practitioner of an alternative health system called Body Talk. She was in Japan to give classes and offer treatment in Tokyo. She has certainly helped many, many people and spread a lot of love over the decade I knew her.

Owen: I met Owen at the Peace Stupa in Leh, Ladakh, in northern India. By pure coincidence, he has very strong connections to Japan and speaks fluent Japanese. He’s visited Japan a few times and we’ve buddied around. I met him in Osaka one time and we did the town. His last visit, he brought his fiancé Chi, a lovely Japanese lady, who he met in his native Australia. Owen is a very talented songwriter — another coincidence! — and in Ladakh, he and I jammed on keyboards and guitar with a Buddhist monk, a friend of the Dalai Lama. This sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But it’s true!

Travis and Michelle: Travis and I go way back. Best friends when I lived in Portland, Oregon, he and I worked together, hung out, wrote songs, played in bands together, did a lot of recording in my studio, spent countless hours discussing politics and philosophy. Back in those days, he and I went to New York and Los Angeles on music business. Travis is a multi-talented, truly brilliant guy. He and his wife, Michelle, came to Japan spring of 2014. She is now a librarian at a public school in Vancouver, Washington, where they live. Travis is into many things these days, building buildings, renovating houses, creating a financial empire, teaching “pickleball” — a variant of tennis, mastering golf.

Alex / Alex and Corine: In 2010, I lived in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam for almost six months. It was there I met Alex. For his last couple weeks in the country, we got to know each other and I got to know what an incredibly special person he is. We kept in touch. In fact, July 2013 Masumi and I visited Alex in Den Haag, Netherlands where he lives. He was a phenomenal tour guide and not only showed us around the immediate area, but introduced us to Amsterdam, one of the real highlights of that holiday in Europe. Then in 2016, he brought his girlfriend Corine for two weeks here in Japan. Alex was so enamored with the country, he returned solo December 2018. We talk two or three times a month via Skype. Alex is one of my all time favorite people!

Moose and Carmen: Masumi and I met Moose — his real name is Börge — and Carmen during our trip to Russia and Scandinavia, summer of 2015. We couchsurfed their place in Stockholm for three days. They were perfect hosts! Then they came to Japan to enjoy the blossoming of cherry blossoms in 2019, and we not only showed them around town here, but took them to Himeji to see the famous castle there. At the end of their stay here, they announced that they were expecting a baby, and little Joel became a member of their family later in the year. From Tambasasayama, Moose and Carmen headed off on their own to Koyasan, Nara, Kyoto, and to attend a sumo practice in Tokyo. Morning sickness and sumo wrestling? Does that sound like a good combination?

Masumi and I have talked about opening a B&B after she retires from teaching. We love having people stay with us, love meeting people from other countries. We especially enjoy having friends come to visit. I keep the bikes oiled and tuned, make sure the tires are inflated. Nothing beats being prepared.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]



Life In Japan: Visitors

Life In Japan: Sophie, Cinderella Orphan | John Rachel

It’s quite a story how Sophie came into our lives.

Masumi was going to her drum lesson at the other end of town. This was at the Yamaha music education space, which happened to be across the street from a factory.

As she got out of the car, a skinny calico came running from the factory yard right up to her. The poor thing was undernourished, had runny eyes, in general looked sick and sickly. But she had lots of energy and came right up to Masumi, reached up on Masumi’s legs and cried for help. Normally, street cats are very skittish and unapproachable. This little kitty was completely the opposite. She wanted attention and affection.

Masumi’s drum lesson lasted over an hour. When she came back out, the calico was still there, waiting for her “chosen” friend. She continued to cry and rub up against Masumi, and when she opened the car door, the kitty jumped in the car!

Next I got a call. “What should I do? This poor little kitty jumped in my car. She wants me to take her home.”

We decided that whatever was to happen, we should try to help this poor creature out. She was in trouble, it was winter, no way would she survive in her condition outdoors in the yard of a factory. What was she living on? Was she getting fed?

Masumi drove with the calico in a cardboard box directly to our vet. Poor little thing was starving, had worms, and a bad cold. How could we turn her away? Masumi came home and it was no decision. If we could manage it, this new kitty would join our family.

The immediate serious issue was whether our new friend had either kitty HIV or leukemia, both of which are fatal within a couple years of infection. Both are also very contagious and are common among “street cats”. We had concern about Arthur and Jennifer catching one of these dread diseases. At the vet, at least for now, the calico tested negative for both but we’d have to wait four weeks and have her retested, in case she had just recently gotten infected. Four weeks isolated from our other two cats!

We set up a room. I spent about half my time keeping her company for the next month and grew incredibly attached. She was hysterically funny, so full of affection and appreciation. Our other cats, Arthur and Jennifer, spent countless hours at the door of the quarantine room wondering just who this mystery guest was. They heard her frolicking, jumping around the room, using me as a cat tower, slowly gaining strength, health and energy.

We decided on a name . . . Sophie!

Four weeks crawled by. It was time for a “final verdict” from our veterinarian.

I have to say that after all that time in quarantine with her, it would have broken my heart if her tests had come back positive. But she was clean! As soon as Masumi returned from the vet, she brought Sophie into the house, opened the carrier. Arthur and Jennifer got to meet the newest member of the family.

The three of them are to this day the best of friends, regularly play together, are very affectionate to one another. The perfect ending! Sophie is truly the most delightful kitty I’ve ever had. She cuddles up to me several times a day while I’m writing, brings both Masumi and I toys she wants us to play with, sleeps with us every night.

So . . .

Finally, in a long-overdue recognition of Sophie’s long, dramatic journey in becoming a member of our family, our local newspaper has published the brief notice you see above. It merely says she has brought much joy to our household. Talk about an understatement.

Sophie is definitely one-of-a-kind, an “orphan” and a real Cinderella story!

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]



Life In Japan: Sophie, Cinderella Orphan | John Rachel

Life In Japan: School Lunch | John Rachel

As an American, when I hear a reference to ‘school lunch’ I think of school lunch programs back in my homeland. School lunch programs are designed to help the poor. Believe it or not, every night more than 13 million children go to bed hungry in what putatively the richest country in the world — the richest nation in history! The euphemism is these kids are “food insecure”. That’s a polite way of saying neglected, victims of grotesque wealth inequality, and systemic racism. School lunch, school breakfast, and after school meals, are an attempt via various government programs at keeping these children alive and minimally healthy.

Here ‘school lunch’ has an entirely different meaning.

Yes, it refers to that time around noon when across the entire country, students from four to twenty-four are sitting down for their mid-day meal.

But here in Tambasasayama, it has another very special connotation. This weekend, in fact, Masumi-san and I had a “school lunch”. It was at a restaurant set up in one of the schools which is no longer functioning as an educational institution.

Japan’s population is in freefall. This attrition is especially significant in communities like where I live. When kids here graduate from high school, it’s either off to university, or to where the “good jobs” are, which from the prevailing perspective of local youth is surely not here. Being a farmer is not glamorous, nor does it offer the opportunity to amass a decent fortune. Or falling short of a decent fortune, getting one of those high-paying corporate positions with Panasonic or Mitsubishi.

The upshot is that our town is shrinking in numbers at a rate faster than even Japan itself. Many of the schools which once served a thriving farm community now sit empty.

Well, they sit empty unless put to other use. The former school where we had our meal not only has a restaurant, but a curios shop, an arts & crafts workshop, and an art museum for showcasing local artists. Where we sat down to have lunch was previously the office area where the school’s teachers had their individual desks, a room where they could think, create teaching plans, grade tests, get away from the noise and chaos of the students.

In the grand scheme of things, the world is over-populated, exceeding the planet’s ability to support the human race living in the splendor of modernity, convenience and luxury. Most environmental experts judge the Earth’s current growth trajectory unsustainable.

In other words: we need fewer people.

Inadvertently, perhaps, Tambasasayama is doing its part to reduce the human imprint. There are very few new couples starting families here. Few babies are being produced. Meaning a number of beautiful old schools will continue to sit idle, collecting cobwebs.

Here’s one. It even has an observatory on top, where elementary students a decade ago would gaze in wonder at the heavens.

Looks like a decent place to store rice. Or soybeans. That dome is a good start on a silo.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]


Life In Japan: School Lunch | John Rachel

Life In Japan: Police Power II

Let’s face it. Crime is universal. Wherever you find human beings, you’ll find individuals in violation of the carefully-crafted laws of the land. Why just this week here in Japan, a lady in Kyoto walked out of a pet store with a cat. Granted, it was not a heist on the scale of the Great Train Robbery. In fact, the lady was convinced the cat was actually her cat, one that had recently run away. A case of mistaken cat identity? Covid-19 derangement syndrome?

But no matter how you look at it, policing is a tough job.

So . . . while police in the U.S. are killing fellow citizens, and especially people of color are being terminated by the law enforcement officers who are supposed to protect them, what are the police here in Japan doing?

The story pictured at the head of this article is a perfect example. Are they stopping waves of armed terrorists? Are they cracking down on drug traffickers and drug addicts who in need of their next fix are snatching purses from helpless old ladies? Are they interdicting elicit trade in contraband which could send the Japanese economy into a death spiral?

Actually, these officers are putting a notification on a bicycle! The owner of this bike — brace yourself — failed to lock it, a clear invitation for a hardened bicycle thief to cart it off and then God only knows. Ride it? Sell it? Ship it to North Korea as a gift to Kim Jong-un? The paper band around the tire is a reminder that it’s a good idea to lock a bike.

Of course, the world is in great turmoil right now. The coronavirus pandemic has everyone on edge. In the U.S. people understandably let off steam by burning down police stations, as a message to authorities that they should do a better job, even though now they don’t have a proper place to organize their police work.

By contrast, here in my charming home town of Tambasasayama, the police embrace a slightly different narrative. Since things that grow can offer both calm and beauty, they now have 40 flowering plants in the lobby of the main police station. Not surprisingly, people like this and some just stop by for no other reason than to enjoy the display of flora. No one has been seen outside the building with a torch and a trunk full of Molotov cocktails.

I guess some cynics would characterize this as police power merging with flower power. Or the cops trying to put an amicable face on the often unpredictable and brutal business of enforcing the law and keeping the peace. Whatever the reason, we have to recognize the harsh realities.

It’s easy for crime to take hold, spread, and run roughshod over a society. It’s important to draw the line, never make excuses or compromise.

Take jaywalking. Everyone knows that jaywalking is a “gateway crime”. Statistically, every person who has murdered, robbed, raped, dealt drugs, pimped, cheated on their taxes, or thrown someone off the top floor of a skyscraper, has jaywalked. In the minds of tough law enforcers, this is proof that jaywalking, if unchecked, leads to truly reprehensible and villainous behavior.

Thus, in the U.S. the police take a rigid stance on jaywalking. If you’re too lazy to walk the extra few steps to find a proper pedestrian crosswalk, it can end badly.

Hmm . . . I’m not sure why I brought this up.

Oh, I remember!

You see, the Japanese don’t jaywalk or cross against a signal. They dutifully seek out an official crosswalk, and even if there is absolutely no traffic in sight for several kilometers, they wait until the walk sign goes on before proceeding. Which is why there’s practically no crime here. No jaywalking. No murder or burglary, kidnapping or gang banging. Or very little. This strict regard for jaywalking law is, of course, reinforced by an abiding respect for the lives and property of others, as I’ve written about elsewhere.

Let me close this by referencing a video of the Japanese police in action here. This was a difficult “traffic management” situation which in my opinion they handled admirably.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]





Life In Japan: Police Power II

Life In Japan: The Telephone Booth

Probably anyone under 25 living in the U.S. will not know what that is in the photo above. Or maybe they saw one in an old movie. You know . . . old . . . like 1987.

It’s a telephone booth. Inside is a pay telephone. A person can put a coin or two in it and make a phone call. If they put a lot of coins in it, they can make a long distance call, maybe say ‘hi’ to their grandmother in Heidelberg or Guadalajara.

The one pictured is in a fairly rural area about five minutes by bicycle from my house. Mind you, I live on the very edge of town, surrounded by bean and rice fields. This road is even further out but has houses on both sides of it, a small cluster of residences, forming one of the several villages which are the “neighborhoods” of Tambasasayama City*. Each village usually has regular meetings, puts on social functions — barbecues, holiday celebrations, bingo parties, etc — gets together to clean up and maintain the grounds and properties of the village. Most have a community center for hosting monthly meetings and various social gatherings. Some, like the one where I live, called Noma Village, have their own Shinto shrine, a valued but mostly symbolic feature — nobody goes there on a regular basis to worship, as they might a church or synagogue in America — visited on certain special holidays, e.g. New Years.

Back to the phone booth. Why is it there?

Well . . . someone just might need to make a call. And maybe their iPhone battery is down. Or they dropped their Samsung in a toilet and it’s not so waterproof after all. It’s there on the off chance someone needs it. Does this seem odd?

Actually, it reflects a typically Japanese level of forethought and consideration. Respect for redundancy. A willingness to leave some things in place — just in case.

Here’s another example: Everywhere you find a school or public building, they have what’s pictured here on the walkways.

What are they? They’re for blind people. Now I’ve been coming and going for 13 years. I’ve been up and down these streets. And I can honestly say that in all that time, I’VE NEVER SEEN A BLIND PERSON in this town. So why do they have these? Well . . . ya never know. A blind person could show up one day. And the city doesn’t want to leave them stumbling around, wandering into the street, getting hit by cars or tractors or rice harvesters.

If the city council decided that there was some reasonable possibility that space aliens could visit our town, I have no doubt they’d designate parking places for their space ships and provide electrical outlets for them to recharge. That’s just the way they think here.

Tambasasayama is far from being a rich town. In fact, some would say it’s a dying town. There are hardly any young adults. Most kids bolt once they graduate from high school, first stop university, next a nice job in the city. Very few return. Not much going on here and unless you want to be a farmer, there aren’t really many jobs.

Yet, it seems they are constantly working on improving things. Paving the roads, installing new or fixing the old curbs. Here’s a bridge they painted a few years ago. I remember this well because I was so astonished at how much care they lavished on this particular bridge, a pedestrian/bicycle bridge which I use almost every day. When the tiniest, nearly invisible signs of rust appeared, they sanded it and put FIVE COATS OF PAINT ON IT! Five! Seven years later and it still looks perfect. It could probably take a direct hit by a MOAB and survive.

We have one street which is rich with tradition, sometimes referred to as ‘merchant street’. It has many traditional shops, vegetable stands, restaurants, art galleries, ceramics stores. It’s charming in every respect but one. The electrical lines. They are now in the process of putting all of the power lines underground. Because most of the buildings have traditional architecture, when they’re done with this, this already charming street will look very much the way it did, say 200 years ago. There’s only one conclusion to be drawn seeing this sort of commitment of time, energy, and public funds to the town’s infrastructure: For the Japanese, aesthetics are an essential part of honoring history and community life.

Politicians in the U.S. are always bloviating about the need to repair the “infrastructure” there, which they all openly admit is crumbling, if not already in shambles. Then there will be another tax cut for the rich or another war or pandemic . . . or [ fill in the blank since any excuse will do ] . . . and nothing ever gets done.

Well, building and maintaining infrastructure to keep Tambasasayama safe and operable is not just a campaign slogan or bumper sticker here. It’s an integral part of daily life. We all do a little. But the government itself does the real heavy lifting.

To put it mildly, I’m awed.

One last note. Proof that the telephone booth at the beginning is not just a fluke, here is a photo I took less than 100 meters (300 feet) away, even closer to my house. Frankly, I had never noticed it before. Yes, it’s yet another phone booth, this one sitting adjacent to a truly funky old bus stop shelter. While you’re waiting for the bus, you can call your grandmother in Heidelberg or Guadalajara. How convenient!

* Note that in May 2020 the town officially changed its name from Sasayama — the name that appears in most of the articles in this series — to Tambasasayama.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]




Life In Japan: The Telephone Booth

Life In Japan: A Morning at the Clinic

The clinics here vary in size. Some are like a doctor’s office. Some are facilities attached to hospitals. When you need medical attention, unless it’s an emergency, you go to a clinic.

I rarely have problems with my health. But I’ve been a permanent resident here now for over eight years, and I have used medical services in Japan a few times. One time a very bad fall from my bike required some very extensive care. I broke my collar bone — I don’t recommend it as it’s very painful — which involved several sessions with an orthopedic doctor and physical therapist. Other occasions were more typical: one time I had an extremely sore throat, another time a kidney infection. Common types of things.

People back in the U.S. are always asking me what it’s like to have universal “socialized” medical care. They’ve been fed all the propaganda by the inefficient but certainly very profitable health care industry there: expect long waits, impersonal care, low standards, lousy doctors, etc. These stories, of course, are generated by the insurance companies, the for-profit clinics and hospitals, the mega-wealthy specialists, rock-star surgeons, all the vested interests who are beneficiaries of the windfall of hard cash that the current system in the U.S. generates for them, and who selfishly but predictably want to keep things the way they are.

I have one story that accurately represents how it works here, straight from my perspective as a patient. Let me say up front, I’m completely blown away by health care in Japan, but I’ll let you judge for yourself the merits of centrally organized and controlled health care.

My wife, Masumi, and I were planning on spending three weeks in the U.S. starting the last week in July. We’d be visiting some of my friends back there, staying at a couple B&Bs, camping at the national parks, even couchsurfing with a retired music teacher in Seattle.

About two months before we were to leave, I started noticing tightness in my chest, and a feeling like my lungs were being compressed. Not a good sign. Red flags immediately went up! What if I have a serious problem while we’re on vacation? I have no health insurance in the United States. And I had serious doubts about the availability of emergency services, based on the stories I regularly hear about the inadequacies and outright failures of health care back in America. Scary!

As the symptoms persisted for a few days, I became certain my discomfort had something to do with my heart. Back in 2010 when I had my back surgery in Seoul, South Korea, they discovered one of my ventricular valves was only functioning at 68% efficiency. Maybe it had fallen apart and was now flapping like bedsheets in a summer breeze!

I decided to take action. The best place for this was a ten-minute bike ride from my house.

Are you ready for my harrowing tale? Because here’s exactly what happens when you have to depend on “socialized” universal health care.

I showed up at 8:45 am with no appointment, bearing a note in Japanese describing my symptoms and suspicions. Twenty minutes later I was interviewed and examined by a heart specialist. He scheduled testing.

Another fifteen to twenty minutes later, I was taken to a special room and wired up for an electrocardiogram. My heart was monitored both as I rested, and as I did “stress testing”. That meant going up and down a small set of steps, which made my heart work harder. The entire procedure took maybe twenty minutes.

I went back to the waiting area for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Then I was taken into another special room where using ultrasound echocardiography, they observed my heart function in real time, its rhythm, contraction, the operation and efficiency of the valves. This was put on video. After being edited by Stephen Spielberg, scored by Hanz Zimmer, it is now available on Netflix. Okay okay . . . I made up that last part. But the ultrasound of my beating heart was recorded and entered into the system as part of my medical record.

Back to the waiting area. Within no more than thirty minutes, I was escorted back to the office of the heart specialist. He had a printout of my electrocardiogram spread out on the desk before him and was watching my ultrasound as it played on his computer monitor.

Would I need an artificial heart? A transplant? Or maybe it was simply too late!

Actually, my heart was in great shape. The doctor explained there was absolutely nothing that I should be worried about. This, in fact, turned out to be accurate. Whatever the weird symptoms were that I had been experiencing went away after a few days — maybe I’d been eating too many marshmallows or my t-shirts had shrunk — and since then I’ve never had any problems with my heart. Knock on wood, as they say.

Now . . . the part that can often truly give a person a heart attack.

[ Cue dark tremulous scary cello and trombone music. ]

THE BILL FOR MEDICAL SERVICES RENDERED!

Summarizing . . .

At least twenty minutes consultation with a heart specialist. A complete electrocardiogram including a stress test with a nurse. A recorded ultrasonic echocardiography session with a nurse and a technician. I’d been in their clinic for over two hours.

OMG! Will I have to get a job? Get a second mortgage on the cat?

I heard my name called and walked with great trepidation to the payment window and was handed my invoice . . . 3600 yen . . . 3600! THREE THOUSAND SIX HUNDRED YEN!

Why that’s . . . that’s . . . $33.

Unbelievable, eh?

$33 for the entire thing.

No appointment. No waiting. Qualified heart specialist. Comprehensive testing.

$33. No tipping.

Any folks out there who want to offer an estimate of what this would cost in the U.S.?

One last side note on the horrors of socialized medicine. When I tell Japanese people that an ambulance trip in the U.S. can cost $2,000-5,000 . . . they look at me in total shock. Ambulances here are completely free.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]



Life In Japan: A Morning at the Clinic

Life In Japan: Highway Service Areas

There are highway service areas in Japan so elaborate and well-outfitted that families pay the pricey highway toll just to visit them and spend the day. For these folks, going there is the same as going to a park or a shopping mall to hang out and have fun.

Highway service areas in Japan are what we in the U.S. call ‘rest areas’.

Years ago, I used to spend a lot of time traveling the entire Eastern half of America by car. This was roadwork for my music business activities, initially as a musician, then later as a band manager and music producer. Trust me, I’m very familiar with rest areas. While I hear that these days there are some very fancy ones — with restaurants, shops, showers, and the like — this is how I remember them. Since this is a current, there are obviously still many which conform to this basic design.

There are simple, basic highway service areas in Japan. However, they tend to be atypical. Even these rudimentary iterations provide more than just a restroom and a picnic table. Want to take a break from driving to do some fishing? Or feed some ducks?

Most of Japan’s service areas offer abundant opportunities to shop, eat, relax and play. They are more stop and play than gas and go.

We have a highway service area about 15 minutes from our house, which we visit with my step-daughter, Azusa, and her dog Ji Ji — because it has a dog run! We access it from a small road behind the service area grounds, which runs parallel to the tollway. So actually we visit this highway service area without even going on the highway.

So I won’t be accused of cherry picking a few exemplary but unrepresentative examples, here are just some of the highway service areas within 100 kilometers of my home town.

How do I explain how things work here? I guess it suffices to say that Japanese excel at taking everything to a logical and elegant extreme. They have extremely high standards and are perfectionists. This even shows in something as routine as setting up a place to pull off the road to take a break from driving.

[ This originated at the author's personal website . . . https://jdrachel.com ]


Life In Japan: Highway Service Areas