Something happened the other day which really got me thinking.
Actually, there were two things. One was two weeks ago, the other just a few days ago.
Two weeks ago, I read the story behind the Simon & Garfunkel song, Sounds of Silence, in particular the opening lines: “Hello darkness, my old friend . . .” It is a truly awe-inspiring tale and I won’t attempt to capture it better than than Josh Mitteldorf did, author of this extraordinary article. I highly recommend it. It brought me tears of joy and admiration. Art Garfunkel apparently is a saint and saints seem hard to come by these days.
The second thing happened a few days ago on my “long bike ride”. Most of this 28 km pleasure cruise is on farm lanes and narrow, sparsely-traveled roads servicing the rice, bean, potato, and other fields in the areas surrounding my home on the outskirts of town.
But there is one stretch of road (pictured above) which skirts a highly-trafficked secondary highway. What happened occurred along this stretch.
At one point, I sensed that someone had just pulled into a drive I had just passed, and stopped. I turned to look and there was a man, probably in his 30s, getting out of a small truck. He was smiling, had something in his hand, and was waving it at me.
It was a bottle and it turned out to be a nicely-chilled sports drink.
That day, like many recently, was fairly hot. Of course, when you’re on a bike in the direct sun, it doesn’t take much to generate a slippery sweat, exhaustion, and a formidable thirst. No one says keeping in shape is easy.
I backtracked to the truck, he handed me the cool drink, I expressed my sincere gratitude.
That was it.
But think about this . . . I sure did!
This gentleman saw a stranger, an old guy cruising along in the hot sun on a bike, and actually took the time to share something he must have just bought at a nearby convenience store — there was a Lawson’s コンビニ [convenience store] very close to where he pulled over — purely out of kindness.
That’s the bottle there on the right.
Yes, it’s empty. I drank it. And I have to say, it really hit the spot!
At the same time, I’ll confess to . . . hmm . . . I’m not sure what to call it. Cultural flashback? Too-good-to-be-true paranoia? Be very afraid-ism?
After the initial rush of surprise, joy, gratitude, as the guy drove away, flashing a pleasant smile and a friendly wave of parting, doubt crept in. What if it’s poison? Maybe he’s some “sports drinker killer” and does this all of the time to get some homicidal kick? Have I ever known people like this? Would I even do this, wonderful person that I am except when someone makes fun of my nose or yells ‘Rod Stewart!’ at me?
The US is full of incredibly kind, generous, well-meaning, considerate, just-plain-decent folks. People who might do something like this — especially if they didn’t live in America. But there’s a lot of weird, ugly stuff that goes on. I’ve been attacked just walking down the street. I had a friend who was robbed in broad daylight with a gun pointed at his head, as he sat at a red light at a busy intersection in a beautiful, affluent area in L.A. When I was just an adolescent of 13, some of my teammates peed in a soda bottle and gave it to a fellow they didn’t like to drink. Does this kind of stuff happen everywhere? Do cops gun down people for jaywalking? Do punks ride around in cars and shoot up houses just for kicks or because a young man who lives there said ‘hi’ to one of the gang leader’s bimbos? Remember when they pulled bottles of the painkiller Tylenol because someone was going around lacing bottles with a lethal poison?
I know these things are not “the norm”, maybe not even really that common. But they do happen! And they plant seeds of doubt, suspicion, paranoia in everyone who listens to the 24/7 stream of horrible news which we are subjected to in our media-saturated lives.
Hence, my “cultural flashback” moment. A brief jolt of suspicion and fear.
The thing is — and I’m not saying this to give a rah-rah for Japan or claim superiority for my choice to live here — these ugly sorts of things rarely happen in Japan. There is practically no crime. There are practically no murders. There are few guns and private ownership of guns nearly non-existent. And as I’ve written about before, Japanese are honest to a degree that pushes the limits of believability. This is perhaps the safest country in the world! On every level.
It’s certainly safe to walk down the street or stop at a red light. I never worry about being shot. Or beat up by strangers.
And it’s safe to accept the generosity of a complete stranger . . . and drink a sports drink!
Yes, it sure hit the spot. And all I can say for this man’s not-so-random act of kindness is:
Thanks!
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Life In Japan: Revenge Bento
Hope you find this as funny as I did when my wife, Masumi, told me about it.
Evidence would suggest that in many other countries, when a wife gets really mad at her husband, she hires an attorney or a hit man. Or she becomes a radical feminist and joins in on militant public displays of man-hating. Shooting and poisoning a misbehaving hubby are also popular options but there are legal repercussions. If she’s truly at the end of her rope, she goes to a gender reassignment specialist and ends up with five o’clock shadow and the ugly habit of spitting on public sidewalks. Finally, at the very extreme end of the spectrum, she goes on a vision quest with a Tibetan sherpa in the Himalaya Mountains, never to be seen again.
Here in Japan, the wrath of an angry wife takes a much milder form: REVENGE BENTO!
Bento is what we Westerners would call a ‘lunchbox’ — ‘Mittagsbox’ in German, ‘boîte à déjeuner’ in French, ‘škatla s kosilom’ in Slovenian.
Bento is everywhere here in Japan. Bento restaurants, bento food stands, bento in schools, bento at the train station, bento at the beach, bento at the ball game.
I have to say, bento is great! Reasonable, healthy and delicious. Quick and easy.
We’re now ready to get into the meat of this article, food for thought on the cultural and psychological forces at work here in present day Japan.
A typical Japanese wife will prepare a lunch bento for her typical Japanese husband, then send him on his way to whatever his job is.
However . . .
An angry Japanese wife will send him on his way . . . but the bento will include a message.
Here are some examples. They are self-explanatory.
REVENGE BENTO!
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” – William Congreve The Mourning Bride