Life In Japan: Planting Soybeans

Posted on April 18, 2019 by johnrachel

Sasayama, the traditional rural town I live in, is famous throughout Japan for two food items.

One is wild boar.  We even have a wild boar festival!  Can’t say I get very excited about wild boar, either in the wild, or tearing up the local farm land, or on the plate.  Cooked it looks like pork but to my taste buds has a weird flavor.

The other item is black beans, better known as soybeans. 

Soybeans are eventually harvested in two stages.  When they first mature, they are green and relatively soft.  They are best eaten fresh, right off the vine, boiled for 12-15 minutes. 

When you go to a Japanese restaurant and order edamame — 枝豆 — this is what you’re eating.  They are served in the pod, which is boiled and lightly salted, and you pop the green beans into your mouth.  Delicious!  And nutritious!

Many of the soybeans are left on the vine to mature to the second stage of harvesting.  They become very dry and extremely hard, and they turn BLACK!  The advantage is that these can be stored without refrigeration and used throughout the year for a whole variety of recipes.  Black beans are even extensively used in very sweet soups and pastries.

Regardless of whether they end up as “immature” young green beans or black beans, the whole business starts in spring with the planting.  My wife Masumi and I even get in on the action, planting a couple rows we rent from our neighbor.

Fasten your seat belts. The excitement builds fast as we make some holes, then insert greenhouse-grown seedlings, push the dirt back in the hole, wait, read a book, build an atomic submarine in a bottle out of used match sticks, wait some more, fertilize the plant a couple times in the summer, keep waiting (patience is very important in farming) as momentum on the soybean growing scene steadily keeps gathering steam.  Did I mention there’s quite a bit of waiting involved?  Then finally sometime in October it all climaxes in a earth-shaking, rib-rattling, jaw-dropping, game-changing finale (I’ve dedicated a separate article to the harvest).

Whew!  I’m surprised they haven’t made a Movie-of-the-Week out of it.

Anyway, sarcasm notwithstanding, the soybean fields are quite beautiful.  And the farmers are very hard-working folks.  Masumi and I are hobbyists.  The growers are the real deal.

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Life In Japan: Planting Rice

Posted on April 5, 2019 by johnrachel

Photo taken from the front door of my house.

Preparing the soil to plant rice is a wet, muddy, mucky mess.  l know because I’ve watched them prepare the fields directly in front of my house several years on and off. 

They flood the area, let is soak for several days, then drive a tractor through the mud — I’m amazed they don’t get stuck — giving it a hardy blend and a stir, because apparently having the amiable consistency of quicksand makes it more of an inviting and nurturing environs for the soon-to-be-planted rice seedlings.

The seedlings are grown in green houses by the millions, sold to the farmers, then the real fun begins.

Now there may have been a time — at least a hundred years ago — when Japanese farmers planted them by hand.  This tedious method is still practiced in parts of China and nations of Southeast Asia.  I’ve seen it myself in my travels.

But leave it to the Japanese to come up with a machine that does in minutes what used to take a week.  No need for artificial intelligence or quantum computing here.  Just good basic mechanical design does the job. 

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It’s astonishing how quickly the rice grows.  Soon our entire valley is an intense, vibrant green, going from almost incandescent lime to the rich, deep emerald of a mature plant.  Maybe I have too much time on my hands and too little excitement, but when I ride my bike through the fields of viridescent rice, I’m struck by the incredible beauty of it all. 

And to think.  This entire process starts with men — who as I noted in another article — never outgrew the desire to play in the mud.

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Life In Japan: Bamboo

Posted on March 31, 2019 by johnrachel
Bamboo Grove in Arashiyama, Kyoto, Japan.

Bamboo is amazing!

But I can’t say I thought very much about it before I moved to Japan.

Of course, everyone in America is familiar with bamboo. Maybe as a pencil holder or a curtain rod to add a “jungle flavor” to the den. But it’s a rare novelty.

I had a friend in Portland, Oregon who was experiencing a modest but annoying bamboo attack on her garden. Even under the less than ideal growing conditions for bamboo which is typical of Portland, the plant is so hardy it can spread and take over quickly. I dug up a good portion of her lawn before finding the underground shoots aggressively wreaking havoc with her flower beds and on their way to tipping over her house.

Okay . . . that was a bit of an exaggeration. The house wouldn’t have budged but it was still in the realm of possibility that the bamboo would have punched holes in the foundation of her home and started rearranging the stuff in her basement.

Think I’m kidding? Look at this photo taken right here in my home town, which by the way has almost identical weather to Portland, Oregon.

Yes, it’s exactly as it looks. Coming right up through the asphalt!

So what’s my point?

First, bamboo is one tough cookie. Both because of that and because it truly flourishes in the warmer climates across stretches of much of Asia, it is ubiquitous both in nature and in the anthropocentric world we’ve convened from the rocks and dust of Planet Earth.

Unbeknownst to me in the dark days of my bambooless ignorance, this rather simple tree has a whole host of applications. Anyone from Asia needs to just bear with me here. This is all so obvious to you. But I’m embarrassed to have to admit, before I started traveling this hemisphere, I had no clue about bamboo.

Let me expand on this with an anecdote: Every spring I see neighbors wandering around the woods directly behind our house. Sometime within a few days, several of THESE will show up on my porch, the folks in my community being the wonderfully generous people that they are . . .

. . . which can be cooked, for example, to look like this . . .

I can’t say I’m thrilled with the taste of bamboo shoots. But they’re extremely healthy and more importantly, demonstrate that if for some apocalyptic reason the supermarkets are shuttered, there are actually things growing all around us which will keep us alive!

Let’s summarize our progress. Bamboo. Pencil holders. Curtain rods. Punching holes in the pavement. Healthy cuisine.

It’s time to cut to the chase, before this article becomes unnecessarily tedious, if it hasn’t already. I’ll resort to bullet points. Among the many further uses of bamboo . . .

•  In a number of countries, bamboo is used to make tea.

•  Bamboo can be used to make fabric (sort of).

•  Bamboo is used in the kitchen for cooking.

•  Bamboo is used to make eating utensils.

•  Bamboo is so sturdy it’s used to make bars for windows.

•  Panda bears love bamboo! They thrive on it. Bamboo is 99% of their diet!

•  Bamboo makes a superb fishing pole.

•  Bamboo is used many places as a construction material, e.g. fences, scaffolding.

• Musical instruments are fashioned out of bamboo, usually flutes.

•  Bamboo can be used in self-defense, unless the assailant is heavily-armed.

•  Bamboo is used at sea as a raft, and in the Philippines as a breeding cage for mussels.

•  It makes a handy broom!

•  It can be a really big straw.

•  A walking stick.

•  A baton for conducting an orchestra.

I could go on but you get the idea.

I seriously hope now you will never again look dismissively at bamboo, viewing it as one of Nature’s odd hiccups. Like a garden mole . . . or sea cucumber . . . or a platypus.

I know I won’t.

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Life In Japan: Tilling The Soil

Posted on March 5, 2019 by johnrachel

I can’t say that growing up in Detroit exactly gave me a strong agricultural awareness.  Though for five years my mom and dad had mobile home north of the urban sprawl and the trailer park was surrounded by undeveloped land — literally fields and even a small forest — none of it was farmed.  I think the first time I saw a tractor was at the State Fair and it was parked, sparkling clean, gleaming in the artificial light of an exhibition hall.

One thing I truly enjoy about living in a farming community now is that the growing cycle parallels the cycle of seasons.  Back in Detroit, it was the weather that marked the seasonal changes.  Truth is, it’s more that the weather drives the growing cycle of food production.  This seems obvious now but simply never occurred to me.  When I was growing up, we got food at the grocery store.  How it got there wasn’t anything we worried much about.  That’s probably still true for most people.  I hear that urban kids — at least up to a certain age, around 13 or 14 — now are shocked to find out that Chicken McNuggets didn’t magically show up at the Drive-Thru window of McDonald’s, that someone raised real live animals, chopped off their heads, yanked out the feathers, carved the deceased into bite-size chunks.  This imagery is not exactly mouth-watering. 

Anyway, as belated as my agricultural epiphany is, I’m finally aware of what’s been going on “behind the scenes” for 20,000 years now.  Please don’t laugh.  I know my ignorance is pathetic.  But better late than never.  Or is it?

I’ll pretend you didn’t answer that.

First stage in getting stuff to grow?  Preparing the soil!

Actually I can relate.  What boy doesn’t like to play in the dirt!

Preparing the soil — or more poetically, tilling the soil — takes two similar but distinct paths here.

One is churning dirt in order to grow vegetables.  This looks the same as what they do in Ohio, Iowa, and Nebraska.

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The second is what they do all over Asia, where rice is the main staple.  It is more about churning mud.

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There you have it.  I make no apologies.  This may seem mundane, quaint, or even boring to most of you.  I’ve lived in farm country now for over ten years.  I find it . . .

Comforting?

Ennobling?

Spiritual?

Actualizing?

Holistic?

As a writer, words are important to me.  So I need to find that perfect word or phrase for capturing the cognitive and emotional essence of my reaction to all this plowing, turning, separating, blending, mangling and manipulation of dirt.

Ah!  I’ve got it.  I find all of this farming stuff . . .

Really neat!






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Life In Japan: Shoes!

Posted on February 25, 2019 by johnrachel

Japanese DO NOT wear their shoes inside their homes.

I can’t begin to tell you how difficult this was for me to understand and adjust to when I initially arrived.

Frankly, at first I thought the whole country was OCD, in the throes of some obsessive clean disorder, or perhaps all cult foot fetishists.

This led to some moments of intense embarrassment. I would tromp into someone’s house in my loafers and as politely as they could manage, be greeted with a look of total horror! No one wanted to offend me but I might as well be dumping a bucket of monkey entrails onto their floor. Their reaction was entirely reflexive. My reaction was oafish: “Uh, sorry about that.” I definitely didn’t get what a hygienic faux pas I had just committed . . . at least for a while.

Growing up in different cultures, we are each conditioned in different ways. I had never thought about it. Shoes were shoes. They go on the feet and they go where the feet go.

Then I did start to think about it.

Most homes in the U.S. are carpeted, at least the living and sleeping areas are. Recognizing that dust, dirt, hair, skin, pet fur, drool, eyelashes, belly button lint — whatever — tends to drop and accumulate, we regularly vacuum. Then once a year, every other year, or when it finally dawns on us “it’s time”, we either rent a carpet shampooing machine or we hire a professional carpet expert to give our floors a thorough wash.

But . . .

Have you ever looked at the wash/rinse water in the tank of a carpet shampooing machine after the job is done? It’s unbelievable! Disgusting! Horrible! Scary!

You see, regular vacuuming just gets the surface. And all sorts of truly ugly abominations, particles, chips, flakes, and strands sink into the nap and settle at the bottom in the woven base. Now, think about it. We Americans lay on the carpet, rest our hands on the carpet, let the baby crawl on the carpet, maybe even make love on the carpet, fractions of an inch from all sorts of unimaginable filth.

How does all this debris accumulate? Some comes from us and our pets, or from our own bodies. But a lot is brought in on the soles of our shoes. All day we walk around on dirty surfaces, streets, sidewalks, where dogs have pooped, cars have driven, people have spit, worms have crawled, birds have deposited droppings — I could go on but you get the picture — then track all this into our beautiful American homes. Not very smart if you think about it, eh?

Maybe the Japanese are onto something!

Back to my awakening. When I refer to my initial cluelessness about wearing shoes inside, I’m talking about only my first few months here. Rather quickly, I changed my habits, in the process turning my thinking around a full 180º about shoes and cleanliness. Now I’m fully rehabilitated from my Western ways, wondering why I never questioned them before.

No, Japanese are not pathologically obsessed with cleanliness — well . . . maybe a little — but merely prudent and protective of the sanctity and hygiene of their homes.

By the way: Notice the slippers in the photo at the beginning of this article. Every Japanese household provides slippers for their guests to wear after they’ve removed their shoes. For me personally the only problem is, most standard slippers are much too small and quite uncomfortable for me to try to squeeze into. But I do appreciate the gesture. Nice touch!

I’m sitting here in my living room writing this. I’m in my stocking feet. Those are my black sneakers in the photo of our foyer. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Life In Japan: Shrines and Temples

Posted on February 18, 2019 by johnrachel

Living in a completely foreign culture is sometimes the best way to get insights into your own culture, to be able to see things that are so obvious they’re hiding in plain sight, thus require your looking at them from “the outside” to make them apparent.

On a lighter note, let me append to that how utterly amazed I am by my talent for coming up with genuinely stupid questions about Japan, its customs, its culture, its people.

The particular one I’m about to reveal isn’t really that bad . . . maybe only 4 or 5 on the cluelessness scale.  Here it is . . .

A few years back I asked my wife Masumi — who displays monumental patience with me, probably because she knows I’m truly curious about Japan, not inclined to make nugatory small talk — about the architectural manifestations of “spiritual life” here.  The question:  “Why are there so many shrines and temples here in Japan, darling?”  (Okay . . . I didn’t say ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘lamb chop’ or ‘tofu burger’ to her.  It’s just not my style.)

I don’t recall her exact words.  But it went something like: “Have you ever looked around in America? There are churches everywhere you go.”

My God!  She’s right!

From small and modest . . .

To majestic and sometimes garish . . .

There are churches everywhere!

To make things truly convoluted, while all these churches essentially promote Christian beliefs, there are so many denominations of Christianity, it’s impossible to keep track of them all.  Lutheran, Baptist, Catholic, Episcopalian, Church of Christ, 7th Day Adventist, Mormon, Presbyterian, Methodist, Christian Science, on and on.

Then to make things even more disorienting to anyone hailing from the East, in addition to the Christian churches, there are Jewish temples — also with an assortment of subtle shadings, e.g. Orthodox, Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Humanistic, Hasidic, Haredi, Chabad — and then in recent times mosques which serve as the spiritual centers for the flocks who adhere to Islam.

What a menagerie!

It makes Japan look like it’s just at the early stages of ramping up its institutionalization of theology, though in point of fact, the two dominant religions here — Buddhism and Shinto — actually go back respectively about fifteen and thirty centuries.  Maybe Japan can’t hold a candle — or stick of incense — in sheer numbers to America, or a country like Thailand, which has over 40,000 Buddhist temples alone, but I can speak from experience: There are still plenty of holy sites, temples and shrines here.  Even some Christian churches.

Anyone who’s traveled the globe will tell you that this is the case just about everywhere there are people living in some organized fashion.  

The obvious conclusion is that humans like to build places of worship, and to varying degrees visit these places of worship to do whatever it is they do in places of worship. 

Yes, there’s worship.  But while some people are kowtowing to some statue, idol, entity, ghost, relic, concept, abstraction, surrogate or whatever, others are doing something else. Wishing.  Meditating.  Fantasizing.  Maybe scoping out what others are doing or wearing. What car they drove, what camel they rode in on, who they’re with.  These days peaking at their smart phones.  Checking their email.  Their text messages.  Tweeting or looking at their Facebook news feed.  Discreetly taking selfies.

Though it’s been quite a while since I attended Catholic services, when I was a boy I had to go to Mass six days a week, thus had more than ample time to observe the devout in their Sunday best or Saturday khakis.  And frankly, even back then I don’t remember much real worshipping going on.  Yes, a small faction followed along in their prayer books, mouthing the incantations of the priest.  But the vast majority were marking time, minds elsewhere, checking their watches.  God didn’t seem to mind, or notice.  No bolts of lightning ripped thought the ceiling and struck down the inattentive.  God is infinitely patient, I’m told by my Bible-toting friends.  (Tell that to the victims of Sodom and Gomorrah!)

I occasionally attend services here.  Usually at our local shrine which I can walk to in about five minutes.  A celebration typically associated with a holiday.  It’s mostly a social thing. 

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People do pray.  We each make appeals to invisible higher powers, for the things most of us on the planet desire:  Happiness, health, wealth, good fortune, love, maybe marriage, harmonious relationships.  There’s that universality again: concerns and values we all seem to share as human beings, regardless of where we have settled down to make a life.  Concerns and values expressed in places which we designate for whatever you want to call that “quiet time” we all seem to embrace for addressing something inside us that is outside of us … greater than us … or maybe representing the us we wish we could be.  Whether we worship this other or just like to sidle up to it now and then, it’s convenient to have some special designated place — a temple, a mount, a church, mosque, cathedral — to set the mood and provide the proper environment.

Here are just a few shrines and temples within easy bike-riding distance of my house. 

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Yes, houses of worship are everywhere here in Japan too, but at a much more modest level  of ‘everywhere’ than in the U.S., and most certainly not in the over-abundance I now can see is a defining characteristic of my homeland.

It makes me wonder . . .

What exactly are they trying to prove over there?  Are they maybe trying a little too hard?  To be blunt, it appears all that praying and worshipping isn’t really working very well.

Why would I think that?

Americans like to say:  “God is on our side.”

Really?  If God truly is, then He must have a very strange sense of humor.

Or a serious mean streak.

 






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Life In Japan: JA

Posted on January 20, 2019 by johnrachel

JA stands for Japan Agriculture.

JA is a huge, sprawling organization, with hundreds of stores, facilities, and offices across the entire country. But . . .

It’s not a corporation.

It’s not a government facility, branch, or department.

It’s a cooperative — or more accurately, this from an article on Wikipedia, a “national group of 694 regional co-ops in Japan that supply members with input for production, undertake packaging, transportation, and marketing of agricultural products, and provide financial services.”

They of course have commercial outlets which make available local farm products. Here is our main store in town.

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But because JA provides so many services within the hundreds of communities it serves, it also has numerous offices, some large and imposing complexes. The ‘JA’ logo adorns quite a few buildings right here in Tambasasayama.

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Did I mention that JA is a cooperative? Of course I did!

Why is this important?

Because it’s set up as a cooperative, it’s not subject to government bureaucracy, political influences, or the whims and wishes of whoever is politically in power at any given time. Even more importantly, it doesn’t have to answer to a corporate board of directors, it isn’t beholden to shareholders, and doesn’t measure its success in terms of “profitability”.

JA is there exclusively to serve its members and the needs of the community.

What a concept!

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Life In Japan: Taylor Swift in Tokyo

Posted on January 10, 2019 by johnrachel

When attending a pop concert in Japan, often you are confronted with a difficult choice: Do you watch the audience or the stage?

At least that was the case with my first major concert here, which was Lady Gaga in Kobe, April 2010. She was near the peak of her international acclaim. Understandably, this was a big event by any measure in any country — at least in terms of pop culture extravaganzas — an arena concert with tens of thousands of adoring fans, expectations maxed out by all of the hoopla and press lavished on Gaga over the previous two years, as she started pumping out hit song after hit song and became the megastar talk of the town — which included every town on the planet that had electricity and TV screens.

The Lady was in good form. But honestly, the audience provided more than its share of fun and excitement. It was pop diva cosplay at its finest!

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Fast forward 8 1/2 years — OMG! has it been that long? — my wife Masumi, her daughter Izumi, and yours truly take the overnight bus to Tokyo and kill the day seeing the sights.

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Finally, we ambled like sheep with close to 50,000 other folks into the Tokyo Dome for an evening of pop entertainment featuring Charli XCX and Taylor Swift.

The audience again was a big part of the action. But it wasn’t so much the result of hordes of Taylor Swift wannabees. It was because we were actually wired into the lightshow itself. Maybe ‘wired’ is a poor choice of terms. Every member of the audience was given an LED wrist band as we entered the arena, each of which was wirelessly connected to the computer-controlled light board. It was mind-blowing to see whole sections light up and flash in one color, the other sections different colors. Sometimes a huge wave of color swept around the arena, other times the entire audience sparkled like tens of thousands twinkling stars. Technology! Things had come a long way since my last stadium tour experience in Kobe, which by comparison now seems almost primitive.

Of course, enormous flat-panel screens have been around for quite some time. But for Ms. Swift, the show’s producers spared no expense.

I didn’t take any video. It wasn’t allowed. There was even talk that they’d be confiscating all cell phones and digital cameras at the door. That fortunately didn’t happen, so at least I got a few still shots.

Was I impressed? Taylor Swift has some great songs. But regardless of the incredible advances made in audio and lighting, an arena is an arena and it sounds like an arena. It was loud and a bit cacophonous. despite Taylor’s best efforts to connect with each and every one of us as her much treasured fans, songs which might be savored at home with earbuds or headphones in a dimly lit room with a banana daiquiri at your side, or even danced to in a club with good friends and good cheer all around, were as personal as the opening ceremonies at the Olympics. Lots of spectacle, not much soul, and absolutely no heart. Sorry, Taylor. My advice: Never hold a cocktail party in an airplane hangar.

At the same time, we all knew what we were getting in to. So the audience loved it. Smiles all around, everybody had a good time. There was a lot of love in the Tokyo Dome from beginning to end.

Of course, I’ve always heard that Western artists love to play Japan, because the fans are always so warm, enthusiastic, and appreciative. They are!

I wrote before, about Japan’s love affair with Western culture, especially pop culture. While it makes sense for obvious reasons, it’s still somewhat a source of bewilderment — or is that reverse cultural chauvinism? It makes sense because Western culture driven by multinational capitalism is turning the world into a big homogenous cream puff. And who doesn’t like cream puffs? Even so, having traveled as much as I have over the past 14 years, sampling if only superficially the cornucopia of cultures, dress, art, music, food, lifestyles, community and family organization, spiritual landscapes, and social values that are still out there, I hate to see everything replaced by cream puffs.

In many ways, the Westernization of Japan highlights those highly traditional aspects of the country which make it uniquely Japan. But the question arises: How far can this go? How Americanized can Japan become before it just becomes a bad copy of a once-great nation which has become a faltering empire facing inevitable decline and dissolution? Perhaps, if nothing else, Japan might start looking for a better role model.

None of this, of course, came up at the Taylor Swift concert. Why would it?

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Life In Japan: Kobe’s Luminarie

Posted on December 20, 2018 by johnrachel

On January 17, 1995 Japan suffered a devastating 6.9 earthquake, which killed over 6,400 people.  It was Japan’s worst earthquake in over 80 years.  The vast majority of casualties and damage occurred in Kobe, situated only 20 kilometers (12.4 miles) from the epicenter.

I was in Los Angeles at the time and remember hearing about it, but it was off somewhere to the side on a secondary radar screen.  Since news of tragedies across the globe pour in constantly now, one becomes more and more desensitized as time goes on.  There’s always something somewhere going on.  The further away the incident, the more likely it is to be ignored and dismissed, with local shootings, fires, riots, celebrity and political scandals, auto crashes, and other items on the assembly line of misery and human idiocy taking center stage.

The Kobe earthquake was not some far-off and distant event for my wife.  Her family is originally from Kobe and she lost two cousins that fateful morning, when at 5:46 am they were killed in their sleep, as the building they lived in collapsed and crushed them.  They were 12 and 14 years old at the time of this tragic event.

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Every year now, since 1995, the city of Kobe holds a commemorative event in December, intended to pay tribute to the thousands of victims, the thousands of responders, doctors, nurses, firemen, police who worked tirelessly for months afterwards, and the thousands of citizens who rebuilt the city over many years.  It’s called the Luminarie.  Several blocks of Kobe are cordoned off and people walk through a cathedral of lights which majestically towers over them.  It takes about 40 minutes and ends in a three-sided light sculpture amphitheater, where you can offer prayers and ring a memorial bell.

There are so many dazzling, interesting, spectacular festivals and celebrations going on in Japan each year, it’s often overwhelming.  The Luminarie is extremely beautiful but more somber than most.  It was rather haunting how quiet the crowd was approaching the area where the lights were.  Then, as the video below shows, things got extremely noisy.

This is the second time I’ve seen this astonishing display of artistic ingenuity.  The video doesn’t begin to do justice to what a breathtaking experience it is in person.






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Life In Japan: Monkeys

Posted on December 4, 2018 by johnrachel

Meet some of my neighbors!

Yes, we have monkeys in Japan, right where I live.

There are an estimated 950 in Hyogo Prefecture — a prefecture is the equivalent of a state and Japan has 47 total — and 180 of the critters in Sasayama, Hyogo, my hometown.

Not that we see them that often.  But I have seen them.

Once on a bike ride very close to my house, I spotted one in a farmer’s field, sitting in the midst of rows of beautiful, ripe vegetables, enjoying his own personal buffet. He was very mature, rather large, not a monkey I’d want to mess with.

Speaking of which, my step-daughter got into her car one morning, and a smaller but extremely upset macaque — that’s the variety we have here, pictured above — jumped on her hood, issued all sorts of threatening gestures, screeches, and probably even monkey expletives, about some matter none of us have any clue about.  It might have been related to the presence in the house of my step-daughter’s black labrador, as monkeys — at least our local monkeys — are fascinated with domesticated dogs. The incident ended without any damage to her car, the mirrors and windshield wipers still in place, with the monkey bounding off to its next soapbox to lodge complaints about whatever crises monkeys believe warrant their histrionic objections.

It’s not as if we’re not trying to coexist with our furry friends.  There’s room for all.

There’s a park in Kyoto — the Iwayatama monkey park.  If you’re ever in that city, I highly recommend it.  The park is a short walk across the Oi River from Arashiyama, a must-see district with many interesting temples, shrines, stores, a bamboo forest, the site for a number of wonderful festivals.  For about $100, you can get made up head-to-toe as a geisha, something I would love to do, even if it would understandably put my sexuality in serious question among my Western friends.  Here in Japan, they’re not so hung up on such matters.  There are many celebrities, some of whom regularly appear on television, who are either transvestites or transexuals.

Anyway, getting back to the monkey park.  It’s on top of a modest-size mountain.  The hike alone is worth it, up a splendid trail through the forest which covers the entire mountain until you reach the summit.  On top you’ll find over 200 monkeys, hanging out, looking for food handouts — you can buy appropriate nutritional items from the park station — doing what monkeys on public display typically do.  You are cautioned to NEVER look them squarely in the eyes, as they take that as confrontation, a sign that you are threatening and are ready for battle.

I’ve taken this advice and extended it to all my human interactions, especially with anyone in the West.  I never look them in the eye.  If they’re American, they probably are armed to the teeth and that would be the end of John Rachel.  No more monkey sightings or even my characteristic monkey business.

Banana anyone?






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