Life In Japan: Shrines and Temples

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

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

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.

No Images found.

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

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

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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Life In Japan: Japanese Maples

熊野新宮神社, Kumanoshingu Shrine, is not too far from our house.  It’s famous around here for its spectacular Japanese Maple trees, which in November turn fire red, yellow, orange, brown, and every shade in between.

We make a point of going there every year, as do many other people.

Temples and shrines are everywhere here.  They come in all shapes and sizes, from huge sprawling complexes which take up several hectares, to single buildings sitting on a tiny patch of dedicated land.  There are the obvious ones which are located on main streets but I personally love the ones that are tucked off in a copse of trees, that are at the end of a trail up a mountain, or just sitting somewhere in isolation.

Temples are Buddhist.  Shrines are Shinto.

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Life In Japan: Western Holidays

I admit, at first I had mixed feelings when I encountered Western holidays in Asia.  Wasn’t it cultural pollution?  Wasn’t any place safe from Ken and Barbie dolls, the Easter Bunny, Superman, Santa Claus, Ronald McDonald, Taylor Swift?  Was Western capitalism going to turn the entire surface of the planet into a Universal Studios City Walk?

Gradually, however, I’ve adjusted to the fact that in Asia, Japan in particular, the modus operandi tends to be a sponge more than a condom.  The cultural roots here are so deep, a little cross-pollination in fact reinforces the uniqueness of the region’s distinctive features.

Besides, Japanese are a bit selective, tending to embrace the funner holidays, with a clear preference for those which can be commercially exploited.

That brings into the fold Christmas, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Easter, Valentines Day — which I’ve written about in another article as well as its enhancement with the addition of White Day — and Halloween.

Japanese already exchange gifts at a frenzied pace.  It’s considered rude and unacceptable to visit anyone without bringing a gift.  It’s not just social visits.  I had a lady almost drive into me when I was riding my bicycle.  She barely brushed against my pant leg with her car and I just laughed, smiled and waved, then rode off.  She actually took the trouble to track down “the American” and the next day showed up at my house with an interesting present — it was a bag of fresh eggplants and a note.

As you’d then expect, all of the Western holidays are celebrated with gifts, maybe holiday cards.  But that’s it.  They don’t shut down the stores and banks.  There are no Halloween or Easter parades.  To alert the buying public about these holidays, decorations come out, appropriate to the occasion.  There might be some posters in the windows of a store, and special products display.  At Christmas in our traditional rural town, there are a few large coniferous trees decorated with Christmas lights.  For Halloween candy is put out on sale, as much as six weeks in advance.  But the reality is, these holidays are entirely low key affairs, certainly not the extravagant spectacles we often experience in the West.

Let me qualify that slightly for a some locales other than Japan.  In Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) Vietnam, for the month of December, the whole town goes into a Christmas frenzy.  Tons of decorations, tinsel and gaudy trees, fake snow, fake snowmen — is that PC? maybe it should be snowpersons — and Santa’s helpers (usually cute girls) running around handing out advertising fliers.  And then there’s Bangkok, Thailand, which gives Ho Chi Minh City a run for its money — literally, as it’s entirely about sell sell sell — for Christmas hoopla.

Christmas In Bangkok
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Having said all of this, I will confess that I can’t suppress the allergic reaction I get when I walk into a Japanese supermarket, restaurant, mall during November and December and am subjected to the Christmas carols I typically heard back home in my homeland of birth, holiday songs which cumulatively I’ve heard at least 100 million times.  Maybe more!

The problem for me mostly is the schizophrenia of contemporary Christmas.  Or maybe a better way to characterize it here in Asia is the “disconnect”.

The schizophrenia infects the U.S. and Canada.  What was once a fairly sacred holiday celebration has over the years become an orgy of consumer excess, with brawls and fist fights breaking out over Christmas sale items at Wallmart and other stores. 

Not that the religious version holiday itself didn’t have some problems.  Stepping back from the official story a bit, it all seems rather unsavory and unlikely.  Virgin wife and her presumably sexually-frustrated but stoic husband are traveling.  Failing to have access to Trip Advisor or a good travel agent, they can’t get a room.  To complicate matters, she’s pregnant by God, creator of the entire Universe.  Why did the creator of the Universe choose this particular lady in the first place?  Virginity was “the thing” back then and God certainly had His pick.  Anyway, she goes into labor so they decide to hole up in a manger. Talk about unsanitary!  Cow and goat poop everywhere.  The potential for very serious infection is high.  But no worries.  She spits out the Son of God under these inauspicious circumstances.  Giving birth was that much of a breeze back then that a carpenter — her patient and enduring husband — was able to pull this off.  With carpenter’s tools?  What did they do with the afterbirth?  Being part-and-parcel of the birth of the Son of God, it seems it would have some sentimental value.  Then after the birth, three wise men show up, guided to the mangy manger by a heavenly object we presume wasn’t a helicopter.  They just happen to know the Son of God, halo in place and in full view would be there, thus they brought appropriate gifts to celebrate the special occasion.

The result is that among the enormous piles of “stuff” people shop for starting on Black Friday — how weird a name is that, for Christ’s sake? — are Nativity scenes.  I guess that makes maxing out credit cards more of a sacred, heavenly-endorsed exercise. 

Some folks erect huge, expensive, gaudy Nativity scenes on their front lawns. 

(Rumor has it that Jeff Bezos has live humans in his Nativity scene.  They’re, of course, given occasional bathroom breaks and the chance to run down to 7-11 to buy food.  Their families are allowed fifteen minutes on Christmas Eve to visit them as long as they don’t attempt to cross the electric fence surrounding the charming, real-life action portrayal of the birth of Jesus.  This is, of course, just a rumor, one I’m starting right here, because the beauty of the internet is that you can say what ever you want and people will usually not question it.)

Anyway, what was considered over the centuries by Christians as a defining moment in time, inaugurating for eternity a new era for all that is and will be — the birth of the Savior of Humankind — has in the U.S. mutated into the most defining moment each year for the consumer economy.  Around 1.9 billion Christmas cards are sent out annually and the average person does 25% of all their discretionary spending during the holiday, even though it’s questionable how much discretion they show.

Christmas is less schizo and for me here in Japan, as I mentioned, more of a ‘disconnect’.  Being a Buddhist and Shinto country, there is no attention paid to the virgin birth and the epic arrival of Jesus on Planet Earth.  It’s strictly a commercial enterprise, though not on the scale of the U.S. and many other Western countries.  It’s an excuse to buy stuff and give gifts with pretty wrapping. 

It’s also an excuse to eat fried chicken!  Yes . . . fried chicken.

In a stroke of marketing genius, several decades ago KFC embarked on a campaign to convince the Japanese that fried chicken was the preferred meal at Christmas in the U.S.  No one apparently bothered to ask any Americans or they would have found out that it’s either turkey or ham at Christmas and no one in their right mind would eat fried chicken.

The campaign worked and now people place orders with KFC, of course, sometimes as far ahead as a month in advance — can’t risk having no fried chicken on December 25th — for buckets of the Colonel’s unique blend of herbs and spices.  Honestly, it’s such a novel idea, this year I may try it myself.  Why not?  How does the expression go?

When in Tokyo do as the Tokyoans!

Something like that.

One recurring incident which never fails to amuse me is when people who should know better — friends who know I live in Japan, not in the U.S. — ask me something like . . .

“How was your Thanksgiving?”

Now I’m not an expert on Japanese history, but I feel safe in saying that in spite of the fact that navigation was touch-and-go back then, the Pilgrims never made a stop here.  And if they had, they wouldn’t have had fried chicken for their welcoming banquet with the local folks.  Maybe sea cucumbers?  Or sashimi?

For related reasons, the Japanese don’t celebrate Independence Day, Memorial Day, or Martin Luther King Day.

So don’t ask.






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Life In Japan: Persimmons

I confess.  I never saw, much less tasted, a persimmon until I came to Japan.  I must have heard the term before.  Maybe I read it in Walden Pond or some Emily Dickinson poem.  Persimmon trees definitely didn’t grow where I lived in Michigan during my formative years.  Actually nothing much grew at all in Detroit other than racial tensions and poverty.

You have to be here the right time to see persimmons.  Meaning, my first time in Japan, consisting of a month in July 2007, I certainly didn’t spot any.  The fruits come out in all of their orange majesty late October.  So it must have been 2008, when I was here for the entire year.

I find it very difficult to describe the flavor of a persimmon.  It’s completely unique.  Of course, as a fruit it tastes like a fruit, as opposed to pork ribs or licorice.  But even as a fruit, it’s different, delicious in its own special way, with a waxy skin and a crunchiness to the meat more like an apple than a banana.  Until they are very ripe, at that point turning to slime, they aren’t very sweet, which is probably why Japanese people like them so much.

What I truly love about persimmons is the way they decorate the landscape.  Every tree becomes sort of a Christmas tree but with only orange bulbs, and obviously no flashing lights, tinsel, or star on top.

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Hmm . . . usually I talk politics, philosophy, metaphysics.  And here I’m carrying on about a fruit.  Does that make me sound like a fruitcake?  

I like it here in Japan.  I pay attention to different things.  Most of the people around me are farmers.  They know things I didn’t even know I didn’t know.  All this is still quite new to me.  How many people at my age can say honestly that life is still full of surprises and wonder?

Three times a day, I hear the ringing of temple bells at a local Shinto shrine.  How do you set your watch?  I don’t even own one.  When I hear about some horrible incident going on in this chaotic, increasingly hostile world, I can honestly say:  That’ll never happen on my watch.  The worst thing that could happen to me at this point is, late in October, I might get hit on the head by a falling persimmon, as I ride my bicycle to town to buy groceries.






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Life In Japan: A Lost Wallet

Every year in October, we have here in Sasayama — my hometown — the Festival of the Portable Shrines.  It’s one of my favorites!

It coincides with the black bean harvest.  Soybeans are called black beans because if they are left on the vine, they turn black and harden, making them easy to store and use over the coming year.

The town is famous over much of Japan for the quality of its black beans.  This means that the weekend of the festival, Sasayama is flooded with tourists.

A gentleman arrived here from Kobe, which is about an hour away.  He came to purchase black beans, but when the moment came to pay, he discovered his wallet was missing. 

There are no pickpockets here, so obviously he had dropped it somewhere in town.

He went to the nearest Koban.  There are many here in Sasayama, as there are all over Japan.  A Koban is a mini-police station.  In the U.S. there is much lip service given to community policing, having friendly cops in the neighborhood to address problems which come up in the local area.  In Japan, it’s a reality and an integral part of a functioning community.

The policeman on duty — considering Kobans are, despite being extremely useful and efficient, very limited affairs, often just a two-room building with one parking space for a patrol car, there was probably only one or at the most two officers there — took a report, then got on the phone.  He called all the other Kobans in the immediate area, anywhere close to where the gentleman had parked his car, then walked into the main part of town.

He passed along the man’s name and a description of the wallet.

Now get this . . .

While he was on the phone with another Koban, someone walked in with the wallet and handed it to the policeman on duty there.

The gentleman from Kobe walked the short distance to the other Koban, and retrieved his wallet.  The contents — credit cards, ID, cash — were intact.  Not a single item had been stolen.

I’m not going to moralize.  Draw your own conclusions.  Imagine dropping your wallet wherever you live and decide how the story would have ended.

I’ll say it again . . . I love Japan!






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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.

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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.

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