One Day When
These Days
May, 2007
The Japanese word for baby is 'Aka-chan'. 'Aka', means red, and 'chan' is the honorific suffix added to the name's of children, in the same way that 'san' is added to the name's of adults. Taken literally, aka-chan means 'little red one'. Just as the literal meaning for the Japanese word for aeroplane (hikoki) is 'flying machine', and train (denshya) is 'electric car', anyone who has spent any time with a new born will recognise just how accurate a description of a baby 'little red one' is!
June, 2007
We've been on holiday in Tokyo and Sapporo. Getting to and from Sapporo involved Nina's first trips in a plane:)
It was great to see some more of Japan, and to re-visit these cities after seven years. Apart from feeling refreshed by the company of friends, the buzz in Tokyo and the suzushii weather in Sapporo, we learned a little more about this country and what makes it tick.
With only a few days to spend in Tokyo and some friends to see, we opted for the soaking-up the atmosphere kind of sight-seeing, rather than the guide book and all day pass type. And, what an atmosphere there is. As we wandered along Ginza-dori in the early evening (Nina-chan body surfing as she took her first ride in the baby carrier), with the windows of the flagship stores of all of the big designer brands glimmering around us, a busker began to play a melancholy tune on her saxophone and made me feel like I should have been sitting down to a double of something on the rocks and telling a bar-tender the story of how I made it, and lost it all. Instead we meandered through side-streets and caught a glimpse of those in the process of living some version of that story.
Sapporo feels like a world away from Tokyo, and Otaru most definitely is. In this very relaxed port town, where trying the frozen yoghurt is nearly as much of a must-do as having a sashimi lunch, strolling in the afternoon put us in touch with a lovely local character who couldn't have provided more of a contrast to the big men of Ginza.
Isamu was selling landscapes that he paints while sitting by the canal in Otaru. He and John got chatting and we noticed he was wearing an Akubra. Over a drink together that afternoon Isamu treated us to vegemite on crusty white bread and told us about the 6 months he'd recently spent back-packing solo in Western Australia. After years of working 8am until 8pm as a civil engineer, he'd decided that his retirement was a time to re-discover life. In addition to learning to travel on a shoe-string budget (which meant making his own udon from scratch while staying in hostels around Perth) he'd taught himself to paint and to play the harmonica. His wife described him as being like a kite from which the string has been cut, and on leaving him to take the train back to Sapporo, I took with me some of his light, floating feeling.
Now, I've just got to work out how to stay in touch with that while coming to terms with the washing basket full of dirty clothes we accumulated and the dip that our bank balance took!
July, 2007
Escaping the heat of Kyoto no natsu! Without access to a pool, and no beach in sight, July saw me heading for the shade that sweeps along the Tetsu-gaku no michi. It has taken me over a year to do the walk from Ginkakuji to Nanzenji. What a shame it took me so long. I can see why the philosopher that the walk's named for got so much thinking done while treading this path to Kyoto University. Very peaceful (in summer: cherry blossom season it becomes more of a carnival) and on a hot, sticky day, very cool. And if the heat is still too much, there's a great Italian cafe (Cafe Terrazo) along the way - dog and kid friendly - that serves a mean iced coffee.
August, 2007
Australia ni kaette itte
What a whirlwind. When we were planning our first trip home since Nina was born, six weeks seemed like an age... but from the time we hit Brisbane, where nothing usually happens fast, it seemed that a month and half passed without me ever really feeling like I was home again. Well, I did soak up some of that feeling of being in much more open space, which is such an essential part of being at home. And, lying on my parents couch one day, as my eyes drifted from their long backyard to their high roofline and inside to their big screen TV, I thought about how that sense of space is not only a product of the people to land ratio in Australia, but is also very much about attitude. But of course that's the case, because our culture is a product of the physical environment it operates within.
Australians can afford to be animated and expansive, because they've got the room to. Japanese on the other hand, seem to be contained and calm, because they need to in order to keep things running smoothly in such a tightly packed place. I've often thought about this when making my way around Kyoto and Melbourne. While my mode of transport - foot or bike - in Kyoto, may skew my perspective, I've never seen any of the wild gesticulation and outright rage that is just part of driving along Punt Road, Melbourne. In fact, the experience has been quite the opposite. The way to react to running into another cyclist on a Kyoto street, or being caught in front of a car jaywalking, seems to be just to act as if nothing has happened (on the part of both parties), even if there are minor injuries involved. Just pick yourself up, brush yourself off and, without making eye contact, move back into the endless flow of traffic.
Of course, generalisations about cultures only go so far, and ones like this rapidly fall apart in the face of a karaoke machine, a stock-take sale and a few rounds of beer on a Friday night in Kyoto. And in Melbourne, it's when you leave the city roads behind and find yourself enclosed by brown hills and scruffy bush, listening to the crackling of a fire as a soft, red sun gently sets in the distance.
September, 2007
Back in Kyoto, with the weather cooling down, and after hearing about how much of this city and region a friend (whose been here for a lot less time than I have) has seen of the Kansai area, I decided to add a discovery day to my week. So it was, with our sunhats on and the guidebook in hand, that Nina and I headed to Otsu. Otsu is the port town on the edge of Lake Biwa, which lies just over the Higashiyama mountains from Kyoto. By subway from Sanjo Keihan, it takes a little less than 30 minutes to get there, but because the water was glistening in my eyes almost as soon as we arrived, it felt like we were much further away.
After a wander along the foreshore and a look at the cruise boats at the port, I cut into town and explored a little. The town had a very relaxed feel and walking along the main shotengai near the station area was like stepping back in time. The shops were small and local - not a Starbucks or a McDonalds in sight - and the restaurants served the standard teshyoku fare. I stopped and had somen at a place that quickly filled-up with construction workers who chatted to Nina and made her giggle, giving me a chance to enjoy my meal :) Their friendliness was repeated again and again as we strolled around. People stopped and asked Nina's age, where we were from, if I am breastfeeding, how long are are staying in Japan. After an hour or so, we 'd chatted to five or six strangers and had a booty of a handful of lollies and a nectarine, that had been thrust upon us by smiling Oba-sans!
Foot weary and in need of a place to change and nurse Nina I walked into a building opposite the Hama-otsu station where I found a disabled toilet with a change table. Until then, I really thought I'd had all of my embarrassing 'pushing-the-wrong-button-on-high-tech-japanese toilets' moments, but no, the biggest was yet to come. When looking to flush the loo I pushed a button that set off a piercing alarm, followed immediately by knocking on the toilet door. When I opened it, four people were standing outside in a state of alert! It turned out that the toilet was self-flushing... and I'd pressed the emergency distress button. Yep, that felt great. The upside of this was, one of my rescuers stayed to chat while I was, finally, changing Nina's bum, and told me about the playgroud upstairs... a gorgeous, big indoor play area for babies and toddlers with a drawbridge, sand pit, big basins filled with wooden balls and lots of other great stuff... all for free!
So, our first discovery day really was just that... wonder what button I'll press next week?
October, 2007
Mid-October, and just as the weather was cooling here, we packed our bags and headed to Singapore, where the days were still humid and the nights sticky. While the Japanese seem to manage the heat by cooling their palates with cold noodles, shaved-ice and barley tea, from the moment we arrived in Singapore, we turned up the heat with spicy curry laksa, rich beef rendang, luscious little skewers of everything that can be fried and skewered and the must have, Singaporean chilli crab!
Other than stop-overs and a trip when I was too young to appreciate how good eating in Singapore can be, this was the first chance I've had to explore the diverse world of chowing-down Singapore style, and John and I didn't waste any time getting to it. After a stomach-expanding laksa in a local food mall within the hour we dropped our bags off, and a fresh start to our first day with papaya, dragon-fruit and delicious sorghum pancakes wrapped around banana, an old friend of John's and his wife generously took it upon themselves to introduce us to some of Singapore's must-trys. At the aptly-named Jumbo Seafood, in a boisterous, bustling atmosphere, we were treated to a great meal that culminated in chilli crab, but also included drunken prawn, succulent skewers of chicken and pork, and a simple, but delicious desert of almond jelly in coconut milk.
With the essentials sampled thanks to Wei Boon and Valerie, John, Nina and I leapt enthusiastically into: Indian - southern Indian style chilli chicken, lamb masala and a squid curry during the Depavali festival in Little India; Indonesian - John even going for beef rendang for breakfast; Malaysian; Chinese and a whole range of mixtures in between! At the basic end of the spectrum, the highlights for me were the sardine-o curry puffs from the ubiquitous Old Chang Kee kiosks, mango ice-cream wafers sold by street vendors along Orchard Rd and for breakfast, kaya toast (toast spread with a jam made from coconut milk and eggs, flavored by pandan leaf and sweetened with sugar). At the top end, we had a truly memorable meal, courtesy of my Mum and Dad, at a restaurant called Halia, in the Singapore Botanic Gardens. Not only delicious, beautifully presented Asian fusion, but a very special setting, which I'd recommend to anyone with an appetite for exceptionally well-prepared food, and wallet to support it :)
November, 2007
It has taken me some time to sit down and write for this month. Seems like there is always something else to do these days... and as we come up to our second year in Kyoto, the feeling of newness that previously encouraged me to write home has started to settle. Thankfully, that feeling can always be found just around the corner and we followed it along a highway to the Japan Sea recently, with little more than a desire to see beyond the mountains north of our place and a highly sophisticated car navigation system to guide us!
It's a beautiful time of year to travel in the Kansai region, especially when you pass as we did through valleys framed in the golds and reds of changing autumn leaves. Within 30 minutes drive from town we were surrounded by rice paddies and plots of veggies and fruit, and the constant meeting of the old and the new that defines Japan was once again present. The road butted up against the gardens of thatched roofed farm houses tended by women doubled-over with osteoporosis and years of hard work. Yet it also carried us past big, garish pachinko parlours (Japan's answer to the pokies), and the landscape was dotted with mechanised signs advertising the fresh crab that the area has in abundance. The chipped paint on some of the over-sized crab claws that waved at us from the roadside gave them the appearance of signaling distress more than beckoning us to buy them! With the recent return here to a particularly obstinate form of nationalism, and the continuously slow movement in the economy, like these signs, much of what had signaled "the new" in Japan can these days appear a little dated and in need of a face-lift.
Well, maybe people in Tokyo would beg to differ with that assessment. Kyoto and the area north west to the sea are certainly a long step out of the fast lane. And I tend to seek out the traditional side of Japan, at least those things that represent the continuation of the past with a twist. Each new season I've begun to anticipate both the return of a favorite dish or ingredient to restaurant menus and supermarket shelves, and the enhancements that often come with them. In Autumn, persimmon, pumpkin and chestnuts are everywhere, as are the usual ingredients for hot pots and broths, but at a local bakery we can also try pumpkin bread and sweet potato rolls, and downtown they're offering persimmon pudding and a steaming ramen hotpot. Bringing Chinese noodles together with Japanese broth represents the sort of diplomatic coup that endless rounds of negotiations have yet to deliver on what version of the past the history text books should teach.
Anyway, if it is newness I want, Nina brings it to John and I in gallons! Nina recently turned ten months old. It's hard to believe how quickly the time since she was born has passed, and how fast she is growing into a chuckling, chatting, cheeky little person. She now eats almost anything we put in front of her (and virtually everything we don't - John's watch and glasses are favourties) and is moving herself round on the floor, mostly backwards, and standing with support. I'm sure all of the smiles and attention she receives from perfect strangers here has contributed to her sunny disposition. It's great for me as she is kept constantly entertained by people while we stand in queues, ride buses and make our way through crowds. We've all benefited from this really because having Nina has provided an opportunity to see a much more relaxed and open side of Japanese people, a really nice side to see.
December, 2007
A short note to end the year. Nina is sleeping, the sheets are on the line and my suitcase is packed. In a few hours Nina and I leave for the airport. A fortnight ago, after a long chat with my sister on the phone, I decided to take Nina home for Christmas... and I'm so glad I did! My family are travelling to my Aunty's place in Griffith, NSW. This year they moved off the farm, where we have traditionally spent Christmas, into a house in town. So it will be a little different from Christmases of the past, as will the cast of characters: now there is an absolute tribe of kids and a much larger group of over sixties... But the experience of all packing into the car for a road trip, and reaching a very relaxing destination will no doubt, on the whole, be the same. I received my favorite doll one Christmas at my Aunty's place, and cared for her like a baby... relishing the opportunity to change her nappies (a real packet provided by someone) and tuck her into bed after dinner. My Grandpa teased me that I wouldn't feel the same if she was a real baby... and I guess he was right about the nappies.
John will spend Christmas in Tokyo, finalising the book he's trying to have published. The book I've been working on for more than a year now with two co-editors is also with publishers. Perhaps 2008 will see both John and I in print? Lots of questions like this hang over the year ahead, our final year in Japan... They make it something to anticipate, what will the next twelve months hold?