Footie

A couple of weeks ago Japan earned a 1-1 draw with Australia, thereby becoming the first team to qualify for next year’s World Cup in Brazil, and in order to fully savour the achievement, I paid one of my very occasional visits to a nearby Western-style pub (that’s Western as in non-Asian, not Western in the horses-tied-up-outside / customers-wearing-cowboy-hats / poker-games-ending-in-shootouts sense).

Watching the footie in a pub with one’s mates is a British tradition that stretches way back into the mists of time – ie. about twenty years or so – whereas here it’s a recent development, and the Japanese have taken to it with such gusto that on 4th June, the area around Shibuya station in the centre of Tokyo played host to several hundred riot police. I can’t imagine there would have been a real-life riot if Japan had lost, and in any case, there was always going to be another chance to get the necessary points at their final qualifying match against Iraq. The post-match / post-pub crowd was, however, pretty sizeable, and in an effort to keep things from getting out of hand, one particular policeman made a name for himself by coming up with some MC-style banter.

‘Policemen may look scary,’ announced the officer over loudspeakers, ‘but we don’t hate you. Deep down we’re just happy to be here. On such a good day, even the police don’t want to get mad. Just like you, we are the twelfth member of the Japanese team. Any bad behaviour will result in a “yellow card”, so please remember to “play fair” and behave yourselves as you head towards the station.’

As well as trending on Twitter and earning the nickname ‘DJ Police’, this unnamed officer has since received a special police superintendent’s award in recognition for his efforts.

While ‘Nadeshiko’ Japan (nadeshiko is a kind of flower called a pink Dianthus) won the women’s World Cup in 2011, the under-23 side made it to the semi-finals of last year’s Olympic tournament, and so-called ‘Samurai’ Japan have won the Asia Cup on four separate occasions, to be honest, it is hard to see them winning the men’s World Cup in the foreseeable future. Still, now that I live here, and given that the England team is stuck in a seemingly permanent rut of being knocked out of major tournaments on penalties in the quarter finals, it seemed logical to transfer my allegiances.

Also, as Nick Hornby points out in Fever Pitch, the day-to-day lot of the football fan isn’t about happiness, enjoyment or celebrating victories, it is about pain, suffering and, more often than not, wallowing in the misery of defeat. To that end, Japan were knocked out of the last World Cup on – yes, you guessed it – penalties, and while there have been some moments of magic – the victory over Denmark in the same tournament, for example – there is also plenty of despair to go round. In a recent 2-0 defeat to Bulgaria, an embarrassing goalkeeping error by the perennially angry-looking Kawashima…

let in the first goal, and the second was an own goal (what is known in Japanese as a jisatsu-ten / 自殺点, literally ‘suicide goal’) by the captain Hasébé.

In the old days, part of the reason the national side failed to compete was because they lacked height and strength. In recent years, though, not only has the average Japanese increased in size – both the home and away qualifying matches with Australia were as physical as anything you will see in the Premiership – but the way football is played and refereed has swung in their favour.

When they fell behind against the Aussies (to what was either a wonderful piece of skill from Tommy Oar, a ridiculous fluke or, er, an embarrassing goalkeeping error by the even more than usually angry-looking Kawashima), rather than simply wellying the ball up-field and hoping for the best – as would be the tactics of a British side in the same predicament – they persisted with their passing game and were rewarded with a penalty in the dying moments. This, inevitably, was converted by their star player Keisuké Honda, causing hundreds of thousands of Japanese (plus a few token foreigners such as yours truly) in pubs and bars up and down the country to jump up and down, give each other high-fives and chant ‘HON-DA!’ (clap-clap-clap) ‘HON-DA!’ (clap-clap-clap).

And this, in a sense, is where their current problem lies, for Honda is so much better than anyone else in the side – even Kagawa, who recently completed a faltering first season with Manchester United – that they would be bereft without him.

While Honda’s hairstyle (he gets through more peroxide in a week than the average Essex beauty salon does in a year) and private life (he arrived in Japan before the Australia game carrying a baby boy…

…that up until that point, no one outside his immediate family knew existed) have a tendency to overshadow his football, like all great players, every time he gets the ball he does something skillful, special, or at the very least sensible with it.

Compare this with, for example, Mike Havenaar, who in my not-so-humble opinion is the worst player in the national side. Havenaar, whose parents moved to Japan from their native Holland before he was born, seems to get picked purely on the basis that he is tall, and whenever he receives the ball, rather than holding it up and distributing it like any sensible centre-forward is supposed to, he mis-times a pass, or misses a team-mate’s run, or allows himself to be dispossessed. Even when they were desperately in need of that equaliser against Australia, the Japanese didn’t resort to using Havenaar as an old-school, lanky target man, which makes it even more mysterious that the coach – the Italian Alberto Zaccheroni – should bother picking him in the first place.

Honda has been plagued by an injury to his left ankle since he was in high school, and if this – or any other mishap – were to take him out of next year’s World Cup, Japan would be even more likely to be eliminated in the first round. Still, despite the fact that a disproportionately large number of talented young sportspeople are channelled into baseball rather than football, tens thousands of Japanese schoolchildren play the (ahem) beautiful game almost every day of the year as their chosen club activity, and in my – admittedly rather limited – experience of playing 5-a-sde here, even the average amateur plays to an impressively high standard.

More to the point, salvation could soon be at hand in the form of 12-year-old Takéfusa Kubo, who signed for the Barcelona youth side in 2011, and whose family moved to Spain to help him in his bid to become the new Honda – or even, dare I say it, the new Messi.

The Barcelona under-11 side won 29 of their 30 matches during the 2012-13 season, and along the way, Kubo became the league’s top scorer with 74 goals. Here’s a video of him in action:

While I have to say I’m not exactly fluent in Spanish, I’m pretty sure this is what he’s saying in the interview at the end: ‘Yeah Tony, I’m over the moon. The lads done great but it was a game of two halves. The gaffer told us to keep it tight at the back and play to feet. We gave it a hundred and ten per cent and in the end it was all about scoring goals. From now on I’m going to take it one game at a time.’

Finally, a newsflash: at the time of writing Japan have just been knocked out of the Confederations Cup – a kind of friendly, World Cup warm-up tournament – after losing to both Brazil and Italy. Talk about wallowing in the misery of defeat, eh?

Cheapskate’s paradise!

It is a Muzuhashi family trait to never, ever buy anything unless it’s cut-price, ‘seconds’, sold-as-seen, extremely cheap or, ideally, second-hand, and while as a rule, I have about as much affection for the act of shopping as a footballer does for the act of fidelity, if threatened at gunpoint or bribed with the offer of limited edition New York cheesecake Choco Pie, I will very reluctantly partake if the venue is a recycle shop.

Recycle shops are to Japan what charity shops are to the UK, and partly out of necessity (ie. recession), partly for environmental reasons (Tokyo was producing so much rubbish in the post-war years there is even an island – Yumé-no-shima / 夢の島 – built on it in Tokyo Bay), these days they’re springing up all over the place.

In contrast with a charity shop, however, instead of donating any old junk you think someone else might be willing to buy, you take your any old junk to the recycle shop, and the people who work there decide if someone else might be willing to buy it. The amount of money you get in return is risibly small, but hey, at least you’re giving those unwanted possessions a chance to be re-used instead of chucking them straight in the bin. (Also, and in contrast to selling second-hand goods in the UK, you get the same amount regardless of whether it’s cash or part-exchange.)

If you’re a buyer, on the other hand – and particularly if you are, for example, a cash-strapped ALT just off the bus from Narita Airport – recycle shops can help you furnish your one-room Leo Palace apartment with nearly new and / or barely used bargains.

So with this in mind, here’s my guide to the best recycle shops in and around Mito (if you spot any mistakes or can recommend any places I’ve missed, feel free to leave a comment):

1) Seimiya / せいみや (Tokai)

The original and best recycle shop, as well as furniture and ‘white goods’ (ie. fridges, washing machines etc), Seimiya has separate departments for hardware, antiques, office and kitchen equipment. For a small fee – and like most if not all of the shops on this list – they are willing to deliver larger items, and for a not-so-small fee, to take away your old kitchen appliances for recycling.

A word of warning: not everything in Seimiya is second-hand, so be sure to check the price and condition before you buy – if the item is new, you may be able to find it cheaper at somewhere like Nitori or Joyful Yamashin.

Directions: Seimiya is on the east side of Route 6 as it goes through Tokai-mura (there’s a map on their website).

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Seimiya: washing machine, 2 x fridge-freezers, dining table & chairs, vacuum cleaner, zaseki (座席 / those chairs-without-legs often found in Japanese living rooms).

2) Wonder Rex Naka-shi / ワンダーレックス那珂市 (Naka)

The Wonder Rex chain has a new shop in Akatsuka, but the Naka branch is, in my humble opinion, better stocked. I’ve purchased pretty much every item of clothing I own there, and they also have musical instruments, electrical goods, kitchen goods, toys and sports equipment (although Mrs M tells me the women’s and children’s clothes tend to be a little on the pricey side).

Directions: The Naka branch is on the south side of a road that runs between Route 349 and Route 6, and part of the San Molino / Homac shopping mall, which is easy to spot because of its large fake windmill (the official Wonder Rex homepage map is here).

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Wonder Rex: t-shirts, shorts, trousers, tracksuit tops, presentation set of flower-pattern Cath Kidston coffee mugs

3) Hard Off Mito Minami-inter / ハードオフ水戸南インター (Mito)

Hard Off isn’t as big as Wonder Rex, but it sells the same kind of stuff, and if anything is probably slightly cheaper. Don’t go there looking for clothes, though, as they really do look like the sort of thing you would find in a run-down branch of the Sue Ryder Shop on Chippenham High Street.

Directions: The Mito branch is near the enormous K’s Denki at the Route 50 bypass / Route 6 crossroads. Head towards the expressway from the crossroads and you’ll find Hard Off on the right-hand side of the road (the Hard Off homepage map is here).

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Hard Off: oven, de-humidifier, chest of drawers, rucksack, baby bath, Bumbo

(Also worth checking out are the Hard Offs at Akatsuka, and on Route 123 at Mashiko,  just over the border in Tochigi Prefecture.)

4) Book Off Route 50 bypass / ブックオフ50号水戸元吉田 (Mito)

Second-hand bookshops are all over the place in Japan, but one of the biggest chains, Book Off, has recently branched out into selling general second-hand goods. The Mito branch specialises in menswear, although they also sell surfboards, wetsuits, golf clubs and so on, along with the usual books, CDs and DVDs.

Directions: It’s on the eastbound / north side of the Route 50 bypass, where the bypass meets the road that runs directly from the south exit of Mito Station (the Book Off homepage map is here).

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Book Off: t-shirts, polo shirts, trainers, sweaters, and, er, books

(For the more adventurous among you, there is a Book Off recycle superstore – the car park, it says on their website, has more than a thousand spaces – in Maébashi, Gunma Prefecture.)

5) Sohko-seikatsu-kan / 倉庫生活館 (Mito)

There are several recycle shops catering to Ibaraki University students, and the best of them is Sohko-seikatsu-kan. While it is part of a chain, Sohko-seikatsu-kan looks more like the kind of slightly dodgy, independent recycle shops that bargain-hunters like – well, like me – get all worked up about, and stocks furniture, white and electrical goods, along with a smattering of other bits, bobs, odds and ends.

Directions: It‘s opposite a Max Valu supermarket, on a side road that runs parallel to – and south of – Route 123 (see this map), and not far from Ibaraki University and the Ibaraki Budokan.

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Sohko-seikatsu-kan: hand mixer, chest of drawers

6) Seikatsu-kohboh-kan / 生活工芸館 (Mito)

Seikatsu-kohboh-kan may be small but it has a high turnover and, more importantly, is very cheap.

Directions: It’s even closer to the University than Sohko-seikatsu-kan, on the T-junction of Routes 118 and 123 (see this map).

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Seikatsu-kohboh-kan: fan heater, washing pole

7) Sohgoh Recycle Eco / 総合リサイクル・エコ (Mito)

Sohgoh Recycle Eco is housed in a disused pachinko parlour, and as well as furniture and white goods, they also sell scooters and motorcycles.

Directions: It’s on the north side of Route 51 between Mito and Oh-arai (there’s a map on their website)

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Sohgoh Recycle Eco: gas range

8) Furugi-ya-honpo / 古着屋本舗 (Mito)

Furugi-ya-honpo deals solely in clothing, and while a lot of the second-hand stuff is ‘vintage’ (ie. expensive), there’s a huge amount of stock to choose from, including sale rails outside.

Directions: As per this map, it’s on the westbound / south side of the Route 50 bypass, directly opposite Yamada Denki.

Stuff Mrs M and I have bought at Furugi-ya-honpo: hoodie, woolly hat, yukata

9) Kanteidan / 鑑定団 (Akatsuka)

Kanteidan‘s signage and homepage claim that you can buy and sell ‘anything’ there, although when Mrs M and went, pretty much the only second-hand stuff we could find was in the extensive clothing section on the top floor.

Directions: Kanteidan is on the eastbound / north side of the Route 50 bypass, between the Mito expressway interchange and the turn off for the old Route 50 at Akatsuka.

Stuff that Mrs M and I have bought at Kanteidan: t-shirts, trainers, manga

9) Yasui-ya / 安い屋 (Mito)

OK, so we’re scraping the barrel a bit here, but trust me, Yasui-ya is worth visiting for sheer curiosity value. Most of the goods on display (if you can call it that – it looks more like they were dumped through the front doors off the back of a pick-up truck) have apparently lain untouched for several decades, and while the furniture in particular seems a little over-priced, I get the feeling they would be susceptible to haggling.

Directions: Yasui-ya is just off Route 118, slightly closer to the centre of Mito than Seikatsu-kohboh-kan, and on a side road that leads to the Nijuhsan-yason-keigan temple (二十三夜尊桂岸寺) (see this map).

Stuff that Mrs M and I have bought at Yasui-ya: ceiling lamp

10) Shinei / シンエー

You might not think so if you went there, but Shinei is in fact a slightly more upmarket version of Yasui-ya.

Directions: It’s on a back street near Akatsuka Station, as per this map.


There are a few recycle shops in Hitachi-naka, but to be honest they’re not much good (the pick of the bunch, Aru-aru, has recently been demolished), although you might want to check out the King Family clothes shop, which is here. A recycle shop in Mito that I have yet to visit is オーディン (Audin? Ohdin? Ordin?), which is on the old Route 50 near Kairakuen (info here).

One final thing: for some reason you won’t find many second-hand bicycles in recycle shops. Mountain / road / racing bikes do occasionally turn up, although like the mama-chari / shopping bikes, they tend to be over-priced.

Death by literature?

In amongst many newspaper stories commemorating the first anniversary of the earthquake, this one caught my eye for several reasons. Firstly, it is about one of the few people who lost their lives in Ibaraki (there were twenty-four in all – twenty-five if you include another who is still missing), and one of the few who did so as a result of the earthquake rather than the tsunami. Secondly, the events described took place in Mito, which is just down the road from where Mrs M and I now live. But thirdly, the manner of her death was bizarre to say the least…

A mother’s heart has not healed, but she is helped by a circle of friends and supporters

Daughter died with her beloved cat – Akira Ikegami’s publication is her destiny

Ms Seguro of Mito – ‘Finally I can get back on my feet’

65-year-old Yasuko Seguro runs a beauty salon in Matsumoto Town, Mito City, and lost her daughter Keiko Taguchi – a housewife, who was 37 at the time – in the Great East Japan Earthquake. Yasuko showed us a recently published book that contains Keiko’s story.

Keiko had a cold and was asleep on the third floor of Yasuko’s house when the disaster struck, and died from cerebral contusion when her collection of books collapsed on top of her. She loved novels and manga, and more than five thousand titles were arranged on the bookshelves in her bedroom. She was staying with her parents at the time because her husband was working away from home.

Yasuko found Keiko’s body after pushing her way through the many books that were scattered about the room. Keiko was with her beloved cat Gato. As if the cat was protecting Keiko, it was covering her face when it too died. ‘My daughter had no visible injuries,’ says Yasuko. ‘Gato had protected her.’

When this story appeared in newspapers, a publisher made an offer to Yasuko, saying, ‘We want Keiko’s story to appear in Akira Ikegami’s book.’ Yasuko preferred to quietly lay the incident to rest, and rejected the offer.

After losing Keiko, Yasuko stopped eating, and lost over ten kilogrammes. Almost every day she talked to her daughter’s photograph, and while she knew there would be no reply, she even sent text messages to Keiko’s mobile phone saying, ‘I want to meet you, I want to meet you’.

Soon afterwards, Ikegami called Yasuko directly, telling her that all proceeds from the book would go towards helping people in areas affected by the disaster.

‘Lots of people have had a hard time, had their houses swept away in the tsunami, had family members go missing.’ Yasuko agreed to the publication, and says, ‘Hopefully I can contribute something to helping the victims of the disaster.’

The book, published as ‘From The Great East Japan Earthquake – News To Join Our Hearts’, was published at the end of June last year, with Keiko’s story appearing as ‘To heaven with her beloved cat’. But even now, after a year has passed, Yasuko has yet to read the book. The events of 11th March 2011 weigh heavily on her heart. Recalling Keiko, she says, ‘Why couldn’t I have helped you?’

Meanwhile, Keiko’s story has appeared in newspapers and in the book, acquaintances of Keiko have come from far and wide to meet Yasuko, neighbours have given her food, and people often pause as they pass the house to bow silently. Many people have supported Yasuko.

‘Even if it hadn’t been for the earthquake, I wouldn’t have been able to put my mind in order yet. But despite having been affected themselves, everyone has shown their support for me, even though they should have been too busy to even think of me. So now, at last, I can get back on my feet,’ says Yasuko, her voice filled with tears.

(From the Tokyo Newspaper, 11/3/12. Incidentally, Akira Ikegami is probably the brainiest person in Japan, or at least the most famous brainy person in Japan, and while it hasn’t yet been translated into English, you can buy his book here.)

Hi honey, I’m home!

In case any of you have been wondering where I had disappeared to, this picture should give you a clue.
Yes, over the Christmas holidays, Mrs M, M Jr and myself went to the good old U of K, mainly to see friends and relatives for the first time in almost two years, but also to sample as much great (or not so great, as the case may be) British grub as was humanly possible.

So, once the jet lag has stopped making me feel like I’ve overdosed on tranquilisers, expect news of what we ate, where we ate it and whether or not we’ll have to wait another two years before eating it again.

The Joys of Christmas

As long-time readers of this blog will know, I am distinctly partial to a Choco Pie or two with my afternoon cuppa, so you can imagine how excited I was when Mrs M spotted these in the supermarket.
Manufacturers Lotte are currently celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of their finest product, so what better present to recei…er, I mean give this Christmas than Limited Edition Winter Choco Pie.
Rather than the standard cream sponge sandwich in a chocolate coating, Limited Edition Winter Choco Pie contain ‘chocolate cream with the rich aroma of cocoa beans, sandwiched between dark chocolate cake, in a mild chocolate coating’.
Which is just as scrummy as it sounds.
A six-pack Limited Edition Winter Choco Pie will set you back around 250 yen, while for those addicts who like to keep an emergency supply with them at all times, a so-called ‘personal pack’ of two can be purchased from reputable convenience stores.

The next step for this particular addict must surely be a guided tour of Lotte’s chocolate factory, as advertised on their homepage. I wonder if the production line is ‘all you can eat’…?

Pardon?

A few weeks ago something strange started happening with my hearing. Particularly when I had been sleeping on my right side, when I woke up in the morning my right ear would be blocked – as if I had been swimming and it was still filled with water, or as if I was on a plane after take off and it hadn’t ‘popped’ (my ear, that is, not the plane). This normally cleared up after a couple of hours, but depending on which side of the blackboard I stood, large parts of the morning’s English lessons were passing me by.

At first I put the problem down to hay fever, which always plays havoc with my sinuses and was still going strong even at the beginning of July (I had been under the impression that grass pollen is practically non-existent in Japan, but no such luck – another foreigner working in Ibaraki recently posted on Facebook about how his grass pollen hay fever has been almost untreatably bad). It soon got to the point where the offending ear would remain blocked until after lunch, and then to the point where it was still the same when I went to bed. After two or three days of listening to the world in mono, and having to either lean in towards people to hear what they were saying or turn around so that my left ear was facing them, I realised that it was time to go to the doctor.

At the height of the cedar pollen season in the spring, Mrs M’s uncle recommended a jibika (耳鼻科 / ear, nose and throat specialist) who had been a contemporary of his when they were at school, and whose surgery is just up the road from our new apartment. As is the case whenever one falls ill in Japan, I didn’t have to be referred to S-sensei by a GP, nor did I have to make an appointment to see him: his clinic is open until 6.30 on weekdays, and in the four or five times I have been there, it has never taken more than a twenty-minute wait before I am ushered into his office and asked to sit down.

Rather than an ordinary chair, however, as the patient, one is directed to a kind of high-backed examination seat equipped with various attachments, head- and arm-rests, and which reminds me of a Frankenstein-style electric chair whenever I sit in it. S-sensei himself is a chubby fellow in a white coat and spectacles, and while a normal doctor (well, the kind of doctor I’m used to seeing on ER, anyway) will have a stethoscope draped around their neck, S-sensei has a CD-shaped mirror strapped to his forehead at all times. He is more nutty professor than friendly doctor, has a habit of licking his bottom lip when he speaks, and when he does speak, it is faster than possibly any other Japanese person I have ever met.

‘What seems to be the problem?’ he asked the first time I met him.
‘My hay fever is really bad and I’ve run out of medicine,’ I said. ‘I’ve tried the over-the-counter stuff but it doesn’t work, so I was wondering if you could prescribe something stronger – I was taking cetirizine hydrochloride back in the UK’
‘Actually that’s quite weak. Hay fever drugs are classified in three levels, and cetirizine is a level three.’
‘Really? That’s all I’ve ever been offered. I didn’t realise there was anything stronger.’
‘Obviously the stronger medicines may make you drowsy, so we’ll monitor your condition through the season and give you a prescription based on that. If you take a look at this chart, you’ll see that the pollen in Ibaraki is particularly bad – the worst in the country, in fact – and next year it’s going to be even worse. Do you take any other kinds of medicine?’
‘I use a nasal spray sometimes.’
‘You need to be careful not to become too dependent on nasal sprays. Can you read Japanese?’
‘So long as it’s not too technical, yes.’
‘Have a look at this – or your wife can read it for you.’
He handed me a photocopy of an article from a medical journal about the perils of steroid-based nasal sprays, and carried on talking for several more minutes. The more he spoke, the faster his voice became, and rather than interrupt his flow, I asked Mrs M to go over the salient points as we drove home.

When we went to see S-sensei last week, he peered into my right ear using one of those instruments with a little conical whatsit on the end containing a magnifying glass and a light.
‘It’s just full of earwax,’ he declared. ‘Let’s check the other one. Yes, that’s almost as bad.’ He called Mrs M over to see for herself. ‘See? Completely blocked. There may be another problem, but until we get these cleaned out I won’t be able to tell.’

A couple of years ago I had an attack of tinnitus, which I eventually decided had been caused by my rather over-zealous use of cotton buds. I have been trying to wean myself off them ever since, to the point where for the past few months, I have only been cleaning my ears once a week. As a result, instead of having tinnitus I was now partially deaf, so S-sensei prescribed some ear drops and asked me to come back in three days’ time, when he would clear the blockage.

‘Do you mind me asking how you’ll do that?’ I said. ‘It’s just that a couple of friends of mine suffered hearing damage after having their ears syringed.’ I wasn’t sure how to translate this into Japanese, so described the kind of syringe you would use to receive an injection or give a blood sample.
‘Don’t worry,’ said S-sensei. ‘We don’t do any alternative therapies here. A few years ago there was a treatment going round that involved putting a lit candle in your ear. It was ridiculous, and I was the one having to clear up the mess.’

Three times a day for the next three days, Mrs M put three magic ear drops into each ear and left me lying on my side for three minutes at a time, and by the third day – as S-sensei had warned me – the gunk had softened up and then re-congealed to make me deaf in the left ear too. Monday was my first day working at the board of education since the beginning of April, but I could do little more than sit at my desk and ignore everybody. If someone spoke very clearly and I listened very carefully then I could just about hold a conversation, but it was like spending all day stuck at the bottom of a swimming pool, and I left early in order to get to the clinic before it closed.

The first time I thought the nurse had called my name it turned out to be somebody else’s, and when she did call my name I didn’t hear it at all, but before long I was back in the Frankenstein Chair and S-sensei was sticking a long, thin metal tube into my ear. This worked a little like one of those small-scale computer keyboard vacuum cleaners that you used to be able to buy from the Innovations catalogue, and Mrs M and I also found out what that mysterious CD-like mirror was for: S-sensei positioned it over his eye so that it reflected light into my ear, and looked through the hole in the middle.
‘Try not to move,’ he said. ‘This may hurt a little.’ And indeed it did, although the pain was nowhere near as disconcerting as the noise, which was a combination of hoover-like suction and what sounded like extreme radio interference: crackling, squealing and the occasional firework-like explosion.
‘You see that?’ said S-sensei, holding up a chunk of earwax that rather than the usual orange-y colour was a kind of dark, reddish brown. ‘That’s what happens when you don’t clean your ears properly.’

Once the ordeal was over, he told me that I should use a cotton bud every day and come to the clinic once a month for the mini-vacuum cleaner treatment. Despite his assertions to the contrary, however, I realised that the procedure I had just undergone was to all intents and purposes the same as having one’s ears syringed, and not an experience I had any intention of repeating.

Still, the original problem had certainly gone away, to the extent that my hearing was now almost too good: every shuffling footstep, every humming machine, every tinkling metallic medical instrument, every chattering voice in the clinic sounded inordinately loud, as if someone had turned up the volume on my internal amplifier. The sensation reminded me of a story from Oliver Sacks’ The Man Who Mistook His Wife For A Hat, in which a patient’s sense of smell becomes hyper-sensitive after a drug overdose, and popping into the supermarket on the way home was like being immersed in the kind of interactive sound sculpture installation you sometimes find at the Tate Modern. It seems likely that my ears had been at least partially blocked for some time, and that instead of this over-sensitivity being due to the shock of regaining my hearing, I was simply experiencing the world as it really sounds; whether or not this will help me keep up with S-sensei’s high-speed Japanese, though, is another matter.

2011 TV review of the year

Just as I was putting the finishing touches to this post, the Guardian published this article by the one and only Charlie Brooker, which among other things includes a typically succinct and hilarious description of the majority of content on Japanese TV. So, about a week late and at the risk of being accused of jumping on the bandwagon, here is my own take on the subject (or rather, take two – you can find take one here).

The biggest TV gossip of 2011 had to be the sudden resignation of Shinsuké Hamada, who as well as looking a bit like Jimmy Carr, was found to have links with the yakuza. (‘Jimmy Carr Mafia Link Shock!’ – now that would be an interesting story. But anyway, I digress.). Once evidence of his friendship with a minor hoodlum became public, Shinsuké did the honourable thing by jumping before he was pushed, but is unlikely to be welcomed back anytime soon, and as onii-san pointed out, the punters are now a lot less likely to patronise his chain of restaurants for fear of guilt by association.

In the manner of post-Angus Deayton Have I Got News For You, some of Shinsuké’s shows have drafted in guest presenters, among them Koji Higashino, who despite my prediction that his career would be cut short after an on-screen character assassination, has become an even more regular fixture on the panel show circuit.

Higashino’s most notable appearance of 2011 was as a participant in the Sado Island Triathlon, posters for which were all over the place when I was there for my summer holidays. Rather than the usual 1.5km swim / 40km cycle / 10km run, however, the Sado Triathlon involves a 3.8km swim, a 180km cycle and a full, 42km marathon, and while the swim was reduced to 3km because of an approaching typhoon, there can be no shame in the fact that three of the four participating celebs failed to complete the course. (Incredibly, all three – including Higashino – fell short of their goal not because they collapsed from exhaustion, but because they couldn’t keep within the fifteen-and-a-half-hour time limit.)

Both Shinsuké and Higashino cried in public last year – Shinsuké at his resignation press conference and Higashino in the lead-up to the triathlon – and the more Japanese TV I watch, the more I find myself blubbing into my remote control. For example, here’s the scenario for a recent documentary about guide dogs:

Scene 1 – Partially sighted woman in Hokkaido has owned the same guide dog for almost a decade. Dog is due to retire next year. Woman cries.

Scene 2 – Ageing guide dogs limp around special retirement home, older ones lose ability to walk, eventually pass away. Sight of dying dogs enough to reduce grown man to snivelling wreck.

Scene 3 – Too young to be trained, new-born puppies are adopted by ordinary families for first year of their lives. No footage of life in temporary homes. Instead, documentary cuts straight to farewell at end of year and collective crying session.

It was at this point, about fifteen minutes in, that I decided to change channels for fear of being plunged into state of irreversible depression.

Speaking of dogs, I had planned to share some footage of another Shinsuké, who is quite possibly the cutest animal of all time, but unfortunately the clip has been withdrawn from YouTube, so you’ll have to make do with this slide show from Twitter instead. (Believe it or not, Shinsuké isn’t a puppy – pomeranians apparently retain their cuteness into adulthood.)

The prize for 2011’s cutest human being goes to seven-year-old Mana Ashida – aka Mana-chan – who got her big break in a drama series called Marumo No Okité, and has since featured in no less than fifteen different TV commercials, not to mention countless variety shows, chat shows and music shows. The theme tune to Marumo No Okité – sung by Mana-chan with her co-star Fuku Suzuki – is the unfeasibly catchy Maru Maru Mori Mori (I did have a go at translating the lyrics, but gave up when I realised they were almost completely meaningless):

Just as Ahsida and Suzuki do a silly dance in their music video, so Japanese companies are in the habit of including similar dances in their commercials, the most notable example being this combination of five portly blokes, a Beyoncé tune and a new variety of cup ramen:
Despite the ubiquitousness of commercial-length public information films in the weeks and months following the earthquake (when advertisers were reluctant to purchase airtime), the most broadcast commercial of 2011 has to be this one for Choya alcohol-free plum wine, which as well as a silly dance, features a jingle that wouldn’t necessarily be annoying if it wasn’t for the fact the ad has been shown approximately fifty times a day for the past six months:
Probably the creepiest TV moment of the year was an appearance by Masahiko Kondoh, a veteran of the Johnny’s music agency, which is Japan’s most successful pop production line. After a brief interview, Kondoh looked on as members of present-day boy bands attempted to sing his hits – many of which were released before they were born – from memory. Most of these fresh-faced young lads had clearly been signed to the Johnny’s agency on the basis of their looks rather than their voices, but Kondoh wasn’t fussed about whether or not they could hold a tune. Instead, he cut short a performance only if they forgot the lyrics, which resulted in some very awkward moments where the singer apologised and promised not to make the same mistake ever again, and Kondoh tutted and shook his head disapprovingly. The youngsters spent the entire show heaping praise on Kondoh, and looked genuinely terrified as they were waiting for their turn to sing (there was no time to prepare as the songs were chosen at random), and the whole thing played out like a scene from a gangster film in which the godfather summons people to his office for a dressing down. Kondoh’s presence was so menacing that it really did feel as if someone was going to end up in Tokyo Bay wearing concrete boots, although as far as I know, everyone involved lived to sing another day.

Last but not least, I was glad to see that Honma Dekka?! – my favourite TV programme, and one that I’ve mentioned on this blog before – won a prize for excellence in the TV entertainment category at the Japan Commercial Broadcasting Federation awards.

There’s not much point in posting a clip, as Honma Dekka?! is a lot more verbal than it is visual, but just to give you an example of the kind of fascinating facts and figures they come up with, Homaré Sawa – women’s World Cup MVP and scorer of the late equaliser that took the Japan vs USA final to a penalty shoot-out – recently appeared as a star guest. In the section of the show known as Jinsei-sohdan (人生相談 / counselling service), she confessed to having very poor co-ordination, and after much to-ing and fro-ing, the panel of experts came to the intriguing conclusion that this is a good thing for an attacking player – ie. if defenders are in tune with how an opposition player moves, they will more easily be able to intercept her, but if the attacker is less predictable and her movements less regulated, she will more easily be able to find her way through the defence and to a goal-scoring opportunity.

Chris Hart

A couple of years ago, Nihon Terebi (Japan TV) began broadcasting an offshoot of the long-running NHK programme Nodo-jiman. The original Nodo-jiman is a Gong Show-style singing contest in which ordinary folk from around the country are given the chance to perform with a live orchestra – posh karaoké, if you will – and for Nodo-jiman Za! Wahrudo (literally ‘Throat Boast The! World’, although the programme also goes by the more sensible, English-language name of ‘Song For Japan’), the difference is that while the songs are Japanese, the singers themselves are foreign.

Mrs M has a bit of a crush on two-time winner Nicholas Edwards – a twenty-one-year-old American with big blue eyes and even bigger hair – and the winner of the sixth show was a Londoner called Paul Ballard, but if you’re looking for genuine singing ability, the real star of Nodo-jiman Za! Wahrudo has been Chris Hart.

Hart was born in San Francisco into a musical family – his father is a jazz bassist and his mother a classical pianist and singer – and learned to play the oboe, clarinet, saxophone and flute while he was still a child. He began studying Japanese at the age of twelve, and the following year stayed for two weeks as an exchange student with a family in Tsukuba, Ibaraki. After graduating from university – where his studies combined his two great loves, music and Japanese – Hart applied for jobs that would allow him to polish his language skills, working at an airport and for a cosmetics company. Having moved to Japan in 2009, he got a job at a vending machine company and practiced singing in his spare time, uploading videos of himself to YouTube.

Nodo-jiman Za! Wahrudo came along at exactly the right time for Hart, who won the star prize at his first attempt in March 2012, singing Kazumasa Oda’s ballad Tashika-na-koto (video here) and the SMAP song Yozora-no-mukoh. The funniest thing about his performance of the latter (video here) is that Masahiro Nakai – who is SMAP’s version of Andrew Ridgely and famously can’t sing – is one of the co-hosts on Nodo-jiman, and had to look on as Hart showed him how it was done.

Hart was contacted the next day by Jeff Miyahara, one of the most renowned producers in Japanese pop music, and his debut album, Heart Song, was released in June this year. Of course the true test of Hart’s longevity will come when he turns his vocal chords to some original compositions, but for the moment, Heart Song shows what he has made of some of the most memorable J-Pop hits of recent years – this is a snippet from his version of the Yusaku Kiyama song Home.

This is a video of Hart singing the same song on Nodo-jiman (on the strength of this performance, the original went to the top of the download charts the following day ), and the following video shows Hart’s version of the Naotaroh Moriyama song Sakura. While for some reason (possibly copyright-related) the first minute or so is audio only, it’s worth watching all the way through just to see how it reduces the comedian Kanako Yanagihara to an emotional wreck.
Hart’s less-is-more singing style is mirrored in his personality – it wasn’t until Mrs M and I saw a news piece about him that we realised he is a fluent Japanese speaker, as he hardly says a word during his appearances on Nodo-jiman – although don’t get your hopes up, ladies, as he was married earlier this year to fellow singer Hitomi Fukunaga.

At the time of writing, it is still possible to book Hart as a wedding singer via his official homepage. OK, so this is actually part of a semi-charitable scheme which has seen Hart perform for free in disaster-affected areas in the north east of the country – all you have to do is write to him and state a decent case for why you would like him to sing for you – but this opportunity will surely not be available for much longer. Most of the dates for his forthcoming national tour are already sold out, and Hart is, I suspect, destined for much bigger things.

Ouch! 痛い!

My mum used to swear by Dr Spock – no, not that Dr Spock, silly, the one who wrote Baby And Child Care, which Wikipedia tells me was the second best-selling book behind the Bible for over fifty years. I’m not sure what Spock would have thought of this, though, which I found in a Japanese child care manual that Mrs M borrowed from a friend of hers.
You can probably guess what it’s about from the illustration, but anyway, here’s a translation of the text:

Social skills
Obeying rules
Learning the fundamentals for living in a community

As your child grows older and starts to build friendships, many situations will arise that require patience and self-control. At times like this, if your child cannot restrain their emotions and follow rules, they will not be able to have peace of mind while living within the community at large. At this point in our child’s development, let’s teach them to be aware of and to obey the rules. We teach this using the ‘carrot and stick’ method.

Firstly, decide what is prohibited at home (the rules), and let your child know what they ‘must not do’. At times like this, let’s warn them in a scary voice, ‘If you don’t follow the rules, I’ll smack your bottom!’ This is the ‘stick’. So if they don’t obey the rules, without going easy on them, you will smack their bottom with the palm of your hand. In your child’s mind, the feeling of ‘Ouch!’ becomes associated with what they ‘must not do’, and little by little, they will come to realise that they ‘can get by without doing that’, and that this is what ‘self-control’ means. At the same time, if our child obeys the rules, let’s stroke their hair, give them a hug and shower them with praise. By showing them that ‘If I don’t do that, I will feel good’, the child independently learns to exhibit self-control. During this time, let’s teach our child the importance of obeying the rules in order to build better human relations.

In the illustration, the mother is saying, ‘Oy, you!’ and the caption reads, Let’s vary our expressions: when scolding our child, let’s put on an angry face, and when praising our child, let’s put on a kind face.

As far as I know, you wouldn’t be able to get away with publishing something like this in the UK, although both there and in Japan, there seems to be a kind of double-standard at work, in the sense that while corporal punishment is banned within the school system, a significant minority of people still smack their children at home (and not just smacking: when her son is naughty, the friend who lent us this book raps her child on the top of his head with the extended knuckle of her middle finger – something that Mrs M’s father did to her when she was a child),

There is one interesting difference between the two societies that’s worth mentioning, though: the straight man (tsukkomi) in a comedy double act often smacks his fall guy (boké) in the head for saying or doing something particularly stupid, and this is echoed in the behaviour of both Japanese adults and their children, so that smacking someone in the head is seen as amusing or playful rather than violent, and therefore socially acceptable.

Arigato ありがとう

Most schools in Japan have a small radio studio, the main purpose of which is to facilitate the lunchtime broadcast. For this, two or three students talk about the day’s menu – for example, at one point last week we were treated to an explanation of both the history and nutritional value of the cocoa bean – and pass on information about school activities. At my elementary school, the results of a daily competition are announced, based on the number of students from each class who have forgotten to bring their water flask, their handkerchief or their toothbrush, or whose toothbrush bristles are overly worn. Just like a proper radio station, the students are sometimes given the opportunity to make music requests, although at junior high school, we are treated to the same selection of rather mournful chamber pieces – chosen, I suspect, by the soon-to-retire music teacher – every day.

Normally everyone stops chatting and at least pretends to pay attention to the lunchtime broadcast, but as I was sitting down to eat with 2:1 class the other day, one of the students turned down the volume on the PA system and put on a CD instead. The song – Ikimonogakari’s Arigato (ありがとう / Thank You) is probably my favourite J-pop tune, and I was soon humming away to myself, much to the amusement of the students at my table.
‘Who chose this?’ I asked one of them.
‘Er, I don’t know,’ he said.
‘Was there a class vote?’
I can’t remember. Hey,’ he said to the girl sitting opposite, ‘why are we playing this CD?’
‘Dunno,’ she replied.
So much for the change of routine, but anyway, what better (and more flimsy) excuse to pull a few pop facts from Ikimonogakari’s Wikipedia page, and to share the video with you:

http://vimeo.com/14257739

(When I say ‘the video’, what I really mean is ‘the video uploaded to Vimeo without permission and augmented with Spanish subtitles’, and there is a very real possibility that by the time you read this it will have been taken down for legal reasons, thus defeating the object of this blog post altogether. If so, you should be able to find a similarly illicit version with a quick Google search).

Ikimonogakari means ‘person in charge of living things’, and was coined because rather than presenting the lunchtime broadcast, the two original band members – Yoshiki Mizuno and Hotaka Yamashita – were responsible for feeding the goldfish at their elementary school. Along the way, Mizuno and Yamashita acquired a lead singer – Kiyoé Yoshioka – and began to hone their skills at small scale live venues and as buskers in the western suburbs of Tokyo. Their independently released debut CD had the charmingly self-effacing title of While It’s Sincerely Presumptuous Of Us To Say So, We Have Made Our First Album (Makoto Ni Sen-etsu Nagara Faasuto Arubamu Wo Koshiraemashita… /  誠に僭越ながらファーストアルバムを拵えました…), and they soon gained a reputation as specialists in the art of commercial, TV and movie tie-ins. Since the early noughties, their songs have been used by Coca Cola, Nintendo, Asahi, several mobile phone companies, and in a score of TV dramas, animé and feature films (their latest release – Itsudatte Bokura Wa / いつだって僕らは – is in this TV ad for correspondence courses).

While Ikimonogakari were respectably successful by 2010, Arigato was the song that turned them into one of the most popular bands in the country – so popular, in fact, that their songs Sakura and Yell are now used as jingles to announce approaching trains at Ebina and Hon-Atsugi Stations (outside which they often used to busk) on the Odawara Line. Arigato was the opening theme for a soap opera called Gé-Gé-Gé No Nyoboh / ゲゲゲの女房 (part of an ongoing NHK series I have mentioned here before – Renzoku Terebi Shosetsu / 連続テレビ小説 – whose location and story changes twice a year), but while the commercial exploits of the band have no doubt made all three of its members very wealthy indeed, don’t let that put you off their music, as they have a knack for coming up with emotionally stirring chord changes, and some of their best songs are structurally original too – for example, like The Beatles’ She Loves You, Arigato starts with the chorus instead of the verse.

In case you don’t understand Spanish, there follows my somewhat inexpert translation of the lyrics, which was hampered by the fact that in Japanese, it is the exception rather than the norm for a sentence to have a subject, and exactly who is doing or saying what with or to whom is very much open to interpretation.

I want to say thank you.
I may be gazing at you
But you held my hand more kindly than anyone else
Listen, listen to this voice

On a bright morning I give a wry smile as you open the window
And tell me that the future has just begun
Let’s go out on the town again, like we always do

As always, the ups and downs of life accumulate
The two of us, our days together are fleeting
Carefully gather the escaping light, it’s precious
And it’s shining now

When did your dream
Become the dream of both of us
But today, one day, a cherished memory
Will clear the skies, whether they are blue or whether they are crying

I want to say thank you.
I may be gazing at you
But the hand that you held prompted a clear thought
That I am clumsily telling you

Forever, only forever
Because I want to laugh with you
To make sure of this road that I believed in
Now let’s walk on, slowly

Days when we argued, days when we embraced
Let me search for every colour
A pure heart on which the future is written
Is still being added to

Who you live for
Whose love you receive
Like that
More than sharing happiness or sadness
Little by little, gather up the moments

If I find happiness with you
The thoughts we share
Even the little things
Let’s embrace the light
Listen, nestle close to that voice

I want to tell you that I love you
I want to tell you because
That irreplaceable hand
Being together with you from now on
I believe in these things

I’m saying the words ‘thank you’ now
Holding my hand, more kindly than anyone else
So listen, listen to this voice

「ありがとう」って伝えたくて
あなたを見つめるけど
繋がれた右手は誰よりもやさしく
ほら、この声を受け止めている

まぶしい朝に苦笑いしてさ あなたが窓を開ける
舞い込んだ未来が 始まりを教えて
またいつもの街へ出かけるよ

でこぼこのまま 積み上げてきた
二人の淡い日々は
こぼれて光を 大事に集めて
いま 輝いているんだ

「あなたの夢」がいつからか
「二人の夢」に変わっていた
今日だっていつか大切な思い出
青空も泣き空も晴れわたるように

「ありがとう」って伝えたくて
あなたを見つめるけど
繋がれた右手がまっすぐな思いを
不器用に伝えている

いつまでもただいつまでも
あなたと笑っていたいから
信じたこの道を確かめていくように
いま ゆっくりと歩いて行こう

けんかした日も  抱き合った日も
それぞれ色咲かせて
真っ白なこころに 描いた未来を
まだ書き足していくんだ

だれかのために 生きること
誰かの愛を 受けれること
そうやって いまを
ちょっとずつ 重ねて
喜びも悲しみも分かちあえるより

おもいあうことに幸せを
あなたとみつけていけたら
ありふれたことさえ
輝きを抱きよ
ほら、その声に寄り添っていく

「あいしてる」って伝えたくて
あなたに伝えたくて
かけがえのない手を
あなたとのこれからを
わたしは信じているから

「ありがとう」って言葉は今
あなたに伝えるから
繋がれた右手は 誰よりもやさしく
ほら、この声を受け止めている


Incidentally, when Ikimonogakari were on TV over the Christmas holidays, onii-san described the lead singer as looking kibishii / 厳しい. The literal translation of kibishii is ‘strict’, although he was basically implying that she would be lucky to find a boyfriend. Onii-san is notoriously fussy when it comes to women, and I’m not sure that he was being entirely fair, but what do you think? Kiyoé Yoshioka: hottie or nottie?