As They Say in Japan

There is a saying in Japanese.
猫の額ほどの庭 = neko no hitai hodo no niwa
My yard is sooo small...
It's no bigger than a cat's forehead.

My Vast Wisdom

They were talking about how even though in Hawaii the temperature can be 32 degrees it still doesn't feel as hot as it does in Osaka.
I chimed in.
"It is because there are no bugs." I sagely imparted.
I got The Quizzical Look.
I tried again "It is because there are no bugs". I apprehensively ventured.
After one of those uncomfortable silent moments, they made a guess.
You mean not muggy?
Yes, that's what I was saying, "It is because it is not as muggy in Hawaii as it is in Japan.

mushi by itself means bug;
mushi in conjunction with atsui means muggy.

Circle

On the way home from church, I noticed this company.
The building looks very old but it also looks well kept as if there is good money in their business.
The company name is the Fuso Sobi Circle Company.
So I got to wondering about who the owners were and what their craft or trade might be. I wondered if perhaps they owned the rights to the use of circles in Japan.
And so I got to thinking about who might have the rights to circles in Canada. I remember a few years ago McDonald's applied for a patent on the sandwich and in a similar vien perhaps I can apply for a patent on the circle. I could start my own circle company! And get a piece of the pie for every circle made.
I think I had better do some market research first though, to see if people still use this ancient device in this high tech computer age.

Defining the Quizzical Look

Being on the recieving end of the quizzical look, something that foreigners learn (sooner is better than later though it took me a while) as a sign that they have said something not quite right (which can range from just not being understood to saying something downright insulting).
Mostly one hopes it is the former, which just leaves you feeling stupid, but somtimes you end up feeling not only stupid but embarassed as well.

Shocking

My all time favorite quote on the use of chopsticks comes from my all time favorite aunt.

Oh! You only use one hand!

Just For Now

One of the Osaka incineration plants posted only because it is weird and I haven't posted since my return from Canada.

More Hibbie Jibbies

On the other hand being not only a red blooded Canadian male but also a hockey playing Canadian, I have been known to wear garters.

Hibbie Jibbies

Many men in Japan carry purse like bags and or carry their bags in a very purse like fashion.
It can be very disconcerting for me, a red blooded Canadian male, to see this, I need to get into the 90's.

Canada Bound

Northwest. Sekime to Georgetown. Trains, planes and automobiles. Kansai, Detroit and Toronto airports. Close to 24 hours of travelling.
It always astounds me it works out.

Is that Kosher?

At the Canadian Consulate in Nagoya the Japanese lady who helped me had a bit of an Austrialian accent.

What I learned in Japanese Class

目に入れても痛くない。= me ni iretemo itakunai.
It's a saying. They say it originally came from China.
Translation: Even if you put it in your eye it won't hurt.
Usage: My son is sooo cute, even if I stick him in my eye it won't hurt.

Hence the Diatribe

In retrospect, I am probably just bitter about the lack of hot dogs in my neighbourhood.

The wisdom of it all.

知 = tomo = wisdom
宏 = hiro = vast

Parents often have high expectations of their children. My boy is going to play in the big leagues, my child is going to be able to read by the time he is four, my son is going to love to go hiking with me, my child is going to excel academically.
And etcetera.
I like to think we are not like that.
And yet our son's middle name is 知宏.

Trying to Remember My Quadratic Equations

I still have not become used to the quantities in which things are sold in Japan.

It is a little like the hot dog idiocy in Canada,　where wieners come in packets of twelve and hot dog buns come in packs of eight. It takes a math whiz to figure out the number of packets of wieners required to arrive at a common denominator consistent with the number of buns in a package, dividing by the number of persons in your household and how many hot dogs you will have that will feed your family for x amount of days and then reconciling that with the best before dates of BOTH packages. (You might find it odd that the meat lasts longer than the bread). Perhaps it explains why some families eat so many hot dogs. If you were to make a slight error in your calculations or if you are unable to do math, you will end up with too many of one or the other and it is back to the store to get more of what you don't need, in which case you would end up with more of the other again. Its one of the those downward spirals.
In Japan things tend not to come in packets of four. And it would be a great social faux pas to give a gift in a quantity of four. Things often come in packs of three or five which can create strife and marital struggles for our family. The solution often involves knives.

Prayer

I remember praying in childish English, for hitting the ball as the pitch came at me. Oh so childlike.
I have heard people pray in British Anglican English, graceful, deep and solemn, that left me with an inkling of the majesty of God, and feeling extremely inadequate in my own way of praying.
And in Japanese, with the language's built-in ability to convey a sense of respect and reverence for God, which also makes me feel inadequate in my praying.
And in English, colloquial, comfortable, able to bring the nearness, kindness and gentleness of God more easily into focus.
I am certain there are more ways in use, both more simple and complex.
All need redemption.
Yappari.
One can't do them all
We are sinners even when we pray.
And yet God treasures every word.

Woman arrested after caught living in man’s closet

From Wikinews
"In the town of Kasuya, Fukuoka, Japan, a 58-year-old woman was arrested after surveillance tape from inside an unnamed man's home showed her living in his closet.

According to police, Tatsuko Horikawa had been living in his closet for over one year. One day when the man left, she walked through his front door which had been left unlocked. From then on, she would take small amounts of food from the kitchen and even take showers. When the man noticed food missing, he set up cameras to catch what he thought was someone robbing him."

Yup, I checked our closets, the most likely one (the biggest) is clear, the other smaller one is so full it is, however improbable, still possible someone is in there. I let you know if anything develops.

Limited Time Only!

When I hold my son's hand;
He wraps his fingers around my thumb and I wrap my fingers around his entire forearm.

Memories

Yesterday we visited the hospital for the one month checkup.
We met several of my wife's fellow inmates, also there for the one month checkup.
Oddly enough we also saw more preggies coming and going. Aukje saw one in particular waddling in, and she later said to me, "I don't think I ever waddled like that did I?"
But then I thought about the time, walking down a quiet Sunday morning street on our way to church. I suggested she practice waddling for when it became neccesary. Naturally I demonstrated, and then Aukje too gave it a try.
We looked up. And there was a 70ish years young Japanese lady piddling around in front of her house, on the street with us. Though the Japanese are known for being stoic in the face of even the most difficult of circumstances, she could not help but chuckle at us.

Around the House

A night shot of Keihan Sekime Station from the stairwell of our apartment building.

Hmmm

力 = chikara =
(n) force, strength, energy, might, power, agency, authority, influence, vigor, vigour, stress, emphasis, exertions, endeavors, endeavours, efficacy, help, support, good offices, ability, faculty, capability, attainment, means, resources, (P)

After holding and/or comforting my young son when he has difficulty sleeping I find myself to be exhausted at the end of a day. My 力 seeps away. All the things I planned to do have fallen by the wayside. I cannot figure out where my 力 went. Perhaps I am out of shape. I wonder if they have baby soothing routines or some kind of baby soothing treadmill at the local gym.
Hmmm

Yappari

Yappari = やっぱり
A fabulous Japanese word;
justasithought, inspiteof, still, also, ofcourse and absolutely all rolled into one word;
It slices and dices, it's a not-too-distant cousin of the Swiss army knife, akin to miracle tonic.
Yappari
Perhaps I have exaggerated.
But only slightly I assure you!

Poink

I have this (bad?) habit of reading books concurrently. Perhaps it is my Sesame Street attention span. Currently, one of those books is Charlie Peacock's New Way to Be Human. In it, I came across a lyric from David Wilcox's (no, not that one Anth) album Live Songs and Stories
From the song Show The Way; it struck me, got stuck in me, I had to write it down.

Look, if someone wrote a play
Just to glorify what's stronger than hate
Would they not arrange the stage
To look as if the hero came too late
As if he's almost in defeat
So it's looking like the evil side will win
So on the edge of every seat
From the moment that the whole thing begins
It is love who makes the mortar
And it's love who stacked these stones
And it's love who made the stage here
Though it looks like we're alone
In this scene set in shadows
Like the night is here to stay
There is evil cast around us
But it's love that wrote the play
So in this darkness
Love can show the way

The view from there.

This morning I boarded the Hankyu, as I tend to do on many Saturdays. I was early for this particular train, it was still eight minutes before departure and I was the first person in the train car. I made myself comfortable.
Kids, mostly boys;
Assorted parents;
Gathered at the front.
I understand why they are here, it is why I am here.
I too like to look out windows. (Here too.)
My boy is still too young, I’m not sure he can even see me yet, but I look forward with a boyish father's eagerness, to the looking out of windows together.

Today's Tidbit.

It was a baptism of sorts, Tazel got it all over me, I actually had to take a shower.

Photos

A smattering of Tazel photos are here if you are interested.

Akin to an Epiphany

I was taken aback today.
Our baby boy makes baby noises.
Two weeks ago I would have been hard pressed to explain exactly what baby noises are.
Today as I was sitting with Tazel he was making noises and I says to myself, now those are baby noises.
And now I find I am still hard pressed to explain exactly what baby noises are.
I can only say you will know them when you hear them.

Like Son Like Father

It was 4am or so. Tazel did not want to sleep. After my wife spent some time holding him and trying to get him to go to sleep, I took a turn for a while.
So we sat together and his intestines started to gurgle and burble. Perhaps that was what was keeping us both from sleeping. He quieted down, and my intestines burbled and gurgled in a more manly fashion. Tazel opened his eyes and looked up at me accusingly, perhaps that was what was keeping us both from sleeping.

Baby boy Tazel

In Japanese when someone says 'soro soro' it means it is now time to go, or something is about to happen. In Osaka, which has it's own dialect, when someone says bochi bochi it can mean the same as soro soro, (though not always).
Yesterday, as I was spending a brief moment with my wife, I heard the doctor say 'bochi bochi' and in that moment I knew two things. I was in Osaka and we were soon going to have a baby.

Things that make you go hmmm.

Japanese envelopes do not come with that gross tasting, icky licky sticky stuff on the flaps.
Apparently it is because of the weather.
No really! It is too humid in Japan and everyone’s envelopes would get stuck closed, or start sticking to who knows what not, which would wreak havoc in people’s stationary boxes.

The math of language learning.

ryou =　旅 = (n,vs) travel, trip, journey. and
kan = 館 = (n,suf) house, hall, building, hotel, inn, guesthouse.
thus, ryokan = 旅館 = Japanese style inn.

This is the front lobby of a Japanese inn. (in Amanohashidate (天橋立)) It is said that if you are in Japan you need to enjoy the 旅館 experience at least once.

Lost in Translation.

In the process of learning a new language, one always runs across new words which are often very difficult to translate. Some words contain so much cultural history and/or so much experiential feeling that they are nigh on impossible to translate.
This tidbit of knowledge led me to wonder.
When God speaks to someone, what language does he use? Do you suppose there is something that gets lost in translation?

久しぶり

久しぶり！

A Pair of 50s

The year 2007 saw two very different churches, both of which are connected to my life, celebrate their 50th anniversaries. My home church, the Georgetown Christian Reformed Church celebrated early in the year and Miyakojima Kyoukai (都島教会) celebrated late in the year. I received a commemoration book from GCRC in December not long before I received a commemoration book from 都島教会. There are pictures of me in both books and every time I happen to see myself it scares me. For 都島教会 everybody had to write an essay. I wrote in English because my Japanese is not very good, and a capable church member translated it into Japanese for the book. (See below if you are interested.)
The differences between the two congregations are striking. Urban Japan and not so urban Canada. Worship style. GCRC with a congregation that is ten times the size of 都島教会. The similarities of the commemorations are also striking, historical photographs of the church buildings and former pastors. Photos of the congregation and congregation life as it changed under God's direction over the years. Memories. Most striking is God's faithfulness to both of these congregations over the 50 years.
Soli Deo Gloria.


Communion.
Christ commanded us to “Take eat” and “Drink this”. As Christians we do this regularly in many different ways. The church in which I grew up, the Georgetown Christian Reformed Church, did communion only four times a year. That seems to be almost not at all, but it was a very special occasion, not to be missed and not to be trifled with. By the time I began to take communion the church leaders saw fit to change the frequency to once a month. When I came to Japan, and started to attend 都島教会、Communion became a weekly event for me and I was able to see another side of the Lord’s Supper.
In 1993 I spent two weeks helping with some construction in the Dominican Republic. While I was there I visited the San Mateo church in Sabana-Grande-de-Boya, a small town in comparison to Georgetown, which is very small in comparison to Osaka. During the service we were invited to partake of the Lord’s Supper as guests of the congregation. Sitting on rudimentary benches, the bread was passed to each participant. Then in small glasses, only some of which matched, the wine was served. When half of the congregation had received their wine, there were no more glasses. The first half took and drank, while the second half looked on. Then the glasses were efficiently gathered and washed in the baptismal basin, which was sitting ready for a baptism later in the service. The freshly washed glasses were refilled and I too was able to participate. The entire service was done in Spanish, and I don’t speak any Spanish. When I came to Japan, the entire service was done in Japanese, and I didn’t speak any Japanese. But. I was able to partake of communion, and it continued to be meaningful. Communion is tangible, I see it, I feel it, I taste it. And as certain as I am of these physical things, I am also certain of Christ’s body and blood having been given for me.
Participating in communion in these different circumstances, has demonstrated to me in a concrete way how the body of Christ crosses borders and time. Every week as we take communion together, we join Christians from a myriad of different times and places, as far back as the twelve with Jesus, and as far away as Canada and the Dominican Republic.

聖餐式
キリストが私たちに「これを食べなさい」「これを飲みなさい」とお命じになりました。だから私たちはクリスチャンとして聖餐式をさまざまなやり方で、決まってきちんとやっているのです。
私が育った教会　（改革キリスト教会）はー年に4回しか聖餐式がありませんでした。それは、全然ダメのように見えますが、しかしそれは非常に特別の儀式であり、見逃してはならないもので、いい加減に軽んじることの出来ないものでした。私が聖餐式を始める頃までには、教会の指導者たちはその回数を月に一回するのが妥当だと思うようになりました。私が日本に来て、都島教会に出席し始めてからは、聖餐式が毎週になり、私は聖餐式の新たな面を見ることが出来ました。
1993年に、私は2週間程ドミニカ共和国で健築工事の手伝いをしたことがあり、その時ジョージタウンと比べると小さい町でしたがサバナ・グランデ・デ・ボヤという大阪の町に比べると、とてもとても小さい町の聖マテオ教会に行きました。礼拝では私たちはその教会の客として主の聖餐に参加するよう招かれました。長イスに座っているとパンが一人ひとりの参加者に渡され、ぶどう酒が配られました。会衆の半分がぶどう酒をもらった時に、グラスの数が足りらなくなり、前半の人々が頂いている間、後半の人々は眺めちました。それから
グラスがてきぱきと集められ、礼拝の後半で行われる洗礼のために準備されちた洗礼盤の中できれいに洗われて、新たにぶどう酒がそそがれ、私も主の聖餐に預らることが出来ました。全ての礼拝はスペイン語でされましたが、私はスペイン語が全く解りません。日本に来た時も礼拝は日本語でされ、やはり全くわかりませんでした。しかし私は聖餐式に預かることができました。そしてそのことは、引き続き意味のあることでした。
聖餐式というのは、実体的なものであります。私はそれを目で見ることが出来、触れることができ、味わうことが出来ます。そしてこれらの物質を確実に認識できると全く同じように、私は私に与えられたキリストの「身体」と「血」を確実に認識出来るのです。このように、さまざま違った環境で、聖餐式に参加することによって私はキリストの身体が国境と時を越えて行く様を具体的に証明されるのを見たのです。私たちは、毎週聖餐式に参加するとき、おびただし数の別の時代と別の場所のきりスチャンたちの群れと一緒になります。すなわち、イエス様の12人の弟子たちとも、カナダやドミニカ共和国の人々とも一緒になるのです。

Many thanks to 荒木紀子さん (Mrs. Araki Noriko) for the translation.

On riding to school. For my posterior-ity

From the archives, I recommend you blow the dust off this one before reading it.

Largely I really enjoyed cycling to school. It took anywhere between 35 and 45 minutes depending on how genki I felt and what route I took, but that was no problem. Things that really were a pain in the butt were the never ending irresponsible or otherwise non-attention paying cyclists and pedestrians and especially the many, many rude taxi drivers.
I had a good seat when I came to Japan. It broke. I bought a new seat at the Konan, the cheapest one I could find since going to school doesn't pay all that well. I pretty much stopped enjoying my ride after that, my butt was always so sore from that crappy seat, even after forcing myself to "break it in" (not sure weather that is my butt or the seat) in any case it didn't work. The moral of the story? Never buy a cheap seat when you butt is on the line.

When I originally wrote this little bit the feeling was stronger than it is today. Upon rereading it, I noticed that I used a stronger word for butt everywhere and thought for my more sensitive readers I should change it. If you are a purist, feel free to substitute "butt " with a stronger word and reread for the full effect.

2008 ー 平成20

Happy New Year!
あけまして　おめでとう　ございます。
今年もよろしくおねがいします。

A Jaunt

This past week I had the opportunity to travel to Shirahama for a retreat. We tourists can be attracted by the interesting and beautiful sandstone formations in the area. The crashing ocean waves against the rocks reminded me of summers spent on the Bruce Peninsula in Tobermory Ontario.

三段壁 = Sandanbeki

千畳敷 = Senjyo-jiki

No Lid

On my way to an old train line trail, I was changing trains. The people I was going to hike with had a head start. I was in a hurry.
I was still in my good, black, secret agent suit (wearing my new tie, which my wife had so very recently and with great effort picked out for me). I had just a few minutes between disembarking the Kobe Line Limited Express bound for Osaka, and boarding the Takarazuka Line 'normal' Express on my way to the boondocks (where the time between return trains increases from the accustomed couple three minutes to an almost unbearable fifteen twenty minutes). Yes, as you may have surmised, a recipe for trouble, but trouble has a way of sneaking up on you, through the chinks in your armour. A few minutes was not quite enough time to remove my secret agent suit, and don my hiking gear, but it would have to do. I hurried to the WC to find an empty stall. I have found while living in Japan, that I prefer western style toilets over the Asian style variety, but the architects and builders of this particular station were traditionalists. I went with the flow, and secured myself a changing stall. No toilet tank but someone had thoughtfully installed a small metal shelf on which to precariously pile my baggage. I removed my jacket, and with great care managed to get it into my bag without my pile falling over. After undoing and rolling up my tie, (my new tie, which my wife had so very recently and with great effort picked out for me) disaster sneaked through a chink. It was one of those slow-motion things, bullet time as it were, my tie began to unravel, gravity doing its dirty work, my aging reflexes failed miserably and the tie unraveled right into the toilet. I paused in shock. I somehow, magically, pulled a plastic bag out of my teetering pile and with as little contact as possible put my tie into the bag. I subsequently changed the rest of my gear without further mishap and caught my train, but was left with severe emotional scarring. Just how will I explain this to my wife? Or the dry cleaning lady?

Cross Cultural Engagement Skills and Love

Ambiguity tolerance
Sense of humour
Observation and questioning
Flexibility
Willingness to learn
Seeing “different” without judging
Patience
Good listening skills
Love
Willingness to risk
Setting aside “self”
Abandon independence
Drop presuppositions
Come as learners, (be teachable)
Willingness to learn like a child
Humility
Loss of one’s place and value

A list of skills needed to engage a cross-culture, as made by the attendees (mostly with experience in trying to engage the Japanese culture) at the third part of Josiah Bancroft’s core training seminar entitled Spiritual Formation and Gospel Renewal as given at this year's CPI conference.
It turns out as Josiah showed us, that these skills are transferable. These are things that we need if we want to love someone. I need to be willing to listen to my friend or need to set aside myself to love my child. It helps me step into the foreign territory of another culture or relationship.
I can’t wait to get home and practice on my wife.

The Spittin Image

I travelled to Hakone not too far from Tokyo this week for a conference. As we came over the mountain I caught a magnificient view, the view that one always sees in paintings and pictures of the landscape in Japan. Well I was finally able to get a shot myself.

A step back in time.

Kobe. A section of Meriken pier preserved as it was after the devastating earthquake of 1995. It used to sit about a meter and a half out of the water, and believe it or not those lamp posts used to be vertical. Even though more than ten years have passed, people who experienced this earthquake still talk about it with a lot of emotion and difficulty.

Yes!

The last word in The Message paraphrase of Luke is Yes!

It comes after reading all of Luke, the birth, the life, the crucifixion, the resurrection and the ascension. The word following all of this is Yes. One word, dripping with meaning.
It is the kind of Yes you feel after scoring a goal, making a great save, or slamming one down the line. It is a fist pumping kind of Yes. It is a point to the sky sort of Yes.
A lot of work goes into making that great play. Years of practicing, hundreds of games under your belt, eating sleeping and drinking your craft, and only a few times in your career can you look back on a particularly well finished play and say Yes!
But this particular Yes is the greatest Yes sitting at the TSN turning point of History.
It is the sort of Yes that can be very loud or barely audible, depending on who you are, but either way it carries the weight of Glory to God.
Soli Deo Gloria.

At'll do er.

With a little technical help from my brother Paul, I managed to get my picture up. It turns out a pushpin does the trick. Smarts, but as they say no pain no gain.

A Tad Frustrated

I will keep you up to date on my trials and errors. As a facespace pioneer it may be useful for others to learn from what I have attempted and either avoid making the same errors or do what I did if a thing works. With respect to the picture problems, tried just thumb-tacking my picture over the question mark. Not working so far and I seem to have liquid crystals leaking out of my LCD. I'll let you know how I make out.

Facespace

Having finally mastered double clicking icons in windows, formatting my big ol 5 1/4 floppies, and sending and receiving e-mail it is with some consternation that I attempt something new. I heard about this newfangled facespace or mybook or some such thing. Signed up. I am hip. I got friends now. Gnarly. Dude. The strange thing, I have a giant question mark where my face ought to be.

Happenings at our little church

Last Sunday evening at Grapevine Cell Church 「ぶどうの木セルチャーチ」we had one of those great little intimate concerts that are a rare find. Guitaurist Mark Miller came to town. No no no not that one, theothermarkmiller. We slooshied some of his handmade tunes and he also subjected us to the one about the colour coded genies and their bricks. If you have not heard it, you can listen here.

Shinsaibashi

Looking at Shinsaibashi shopping street from Dotombori bridge, on a Monday when it is not so crowded. It is a good thing they don't allow cars during the day thinks I to myself.

Amanohashidate

The other day we made our way to Amanohashidate (天橋立). It is reported to be one of the three most beautiful sights in Japan. The peculiarity of it all is that one is supposed to look at it upside down in order to fully and truly appreciate it's beauty. It is a time honoured tradition complete with do-it-yourself handrails, viewing platform and safety screening for those who might topple over backwards. The safety screening looked quiet well used which caused me to wonder how many people rolled down the mountain in days of yore before safety screening was invented.

A potrait of the author.

It has been some time since I started writing this blog and the little old moving picture in the corner no longer does me justice. I feel I am aging gracefully, and thought I could maybe give the general readership out there a taste of my current charming looks. I recently came into some excellent portaits, uncommisioned and yet smacking of Rembrandt quality. I thought I would post these as an upgrade to plain old photos.

By Tomoko

By Wako

Ninja Shoes

Used for crossing moats and the like, to sneak up on unsuspecting castle guards.

Being a good Canadian they remind me of snow shoes.

Equations du jour.

tokei = 時計 = watch.
kakkouii = かっこういい = pretty cool.
これはかっこいい時計だと思います。(In Japanese but the pictures are good).
Here are some pretty cool watches. (English interview with creator Haruo Suekichi but watch out for the colourful language.)

Hisashiburi （久しぶり）

My Japanese English dictionary defines hisashiburi as "after a long time [interval, silence, absence, separation]".
Or in the timelessness of the olde First Nations expression with which I am sure you are familiar, long time no blog.

Ninjas!!

Fight or flight?

I ran for it.

Hanami

On my way home. Cherry blossoms are out.

Meeting the good doctor again.

I met up with the good doctor again yesterday at our Alpha course. (Rubric! rubric!) Oddly, he seemed happy to see me. His head is chocked full of knowledge on various topics, especially medicine and religion.
He asks a lot of questions.
I think he was born in Tokyo. Lived there.
He changed jobs and came to work in Osaka. While in Osaka he has learned some of the local dialect, Osaka ben.

After the Alpha, in a Japanese restaurant, during dinner, he was telling us about how when in Tokyo, his Osaka Ben came out, and the Tokyoites were a little disconcerted, thinking he was mafia (so he said). He laughed about this soo hard, I have never seen a Japanese person laugh so hard, it was funny, it was infectious. Yoshihiko, Eiko, Kazuko Hikasa, Koichi and I. We all laughed. It was a hearty laugh. It is overused but I will say it. It is good to laugh.

My Triumphant Return

Almost three years ago I came to Japan on a short term mission trip. When I first got here, my brain could not take in everything, Japanese people's faces all looked the same, places melded into each other, my senses were overstimulated. Against this backdrop of blur, I went to a homeless mission meeting, with Dan the missionary man, and two Korean Pastors from California. They were thinking about bringing a short term team here and were scouting things out. We arrived on the train and then headed to the outside of the loop line (and because of my ineptness here is the picture that goes with it). In Osaka, in spite of what the maps tell you, the inside of the loop is Osaka but the outside of the loop is something else. Amongst the blur, I did happen to notice several things. I vividly recall the long lineup of homeless people waiting at a large building. I also noticed a youngish man in expensive black clothes standing next to his black Mercedes with black tinted windows, waiting for something. I saw him at least once or twice more, though we never went that way again. There was also a very old gentleman dressed in what looked to be towels and rags that in the way they were arranged could have been construed (with the right tweak of your imagination) to look like a dress. He seemed very happy to see me, took hold of me and with a big smile, exuberantly expressed to me in what I assumed to be Japanese, his greetings. After being rescued from his grasp I has informed by the more fluent of our group that he really liked me, and wanted to take me home. Being naive, I still haven't come to grips with the reason, but I'm sure the dress was a clue. So with out much incident we arrived at the place where the meeting was being held. it looked very "inner cityish" to me. The proceedings started with a continuation from the week before of the movie Titanic which was interrupted just as the boat was about to sink, to be continued the week there after. (I recall being amused how the "aww" of disappointed viewers, sounds the same in Japan as it does in Canada). The main part of the meeting consisted of a time of singing, a recital of the apostles creed, a message, prayer and then dinner. The last thing that I remember striking me was how well organized and orderly all these homeless people were, patiently waiting in lines and easily working together to see that everyone got food in an expedient manner.

Fast forwarding through a couple or three years and here I go again, my triumphant return to the scene of the crime. Michael phoned me up and said he wanted to go to the homeless mission and invited me along. We agreed to meet at the closest train station, we were going to walk together to Pastor So's residence to meet with him at about four in the afternoon. The over stimulation blur has gradually become more focused for me and I notice many more and different things nowadays. As I was waiting at the train station, I had a sense that the people seemed different to me, carried themselves differently. I should probably chalk it up to my imagination, as it was on the edges of reality, more of an intangible than noticed facts. After Michael arrived we hustled off toward our destination, neither of us knew where it was but Michael was confident he would recognize how to get there. Although I did not notice any Yakuza or see my old friend, the same long line of homeless people were still there, and looking none-the worse-for-wear (as far as homeless people can look non-the-worse-for-wear) and I hoped that they weren't too tired from standing there for the past few years. We purposely wandered around, conspicuous. The things that stood out for me this time were the perpetual garage sale items displayed all along the streets wherever there was a free spot that didn't involve taking someone else's frontage. The friendly salesman with a big smile who helpfully directed us toward the station (where we had come from) (assuming of course that we were not in the neighbourhood because we wanted to be). We asked him about the meeting in broken Japanese, bending and stressing if not breaking all our Japanese abilities. He helpfully directed us in the right direction. We purposefully wandered some more. We asked more questions. I was struck by the plywood and sawhorse tables, shiny and polished with use, surrounded by serious faced gamblers throwing out thousand yen bills. We were directed to a church building of some kind that many of the neighbourhood folk seemed to agree was where we needed to go, but was not. We continued our purposeful wandering. We came by the friendly salesman yet again. Smiled and nodded. We eventually happened upon Pastor So's house but by this time he had left and there was no one there. I know the area well now, and can take anyone interested on a tour, pointing out the sights and attractions. Eventually we ended up at the building where the meeting was to take place, across the street from the gaming tables. It was ten after six, we were late and Pastor So was waiting for us. The meeting went ahead in a similar fashion as before with the exception of the movie, but then again we were late so it may have finished by the time we got there. Since we were visitors we were expected to say a little something after the message. I had spent time in the morning preparing a little something. I had decided to read Romans 10 vs. 8-13 and I wanted to emphasize the everyone in verse thirteen. When it came to me, I jumped up brimming with confidence. I opened my little Japanese bible and launched into the reading with gusto. Not long into said reading I came to the realization that I had forgotten to pre-read this text. Not a big deal for me in English but another matter entirely in Japanese. I came to this realization as I got bogged down in drifts of Kanji the way my little Volkswagen used to, in drifts of Canadian snow. My knees were quivering, perhaps my vocal chords too. I ploughed through and managed to get to the other side. My confidence battered, bruised and shaken. I hastily made my one little point.

Everybody.

The frustration at not knowing

The frustration at not being able to express what you want to say when the Sensei asks a question. Having to stick to the structure and the few bits of vocabulary you have learned thus far is really annoying. But it is nothing compared to the frustration of not getting certain parts of the language you are trying to learn. And not being able to ask questions, or to intelligently inquire about what your are learning. As a kid when you are learning a language and processing things, it isall happening at the same speed. Learning a language as an adult, having already developed the ability to think and reason, makes things more frustrating. You have this great desire to pose questions, to confirm unclear things, to iron out this ambiguity or that. And yet it is next to impossible because you don’t share a common language.

On the corner

This is a blog that has been sitting, brewing, like a larva in a cocoon.
It has just metamorphosed into something, I'm not sure what. It might turn it to a really nice sort of butterfly, the kind you occasionally see fluttering in the cool breeze of a beautiful summer day. On the other hand I just may head toward a bright, stinking-hot light and well you know...
One time, Dan and I handed out some digest bibles.
We put together a little package, Digest bible, book mark from the digest bible people, Budounoki Cell Church bookmark, and a size matching orange Let's Alpha! flyer advertising the upcoming Alpha. It was a bookmark sandwich. Bible on one side orange flyer on the other side, with the bookmarks in the middle somewhere all packed in a just the right size Ziploc baggie.
In Osaka it is common to see people handing out flyers to passersby, often it is a small pack of tissues with advertising on it, sometimes it is a restaurant or a hair salon in the vicinity, sending out the employees to drum up some business.
As I stood on the street corner, in between potential people, I noted;
The orange side seemed attractive to passersby.
It was stressful, my first time to stand on a street corner and hand out.
My hands got cold. But I was well dressed for the weather.
The sun shone at times caressing me.
It drizzled for a short time, but we were not to be daunted by a little rain.
So many different people walk by, all created by God. So many different reactions, you can tell something about a person's personality by how they walk by or how they respond.
Some as far away as possible.
Some avert their eyes head downward.
Some ignore you, don't even acknowledge your existence.
Some are extremely busy, in a huge hurry,
Some smile,
Some are polite,
Some are senile,
Some are friendly,
Some are interested, in the foreigners who do something so Japanese but so "in your face"; handing out flyers on a street corner,
Some are intrigued,
Some accept because it is easier than rejecting,
Some reject out of long habit,
Some reject because it easier than accepting,
Some reject and then change their mind by the time they get a little further around the corner,
Some run as if in a hurry to catch the stale green light, but there is still lots of time left before the light changes,
Some fight over the one copy, Please have more,
Some stop to read instead of crossing the street,
Dan is good at handing out. You can tell he has done it before. I don't like it.
After the fact looking back, I feel I know the street corner. I stood there for several hours. The close corner which I walk by most often, was more comfortable to stand on. The far corner was less comfortable, for two reasons, one I walk there less often, and two it was where we started.
I feel I know my community better. I saw some of the locals, the building security/traffic director who always looks very friendly, who Aukje always chats with on the way to the church.
Eiichi-san the owner of Ottori. The strong silent type, he said hey to me with a smile and I responded with 'afternoon' in Japanese and asked him if he was 'genki'.
Yet while standing there, I felt a basic 'community feeling' that is difficult to find in a such a highly densely populated area.
So many faces, so many people.

The Guardians at Shitennoji Temple

It's enough to give me the hibbiejibbies.

Happy New Year!!

Our 2007 Nengajo. I don't think I got started any earlier this year.

Baking my Noodle.

This is the book I am currently reading titled ゆうたはともだち by きたやまようこ. It was a gift from a good friend, Motoko, who really enjoyed it and thought I might too. It is all about a dog and his boy. Yaknow how some books, like novels, can be easy to read, but how others, like your philosophy text book from university, can really bake your noodle? Well this is one of the latter.
Let me give you a marvelous sample from the first page.

おれはいぬ。 (I'm a dog.)

Hmm, in retrospect, perhaps not so marvelous, how about something from the more meaty part of the book.

おれはあしをあげる。(I lift a leg.)
おまえはあげない。 (You don't.)

Can you not just touch the brilliant wit, the concise substance, the deep profoundness of the thought processes. I will concede that there is a possibility you have to be able to see the pictures, (you know what they say about the value of pictures) and I must admit something has been lost in the translation. Nevertheless, if and when I am able to plow through the content of this book (all twelve or so pages), the next two parts of the trilogy await me!

Ho Ho Ho

Merry Christmas
メリー　クリスマス

For what it's worth and no more.

Some people think I am an optimist.
I would say I am just telling the truth.
Truth be told, deep down I am a pessimist and I try to hide it.

I apologize for lack of blog posts.

Terribly Sorry.
Please please, oh please I humbly beg your forgiveness.

Neko

It is some time ago now, nevertheless, while I was in school I had one elective class each week that was devoted simply to writing. Even though I like to write in English I was surprised to find that I liked writing in Japanese too. Sometimes it is frustrating in that you want to express something but lack the ability, but generally I enjoyed it. I remember working through this exercise, (we were given the pictures and had to make up the story), chuckling here, smirking there, thoroughly enjoying my astonishing wit and the prose I was weaving. I thought I would post a sample of something I wrote in class and you my faithful readers can enjoy my brilliance for yourself. I must admit something may be lost in the translation, so for anyone who can read Japanese I will include the original text as well, in case you find my chicken scratch on the pictures difficult to read.

ピンポン
おばあさんは「はい、何にか」といいました。
雄猫くんは「今日は、わたくしは山田雄猫ですけど、あなたのせんたくとそうじのしごとにおうぼをします」と答えました。
「でもあなたわ猫ですね」といいました。
「はい。しかしだいたい猫はせんたくとそうじが上手です。」
「どうぞ」
Ding Dong
"Yes what is it?" said Ms Oldlady.
"Good Day, I am Little boy Tomcat Yamada and I am applying for your washing and cleaning job" Little boy Tomcat replied.
"But you are a cat aren't you?" she said.
"Yes. But generally cats are very good at washing and cleaning"
"Please come in"


「インタビューをはじめますか」
「はい、お願いします。」
「なんさいですか」
「四十さい猫年です」
「ああなるほど。　あなたは結婚していますか」
「いいえ、まだですが、こいびとがいます。」
「血液型は何型ですか」
「私はA型です」
「ええ、自分のエプロンがありますか」
「もちろん。ポケットの中です。」
「じゃ今からしごとをはじめましょう」
"Shall we begin the interview?"
"Yes, please."
"How old are you?"
"Forty, cat years."
"Ahh I see. Are you married?"
"No not yet, but I have a girlfriend."
"What blood type are you?"
"I am A type"
"Ahh, Do you have your own apron?"
"Of course, it's in my pocket."
"Well you can start work right away."

山田雄猫はニコニコをしています。
「信じられない」自分に言います。
「ぼくはメイドです」
Tomcat Yamada　is chuckling to himself.
"I don't believe it" he said to himself.
"I am a maid."


雄猫くんはせんたくとそうじはあまり上手ではありません。　雄猫たからです。　しかし、お金がほしいです。人とビールのようにぎゅうにゅうを飲みます。高いちゅうどくですが。
Little boy Tomcat is not very good at cleaning. He is a tom cat after all. But he wants money. Like people and beer he drinks milk. It is an expensive habit.

There you have it. Upon giving it a second reading with a little perspective, I find it akin to something I wrote in grade three. Well no where to go but up I suppose.

On the Kotatsu

Recently I've been muddling my way around the IT department. My wife's good old Windows 98 computer has only been able to boot in safe mode for quite some time, and now that school is over I am able to attack the problem with gusto. I quite enjoy tackling these kinds of problems, back in the day I used to do it for PROMAT Engineering. Aaahh, nostalgic reminiscing always makes a situation more palatable.
I tried to find the reason why windoze would not boot and next decided to do a reinstall of windows. After that adventure came to naught, I resorted to restoring the machine to its original state from the original manufacturer's CDs. Things were going quite well... until the harddrive started to make noises that I am quite sure hard drives are not supposed to make. I hastily powered down, and on the next bootup my good buddy, (we had by now spent enough quality time together to become good buddies) the computer, informed me that there were no hard drives anymore and could I please do something about it. Well I couldn't let him down. I disconnected all vitals and laid him down on the operating kotatsu. I opened him up and removed the offending old dead internal organ and inserted an older working harddrive I had lying around. You are probably thinking at this juncture "that is no way to treat a good buddy!" and well that was exactly his reaction. As I tried to restore him to health he cacked and and informed me that this new harddrive was much too small and could I please do something about it. I tried a few things but in the end decided to head to the organ bank and shell out for a new harddrive. I returned home and inserted said new harddrive (roughly eighty times the size of the original) (something you do for a good buddy) but he was still mad at me over the first insertion. It's still too small he wined. We got into a bit of a kerfuffel at this point and words were exchanged. I lost my patience and he remained insolent and uncooperative. After a good nights sleep, we started afresh. I was able to cajole him into accepting the new organ, and restore him to health. Sounds like a happy ending, but meanwhile back at my own desk my old buddy the laptop was becoming jealous of my new buddy, not enough quality time and all I suppose. He too began wining. I hastened to his attention and quickly turned off the data drive, disconnected and laid it on the operating kotatsu. After going in and proceeding with the initial exploratory surgery, I found loose diodes that had fallen off the circuit board floating around in the drive enclosure. When it rains it pours and relationships always need a genuine effort.

Kotatsu

This is our kotatsu. Kotatsu in Japan are plentiful, traditionally used as a gathering place for families to enjoy dinner and each other's company. In recent years, from what I understand, kotatsu usage is in decline as homes come under the influence of western design. In our humble abode we have one though, a handmedown from MUP Luke10ers Micah and Melanie. One would sit at it on a pillow and be able to use it for most anything. Under the table is a built in heater, and it comes with a blanket and an underpad. In the wintertime, the pad goes under the table legs, and the blanket is draped over the legs but under the table top. Apply the heater and voila, you have an extremely cozy place to gather round and fall asleep.

Continuing Education II

Now that I am done with full-time Japanese language school, I must look for other options to continue to pick up the local lingo. And, one never knows where one will find peachy opportunities. This sign beside me as I was sitting on the potty made for some meaty study material. I found myself enthralled!

Today's Quote du Jour

I like rice. Rice is great if you're hungry and want 2000 of something. - Mitch Hedberg

I don't know Mitch. Rumour has it he is an American Comedian, but the quote is particularly apt to the culture I am living. It is funny, until someone like me who has been born and bred with a fork and spoon in his mouth, tries to handle two thousand of something with hashi (chopsticks). Then you just have to laugh.

おっとり

To celebrate the end of my classes at YMCA Japanese Language School, we had dinner at a charming little restaurant in our neighbourhood called Ottori. According to the dictionary the name means affable, agreeable, suave, smooth, one person said it is a place where you can kick back and relax. Ottori's specialty is chicken, and they serve other kinds of food as well. The shop's owners studied and met in California before getting married and returning to Japan. Our communication tends toward half Japanese and half English, but it gives me chance to practice my Japanese anyway.

On My Last Day of School

I left a piece of my heart at school today, but then I try to leave a piece of my heart wherever I go, and what ever I do.
It is a bit of a catch 22. It is painful to do so. It is the right thing to do in my mind, to do something well enough, to wrap yourself in it. My view of success too I suppose.
I did not pass the course, although I ended with better marks than expected. Passing is not neccesarily part of success. If passing is neccesary than you ought not to try anything difficult, you will always pass.
It was a bit embarrasing sometimes, not wanting to reveal my poor marks to fellow students. We all received report cards (not final ones) and I didn't want to look, I quickly put it in my bag. I was too anxious to look and I did not want to be embarrassed. Everyone else was comparing.
Just prior to that we received the marks back from our interview test. I usually did quite well on the interview test, and this time I got 22 out of 25. Everyone one else was comparing.
I had checked and quickly put mine away. But I was asked and had to say what I got. Turned out I was seconnd in the class. I went down in a blaze of glory.

Showing off my Japanese Conversational Prowess

Returning home from school on my bicycle, on the last leg of my journey. Riding beside the Keihan train line, which is mostly elevated, but for a small stretch where it ducks under the JR freight train line. The area looks some what like you would expect an area near the train tracks to look, industrial areas and dilapidated housing, dirty. I was at peace, in my own world, thinking about the day's events, kanji, grammar, listening, and reading tests. I was transitioning into the more bedroom community like Sekime area where I live, suddenly, from amongst the bicycle, scooter and foot traffic around me, a very jovial, weathered, friendly face I have never seen before, jumped out at me and exclaimed "元気そうなー" (roughly translated that would be "my you look healthy don't you!"). He seemed delighted, I not sure whether with me, himself, or maybe just life. I was taken aback (being in my own world and all) and I could only manage a curt はい(Yes) in reply, at which he laughed with surprise at the fact that I actually understood what he had said.
I must confess at this juncture that I do know why he would say such a thing to me. You see it has recently turned Autumn here in Japan, as in many parts of the world, and as every one here knows, no one in their right mind would wear a short sleeve shirt in the fall no matter what the temperature might be. I however, have taken to continue wearing my short sleeves, Japanese fall feeling pretty much the same as the latter half of a Canadian summer. I should not succumb to the weather when fashion is on the line, it is simply a matter of mind over matter after all, but I am not yet Japanese.

Here Comes Lunch

The day before yesterday. With friends.
We headed into the Japanese countryside, amongst mountains and rivers. It did my soul a lot of good to see some of Creation rather than the usual cityscape with all its concrete beauty. Our destination was a famous noodle joint where the noodles are distributed from the other side of a river over long stainless steel channels and then caught either with your chopsticks or the basket strainer. Traditionally, of course, this would be done using bamboo chutes but because the stand we went to features the longest somen chutes in all of Japan, bamboo just would not be sufficient. One then dips the captured somen noodles in the concoction provided (which can be augmented with wasabi and chives) and then finds its way into your mouth.

Woo wee!

Nice snag!

Sleepless in Osaka

With all the Japanese that I have been trying to stuff in my head, some nights my subconscious insists that I dream in Japanese. At this juncture my vocabulary is simply not big enough to accommodate my subconscious' wishes. The resulting struggle usually causes me to wake up.
Occasionally, however.
I am able to appease my self conscience by dreaming about Japanese rather than in Japanese. Nothing yet about showing up to school in my underwear though.

I am at a Loss for Words.

It was one of those times you just dream of.

Have you ever had one of those dreams? You know, that time when you were dreaming about being at school or work. You are well into your day when you realize you have nothing on but your underwear? You wonder how you didn't notice, you wonder what to do now that you noticed and you wonder where to hide out, wonder what to do to salvage your dignity.
The other day.
Dawn, a Missions to Unreached Peoples missionary in Shikoku was in and around our humble little town of Osaka. While in the area she dropped by for a visit with us. Aukje threw together one of the house favourites for supper, after which Dawn and Aukje went for a little walk. They wanted to get out of my hair so I could get down to studying for my two-day Japanese test, (it requires a bit of prep) and then Aukje was going to drop Dawn by the train station.
After they left, I got down to work. I studied so hard, well I was working up a bit of sheen, (it is still stinking hot here) and well you know, I made myself a little more comfortable. Suddenly I heard the door open and not one but two voices in the doorway. Our apartment is very small and I didn't have much time. I didn't know what to do. Panic was rising. I spied my shirt and managed to get it on outside out and with the logo in front. But my shorts were nowhere to be seen. I didn't know what to do. I heard people approaching and quickly sat down at my desk. Fortunately I don't wear one of those new-fangled thong thingys that are so popular with all the kids these days. In spite of my panic-stricken mentality (I didn't know what to do) I did my best to look nonchalant.
Dawn came into the room, I said hello but couldn't politely and nonchalantly turn to face her without keeping my dignity intact. I felt rude. I pretended I was busy studying but I didn't know what to do. Eventually she left and I was able to relate to Aukje what really went down and why I was rude. So, now by way of apology and in an attempt to stave off a sudden rash of underwear nightmares I pen this blog. I've been rude. JつれいJまJた.

Its More Scrambled Than Ever.

I have been learning to write in Japanese. One of the common letters is shi which is denoted by the symbol し. The trouble with this is, of all the conceivable memory mechanisms there are, my brain for some strange reason associates this character with J. This has become a problem for me. My brain (without thinking) thinks they are pretty much interchangeable. So if I am hurriedly writing a sentence with a J in it, it will end up saying, "It's しust a しoke". Havoc I tell you. Before you know it I'll be getting all my English and しapanese characters mixed up. JつれいJます。

It has become the season when watermelon is delicious.

The salutation on the card says so anyway. I get the feeling that Masumi is trying to put a nice facade on this stinking hot summer. I say call a spade a spade. It has become the season when it is so hot you might as well try and find a nice cool air conditioned department store to browse in; and take your time! Try and make it last! Yes I know it lacks poetry and it is a little too long for the card.
Like we do with Christmas Cards, Japan does New Year Cards, but they also do a mid summer card. There doesn't seem to be as much enthusiasm for the summer cards though. Perhaps it is because it comes across as more of a sympathy card than the celebratory nature of the new year's card. Sending a card to commiserate with you for the heat of summer, it does seem to lack some appeal, on the other hand we do like getting mail.

Night Time is the Right Time.

It's three in the morning, the sultry, dog nights of summer in Japan are upon us. As I lie on my futon, an occasional slight breeze brings a hint of relief through the open window, but it is only teasing.
It's dark, that is the sun is on the other side of the world, but there is so much artificial light here that you hardly notice the moon let alone any stars.
Under our window a truck idles, it's driver who is 'working' snoozes in the air conditioned comfort of his cab.
At the LTL truck depot, kitty corner, as always, work goes on. Some nights they are not as noisy as other nights. This morning they aren't quite so exuberant in their toil, but they are making up for the lack of any big noise by a constant niggling of smaller noises. The jiggle of a forklift's cables, the bouncing of it's forks as it moves around the truck dock. Or the sound of yet another truck's diesels coming to life, the whoosh of air brakes, all of which seem to happen way out of proportion to the actual number of trucks in the dock at any one time.
The sound of a finely tuned motor cycle changing up through it's gears far too quickly for our little street, whining by just under our sixth floor window.

Looking at the city as if I were one of its ugly crows (making a Canadian crow look almost cute and petite, like a pet you'd name); looking down...
The beginnings of a Lord's prayer being offered up. Lazily filtering upward through the sweaty night, not unlike the steam that rises from a sewer grate in the dead of a Toronto winter, though immediately two things come to mind. The dissimilarity in temperature that such a metaphor construes, and the fact that the steam dissipates quite quickly in those low temperatures. No. In fact, similar to the contrast of temperature, this prayer is not dissipating as steam would, it is continuing to be offered, and heard. Hallowed be thy name. It joins with other's prayers continually being offered and heard. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Not just Japan, or Canada, but on earth in its entirety. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts. We ask for what we need most, and with much learning and practice can see the wider meaning of both. As we forgive our debtors. With our supplication comes responsibility. And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Prayer is our shield.
From my perch, I wonder for a moment how many driftings of steam rise from this city. It may be the only one at three a.m. in Osaka, but probably not. And to step further along on that train of thought, together with Christians across not just city and country borders but also the borders of time, prayers constantly drifting Godward from all over this ball we live on.

Since my soul has not yet arrived, my body doesn't know it shouldn't be taking all this in, that it shouldn't be listening, let alone comprehending and pondering. Ahhh, the benefits of jetlag.

Confessions of an Airline Passenger

William Gibson's Pattern Recognition's Cayce Pollard's friend Damien has a theory.

[Cayce] knows, now, absolutely, hearing the white noise that is London, that Damien's theory of jetlag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet above the Atlantic. Souls can't move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.

While I await the arrival of my soul and perhaps my wits as well, (I'm not certain weather or not your wits stay with you or your soul). I am forced to face up to certain facts.

I'm not sure, but I'm worried I may be a terrorist. You see I unwittingly at first and later wittingly brought my toothpaste with me to Japan. (Without my wits I have been unable to determine the ramifications of jetlag (with my tethered soul) and how that relates to my being unwitting, as I had my toothpaste even before I left Toronto). In any event we went through US customs in Toronto. Getting through security was quick and easy since it was early in the morning, not busy and because the news of the latest terrorist plot had not broken yet. We arrived in Dallas without losing any vital plane parts, and while we were in the lounge awaiting our next flight I heard snippits from a nearby TV about a plot to bring liquid on board airplanes. There was also a very insistent man who kept announcing that passengers were not to bring any liquids or gels though the security gates or on board any aircraft. Before we could get in any kind trouble, Aukje and I surreptitiously not to mention hastily chugged the remainder of our bottle of water. With a satisfied expression I wondered what other illegal contraband I had with me that could be a problem. After a few moments of pondering I realized that I also had a tube of Japanese toothpaste. As everyone knows it is a luxury to be able to brush your teeth once in a while during a twenty five hour journey. Since our journey had just begun I wasn't willing to scarf down the remainder of our toothpaste, just to become airport compliant. After brushing our teeth, (since it may have turned out to be our last opportunity) and then checking around to make sure we were not under surveillance, Aukje determined that I would continue to keep the toothpaste in my carry-on. We boarded our flight and left Dallas-Fort Worth Airport forty-five minutes late due to increased levels of security. I still had my toothpaste though. We arrived at Kansai Airport in Japan a little over thirteen hours later. The authorities here had their dogs on patrol sniffing us passengers and our baggage. We were stopped on the way out of the airport by the security officer so he could inspect our luggage.
We are now safely at home and I managed to smuggle my toothpaste through three countries. I must confess that I feel absolutely no remorsefulness, nor have any feelings of repentance, but perhaps when my soul and my wits are reeled in I will feel more. convicted.

Bout sums it up.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Brings a tear to the eye.

On 6/6/66 my father bought a Chevelle Malibu. Today being 6/6/06 I thought it fitting to remember. Being born less than a month earlier, we were the same age, and at the ripe old age of forteen one of us went to the great junk yard in the sky because of a cracked engine block.

The Power of Story

I was reading in my Bible, (I am currently using the Message as translated by Eugene Petersen) and it struck me;
How important stories are. Especially in the culture in which I currently find myself.

Matthew 13:10-17 The Message (MSG)
Why Tell Stories?

10The disciples came up and asked, "Why do you tell stories?"
11He replied, "You've been given insight into God's kingdom. You know how it works. Not everybody has this gift, this insight; it hasn't been given to them. 12Whenever someone has a ready heart for this, the insights and understandings flow freely. But if there is no readiness, any trace of receptivity soon disappears. 13That's why I tell stories: to create readiness, to nudge the people toward receptive insight. In their present state they can stare till doomsday and not see it, listen till they're blue in the face and not get it. 14I don't want Isaiah's forecast repeated all over again:

Your ears are open but you don't hear a thing.
Your eyes are awake but you don't see a thing.
15The people are blockheads!
They stick their fingers in their ears
so they won't have to listen;
They screw their eyes shut
so they won't have to look,
so they won't have to deal with me face-to-face
and let me heal them.

16"But you have God-blessed eyes--eyes that see! And God-blessed ears--ears that hear! 17A lot of people, prophets and humble believers among them, would have given anything to see what you are seeing, to hear what you are hearing, but never had the chance.
Matthew 13:10-17 The Message (MSG)
Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson
The Message at Navpress NavPress

The passage made me think about stories like those written by JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis, which have recently been made into movies. There are also many stories of smaller stature, that are less famous but no less important. And it made me think of many more "stories" in the form of artwork or songs.
In the light of this passage they become very significant tools and I think we need more of these kinds of tools in Japan.

Continuing Education

It is far easier to learn a language before you turn forty years of age. Your language learning ability decreases significantly after that age. I recall reading that as part of my preparations before coming to Japan. So far the lingo has been difficult to learn at best. So; I am definitely not looking forward to Monday.

A revisit

The new ferris wheel at Dotombori, although I suppose it works more like a ferris belt or a ferris chain, but that is beside the point. The man in the middle so to speak is a god of business and business men. He has koban (old Japanese coins that are rectangular in shape) at his back; and a cell phone to make him a little more contemporary I suppose.

Dotombori

Dotombori is one of the most well known places in Osaka and also one of the busiest, especially at night. The bridge in the distance is Dotombori bridge which now has tall glass sides to keep people from jumping off in celebration, especially when the Hanshin Tigers win the J League world series.

Meanwhile...

Back in the park, I'm sure I've accidentally disturbed this snoozing gentleman before, and he obviously needs his afternoon nap from the many who disturb him by charging through his backyard each day. I was as quiet as possible as I cruised through his garden, his menacing watch dog, (luckily for me) looked to have been recently fed and well chained to the nearby tree.

The Flow

One fine morning I happened across these barges laden with sugar being unloaded at a processing plant near our place. Many dry bulk goods are moved around the city using the many canals that run through Osaka. Since I used to make my living designing machines to move and process dry bulk goods, this really got my blood flowing.

The Toll

My Japanese language study has resumed and the first several days have been akin to withstanding a squall but this variety of storm being Japanese. Everyday I brace myself against the blowing of the wind and make my way through my classes. The wind seems to be abating a little today, and I was at least able to get my feet under me as my reeling mind catches up with reality. I take solace in the fact that others also are finding things difficult.

Hanami

Yesterday we engaged in the popular sport of Hanami. (That would literally translate as flower watching). As the cherry blossoms come out, everyone makes plans to put down a blue tarp on which to sit and enjoy the blossoms. The day cannot be planned too far in advance because one is never exactly sure when the cherry trees are going to blossom. However as the first buds start to appear, plans can be made. One week in advance, the church we attend on Sundays (Miyakojima Kyokai) decided we should have Hanami on Sunday after church. Very early that Sunday morning the Pastor and one of the congregation members went to the park to put down our own blue tarp thus reserving us a spot under a cherry tree for when we came. A spot needs to be reserved because there are a lot of people who do this Hanami thing, it is incredible! A barbecue is a good idea, but it suited us better to bring a bento (a lunch brought from home). We were lucky enough to experience a hanami flurry which is similar to a snow flurry but involves cherry blossoms. Well I think you get the idea.

Service in Japan is wonderful.

We were walking along the street, two workmen standing to the side seemingly doing nothing. Suddenly as we walked by, they sprang into action, lifting their umbrellas to protect us from what we knew not. Afterward turning to assess their strange behavior, I put it together. The highrise was having its windows washed, and these brave souls were the front line of defence against any potential water droplets descending upon the innocent below. They cared not for themselves, concerned only that passersby should not be forced to endure any unexpected drops of soapy water.

In need of some cash.

We were in the bank waiting along with the crowd for the bank of bank machines. It was a bit of a shock the first time I stood in a line like this to use the bank machine. Compared to my sleepy little hometown of Georgetown where I would find something else to do in the meantime if the line was more than two people long, I am getting used to the sheer amount of people and the population density in Osaka. There were about seventy people in this line waiting for one of seven ATM's. These machines will do a lot for you from preparing a brand new pass book for you once your old one is full to doling out cash with a courteous "don't forget your money" in Japanese. It was good listening practice for me, and while my listening is not up to par I am pretty certain the machine was speaking a little Osaka-ben the local dialect. As it was greeting us I think it gave us a cheery "maido", a very mom and pop shop keeper sort of greeting in a traditionally mercantile city.