Proof that the weirdest things do happen in Japan

So. You’re home alone, but something strange has been happening. Food that you swear you saw in the fridge keeps disappearing. So what do you do? Well, a 57 year old man in Fukuoka had this problem, and he installed a security camera to monitor his home while he was out. And he was rather surprised, to say the least, to discover than a homeless woman had been living in his closet.

“She told police that she had nowhere to live,” the spokesman said. “She seems to have lived there for about a year, but not all the time.”

A year! And she stole nothing but food! If that’s not the mark of an honest person, I don’t know what is. If I could afford it, I would seriously consider just letting her stay; I think she’s earnt squatter’s rights on that closet!

Spotted in the Jetstar in-flight shopping catalogue

photo_032708_002.jpg

Lost

I watched Memoirs of a Geisha last night, I’d never got around to watching it when if first came out, and I found a copy at home so I popped it in. It started a bit slow for me, but I quite enjoyed it in the end. But there was one moment in the film that grabbed me; it was a line from the older Sayuri, narrating (and me paraphrasing):

There’s a poem carved into a rock in the garden called “Lost”, made up of three words that the author had carved then scratched out; you can’t read “Lost”, only feel it.

Despite all the inaccuracies of the book and the movie, I think that line really captured one part of what it means to be Japanese. Loss is part of life, it is an inevitable conclusion of having had something. I think the Japanese take loss more philosophically than we do; certainly more than I could. And it’s such a beautiful phrase, I confess I could feel the tears welling up inside.

What’s In A Name?

1. Think about your own name. Did you ever have trouble spelling it as a kid? Does your name bear any resemblance to something unfortunate that haunted you through school (and possibly beyond)? Does your name have any stereotypes associated with it?

2. Names seem so straight-forward. It was probably the first thing you leant how to say and spell, it’s possibly one of the words you will hear and say most often in your lifetime — beaten only by hello and goodbye; or in my case: fuck.

3. Consider my name. By birth in Hong Kong, my name is Kung Chun Hin:

0802_name.jpg

4. When I was seven, my family moved to Australia. I remember a conversation I had with my family, talking about what English names my sister and I should take on. I first wanted “Peter”, but Mum thought that “Peter” was a name for triad punks (nevermind that my Dad’s name is the Dutch version of “Peter”). Anyway, such was my level of English (zero) and imagination (sizable, but not in English) that my next choice was “John”, and so it stuck, and I named myself “John Chun Hin Kung”.

5. Over the course of time and several run-ins with, err, less worldly Government officials, I took to hyphenate my middle names; apparently when confronted with “John Chun Hin Kung”, some people couldn’t figure out which was my middle name and which was my surname. So my name became “John Chun-Hin Kung”, which is what appears on my passport.

6. Just before I came to Japan, I stopped by Hong Kong to visit family, and to get my Hong Kong permanent ID card, which gives me the Right of Abode in Hong Kong. The officials there were very helpful; they understood that some Western officials were, err, unhelpful and easily confused. So the name on my ID card was “Kung, John Chun-hin”.

7. When I got to Japan, Japanese officals were far more strict about how names were recorded, and my name became “Kung John Chun-Hin” (note the lack of comma after my surname). This was fine, it’s close enough to my passport and how I’m known in Australia. The trouble only came to bear when I was getting married.

8. According to government officials here, “John Chun Hin Kung”, “John Chun-Hin Kung”, “Kung, John Chun-hin” and “Kung John Chun-Hin” were all different people. Order and punctuation were very important, any deviatiation could cause terrible confusion. And if you have ever dealt with Japanese beauracracy, you’d know what I mean. If not, imagine you have no legs, and you were placed at the end of a long gravel driveway and told to crawl to the house. It gets old pretty quick.

9. And it gets better — it’s generally custom for the wife to change her surname to match mine, but since Japanese uses Chinese characters, does she use my romanised surname, or the original Chinese? I would prefer Chinese, but then that doesn’t match any of our documents so far, so that would cause that “terrible confusion”. Luckily for us, the changing of her name is a custom, not a requirement.

10. Add to this a new dilemma — it has become popular for the Chinese to keep the order of their names, and add their English name to the front, so in my case that would be “John Kung Chun Hin”. I really like this, it keeps the original order while conforming to Western standards. And officials now are more aware of non-Western names, and it’s a lot easier now than it has ever been. But because of a choice made in necessity when I was a teenager, I’m stuck with the name that was shaped by others. And one’s name is, in the end, all that one has; everything else can be lost or stolen or given away, but a name stays true. I just wish I could have the name that best represents me.

An Unusual Event

1. So, here’s something you don’t see every day.

2. Imagine sitting at a McDonald’s in the food court of a Westfield’s. At the next table there’s two guys taking a break, and a few tables away, separated by a glass partition, are a group of school kids, dressed in their cooler-than-you best, hanging as school kids do best. As with any group of boys any where in the world, they’re mucking about, throwing stuff at each other, when one miscalculated throw carried a plastic candy box over our way and hits the glass partition. The two guys at the next table takes offence, and marches over to the kids and gives them a good talking to. The kids strut a bit, try to look tough, but obviously copped a verbal hiding. The administors sat back down, resumed their meal.

3. Nothing new here right? What came next was a bit of a surprise.

4. I had been expecting a fight to break out, which would’ve been the most interesting part of my day, but instead the kid responsible ill-fated throw came in to apologise. He ducked his head, said sorry, then went back to join his friends. Meanwhile, I was choking on my double cheeseburger.

5. Japanese people, especially the older generation, bemoan the lack of respect young people (don’t) have, and how dangerous Japan has become. But how nice would it be if kids everywhere else were like that? Or people in general? It’s not that I think all people are bad, or that these kids were especially good, but these are pretty much the bad kids you get around here. Bad kids in Sydney knife and rape and steal.

6. I can’t tell you how nice it is when you can walk down a dark alley in the seediest part of town in the middle of the night and feel perfectly safe.

What I’ve been up to recently

Planning our wedding. Or rather, making a list of things to think about later.

I’ve finished up at my old job, and now I’m unemployed and living with my fiance and her family. (To the tune of Bon Jovi) Whooo ohhh, Livin’ with the In Laws!

I went to Osaka with a friend for a week, stayed in a hotel room with a blocked window, and found a bar owned by a former pro-footballer where we then spent quite a bit of time and money there.

Watched lots of movies. Lots, and lots, of movies.

Tried to play Super Mario 64 DS, in Japanese. The no-English part was a bit hard, but what’s with the shitty D-Pad controls?

Sold Super Mario 64 DS.

Debated, decided, and ultimately didn’t buy a Wii. Not even I can find a reason to buy one, given my PS2, PC and DS lurking mostly unused.

Very efficiently parted with $700 in the form of a jacket, coat, three pairs of pants and a bag. Clothes that fit people, clothes that only asian countries can provide an asian frame. The bag, well…

Spending stupid amounts of cash at internet cafes and coffee joints with free internet. As a consequence I haven’t been sleeping very well. Poop.

Working on my sister’s EP cover, photo shoot and website. Check it.

Why only 20% of Japanese people vote in elections

1. The Japanese Foreign Minister, Masahiko Komura, on Japan’s renewed whaling effort after abandoning plans to hunt 50 humpback whales:

“Japan has its own culture as much as Australia does and since [whaling] involves public sentiment, it’s not an issue we can resolve by confusing each other using logic.”

2. Wow. Did the Japanese Foreign Minister just blame Japan’s whaling on the Japanese public?

3. I’ve lived in Japan for almost 2 years now, and I’ve met many many Japanese people, and I’ve asked many of them about how they feel about whaling and whale meat, and I’ve heard a fairly wide range of opinions on the matter — but I’ve never ever met a single Japanese person who feels that whaling is their divine right. In fact, most Japanese people that I’ve met don’t eat whale meat, doesn’t like the taste of whale meat, and quite frankly wouldn’t notice if whale meat just disappeared from menus and supermarket shelves. This, from another opinion piece in the Herald by Dr Kumi Kato of UoQ:

“The claim by the Japanese Government that whale meat is part of Japanese culture is true in that it existed in this small-scale, community-based coastal whaling similar to the hunts of indigenous groups such as the Makah and Inuit, but this is, in my opinion, clearly separate from the large-scale industrial whaling conducted on the high seas.

If the Government is seriously committed to the maintenance of cultural tradition, the priority would be on the sustainable livelihood practices of coastal community fisheries, which may include a very limited number of whale hunts. It is human arrogance to assume harvest of any natural resource as a right but, if an inherent cultural right is to be granted to anyone, it would be the coastal communities.”

4. I think it would be safe of me to say that the Japanese coastal communities never hunted in the Southern Ocean, since, you know, the Southern Ocean is a billion miles away.

5. On the other hand, every single Japanese person I’ve met hates their government, and hates their politicians. TV shows are created with the express purpose of inviting political representatives on so that powerful TV personalities and famous comedians can call them stupid. The rampant disregard of the political elite for the thoughts and welfare of their constituents is, well, feudal.

6. And when their own ministers show such incredible arrogance, who could blame them?

I Heart Holga

0708_holga1.jpg
Beach Scene, Rainbow Beach, Hikari City, Yamaguchi.

1. How can this not be the coolest camera in the world?

2. More here.

…we wonder if the foreigners could say a few words.

1. Huh?

2. So I was at the 62nd Anniversary of the dropping of the bomb on Hiroshima for most of today, starting with the Memorial Ceremony this morning. We walked about all day, and we wanted to go and hear the survivors speak about their experiences, with the promise of English TranslationTM. So we went to the place that we thought was it, and we found the promised English TranslatorTM, and after a bunch of people gave their short speeches, it seemed like we were in the wrong place. Then, the bombshell:

“…we wonder if the foreigners could say a few words.”

3. Again, huh?

4. It turned out that we were in fact at a meeting of a Japanese Anti-Nuclear group’s public meeting to ratify a draft “Statement of Action”, and the previous speeches were of members who were talking about why they joined the movement. After a bit of buck-passing, I decided to grab the microphone, being no stranger to impromptu speeches (I prefer to go impromptu where possible; guess I am more than a bit lazy after all), and said a few words.

5. So I guess that’s how I accidentally spoke at a Japanese Political Rally. Not something you do everyday.

Asia, the graveyard of western popular culture

1. A few days ago a friend who was holidaying in Bali sent me this message:

2. “The scene: quiet bar in Ubud, Bali. The soundtrack: “How Do You Talk to an Angel?”. It’s the song that won’t die!”

3. Indeed. I’ve been to Indonesia twice now, and while I have only spent a cumulative total of 32 days there there has been some eye-opening music experiences — and I don’t mean the ethnic local music kind. Ever wondered what Maroon 5 sounded like in Engrish? I didn’t, but I found out several times. Did you know that The Spin Doctors is still together? And touring? And speaking of touring, Foreigner, Whitesnake, and by God Michael Jackson have all toured Japan in the last 12 months. Marty Friedman from Megadeth lives in Tokyo. While you’re at it Billy Blanks’ new fitness video, Billy’s Boot Camp, is so fucking popular that in the space of one week I had some 20 people volunteer that they have used the video. Someone, please, shoot me.

4. (And, as my friend notes, Jakarta sports its own fair share of anachronisms: [Timezone](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timezone(videoarcades), Sizzler, Fido Dido (when was Fido bloody Dido popular anyway?), and a tenacious fondness for Frente.)

5. And it’s not just music and fitness videos, cartoon characters are all the rage as well. While the rest of the world may be fixated on Japanimation, the Japanese is fixated on Disney. Oh yes, Mickey might be an arthritic geriatric mouse, but boy does he sell. So does Winnie the Pooh (a.k.a Pooh-san), Stitch (as in Lilo and Stitch), Tweety, Miffy and Gaspard et Lisa, to name a few.

6. (And that’s not including the home-grown characters — Hello Kitty, Little Twin Stars, Charmy Kitty and the rest of the Sanrio stable are still hard at work earning Mr Sanrio his dinner.)

7. But perhaps there’s a shift happening; Asian movies are finding its way into Western cinemas, Asian music is starting to find traction overseas, Asian actors are finding their way onto Western screens and into Western minds. East and West are merging, interwined in a web of images and sounds and thoughts and ideas, creating a new mosaic of identity: one defined not by the geography of past centuries, but one where we can be anything, limited only by what we are willing to accept.

8. And what will we do with our cherished notion of nationality? Will it be thrown out, or incorporated into a wider notion of “humanality”? Or am I just making words up? We are certainly living in interersting times.