A Market Scene in Yokohama

Samma was three pieces for only 100 yen!



Growing up, I used to see this type of local markets everywhere in Yokohama and
Tokyo, but not anymore. I hope this market won't disappear.

Ian Hideo Levy

I’ve been reading his books one after another since last week. Ribi Hideo (リービ英雄) is his Japanese name. He is an American author and a scholar on Japanese literature. He had translated Manyoushu, the oldest collection of Japanese poetry. He has been writing in Japanese for a long time. But like me, he doesn’t seem to translate his own works. I’m similar that way with a few exceptions. I hope to write my comments about his books later on.

Meantime, you can take a look at his sites below. I would say that he is remarkable in being patient with the Japanese society and people. In the past, I’ve never known any westerners who could speak as well as write Japanese well. I’m sure there are many westerners who love Japanese literature, but probably most of them were discouraged by the difficulty in blending into the Japanese society. I highly recommend his YouTube video. I think it’s excellent even for general audience. Enjoy.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hideo_Levy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnNkwnx082w

Seven-Five-Three

I wanted to show you a funny picture, but I couldn't find it. I was seven in the picture. I wore a new kimono and made a funny face. Probably I can show it some other time. Instead, I uploaded this photo. My mother and me at my aunt's American-style house in Tokyo.




I was three with my mother and her sister's family at Meiji Jingu. The boy is my cousin. A Chauffer drove him to Yokohama International School daily. They were rich, and we were poor although I didn't know. Mother made my kimono out of her old kimono. It was beautiful deep purple with white cherry blossoms and a golden obi sash. I love that outfit so much. Even today, I want to wear that exact designed kimono and obi.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shichi-Go-San

Trees and Bushes (Part 6)

It’s tough to be clear among Japanese. Going back to the trees and bushes, I asked the gardener for his estimate. Next day, he quoted 110,000 yen. After he has done the great job, I paid 113,000 yen. 3,000 yen was the difference he had to pay for dumping trash. The cost of dumping is expensive here although I don’t know how much. He gave me a receipt and an itemized list of his work done. I would recommend him to anyone for his services.

And here is another person I want to recommend to readers if you want to take a look at Japanese life. His name is Iida Kazuhiko. He is a blogger. I made a few comments on his blog and a little while ago, I asked him a difficult question. My question wasn’t focused, I’m afraid, but he responded. I have translated our exchanges as below.

I wrote: There must be many problems sandwiching the public constructions and the environments. If there are kind ways of executing public works from an engineer point of view, would you please let me know? I’d like to translate it and show it to the people in the world through my blog.

Iida-san replied: Engineers are in the position to solve known problems in technical ways. Some issues come up after some problem has occurred. Those situations are not rare. We handle known environmental issues. But what is kind to the environment is not easy to judge. Even solar panels, if we cover some large percentage of the earth, it might cause problems. Ultimately, human existence is not kind to the earth. The increase in human population is like the cancer to the nature. Please see the following site for general information on civil engineering and public works in Japan. http://www.jsce.or.jp/

I’ve gone to the above site and found many interesting essays by engineers and scholars. One in particular blew my mind. I hope to write about it in future. Iida-san is a retired civil engineer. He spent two years in Paraguay for teaching about concrete. His blog site is http://minami-kajuen.dreamlog.jp/

Although it wasn’t written in Iida-san’s blogs, I found out that he was a graduate of Tokyo Institute of Technology. I could tell because it was the same college as my grandfather graduated. My grandfather’s large anniversary plate by Noritake has been displayed in my family room in the U.S. It is too large. I had no place to store it. So, it ended up on the window shelf, and it is still there. The design on the plate is a river and a factory-looking structure with smoke billowing from a chimney. I guess that was their campus then. In the back of the plate, “The Taisho-Seventh-Year (1918) graduate” was written on it. Next time, I’m in the U.S., I’ll take a photo of the plate, and show you and Iida-san through a blog. I grew to like the plate.

Trees and Bushes (Part 5)

I took these photos on the way to a train station. It's close to my home.


For a while, I thought of moving back to Japan entirely. One of the reasons was Japan’s national healthcare. My son was in college. He could take care of the house. He would drive my car willingly! And my daughter was in high school and living with her dad. Through a former colleague of mine in Los Angeles, I landed on a technical manager position in Tokyo for an American software company. The company made systems monitor software and other innovative products.

The work was not easy but very interesting because of cultural differences. I learned a lot from all the employees and my boss. At the same time, I was going through many vague and unpleasant problems coming from after the death of Mother. She was larger than life to me and many people. It was a prior to year 2000, and systems programmers had choices. Y2K projects needed people like me. It would be easy for me to get a contract job in the U.S. I was lonesome, too. I had old friends, but no one really to talk to. So, whatever the problem feelings I had remained the same and that included the tree problem.




The tree problem continued because trees and bushes never stop growing. Then, a few weeks ago, Electro started to make a lot of noises about worms. I didn’t see worms, but as soon as I heard him talking about worms to a neighbor, I made sure not to look for them. I hate worms. Just thinking about them gave me shivers. So, I called my gardener.

“Worms will disappear once the weather cools down,” the gardener said.

Good. That seemed a good attitude and also a great solution. We just need to wait for colder weather. But my neighbor kept making noises about worms.

“Can you come as soon as possible? I’d like you to wipe out the bamboo bushes and trim all the trees. Please!”

“I can’t go right now. I’ll be there next week.”

Next day, someone knocked my door. Lately, some strangers knock my doors quite often if I remained in the apartment. And they don’t identify their name for some reason. Once, a stranger tried to open the door, and when I asked who that was, that person went away. In other time, I answered to a knock, and a woman replied to me as, “I’m a volunteer from the XXX Fourth town.” I live in the XXX Third town. I waited for more information such as what kind of volunteer work she was doing, and for what purpose she came over to me, and why she came four bus stops away to do her volunteer work. I was curious. She went away without further response. Something spooky has been going on here lately. The neighborhood used to be very safe, but not anymore.

Next day after I called the gardener, he called back and said,

“I got some free time tomorrow afternoon. I can’t do too much, but I will stop by.”

“Great! If you can clean out a part of the bamboo bush, I’ll be happy. That would stop the neighbor from bad mouthing the situation.”

So, the gardener came over. Electro and one of female neighbors were standing close to the gardener, staring at his work. I greeted and said to the gardener,

“Thank you for coming in such a short notice. If you could wipe right here, you can return for the rest next week,” I said. I pointed the bamboo bush near my door.

“Come over,” Electro said to me as though we were very close friends. “Come over. Come over here.”

“What is it?” I said. The gardener knelt down and kept cutting bamboos. Electro eyed him behind the gardener as though he wanted to avoid him in his secret talk with me. I felt respectful to the gardener even more. I didn’t want to talk behind his back. Besides, I have nothing to hide, and I have never been close to Electro.

“I say, come over here,” Electro insisted. “The worms were all over! You should have seen them.” He lifted a glass jar and extended his arm toward me. The jar looked like filled with some dirt. “Here, I kept worms for you to see.”

“I don’t want to see that.” I made a funny face and widened my nostrils. What was he thinking? If the worms were his problems, why he wanted to collect them into the jar and to show other people to feel worse?

He looked surprised that I didn’t want to see it. Then he said,
“I took care of your bamboo while you were gone and…”

He used to park his van for years in front of my apartment. He has no garden. He built his house up to the edge of his property. Once, he asked me after parking his car along the wall of my apartment,

“Do you want me not to park here?” he said to me.

“Well, I don’t own the lane,” I said.

“Tell me if you want me to park on my side,” he said.

“Oh, if you say so, okay, why don’t you park your car on your side since that’s your side? Because of a concrete block fence and a bamboo bush, people throw trash into it. When you park your van, it makes it even more hidden.”

He made an I-can’t-believe-what-you-are-saying look.

“Thank you for asking. That’s a good idea. Please don’t park here anymore.”

That was three years ago or so. Almost all the new houses being built are without a garden. I’m lucky to have it. Kids in the neighborhood gather at the corner of the lane and play ball. In summer, they collect cicadas from my trees. I enjoy listening to children play and bird and insect’s songs. Children can capture all the cicadas. I want to live next to this kind of natural environment, not walled by all concrete. But in the cities, owning trees and bushes comes with much responsibility and sometimes with unpleasantness.

A young friend of mine sent me an email. She knows what’s going on with my trees and bushes. I wrote that once the gardener finished their job, then Electro would finally be quiet. In reply, she wrote to me, “I don’t think he would stop.”

I imagined about Electro a year from now. Wow, I thought the young friend was quite observant. She must be right. Sometimes, nothing works for some people. And they remain the same. As I do! I guess that’s only fair.

Trees and Bushes (Part 4)

I called a local friend of mine--I name her Bean--to get an introduction to a reliable gardener who does not charge too much. Bean was going to introduce me to her friend. I name him Lesser Panda. Red beans and pandas are my favorite. He was retired from a nursery, he said. Good enough. The cost was on my mind. If he would kill the tree out of his inexperience in tree cares, let it be, I thought. Mother had told me in the past that such large trees should not be planted in the first place in private homes in the cities. I agreed with her. She was stuck with it, but enjoyed it also. I was sure she also had some headache for its upkeep. Before I met Panda, I asked Bean how much he would charge. She was vague in reply. So I asked her again.

“How much does he really charge? I asked him, but he doesn’t reply.”

“I’m not sure. Give him what you can afford,” she said.

“Can you give me a ball park?” I said. “If you were in my situation, how much would you pay?”

“Some people pay one million yen,” she said.

“We are not talking about an important cultural property. It’s my old house.”

“Do you have a pine tree?” she said. “Trimming pine trees are expensive.”

“No, no pine trees. How much?” I said.

“It’s quite expensive.”

“How much?”

“Someone said she paid 150,000 yen recently,” she said.

“How many trees does she have? Does she have a pine tree?”

“I haven’t seen her garden. Just go by common sense. Just pay a reasonable fee.”

“That’s what I’ve been asking. What’s the reasonable fee? What is your common sense?”

Common sense to anything needs further global studies. So, I decided to ask Lesser Panda face to face. If he didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t be able to pay him. He began working on the largest persimmon tree.

“Please let me know your estimate,” I said.

“Ah,” he said and kept trimming the tree.

We had tea and sweets. I asked him again.

“I’ve asked Bean, but she wouldn’t come with an answer. But I need your estimate.”

“It’s up to you,” he said.

“That’s difficult. If you don’t tell me, I can’t let you do the work.”

He smiled and kept working. So, I called a restaurant nearby and ordered our lunch.

“Please let me know how much.” I said.

“It’s up to you,” he said.

When I was growing up, Mother took care of all the problems. It seemed the Japanese daily life seemed not as easy as it looked. I didn’t know how she handled each problem.

To sum up, they all ncver ever came up with the estimate. I didn’t know the common sense price. I didn’t want to insult anyone with unnecessarily cheap reward. But I certainly didn’t want to overpay. And if I had a lot of money, I would have gone to a professional.

Lesser Panda wasn’t a professional tree care person, and he had no helper. On the last day he was cleaning up, I put 100,000 yen in an envelope and handed to him. It was still too expensive compared to the price in the U.S. But I figured this was Japan, and the cost of services could be higher.

The job was done. The garden looked clean. But there were holes in the ground of the lane here and there. Nearby, new buildings were built, and those constructions made the land depressed in some spots. I wasn’t the owner of the lane, but I went to a local construction company and had them fill the holes with gravels. In the meantime, Bean came over and said,

“How much have you paid him?”

“100,000 yen.”

She made a sound. She looked surprised and disappointed.

“It’s more than I ever paid.”

“You should have paid at least 150,000 yen!” she said. “Other people pay much more.”

Her words seemed to confirm my price was right.

After the trees were trimmed, I happened to meet three older neighborhood ladies near the bridge. They all wore black. They were on the way to a funeral. The leader of the group said to me,

“Why did you cut the cherry tree? We are all angry, don’t you know?”

I pursed my lips and looked at her.

“All the people in the neighborhood enjoy the tree year after year. Even some people came to see the tree from far away,” she said holding a black tote bag.

The other two women cast their eyes over to me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said with emphasis. “But if I didn’t do it, there would be more problems later.”

They looked at me with a faint smile on their faces and walked on.

They were old enough. I meant the ladies, not the trees. They probably knew the consequences if they thought more about it. That was my estimate. But I wouldn’t know what they really thought for sure.

Trees and Bushes (Part 3)

This is a photo of the photo. It was the last beautiful bloom in 1997. It lasted a week or so. It was gorgeous, but I had to turn on light even daytime.


Mother was still in the hospital. She was under morphine. Another man came and recommended me to replace a panel upstairs of the apartment. The apartment is old and not a pretty site. (But I appreciate it so that I can still remain in Japan and write and research and enjoy the things I cannot in the U.S.) So, I asked around for advice.

“Your place is old. You can’t help, but to fix it,” my cousin said. She was right about it.

“But, what about the price, 100,000 yen! Isn’t that too expensive?” I said.

“I don’t know. If you have to pay, you have to pay,” she said.

I guessed so. I asked my sister in law for the same advice. It was worse. I probably shouldn’t have asked her for advice, but I couldn’t help it.

“Anything costs much nowadays. It’s probably okay to pay it,” she said.

So, I paid it. Again, I had no reason to doubt this man either. After Mother’s funeral, the man made a visit to me at night.

“Your place is old. You have a lot to fix. I can help you,” the man said. His face was very red. He was probably drinking. I was a bit frightened, but if I yelled hard, my next door neighbor probably could hear me.

By this time, I looked at the work he had done, and it looked to me the panel was painted over it. I used to think he replaced it and painted over it. Now, I think he just only painted it. And I wondered what kind of business he had to go upstairs of the apartment in the first place. He had none. Only a postman and other delivery people would go upstairs. My post box is upstairs because solicitors keep throwing ads into my tiny post box and make the area trashy.

“I don’t need your help anymore,” I said.

“But, but, your brother bowed to me at the funeral and his wife said, ‘Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.’”

“Anyone would say that for greetings,” I said. “I don’t think they meant anything by it.”

He repeated what my sister in law said.

“Please. Please do not come to this house anymore. Tell your wife not to tie her cat to the gate or come into the garden,” I said in a firm voice.

Mother had complained to me before the cat woman came into the garden often. Mother said, “Once, I was taking a nap with the window open. When I awoke, my eyes met her eyes.”

I stared into his eyes.

“I thought your family needed my help. I was only trying to help,” he said.

“No, we don’t. It’s late. Please go home,” I said.

I’m like Mother, but in some way, I’m like my father. Once, my junior high school teacher made a visit to my house and kept drinking sake and didn’t leave. My father lifted him and pushed him to the door to say goodbye. Next morning, Mother said,

“What a bad thing to do! Your father lifted the teacher out of the house!”

I was probably in my room studying or listening to the Beatles the night before. A few weeks later, the teacher called Mother at night and asked her if he could borrow 20,000 yen. That was probably the average salary of a college graduate then. Father and I didn’t know about it until much later. She said she handed him 10,000 yen and apologized that that was all she could afford. Gee. Father was a public servant, and she was a house wife. She taught ocha, but all her tuition money went to buy more tea utensils and kimono.

The following year after Mother died, I got the house. The land is rented. I’m not the land owner. And my older brother received her savings. Then, I invited some of my friends and Mother’s students for tea and to watch cherry blossoms. From the glass door, the sky was pink. Flowers cascaded like a giant umbrella not only onto the roofs and the garden but onto the lane. It almost reached the roof of Electro’s house. I felt alarmed.

To be continued.

ITO-san's Smile

What a smile!

Ito-san makes sushi at the 6th floor of Cial which is at the west exit of the Yokohama Station. I was on the way to my Kana Shodo class, and I stopped by to have some sushi. While I was eating, an announcement started. It said the building would be gone next March, and they appreciate our patronage. I was upset.

"Why good and reasonably-priced restaurants in convenient locations disappear on me?!"

He was still smiling. I asked him about it. It sounded perhaps it would be rebuild with the Tokyu Hotel next door. He has worked at this place for eight years. The restaurant opened ten years ago. The name of the restaurant is Miura-Misaki-Ko.



A dish of live octopus.



The price of samma went down because it was no longer at the peak of the season. People would eat it broiled in November.



I showed my sensei my creative phrase after Lao-Zi"無為自然. It was 有為不自然, and my name in Chinese is Qi-Zi. In response,she wrote my work in red as a model for me to follow. 無為自然 means naturalness without any craftiness. So, I wrote 有為不自然. It means unnaturalness with craftiness. I showed my word to one of my Chinese teacher. He said it made sense. Great! Sometimes, when Japanese create a Chinese sentence, we are often wrong. I was right, and I was excited!