Here's some more information for you about Japanese culture that is probably known about, but very few people seem to know anything about it... except the Japanese, of course, who could all probably give an hour-long speech on the topic du jour... of course, it would be in Japanese, but the fact remains, the Japanese do know a lot of about themselves.
There's nothing wrong with that, of course... most Canadians probably couldn't even sing O Canada (our national anthem) without having to peek at the words written down somewhere. Sad really. Even I screwed up once when asked to sing the anthem - and for some reason immediately began singing the Star Spangled Banner (U.S. version about Canada invading their country and kicking their asses for awhile (burning down the white house) and when we thought they had enough, we left quietly, picking up our things as we left - Canadians are very neat after all - and leaving the shell-shocked Yankees wondering just how the heck their flag was still there.... so remember the next time you hear the US anthem played for the 100th time at the Olympics - just remember that Canada Jr. kicked their butts but good, once upon a time. Hee-hee.)
Anyhow, loyal readers have all ready read about Japan's closed door policy (I will no longer write HERE for links, and will now just include it in the WORDs it relates to). At that time, it was to keep gaijin (foreigners) out and to keep the Nihonjin (Japanese people) in. I bet the U.S. wishes it had that when Canada had enough of the U.S. expansionism (54-40 or fight) a few years after we burned down the White House.
Anywho, Japan really likes doors. And who doesn't? A traditional aspect inside many Japanese homes is something called a fusuma, a sliding door that separates rooms (d'uh) that are often depicted with paintings.
The fusama are rectangular at about 90 centimetres (three-feet) wide by 180 centimtres (5'-10"-tall)... which just so happens to be the exact same size as a standard tatami grass mat. The door are no more than three-centimetres thick.
The doors are made of a wood lattice covered in corrugate (what most people call cardboard), and topped with a layer of paper or cloth on both sides. Instead of a door know, there is a round finger catch to pull the doors open via a sliding mechanism: the top rail is called the kamoi (duck's place - where you duck your head?), while the bottom rail is the shikii (I'm guessing at the meaning, but I'm figuring it means duck's ass... which is what you will land on should you fail to duck). Consider that according to my driver's license, I am 183 centimetres tall, there is always a chance I could break my shikii (or whatever the heck it means).
These fusuma doors were originally the domain of the very wealthy, then the merchants, and then the lower class, and eventually the gaijin who lived there, as they (me) desperately tried to fit in to the local culture.
The doors were hand-painted with beautiful scenes of nature - vista views, animals and mythology - the key was to make it a serene entranceway to the next room.
And, just so you know, the fusuma, the shoji (rice paper blinds), and tatami (grass mats) are the three necessities for any typical waishitsu (Japanese room). Oh yeah... you should combine it with a futon (bed roll) for optimal sleeping value, if you are seeking the total Japanese experience.
Somewhere patching a door I accidentally put my foot through,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is performed by The Doors. And if you think it's about the back door of a house, you are sooooo wrong. Back Door Man was written by Willie Dixon for Blues legend Howlin' Wolf, and is as dirty as you want it to be.
PS: The song is about having an affair with a married woman, and using the back door to escape when the husband comes home. That's dirty, right? Hey... I jut discovered that... I thought it was about sex. So forget what I said in the paragraph just before this.
Showing posts with label Futon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Futon. Show all posts
Enter Sandman
We'll file this under: Did you know?"
Did you know that most Japanese people sleep on futons? A futon is a very thin mattress bereft of any springs. It's akin to a gymnasium mat - but without the hard plastic overlay.
Apparently every morning when you wake up, you are supposed to roll up your futon. Why? Well, truthfully for months I did not do that. And, when I finally decided to figure out where that strange smell was coming from, I discovered that I was growing mushrooms under the futon.
My body heat/sweat and fluids from myself and my girlfriend Ashley had created a primordial soup, if you will, from which life was created. Our ugly baby.
Because futons are always used atop grass tatami mats, the mold and fungus that grew rendered my tatami mats a wet, black spore-riddled mess.
Once mold grows on them, you can't clean them. The tatami mats have to be removed and replaced.
Kanemaru-san and Hanazaki-san of the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) chastised me appropriately for my costly mistake (or ignorance), and said I must roll up my futon every day... and once a week, I should remove the blankets around it and air it out outside - no matter how cold the weather... rain... maybe not, but I should do my best to still remove the blankets from it and make sure everything gets a good cleaning.
Lesson learned by me, I did not have another issue with my futon or my new tatami mats.
Okay, actually the OBOE solved my lessons for me. Because I had some good back pain before I arrived in Japan - and the futon did nothing to alleviate that back pain, they found something that would help. I guess they put a call out to the good people of Ohtawara-shi, Toichigi-ken, Japan, because someone 'donated' a Queen-sized bed for me and my girlfriends.
They even sent along three sets of new sheets and a quilts.
And even though it's not exactly kosher to place a bed on top of the tatami mats, the OBOE did not bat an eye or call me a stupid gaijin (foreigner)... they just placed the bed on the tatami knowing that when it was time for me to leave the JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme, it would be time to replace the tatami mats anyways.
With the new bed, my back stopped hurting me, and I stopped getting tatami mat burns on my knees when I had sex.
What a great country!
Somewhere where mushrooms grow,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by Metallica - listen here: NAPSTER
PS: Somewhere where mushrooms grow? In the dark, covered in horse crap.
PPS: In the photo above, that's Ashley taking a nap on my futon that sits atop my tatami mat floor.
I, Me, Mine
I'd just got lucky with a Japanese teacher, and was about to do the same with Christine once she arrived at my apartment later that night from Saitma-ken (Province of Saitama) thereby giving myself the name Ohtawara Stud.
Ego.
But first, let me tell you how that Friday started. I forgot I had an office day today and need not have gotten up so early. Since I'm up, I check out my goldfish - only to discover that my heater overheated and fried my fish. Well, that was depressing.
At the OBOE, I present Hanazaki-san with a large wooden mask I had purchased previously. It was supposed to be for Ashley's birthday a couple of weeks ago - but she broke up with me. What's up with that?
Ashley collected masks. At this point in time, I wasn't collecting anything except fish corpses. Three years later I was heavily into ukiyo-e (120-year-old plus Japanese woodblock art prints), Japanese baseball and soccer cards, coins, stamps... the list goes on.
Anyhow, the office loves the present--I'm now the official office superstar--and I'm told it will hang on the wall in the Superintendent's office. I sit down and begin writing reports on my time at the schools - eight weeks worth. I guess I'm a little behind.
I tell my office about my goldfish, my broken vacuum cleaner and my ex-girlfriend, but deign not to tell them about the Japanese teacher and the other woman coming over tonight. I also tell them of my cold apartment. Hanazaki-san asks if I'd like to change apartments... is he kidding, me? No way! In an informal survey of the other 53 (or so) AETs living in Tochigi-ken, I have by far the largest place! I can put up with a little cold if it means living large in luxury.
Hanazaki-san takes me next door to a political assembly meeting where I'm acknowledged by Mayor Sembo and the OBOE for what I assume is my hard work.
After work, I clean up my apartment in preparation of Christine. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Friday night came and went. We both got what we wanted, but there was no emotional attachment, and that felt crappy - especially because this time I was sober. As opposed to last night.
I feel empty. Drained but empty.
On Saturday morning, I was up and early and often and performed my duties again and again - after all, Christine did travel over three hours to visit me.
While I showered, Christine answered the doorbell. This time it wasn't Kanemaru-san or any of my students - nope, it was the Jehovah's Wittnesses. Swear to kami (God). Her Japanese language skills were superb (she was on her third year on the JET Programme--she was also eight years my senior, but you'd never know it from looking at her--and she managed to get rid of them without having to take a Watchtower. At least I hope they were J.W.'s - that girl had a dirty sense of humour.
There was also a package outside the door from my family. There was no letter, but plenty of important items like: tinned corned beef, cookies, pate, jam, gloves, sweaters (I had thought Japan was a sub-tropical clime... and parts of it are, but Ohtawara is just like Toronto but with less snow!), some ear muffs (which I gave to Christine - bye, thanks for coming). It was nice, but I would have traded it all for a letter.
I ride the JR (Japanese Rail) bus to the Nishinasuno train station with Christine. Yes, it was just a one-night/morning stand, because I had places to go and people to see.
Like go on a homestay at Kanemaru-san's house!
Before he comes over to pick me up, Matthew drops by. I brag to him about the past two nights - and he calls me a bastard... as I think I beat him to the punch with the Japanese women. Of course, he's married to a Japanese woman now - the lovely Takako - so I think he's finally okay about my luck now.
Matthew leaves, Kanemaru-san arrives and I drag my keyboards along with me.
Along the way, we two stop off at a Pachinko Parlour - I blow 3,500 yen in about 30 minutes, while Kanemaru-san does the same in only 20 minutes.
As soon as I arrive, I am jumped upon by Tomahiro, the youngest Kanemaru son who begs me to play the Chibi Maruko Chan song. he has the music, and ever since I fist watched the show a few months ago, I've been unable to get it out of my head. I'm tapping my toes right now as I write this 20 years later.
I have to transpose the music from Katakana Do-Re-Mi into Romaji's Do-Re-Mi, and then convert it to musical notes. I guessed it was a C-Major tune, and after successfully playing it again and again and again, Tomahiro was convinced I was the best thing since Japanese rice (aka the West's sliced bread).
After dinner, Mrs. Kanemaru - having heard of my back pain - gives me a great massage and applies a mustard plaster to my aching back (made worse by all of the action the past few days). (It's tough kid, but it's rife).
After guzzling a half bottle of sake (rice wine) and a half bottle of white wine, I pass out at around 11PM. By the way, dinner was a really yummy-wicked beef stew... I'm guessing they made that especially for my gaijin (outsider/foreigner) tastebuds - I don't tell them I've been designated an official Nihonjin (Japanese person) because of my new found ability to eat natto.
My bed consists of two futons piled atop each other (the norm in Winter), three blankets and two quilts. As well, my bed was pre-warmed by a heater - not mention all of the alcohol in my body.
Tomorrow, I think we're going to the city of Utsonomiya or the city of Ashikaga.
I have no idea, and at this time, I don't care.
More importantly, why didn't anyone tell me about the two futon thing? My back would hurt less and I might be warmer!
Somewhere thinking that the streak has ended at two,
Andrew Joseph
PS - Today's song is by The Beatles - EGO
PPS - I'm not sure why I'm not showing you a photo of Christine and why I am instead showing you a photo of myself at the Ohtawra Board of Education. For the record, this photo is taken during my third year, and I am making a face on purpose because I know Hanazaki-san is trying to take my picture. When you are known as a joker, you have to keep up appearances at all times and at all costs. Ugh. But what a cost. That's one ugly picture! Let's call it a karmic even up - considering today's blog content.
PPPS: By the way, the chili con carne I cooked up for Christine was too hot for her, though the 1988 Beaujolais was fine. She hated the episode of the Simpsons we watched - hated the show, actually and didn't care for the Star Trek: TNG episode that I had previously watched with Ashley that had made her cry. I noticed Christine and I didn't have a lot going on except the horizontal (sometimes vertical) mambo.
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