Honey

I rediscovered the complexity of honey two autumns ago. A friend had introduced me to a beekeeper in  Kanuma, the next city over from Utsunomiya. The beekeepers have been in the honey business since 1920, now in their fourth generation.  They take their bees around Tochigi prefecture to pollinate various crops: strawberries, sunflowers, buckwheat, chestnut and horse chestnut from roughly March to October.

This was the first time I had been exposed to so many varieties of single flower honey. In the states, the standard ones that I've seen in stores are the ubiquitous clover and mesquite. Color-wise, honey at the supermarket is fairly uniform. Typically gold. In contrast, the color palette of the honey at the Kuroda family's store is broader. It ranges from the fairly standard golden of acacia, the more reddish of sunflower, the almost black of buckwheat and versions of reddish gold in between. Flavor differs with color as well. I was told that the acacia is the best seller. I, personally, find it a bit cloying, but I'm sure it's good to cook with. I love the buckwheat, which to me has a complex brown-sugar back taste. The chestnut honeys are a little acidic which I like as well. The shop lets you sample the honeys before you buy so I never have to buy anything blind.

Going to the shop is a nice get-away for me. The Kurodas know my name, give me tea, sit and talk, and, in general, make me feel at home. It is a multi-generational business. The grandmother, about ninety,is still mobile and sharp as a tack. She talks to customers, many of whom are regulars. The mom  is in charge of the front and takes care of the honey sales. Yoko, the daughter, is in charge of the gelato shop next door and Kazuhiro, her brother, takes care of the bees during the day and the gelato shop in the evenings. They just started the gelato shop this spring and use honey as a sweetener. In the future gelato or pancakes and honey will probably become part of my routine when I go there. The nice  thing about that is that since I bike there from Kanuma station, (I throw my bike on the train in Utsunomiya), I don't have to feel guilty about having an indulgence at the store.

I appreciate being able to buy locally. I like supporting a family business run by really nice folks keeping money in the local economy as well as the pollination of crops by bees, a vital component of our food system and the natural world. May the Kurodas prosper for many more generations.

From left to right: sunflower, mandarin orange, chestnut, buckwheat

Life Without a Car: Year 2

I've lived in Utsunomiya now for two years. There have been adjustments. My living quarters are smaller and I no longer have a car. I'll talk about my apartment in another post, but today I want to focus on life without a car.

When I lived in the States, I often questioned my car dependency, but living in the suburbs, I succumbed to the addiction. I went everywhere by car: to the supermarket, to work, to friends, to the local coffee shop and the biggest absurdity of all, to the health club. What choice do most Americans have in reality?

In Seattle/Bellevue we were a two car family. I rode my bike with a friend on weekends, putting it in the back and hauling it out to the country somewhere. It was fun, however it wasn't transportation. It was exercise in the most compartmentalized way. The design didn't help. There was no basket. There was no kickstand. There was no clamshell integrated lock. It was just a way to have fun. My car became my feet. I paid the price

When I came to Japan in the fall of 2011, I was about 190 pounds, double chin, stomach bigger than I liked and climbing stairs took my breath away and not in the good sense. I got a bike in November of that year. It had a basket, a kickstand and a built in lock. I commuted to work on it, shopped with it, and  explored my city with it. It didn't take long until I noticed my double chin disappearing and my stomach receding. Climbing stairs no longer required panting. I weighed myself at the beginning of the next year and found that I had lost about twenty pounds. Of course, the bike wasn't the whole story. I was eating Japanese portions now. (They eat less than we do.) I was following the Japanese admonition, "Eat until your stomach is only 80% full" and I was indulging in sweets only on weekends. But being carless has had a huge impact on me beyond weight control and exercise.

One thing you notice when you no longer drive is that you notice. Life is a blur in a car. (Perhaps speed is part of the seduction.)  Life on a bike is slower. On a bicycle the things that were blurry now have sharp edges. I began noticing smaller changes than before. Plants budding, seasonal comings and goings of animals, temperature differences, and the weather itself. It's interesting. The Japanese calendar used to be divided into fairly minute parts, roughly ten day segments within a month. These subdivisions were given names such as "The Great Cold" and "Welcoming Spring" etc.  I never understood it until I started biking. Ten days is about the time it takes to notice changes in the season: whether things are getting warmer or colder, what is blooming or ripening, the color intensities of the natural world. Slowing down to bike speed and walking speed makes you take notice. It's a real blessing with the added benefits mentioned above. I never thought of biking as a spiritual experience, but it is. Just like most everything in life. It just takes some slowing down to notice it.

Golden Week 1

It's Golden Week, that first week in May when the Japanese take some time off, travel abroad, domestically or just stay home and relax. I'm a follower of the latter. Today I pottered around Utsunomiya and ran across a festival almost in my own back yard. (If I had a back yard. Which I don't. Thank God.)

Anyway, I was on my way home, on a route that I use to get from one side of Utsunomiya station to the other. There is a park along this path and lo and behold they had a festival there today. Food carts were out, kids were playing, there were bands and local celebrities on stage and even one of those ubiquitous "characters" that you see everywhere here.

One thing that I like about festivals in Japan is the attitude toward alcohol. There is an assumption in Japan that when you drink in public you do it responsibly. There is none of the roped off areas separating adults from kids here. It's so ...normal. Liquor and drinking laws just seem so much saner here. I love it.

Scott

A friend of mine, Scott Tsumura, was here in Tokyo for a one man photo show at Yodobashi Camera's Gallery Instance this month. I wanted to see it and since I happen to be in Tokyo on Wednesdays, I decided to stop in, say hello and look at his work.

I've known Scott for about about 15 years. He and I originally made acquaintance through our wives, a common occurrence for me. He is very much the gentlemen, well spoken, kind and generous. He was nice enough to order a calligraphy piece from me a while ago and I was honored to do it. Over the years we have invited each over for dinner at each other's houses. I have thus had the chance to get a glimpse of his interests which have included sharpshooting, music and now photography.

I have the distinct impression that his other interests have had a direct impact on his photography. Sharpshooting requires great technical skill, attention to detail, patience, breathing, waiting for the right moment and focus. Scott also enjoys classical music. Classical music appreciation trains our ears to listen for themes, tempo, emotional tone, sub-themes and how the parts fit together. The bridge to photography is fairly evident.

On the day I went to see his show I was looking forward to seeing his works up close. Here is what I observed. First there was a naturalness in the faces shot. There is a certain serendipity in getting a great shot, but one also has to be ready to take it. This requires a vigilance, an ability to see or anticipate a moment in time. None of his subjects looked "posed", a difficult accomplishment. There was a story in each shot. Of course this story or drama is supplied by the observer, however there was an emotional impact in each shot that went beyond the beauty of the composition itself. There is an expression in Japan, "One gets tired of a beauty
in three days". I can't imagine getting tired of looking at his photos. This element bridges the gap from craft to art. It gives the piece soul. Next was the composition. This requires an astute eye to edit out the unnecessary and keep only the essential. A good editor leaves in enough detail to provide context while taking out enough to let our imaginations supply our own narrative so that the piece becomes ours. Leave in too much and the piece is dull. Edit too much and it becomes opaque. A cipher.

Scott has a real genius for the snapshot. I look forward to his next show.

This Is What Real Healthcare Looks Like

I'm assuming that most of you can't read this, so I'll give you a rough translation. In the upper right in orange is written: 1. specific health exam coupon.  2. contains a cancer examination coupon. (For holders of national health coverage in Utsunomiya city between the ages of 40 and 74). And get this...it's free. I don't remember getting anything for free health wise in America.  On the other hand I don't remember ever paying for health care based on my ability to pay either. That's another benefit I have in Japan. You never realize how good medical coverage can be until you live under a single payer system.

Case in point. I had an MRI late last year that I paid out of pocket. In Japan the government pays 70% and the patient 30%. This would still end up being exorbitantly expensive in the US as the government cannot use its clout to regulate drug prices or fees for services. But Japan is not the US. My bill was a whopping 6,000 yen. (Approximately 60 dollars). And there were no copays. Just the MRI which was done in a very modern, clean, friendly hospital and the consultation to inform me of the results.

The Japanese seem to take their health care service for granted. Some even grumble about how much they have to pay until I tell them how much I pay for my wife's and my health insurance in the US. Their jaws drop. They stop complaining. They ask me how I can afford it. I let them know that a lot of our discretionary income gets sucked into a health insurance black hole.

I'm fortunate to live in a country where I pay what I can afford for health insurance. I look at the cost of living in the States and see how much it has grown in the past few years. I can pay my American health insurance for the time being. I'm just wondering how everyone else is managing. My guess is that they're not. A lot of them are hoping that they don't get sick or they just manage with critical care. Can I afford to return to America? The answer to that question seems less clear every year.

My Sabbath

Thursday is my holy day. It's the day I do what I believe are sacred activities. I work in a field helping things to grow. I am surrounded by wild creatures, their sounds and activities. I get to talk to other human beings. I am reminded of my insignificance. I am rewarded by whatever blessings mother earth has deemed fit to bestow on me that week. Today was an especially pleasant day.

We've had lots of rain and cool weather recently. I haven't been here long enough to know if this is normal or not. It has felt strangely inordinately cool though. Today was different. It has been sunny and warm, a pleasant change from what I've been experiencing. At the field today our task was to set up poles for the beans we are growing. I was not able to come last week so I was stunned by the amount of growth the beans had achieved in that time. I put bamboo poles in along the row about a yard apart and then strung twine around each pole to keep the beans in and train them up. Each week I learn a new technique. I am grateful for the patience my mentor has for me.

While twining the poles we had visitors. We have a pheasant couple that have claimed the field as their territory. ( I told my mentor, Mr. Maeda, that they had it made. Who else gets territory where people grow your food for you?) Mr. Pheasant had been announcing his presence all afternoon from the edges of the field and finally made his appearance with the Mrs. He was beating and flapping his wings protectively while she was bathing in the fine dirt of the freshly plowed field. They both looked very happy and acted as if they owned the place. They are a cute couple. He, so protective, and she, so reliant on him. They seem to show actual affection toward each other.

In addition to the pheasants crying, the frogs were croaking, the bees were buzzing and the nightingales were singing. What a chorus of life!

We left the field a little early today. My harvest was green onions, greens and herbs: italian parsley, mint, thyme and fennel. I'm going to try to make a carpaccio tonight so I bought a spanish mackerel on my way home. Lets see how it turns out.

Back to work tomorrow, but today I'm thankful again for the opportunity to commune with the earth and friends.

Bringing in the Sheaves

handing out sickles

What a fun day today was! I harvested rice for about five hours today with about twenty other people. While that may not sound like fun to everyone, I had a great time.

This adventure started back in May when I was invited to plant rice at Tanakasan's farm. I wasn't able to attend that event, but I did participate in the harvest which he had kindly invited me to. I enjoy doing new things and meeting new people so I was looking forward to harvest day.

Saturday morning I took the 9:00 am train to Mamada station and as always, rode my folding bike. The farm is in southern Tochigi prefecture, about an hour's total time travel from Utsunomiya station to the farm. On the way I pedaled across the Omoi River (思川）and then past rice fields and farms to Tanakasan's farm in Fujioka, a small village of traditional layout; buildings in the center and fields surrounding. I arrived at 10:00 am, starting time, registered to get my rice, and then we were off to the field.

The field

First we got out sickles, then a lesson in how to cut and stack rice. Rice is planted in bunches and so grows in concentrated little groups in the field. We were taught how to cut the rice at the right height which is fairly low to the ground, and then were shown how to stack it. First you cut about four groupings of rice called a kabu, and then  lay it on the ground. You then cut two more bunches of four and lay those on the first in an X. So there were about twenty of us cutting rice plants and stacking them in Xs throughout the field. This took about an hour and a half, after which we broke for lunch.

Lunch was amazing. Everything was homemade and local except the fish. We had new rice made from the last crop that had been dried a few weeks before, simmered Chinese melon, sweet potatoes and squash simmered in soy sauce, cucumber and eggplant pickles, hokke and sanma, which are quite oily  fish, sweet deep fried tofu skins stuffed with new rice, and for dessert, deliciously cold figs, grapes and pear apples. What a treat!

After lunch it was back to the field to tie the sheaves and hang them from a bamboo rack. We were taught how to tie the sheaves with straw which was easier than I thought. I learned first so I ended up teaching a lot of the Japanese how to do it. You take about four or five strands of straw, wrap them around the sheave, tie it in a half hitch, twist the loose ends together as if making a straw rope, and then slip it behind the half hitch. It stays. It works. It's simple. It's ingenious. It's a dying art.

how to stack rice

Everyone got into the act. We gathered sheaves, tied them up and hung them upside down on the rack. Everyone did something. Some tied sheaves, some hung them. The little kids chased frogs and watched the guppies in the irrigation ditches. It was hot, but everyone worked hard. It was fun. We even gleaned so there was not much waste.

figs from the farm

It was impressive that the process had almost no waste. The rice straw will be used to tie sheaves next year and the rice will be eaten, of course. It's a seamless process so different from the agriculture I see nowadays.

We finished up at about 3:00. The people from Tokyo set off home by car. The carless were chauffeured to Nogi station for the train ride back home, and I set off on my bike back to Mamada station. Again, riding past rice fields with tassels heavy, others where harvest was taking place, across the Omoi River again, up a long, but not so steep hill to Mamada station.

hanging rice sheaves

After arrival it was the ritual of taking the bike apart, putting its cover on, taking the elevator to the platform, waiting for the train, strapping it to a bar and finding a seat. I was beat, but happy. A great day being with nice folks. I am a lucky guy.

Boston Bombings

I was at my paper craft class in Tokyo last night and the topic of the Boston Marathon bombings came up. Of course, the discussion centered around how horrible the events were: a little boy was killed among the three deceased and so many others were wounded. I said that I too was saddened by the tragedy, but did they know that the United States kills innocent people, men, women and children by the hundreds in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Yemen and Somalia and no one seems to care. I told them that you reap what you sow.

Whenever a terrorist event happens in the United States you can always count on: the president consoling the nation, demanding justice for the crime, the media immediately blaming muslims for the act before any evidence is found, a total lack of attention on WHY it happened, only WHAT happened, a rally by the citizenry around the flag, much wailing about why "they" hate us and Congress taking advantage of the situation to institute more draconian laws and restrict our freedom. This time, unusually, there were a number of people out there who actually seemed aware of the possible whys to this incident.

It is understandable that people here in Japan do not understand what happened in Boston. The media here is as focused on the what as is the American media. And for similar reasons. The national broadcasting company is beholden to the government which is not interested in offending the United States, especially now that its nuclear umbrella is giving cover to Japan from the nuclear clamoring of North Korea. Additionally, although the private media is very good at covering the lives of the rich and famous, it is not so good at covering real news other than the weather or crime. Getting informed about what is happening in the world depends on personal responsibility in looking for credible sources that are not in the pockets of corporations.

Their reaction to the event and its cause was very telling of the lack of background most people bring to the issue of terrorism. Sympathy for the victims and ignorance of the cause. While I am appreciative of the sympathy, it would be nice to see more understanding of the reasons behind this tragedy. Not only the tragedy in Boston, but the tragedy in Chechnya where the perpetrators came from and the muslim world in general.