The Ironies of China

Over spring break, we travelled to China to see its most famous sights and experience something of its culture. During our trip we spent time with several different guides, which gave us a small window through which to glimpse what it’s like to be Chinese. One thing that struck me was the great irony of China: Despite ditching imperialism, the Chinese are still ruled by autocrats interested more in the preservation of their power than in the welfare of their people. Instead of a single emperor, it’s a group of Communist Party leaders, but the end result is the same – repression for the Chinese people.

Emperors of old turned their subjects into slaves to build the awe-inspiring projects that tourists like us flock to see today. The Great Wall, the Terracotta Warriors and the Forbidden City were all designed to protect an emperor’s power and increase his personal comfort in this life or the next.

The Communist Party leaders of today continue that venerable tradition, using the labor of citizens to build for the government a strong protective shield – international economic power. In fairness, today’s workers are paid for their services, but while the Chinese government has amassed an estimated $2 trillion in foreign exchange reserve, the average Chinese household earns $3,000 a year. While China is becoming a serious player on the world’s financial stage, about 60 percent of its 1.3 billion citizens remain farmers, many of them living in poverty.

Analysts estimate that half of China’s foreign exchange reserve is invested in American Treasury bonds and other notes. You don’t have to think about this too long to realize that relying on China to finance our way of life makes it risky to pressure the regime in any meaningful way on human rights or other issues. As Maureen Dowd wrote in a February 10 op-ed piece for the New York Times: “When, exactly, can China foreclose on us and start sending us toxic toys again?” Like China’s emperors of old, its Communist rulers have found a way to use Chinese citizens to protect their power – in this life, if not the next.

What do Chinese citizens get in return? More irony. I met a man who was removed from the prestigious teaching job he loved for having a second child. In Tiananmen Square, I spoke with a young woman who, despite having a college education, told me she knew nothing about what happened there in the spring of 1989. When I asked people we met about the recent closing of Tibet, I was told, “It’s not closed.” I saw it argued online that this piece of news hasn’t been reported in Chinese media because the border isn’t closed to Chinese nationals, only foreigners. If the U.S. Government stopped letting foreign tourists into Alaska, is it conceivable that there’d be no mention of it in the press – even if Americans could still travel freely in and out of the state?

I heard from a man with personal experience that 95 percent of Chinese citizens who apply for visas to travel outside their country are denied. It’s a mystery to me how people can square in their own minds a positive feeling toward their government with the very clear and obvious fact that they are captives in their own country, but somehow many Chinese manage to do it. That, perhaps, is the saddest irony of all.

Top 10 Things I Learned from Karaoke

Last Friday night, I had my first karaoke experience. It was in a tiny, dimly lit local hot spot below ground somewhere near our train station. I emerged Saturday morning a woman wiser in the ways of karaoke. What follows is a distillation of what I learned in that cozy cellar, dense with cigarette smoke and the haze of musical genius.

 10. A true karaoke pro can fall asleep, wake when his song comes on, sing his heart out, have another drink, and go back to sleep until his next turn.

   9. My friend Karen is very good at playing the tambourine.

   8. Not everyone truly appreciates Johnny Cash.  

   7. It is not physically possible for me to sing bass (which might have made appreciation of Cash challenging). 

   6. The Japanese make some seriously strange videos to play at karaoke bars.

   5. My husband looks very cute when he is channeling Jim Morrison.

   4. One Japanese pop song is an interesting cultural experience. Two is torture.

   3. Beer may not enhance performance, but it sure makes listening easier.

   2. What happens at karaoke does not stay at karaoke. You will be given grief for days and, in most cases, you will deserve it.

And the number one thing I learned from karaoke is…

   1. It is possible to injure yourself clapping (sorry – no additional details available).

Going for Gold

You may not keep track of such things, but gold teeth generate their share of news. For example, with the economy tanking and the price of gold rising to record levels (it was over $1,000 an ounce in February), the Associated Press reports that people are now raising cash by pawning gold crowns and teeth they apparently have lying around in drawers. Yet, despite people’s growing appreciation for gold teeth, in West Palm Beach, Fla., a man was thrown out of a bar because the manager thought he had too many of them (still in his mouth). Go figure.

A few months before that incident, in what was either a nod of appreciation to the fashion traditions of cannibalistic societies or a sign of over-developed self esteem, the actress Scarlett Johansson marked her boyfriend’s birthday by giving him one of her wisdom teeth, dipped in gold and strung on a necklace. Remember that idea for your special someone, ladies.

Gold teeth are on my mind because I’m about to get one. I won’t be able to give it to Mark because I’ll be using it, but it’s possible I could get kicked out of a bar. It’s happened before, although I was younger and more fun at the time.

In Japan, gold teeth are the norm under dental circumstances like mine. The Japanese are a practical people. Compared to tooth-colored alternatives, gold holds up better, doesn’t stain and even costs less in some cases. As my dentist was explaining the logic of choosing gold, he also acknowledged that his foreign patients never choose gold, so he expected I would want a more natural looking crown, too. Now I was faced with a dilemma.

To be illogical and predictable, two things I find really annoying? Or to place a chunk of gold in my mouth? WWJD – what would Johnny (Depp) do? He’d take the gold tooth, as he did when he accepted the role of Captain Jack Sparrow.  In fact, he took five of them – had gold caps bonded right to his own teeth. After pressure from studio executives, who were concerned about getting the balance between coarse and sexy exactly right, he had three removed for filming. But he kept two – for several years, at least until the third movie was finished. For all I know, he still has them.

Once I have my gold tooth (what can I say, I love Captain Jack), you probably won’t notice it, at least not really. Well, maybe if you make me laugh. Or yawn. More importantly, it’s unlikely that I’ll ever have another problem with that tooth, which was at the root of some excruciating pain, oral surgery, a bone graft and…. Well, I hear you all screaming “TMI” so I’ll stop there and leave you to ponder these immortal words from Benjamin Franklin:  “Early morning hath gold in its mouth.”

The Angst of Cooking

Cooking is a skill set I never mastered and sorely miss now. The daily responsibility of planning dinner with unfamiliar foods then teaching myself how to prepare it almost makes me want to get a job. Working provides the perfect alibi for not cooking yourself, while simultaneously supplying the funds to pay someone else to cook for you, whether that’s the grocery employees who rotisserie your chicken, the restaurant chefs who prepare your take-out, or the thoughtful folks in the frozen-food industry.

Japanese grocery stores do sell a variety of pre-cooked foods. I never know exactly what I’m getting, but they’re convenient when you’re coming home late on the subway (after spending half a day on a simple task like filling a prescription) and really don’t want to cook. On those nights, dinner conversation at our house tends to run something like this:

“I think it’s either chicken or pork.”
“I don’t know. Tastes kind of – different.”
“Well, it’s pretty good.”
“I prefer this.”
“What is it?” “Beef, maybe?”
“It’s cold and kind of chewy. Is that normal? Maybe we’re supposed to cook it first…”

On one such evening, I searched the pre-cooked food shelves for things that looked like chicken, which generally stand the greatest chance of being accepted by the boys. I spied one package containing short skewers with two breading-covered balls on each. I’ve had balls of chicken before that looked like that, so I put a few packages in my basket. Feeling like I was finally starting to get the hang of things, I headed for home.

Our 13-year-old was the first to try a chicken ball, which is unusual because historically he has been a very picky eater. Of course for him, trying it meant nibbling off a tiny section of the breading. The hole he made revealed the curve of something whitish, shiny and round. Weird looking chicken. He handed it to me with a look that said, “Last time I trust you.” I took a brave bite to set a good example and tasted egg. Quail egg I guessed, because of the small size. It was actually pretty good. I’d say, “live and learn,” but I have little hope of finding breaded quail eggs again now that I know I like them. Next time I buy round things skewered on sticks it will probably turn out to be liver.

Once a week we treat ourselves to Dominos pizza, which is actually better here than in the states. We stick with standards, like cheese and sausage, but the Japanese think that’s strange. They prefer pizzas like these from the Dominos menu:

Lasagna Pizza – potato (when did they start putting potato in lasagna?), parmesan cheese and parsley
Mayo Jaga – potato, “fresh” bacon, corn, pimento, onion and mayonnaise (whitish horizontal and vertical lines crisscross the whole pizza, creating an interesting checkerboard effect)
Giga Meat – pepperoni, “fresh” bacon, pork sausage, and… bacon (not so fresh?)

So next time you fill your cart with foods you can identify and load them into your trunk to drive home, think of me playing guessing games, riding my fully loaded double-basket bike uphill home, and scouring The Joy of Cooking to find out what to do with octopus.

Akemashite Omedetou!

That’s Happy New Year, for those of you without my astonishing grasp of the Japanese language. New Year is Japan’s most important holiday and virtually all businesses are closed for the first three days of January. Most people spend time with family and visit a shrine to offer prayers for the coming year. In the next three days, 3 million people will visit Tokyo’s most prominent shrine, Meiji Jingumae. Mark and I are heading out soon to see if we can get anywhere near it. Leading up to the holiday, the Japanese clean house, finish outstanding business, and generally embrace the prospect of a fresh start.

The New Year in Japan is associated with poetry in traditional styles, such as tanka. For more than 1,000 years, there has been an Imperial ceremony in Japan called Utakai Shiki (Ceremony for Chanting Poetry). Shortly after a new year begins, the Emperor and members of the Imperial Family, all trained in the art of writing poetry from an early age, read aloud the best poems they wrote during the preceding year. As the Empress of my own home, I decided to try my hand at tanka. In Japanese, these poems are often written in one straight line, but in English they are usually divided into five lines, with syllable counts in this order: 5-7-5-7-7. I’ve no doubt butchered a truly venerable tradition, but here’s my poem nonetheless (with apologies as needed):

TokyoMy attachment grows
Like a new crocus in snow
Tentative until
Experience makes a home
And melts the unfamiliar

It’s appropriate for me to share my first tanka poem on New Year’s Day because when a new year starts many “firsts” are celebrated in Japan, including the first exchange of letters, first calligraphy, first laughter, and first dream. Your first dream of the year, called hatsuyume, is thought to signify what you can expect from the next 365 days. So that you can recognize your good fortune if you see it, the three symbols considered most lucky to dream of are (in order) Mount Fuji, hawks, and eggplants.

Traditionally, the Japanese send New Year postcards to friends and family. These are held by the post office and all delivered on January 1st. Can you imagine the U.S. Postal Service pulling that off with Christmas cards? Many of the postcards feature images of the animal that the traditional Chinese calendar ties to the coming year. 2009 is the year of the cow or ox (for calendar purposes, the two seem to be used interchangeably).

Mark was born in 1961, which was also a year of the ox. For him, that’s a propitious sign for 2009. Here’s hoping that the coming year is a healthy and happy one for the rest of us, too!

Portrait of a Pedestrian Scramble

Since my first visit to Shibuya (Noise Capital of the World), I’ve returned often. Now that I only rarely get lost, I can look around and actually process some of what’s going on around me. On weekends, in addition to the usual hubbub there are public speakers and pamphleteers milling around the train station plaza that abuts the main intersection.

One Saturday recently, there was a group handing out flyers related to the abduction of Japanese citizens by agents of the North Korean government, which according to Wikipedia happened between 1977 and 1983. One gentleman even had a pamphlet in English. He began talking to me in my native tongue, which was appealing, but I was distracted by a man in military uniform standing near us on a makeshift platform. He was giving an impassioned speech (subject unknown) and wore dark green fatigues with a red star stitched above the left breast, which made me uneasy. Isn’t that the symbol of some stridently communist nation or other? No one else seemed to care, but I was happy when the crossing light finally changed in favor of escape from his vicinity.

All the folks with views to impart locate themselves strategically to take full advantage of a captive audience – the throng congregating to wait for the “walk” signs at the main Shibuya intersection. This intersection, where 5 major roads meet, is purported to be the largest in the world in terms of vehicular and pedestrian traffic. To get people from one side to another, an “exclusive pedestrian phase” is used. This system is called a scramble or a Barnes Dance (after a guy named Barnes who first used it) because all traffic stops and people can cross in any direction – even diagonally – at once (see photo). The Japanese like the pedestrian scramble, which is used at more than 300 intersections across the country. I like it, too – it’s liberating to walk however you want through the middle of the world’s busiest intersection.

Experience has taught me how to negotiate Shibuya’s seriously crowded sidewalks, deftly passing dawdlers while avoiding collisions with oncomers. I’ve also learned that the sound of a bell means any sudden moves would be best avoided because a bicyclist (also on the sidewalk) is approaching from somewhere outside my field of vision. I’ve come to appreciate being in a place where crossing the street makes you feel like you’re at the center of the universe – part of a mass movement (literally) dedicated to shopping and dining. How could that not be fun?

Trading Trust for Slippers

Japanese dental offices (the two that I’ve been in anyway) are quite cozy. You remove your shoes when you step into the treatment area and put on a pair of slippers, which is reassuring. Who’s going to give you slippers then hurt you, right?

For an American receiving dental care in Japan, it helps to believe that, as I learned when I recently spent two long hours in a dentist’s chair. I understood and appreciated that the dentist and his assistant were busily working to save one of my teeth, but was a little sketchy on the details of precisely what they were doing. So it goes in a country where the best dentists don’t necessarily speak a lot of English.

Did I mention the blindfold? Once you’re settled in the dental chair, they cover your eyes with a small towel. The downside to that, of course, is that you’re in the dark literally as well as figuratively. You can sneak peeks through the bottom edge of the towel to look for clues as to what’s going on, but after seeing blood-soaked gauze and other unsettling sights, I decided that “cover the patient’s eyes during dental care” is an excellent Japanese idea, on par with sushi and Pokemon.

Part of the barrier is cultural, too. In the States, we’re used to being kept abreast of almost every move a dentist makes: “I’m just going to numb your cheek. Then I’m going to give you some novacaine. I’ll have to leave the needle in for a minute. Now I’m placing a suction wand....” In Japan they don’t feel that kind of hand-holding is necessary. (They give you slippers – what more could you need?) For two hours, I sat wondering exactly when they were going to make the incision in my gum they’d told me was coming. It wasn’t until I felt suturing thread dance lightly across my cheek that I realized they must have done it a while back. Chalk one up for the blindfold.

Eventually, I found myself back in my shoes and out on the sidewalk. Although feeling slightly woozy, I walked a block to an international grocery store to get a little shot of home. It’s amazing the trauma you can erase with the purchase of a few familiar luxuries, like all-purpose flour, pepper-jack cheese and, although it might be a while before I can eat them, salt & vinegar potato chips.