Back From Bangkok Virus Free

That title caught your eye, didn't it? Get yer mind out of the gutter!

I’m not an H1N1 virus carrier (right now)…and I have the official documentation to prove it!

I was handed this swine flu symptom reminder yesterday when I exited the plane and passed through quarantine booths with an intimidating array of thermographic cameras at Kansai International Airport. The cameras measure your ambient body temperature and, if you’re above the norm, you’re politely pulled aside and questioned, perhaps quarantined.

Lacking a feverish temperature, it seems I did not carry the dreaded H1N1 flu back with me from a business trip to Thailand. The Japanese government has taken measures to prevent the further spread of the pandemic since the early spring. So I half-expected to see these folks enter the plane:

Courtesy of The Japan Times

In fact, the Japanese government gave up and halted quarantine inspections on flights in May because the H1N1 virus was already present in Japan.

In between washing my hands and gargling incessantly – the preferred preventative measures – when there was some downtime on the flight home I collected my thoughts about what I’d read about the H1N1 outbreak.

One thing I noted was that despite the facts about the recent bout of swine flu sweeping the globe and government agencies doing their best to educate people, people are still irrational. In Thailand, they were pulling kids out of school for about a week and banning them from getting together at malls and game centers. In Japan, people are wearing Dr. Lecter masks more than usual despite the dubious prevention qualities.

In other words, people put on masks and governments put out official notices in a fruitless effort to place a guise of control on something that is inherently uncontrollable. Thus, perception of control becomes reality and the need for visible examples which demonstrate that some action is being taken, even if it is ineffective.

I had planned to bring along a copy of Stephen King’s ‘The Stand’ to read on the airplane and get my picture taken with the health inspectors, in their white contamination suits or soothing sterile greens, should they board our aircraft. But King's opus was too heavy, the joke not that funny, and the irony not worth the effort.

I got through my event in Thailand unscathed, and so far I still feel comparatively healthy. So why does everyone look at me with suspicion whenever I sneeze?

No Such Luck?

Engaging in the fantasy of instant wealth is an attractive intoxicant for the average person. The temporary thrill of spending a few dollars in an attempt to realize the dream of being able to quit ‘the job’ and buy ‘the thing’ – whatever the thing may be – is a form of social morphine that helps us get through the workday.

My life here in Japan is a good one. But that doesn’t mean I don't occasionally indulge in lotteries. Whether it’s the 6/49 when at home in the Great White North, or the Japanese national lottery called “Takarakuji” now, whenever I get the craving I buy about ten dollars’ worth of tickets. Random numbers, random tickets. The universe is indiscriminate in so many ways, so I believe if I ride the random wavelength, sooner or later I’m gonna hit the jackpot.

So far…no such luck.

Here are some scans of my favorite Japanese lotteries.
This one is called the Million Dream, which costs about C$3.50 per ticket. It only pays out one million yen (C$12K), but to 1,000 people. That’s a very democratic version of luck.


The one below, the Dream Jumbo, is garishly inviting due to its Las Vegas-inspired colorful block letters in English, which always lends a little marketing cachet here in ‘ol Nippon. For C$3.50 per ticket, you really get the illusion of wealth. It’s crack on paper, baby! The kicker is that only one person gets the big dream jumbo prize, which is about C$240K. Not too shabby. Its sales point is the mirage of exclusivity as well as wealth. Anyway, the Dream Jumbo is not enough to retire on, but winning it could be a splendid start to making Freedom 55 more reality than pipe dream. Err…lottery dream.

Za Beach
As for more realistic escapism, the beach season started for the Rising Family last weekend. We escorted Lady E. to a local beach for an afternoon of fun. Here are a few pics of Elena sporting her new lime green sundress, which a colleague/friend in Thailand kindly sent us. (Thank you, K.T.)

Elena really enjoys the aquatic life, and I am looking forward to the day when she can swim.
While I have yet to win the lottery, days at the beach offer other kinds of treasures.
(Insert reader's groan here in response to that corny line.)

Sayonara for now.

To my Mom, the Happiest of Birthdays

On this special day, my dear mother
I would like to express in words,
so that anyone in the world can see
how important you are to me.

G.P., today you are 60 going on 40.

You’re old enough to know better,
yet young enough to revel.
Wonderful just the way you are.

Especially on your birthday
I hope you know how much I appreciate you
and how much you’re loved by us all.

I’ll spend this day being grateful for you.
(And thanks for bringing me into this world, too.)
Happy birthday!

Love Chris

Aliens singing Happy Birthday

To view this, click on the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yolLqx6k1OM

And now, a word from our sponsor:

What is a "Half"?

“She is so adorable. Half kids are always so cute.”
When we start a conversation with strangers, they frequently compliment Naomi and I on how cute Elena is and then refer to her in some way as a "half" child. Always intended as a positive comment, it is simply a banal way to begin a chat. People all over the world use trite words or phrases to greet other people they don’t know very well to break the ice. Still, this word "half" does echo Japan’s national psyche regarding its biracial children. A Japanese word – spelled and pronounced halfu in the English alphabet – has quickly gained currency. This is in large part due to the statistically small, but highly visible (sic) increase in the number of kids of mixed race in Japan. That said, Lady E. is a typical half kid. Does this label imply she is Eurasian, mixed, Canadian-Japanese, or Japanese-Canadian? Or does half mean only half-of-something, viz. not Japanese enough? It can be confusing trying to fathom the cultural intent.

For those people who are overly concerned with semantics, because I work in the auto industry, I suggest we refer to these multiracial wunderkinder as hybrids. Just kidding!

A stereotypical view of Japan is that it is a homogeneous nation. One people, one language, one history (and one time zone). Thus, you are either Japanese, or you are not. Such a binary view boils down to this: when it comes to race and identity, you can't really be partly Japanese or live two cultures at the same time. This concept was difficult for me to grasp the first few years I lived here because I hail from Canada, a young country that trumpets its multicultural makeup as one of its social attributes and a significant source of national pride. Viewed from the perspective of a society founded on the merits of the melting pot and/or multicultural mosaics, Japanese society’s relatively insular view of itself, and the new words such as half which are used to describe ongoing changes in its makeup, are hard to understand. But Japan isn’t the only country in the world where kids are of mixed parentage. So will her half status be a burden or a blessing for Lady E. down the line?

Allow me reduce this to a personal level with a few observations. My experience with mixed race or mixed nationality kids (i.e. have dual nationality, or kids who physically look Japanese but do not speak the language fluently, or were reared in a different culture, and thus find it hard to conform socially) is that they can have a hard time in a society that highly encourages fitting in. These children are different from the norm. Issues such as bullying in schools and discrimination (whether or overt or unconscious) are real. Also, factor in high expectations from both sides of the family to master two or more very difficult languages. Then include being singled out and treated differently, for better and for worse, every now and then. Finally, note that Japan does not recognize hyphenated names, and dual nationality kids must choose which country they want to identify with by the age of 22.
Yikes.

On the other hand, Japanese society is changing. Japan is beset by a low birthrate and is slowly but surely coming to realize it has to rethink some longstanding attitudes toward female roles in society and immigration policies. Plus, it has had decades of interaction with other cultures through internationalization efforts such that its parochial tendencies are ebbing. The impact of the Internet in bridging language and geographic barriers helps, too. Also, a wave of TV personalities who are of mixed parentage have become famous. In fact, the most popular female Japanese TV personality in 2008 was a young half woman named Becky, whose face is ubiquitous throughout Japanese media. Finally, two words: President Obama. If America can transform its thinking about race so dramatically, then there ought to be sprouts of optimism and hope worldwide for similar changes elsewhere.

So when I contemplate how we will prepare the Rising Daughter to navigate the various social obstacles and opportunities that she will come across in her life, I believe the answers lie in old chestnuts. Being a half kid brings with it the advantage of not being constrained to one choice. Being open-minded and tolerant will enable her to be the best she can be in a world that most likely will never be completely ethnically-neutral. Mental agility will allow Elena to express her identity in her own way. I am confident we will be able to impart these qualities to her in the years to come.

Learning from those who walked the same road before also yields some fresh perspectives. One of my co-workers, Michele, is half Japanese, half American, and she is an amazing source of practical wisdom for Lady E. One of these nuggets is: “As a senpai of your daughter, I want to tell her... although it may be tough, I believe that one of our responsibilities is to spread the good part of the other culture...” Very cool. Dale Carnegie mixed with a dose of the United Nations.

So I have concluded that what I will say when people ask what I think a half really is: a half is a lot more than one.

###

A Tale of Two-Wheeled Woe

This one is just a rant. Because I can.

I’ve been driving motorcycles since I was 20. I love the damn things even though I’m well aware of the dangers involved. For me, the fun-to-drive factor outweighs the risk. As an incurable motorcycle enthusiast, it pains me to reveal my dark secret to you: I am now a shell of a man, a mere fraction of what I once was, for I now drive a scooter.

I reported on the passing of my beloved Kawasaki Eliminator due to a road mishap in a prior post: http://risingdaughter.blogspot.com/2008/08/sayonara-two-wheeled-friend.html. Since then, I’ve been driving my beautiful wife’s not-so-attractive “Suzuki Let’s II CA1PA” 50 cc scooter to work and around the city. Why no brawny replacement for the Kawi? The global economic meltdown has contracted my economy.

Aligned with this drawdown, I had to “reprioritize” my finances, which meant my wheels shrank from this proud stallion...

...to this overgrown skateboard-with-a-motor.
(The add-on rear hard case trunk was my idea. If I am compelled to ride a moped, I want to ramp up the geek factor to the maximum.)

Is “engine displacement” still a measure of a man?
You bet your sweet ass it is.

Younger men, with their decorative girlfriends or wives riding on the back of their bikes, snicker and point at me now during my commute home in the evening. They rev their engines tauntingly. And as a Dad, erstwhile pillar of society and responsible head of a nuclear family unit, I have to eat it. But my inner thug cries out to go well over the speed limit on twisty roads and hang it out a tad. I think I deserve to rev it up a little--don’t we all? Also, thinking long-term, when the Rising Daughter has risen and is off on her own life adventure, I want to take Naomi out again for the occasional touring foray into the pavement jungle.

The solution to this sorry state of mobility affairs?
a) wait for the lottery tickets to hit the big one. “Hello BMW salesman!”
b) B-A-I-L-O-U-T
c) your donations are welcome (please send me your contact points through the comments feed) :)

C’mon, folks, let’s extend a leather-gloved helping hand.

What’s Goin’ On

1. Visit to Iwakuni
My last post was about Lady E’s auspicious start to the school year. We were so proud of her poise and delightful smiles throughout the morning at her new pre-K class. To celebrate Lady E.’s official debut and take a break from our everyday life in Hiroshima, we opted to spend that afternoon in Iwakuni. The nice weather that day was absolutely stunning…Spring, baby, spring!

Iwakuni is about 50 kilometers southwest of Hiroshima. Its most famous tourist attraction is the Kintai bridge, which is a steep-looking bridge with five arches that spans a rocky riverbed. First constructed in the late 1600s, it has since been rebuilt a few times. The grove of cherry trees surrounding the nearby riverbank also makes the park area a major draw when the cherry blossoms bloom in late April.

We’ve been to the Kintai bridge and park a few times this time of year because the cherry blossoms bring with them a festive air, it’s an easy day trip and generally a lot of fun for Elena. We strolled around the Nikko Park and went to the Iwakuni Castle. Check out the view!

The warmer weather has wrought much activity. The Rising Family is busy…I am presently enjoying the “Golden Week” spring vacation from work, which affords more free time to spend with the ladies in my life! Meaning Lady E and my darling wife, of course.

2. Bitter Bob -- 'Run, Chris, Run'
I am slightly bitter about one thing. Having allowed myself to slide into rotten, pear-shaped complacency over the past year, I decided in early February to get back into shape. Since then, I diligently restarted my jogging regimen and entered the Kintai half marathon (21K), held every year at the USMC Air Station at Iwakuni in the third weekend of April. I’ve done three full marathons and three half marathons there since I began living in Hiroshima.

This year, I followed a careful and deliberate training regimen. I was all ready to go, but about three days before the run, I caught an awful chest cold. I attempted the run anyway, but did not finish (DNF). Aaarrrrgggghhh %$#(&**#! Turns out I had a bronchial infection, but no excuses. I am a little disappointed about this still, but looking forward to another race this year to exact my revenge.

3. Thinking positively. Still learning.
The visits to the hospital to heal my chest infection reminded me how positive my experience with the Japanese medical system has been. Many expats bitch and moan about medical care here, mostly due to language barriers and differences in treatment methods, but my visits to Hiroshima’s health facilities have always been first-rate.

To address my chest ailment, I got the same diagnosis and treatment as any other outpatient at a local hospital, but the docs took extra care to explain to me in very simple Japanese what was wrong with me, and what they were doing to restore my health. The prescribed treatment was effective and I am feeling much better. The few times we’ve had to bring the Rising Daughter to a hospital or local clinic have been equally effective. Plus, the ongoing health care we’ve received since she was an infant has been great. We’re lucky to have access to this health care system.

Still learning: On a whim, we went to Miyajima this past weekend. I’ve been to Miyajima many times for personal and work purposes since my arrival in Hiroshima. During this most recent tour we went to the Daishoin Temple (http://www.japan-guide.com/tss/miyajima/m02daishoin.html) which, for whatever reason, I had never visited before nor really had much interest.

So we went to the temple and I really enjoyed the experience—something new and really quite remarkable. Lady E. was an excited little blur, running around the temple structures and the main courtyard, tossing coin offerings, and ringing the bells at the foot of the altars before cutely clapping her hands in front of the figures of Buddha. It was a great family day. We also found a stone carving of Anpanman, Lady E.’s favorite TV, DVD and book character. A very cute pic resulted!

The moral of this post: you may think you know everything about something, but it's quite likely you don't, and you'll miss out if you don't keep an open mind.

# # #

The Learning Begins II: Les Miserables

Lady E enjoyed the recent pre-kindergarten school spring break: we partied at the playground many times. But all good things must come to an end, and our manic toddler reluctantly donned her school uniform again when we escorted her to the pre-K’s school entrance ceremony.

Japan loves ceremony and protocol. In early April, school entrance events for pre-K anklebiters through to college students are held across Japan to celebrate the start of the new school year. This is also roughly the same time that cherry blossom viewing is rampant throughout the nation.

The blooming cherry petals blowing in the wind are supposed to represent a new start to the natural order of things, and so does the school entrance ceremony. That’s the ideal. What follows is the account of our reality.

We snapped a few pics at a local park to mark the occasion.

Then, it was off to the school itself. We entered the brightly decorated classroom that was quickly filling with harried parents (mostly moms, but a few dads, to my surprise). Cute little chairs were laid in neatly organized rows. The kids, oblivious to protocol, were climbing all over the chairs, but were behaving relatively well, while nervous parents furtively made small talk with other parents. I gather that there were some who knew each other, but most of us were new to the school and wanted to put our best family foot forward.

The teachers came out and lined up. A short welcome speech ensued in English and Japanese, and each shiny new student was marched up to the front of the class with mom or dad to receive his or her welcome gift and generally be recognized. This was followed by a short welcome from each homeroom teacher to their class.

Les Miserables
Time went by. Little children kids have short attention spans. Common knowledge, right?
One kid was wailing inconsolably throughout the whole ceremony. Other kids sat there passively, resigned to their fate. Others wandered around -- highly curious about what was going, looking at all the other little persons -- despite their parents’ protests and whispered admonitions. And the row of video cameras captured every moment for posterity.
Lady E. likes to rock. She does not like to stay still. To my shock, though, she behaved during her official entrance ceremony and we didn’t have to administer the kiddie Xanax we’d brought along just in case.

After about an hour, the formalities were over, and we left. Lady E, temporarily liberated from her new educational confines, began to sing joyously, and quite incomprehensibly, to the Disney songs playing on our car’s CD player. Maybe she thought that she was going back home for another spring break?Re: Don & Scott--Just want to see if anyone is reading this far....heh heh.