The Grinch Who is Hostile to Hanami

Watching petals fall from blooming cherry trees
is what in Japan they call Ha-na-mi
In practice this means drink lots, feast, and appear to think deep thoughts
perched under a tree on a blue plastic sheet
…to fill spring’s start with glee.

‘Tis that season once again—

spring’s blossoms that signify a fresh start and hope
But out there are contrarians; do they covet tumbling cherry blossoms…nope!

Yet many in ‘ol Nippon they like hanami a lot

and it takes more than liquid courage to say you do not.

But who really gives a hoot about a bunch of pink blossoms on trees?

That fall to ground, that’s it, what does it all mean?

A metaphor for the fleeting nature of life…not so much
thought the Grinch hostile to hanami
(but said with a gentle, contrite, soft spoken touch.)
“Cherry and plum trees, their blossoms do scatter,
but come on, in the end, what does it all really matter?”


Courtesy of the WSJ

The Grinch who is hostile to hanami

could there be a person who does not like this season!
Please don't ask why he is so hostile to it
I do not know the reason.

Some think the most likely reason of all

may have been that his heart was broken under hanami’s thrall.

Some think that the hanami feasts that occur under the trees

--these parties with friends, co-workers and families--
are not to his liking, no, not to his taste.
And perhaps he thinks this time spent is a waste.

Still others feel that his mind is too shallow

to embrace the depth of ephemeral beauty found in falling petals
Mayhap that’s it! He is simply too callow!

But, whatever the reason, his head or his heart,

that Grinch, he is steadfast, in the disdain he feels for hanami
when the fun and the frolicking force him to depart.

Yet the time is upon us, so please nobody sneer

for hanami time is practically here.
I know the answer: someone hand the Grinch a beer.

March: Sandstorms and Sad Anniversaries

This month has had its share of happenings. For those of us living in the Land of the Endless Tremors, March 11 will forever be an important date. Like November 22 for my parents’ generation and September 11 (for everyone in North America), March 11 carries special meaning. At the office, we marked the second anniversary of The Great East Japan Earthquake and resulting tsunami with a minute of silence for the victims—a tasteful touch. This day, after all, marks a catastrophe that devastated the northeast seaboard of Japan, killed 18,000 people, and generated the world’s foulest nuclear crisis since Chernobyl. I have traveled north several times since “3-11” as it is called here: even the nonchalant way locals describe their experience is humbling, and the effects are still being felt. Thus, the one-minute remembrance had special import for me.

On a less solemn note, the sandstorms that originate in Mongolia and China hit this year in early March, coating our car and windows with a fine silt that was, more than anything else, annoying.


Tokyo Skytree Tower amid the sandy skies

An annual seasonal weather phenomenon, this year the China sands hit in mid-May and brought the highest temperatures in recorded history with them (at one point, almost 26 Celsius)—global warming ahoy! Plus, really crap visibility and a gritty sensation on any exposed skin. Just a few more things for locals to bitch about when they talk about China as they don the ubiquitous Hannibal Lecter masks. (I won’t even touch the island territorial disputes—this is not a political blog, after all.)

In closing, an update on Marina’s ongoing vocabulary development. Her favorite words this month are (translations by the author):
1. “Unchi” (poo-poo, shit).
Example: “Hey Daddy, unchi-unchi-unchi.” Then she laughs at her own “joke.”

2. “Chin-chin” (penis, dink, junk…and hundreds of other synonyms).

Example: “Hi. Daddy has a chin-chin (points to my groin), Marina does not have a chin-chin.” Then she laughs at her own “joke” again.

3. "Oshiri" (ass, bum, derriere).

Example: [After bath time, as she runs out of my reach] “Hey, look at my oshiri, Daddy.” She turns around and wiggles her bum. I squirm and think: just don’t consider it a future vocational option.