Dazaifu Tenmangu Shrine: Praying for Good Luck and Cats Bringing Good Luck

In these tough times, plenty of people turn to prayer to wish for better luck and this is particularly common in Japan, where Japanese practice diverse "religious" practices and rituals (though these are actually more lifestyle customs and cultural habits than "religion" per se - see previous post here). Some of the most ubiquitous shrines in Japan are the 14,000 or so Tenmangu (天満宮) shrines which are dedicated to Sugawara no Michizane, a poet and scholar who was exiled from Kyoto to Kyushu in the 10th century where he died. He was later deified as Tenjin, meaning "sky god" (天神), though Tenjin is actually the patron of scholarship and learning. Residents and visitors to Fukuoka City, the main city in Kyushu, will recognise Tenjin as a bustling area full of shops, restaurants, and bars, not to mention the beautifully named Oyafuko (親不孝) Street. Oyafukō is a term from Confucianism meaning lack of filial piety - kids who don't obey or respect their parents - and it is therefore no surprise that this street is the nightlife hub of Fukuoka (I remember the Happy Cock and the Crazy Cock clubs fondly!).

One of the most famous of these many Tenmangu shrines (alongside Kitano in Kyoto and Egara in Kamakura) is located in Dazaifu, a 40-minute train ride from Fukuoka City. Because Tenjin is considered particularly helpful in securing academic success, the shrine is usually packed with students preparing for or taking exams (jukensei =受験生). After praying (and donating) at the shrine they will often buy a lucky charm (omamori=お守り) which they can hang on their bag or splash out on a wooden ema wooden wish plaque on which they write a message and hang up at the shrine (explained here).

Michizane was very fond of plum (ume=梅) trees, writing a famous poem (waka＝和歌) from exile in which he lamented the absence of a particular tree he had loved in the capital (translated here). In fact, legend has it that the tree - known as the flying plum tree or tobiume - flew from Kyoto to Dazaifu to be with him! Today the descendant of the tobiume can be seen just to the right of the main shrine (pictured below - not in bloom unfortunately) and it is said that it is always the first plum tree to bloom in Japan (in February, coincidentally around the same time many exam results are announced). His fondness for plum blossoms means that Temmangu shrines often have many such trees: Dazaifu reputedly has 6,000 of them, comprising 167 varieties!

The main shrine at Dazaifu Tenmangu with the "Flying Plum" tree on the right

An interesting feature at Dazaifu is the pond in the shape of the Japanese character for "heart" (kokoro=心) which is crossed by two arched bridges and islands which are said to represent the past, present, and future. The animal particularly associated with Tenjin is the bull/ox because, according to legend, during Michizane's funeral procession, the animal pulling the cart bearing his remains refused to go any further than a certain spot, and his remains were buried there marking the location of the shrine. But the bull/ox is not the most visible animal at Dazaifu: there are far more cats! Here I am talking about the maneki-neko (招き猫) or "beckoning cat" sold in every shape and form in the shrine shops (note that the beckoning or inviting gesture in Japan is actually the opposite of that used in Western countries). These cats are supposed to bring good luck - something we all need in these trying times.

The Latest Coronavirus Situation in Japan

Hand-sanitiser everywhere!

People with friends and family in Japan are undoubtedly worried about the situation here regarding the coronavirus; a few have even contacted me to ask about the situation in Japan (scroll down for the comment/question/request function). The March 3rd announcement by WHO that Japan - together with South Korea, Italy, and Iran - were the countries of "greatest concern" undoubtedly made people more anxious, though the situation in Europe and America is now far worse than anything seen in Japan. And even though Prime Minister Abe declared a state of emergency in 7 prefectures until May 6th on April 7th (extended to the whole country on April 17th and further extended to the end of May on May 4th) this is nothing like the lockdown seen in those countries (indeed a Europe style lockdown is not legally possible). This post aims to provide concrete objective information about the situation on the ground in Japan and contains reliable sources in English. (UPDATE: the state of emergency was lifted for 39 out of 47 prefectures on May 14th and the remaining ones on May 25th).

As of May 28th, there have been 16,696 confirmed cases of the virus in Japan, not including those from the Diamond Princess cruise ship; 869 people have died. The worry is that these figures are actually only the tip of the iceberg since people have generally not been tested - until guidelines were loosened very recently - unless they have quite severe symptoms (a fever of over 37.5 for 4 consecutive days accompanied with heavy fatigue, kentaikan=倦怠感, and/or breathing difficulties, kokyū-kon'nan=呼吸困難). The national broadcaster, NHK, provides up to date numbers; the Japan Times also has a similar page with recent numbers and a map (which shows that Hokkaido has been particularly hard hit - and is now experiencing its second wave of infections). For visitors to the capital, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government has an extremely detailed site which even includes data on numbers of subway passengers. Finally, the JNTO site has useful information in English plus visitor hotline numbers (with a link to an emergency chat bot here). On March 2nd, many schools closed early for the spring break following government "advice" - a sudden measure that caused a lot of trouble for many working parents. However, following government moves to re-open schools as normal for the start of the 2020 academic year (which began April 6th) many schools in relatively unaffected areas did briefly reopen, though following the emergency declaration they closed again (though special dispensation for the state of emergency to be lifted has been given in certain largely unaffacted prefectures: for example, students in Tottori, Aomori, and Akita returned to school on May 7th). Universities have also switched to online classes and though some have started in April (such as ICU), most only began online lectures after Golden Week. Interestingly, discussions have started on shifting the start of the school year from April to September, bringing it more in line with many other countries.

Since the state of emergency was declared, there are noticeably fewer people out and about in Tokyo - commuter traffic into Tokyo was reported to be some 60% lower and pedestrian traffic around Shinjuku Station, one of Tokyo’s busiest, was down 80% - and almost all are wearing masks (remember, though, that in Japan many people wear masks anyway for hay-fever and other reasons - see this post on why Japanese people wear masks). There is a general sense of underlying anxiety - in one case in Fukuoka, a passenger pressed the emergency button on the train after someone coughed without wearing a mask! The problem is that it is almost impossible to buy a mask now anywhere in Japan: drug stores see long queues in the morning and immediately sell out despite limiting sales to one pack per customer (see picture). Even toilet paper and tissues have become difficult to buy, harking back to the shortages during the 1973 oil shock; people are slipping into hoarding mode, with panic-buying not seen since the 2011 Tohoku earthquake (though shelves are not being stripped bare like in Europe).

By mid-March there were signs that things were improving: toilet paper began to re-appear and people were going out more (Yoyogi Park here in Tokyo was crowded with cherry-blossom viewers on the weekend of March 21st/22nd); however, confirmed cases, especially in Tokyo and Osaka, have spiked recently and even before the state of emergency cinemas, amusement parks, clubs, bars, karaoke boxes, some department stores, and even Starbucks in the capital have closed as part of "self-restraint" (jishuku=自粛) measures. These closures have increased siginificantly since the state of emergency began and business suspension requests took effect (Macdonald's, for example, is now take-out only). Central Tokyo was like a ghost town when I was there in mid-April with many "temporarily closed" (rinji kyūgyō=臨時休業) signs on businesses.

Empty shelves and apologies in a drugstore where the masks (left) and toliet paper (right) should be

In terms of tourist sites, theme parks, such as Tokyo Disneyland, national museums, and many other sites (such as Tokyo Skytree) have "temporarliy" closed (closed sites listed here), while large-scale gatherings (such as graduation or entrance ceremonies) have been cancelled and sports events affected (the spring sumo tournament, for example, was held behind closed doors while the summer was has been cancelled). On the other hand, other cultural sites - such as some shrines and temples - which offer some comfort in these difficult times do remain open. Most governments now have a "do not travel" advisory in place for Japan (see here for a good overview). Moreover, restriction on entry - travel bans - exists for a large swathe of countries (see here). (UPDATE: since the state of emergency was lifted tourist sites are now slowly beginning to reopen - Tokyo Tower, for example, reopened on May 28th).

For those already in Japan, though, it is reassuring to know that Japan is a hygiene-obsessed Japan at the best of times - hand-sanitiser is everywhere - and hand-washing, gargling, masks, and alcohol sprays, not to mention minimal contact - bowing instead of hand-shaking and absolutely no hugging - are part of everyday life  (another example: anti-bacterial or kōkin=抗菌 goods, from pens and slippers to bags and leg-warmers, are extremely popular). This post explores Japanese culture and the virus in more detail. Nevertheless, now people are being extra careful: in my local supermarket, for example, the cashiers are now wearing blue rubber gloves, mask, and plastic face-guards. And at stations, staff wear masks, handrails are regularly disinfected, and even the touch-screen ticket machines are frequently wiped down. Plastic screens are common in many shops. See here for guidelines on "new social behaviour".

"Wash hands, gargle" newspaper ad

Early on in the crisis, before the travel bans, the decision about whether to visit Japan or not came down to whether the worry and stress would detract from the pleasure of your visit or not. This was the conclusion of Richard Lloyd Parry, Asia editor for The Times and author of some amazing books on Japan, who shares his advice to a friend: "In terms of planning a holiday," he says, "I think it depends on you and your family's attitude to disruption and unpredictability." Now, of course, visiting Japan - or anywhere else for that matter - has become impossible, which is a shame since the spring flowers are beautiful and there are very few crowds. I very much hope that once the travel bans are lifted tourists will return to support those businesses reeling from the double whammy of the virus and loss of the Olympics. If you do come, though, make sure you avoid this ramen shop in Ueno whose owner has kicked up quite a firestorm with a "Japanese only" policy. Now is a time for solidarity and togetherness - not discrimination.

Sukiyaki and Babymetal: What's the Connection?

Click to hear some sample tracks

While manga and anime have been Japan's main popular cultural exports in recent years, Japanese music (J-pop) has had little success abroad, overshadowed by the popularity of Korean (K-pop) acts like BTS and TWICE. One Japanese group has been the exception to this rule though: Babymetal, a Japanese "kawaii metal" idol girl band. While cute (kawaii) female idol dance bands - like AKB48 - are a penny-a-piece in Japan, Babymetal is something rather different, combining the childish, smiling school-girl innocence of typical female J-pop performers with a darker, edgier kind of kawaii (see here for an academic analysis and here for my take on the emergence of "distorted cute"). Babymetal have become the highest charting Japanese band ever both in the UK  and in the US; indeed, they became the first Asian act ever to top Billboard's rock albums chart last year. In 2016, their 2nd album became the first Japanese album to chart on the U.S.Top 40 since Kyu Sakamoto's Sukiyaki and Other Japanese Hits in 1963 - 54 years ago!

However, today's blog is not about Babymetal but about sukiyaki: this back-to-front way of introducing the main topic is a traditional way of developing a narrative in Japanese (originating in classical Chinese) known as kishōtenketsu (起承転結) which involves a sharp twist (ten) part way into the story that shifts to something seemingly unrelated. It is only in the concluson that the two elements are tied together. This style can be seen in poetry, manga, newspapers - both the Yomiuri (Henshū-techō=編集手帳) and the Asahi (Tensei-jingo=天声人語）have daily front-page columns in this style - and even in video game design (most famously in Ninentendo's Super Mario games).

So what is sukiyaki? Simply put, it's a beef hot-pot stew (nabemono=鍋物) which Japanese typically enjoy in the winter around the family dinner table or perhaps at a company end of year party (bōnenkai=忘年会). It's very much a collective eating experience, with members of the group gradually adding the ingredients to the communcal pot and then picking them out when cooked to be eaten with raw egg. Sukiyaki is not really "traditional": like many other things thought to be old it is actually fairly new, an "invented tradition" from the Meiji era (1868-1912) (see here and here for previous posts giving examples of how many so-called "traditions" in Japan are actually relatively modern).

Ingredients tend to vary from region to region but we started off melting beef tallow fat (gyūshi=牛脂) in the pot ❶ and adding thinly sliced beef ❷ (in our case we used marbled Miyazaki wagyū which we ordered using the popular hometown tax donation=furusato nōzei=ふるさと納税) program. After that, we added spring onions (negi) ❸ and then the all-important tare-sauce known as warishita ❹: we used a ready-made bottle from the supermarket but many people make their own by mixing soy-sauce, mirin, and sugar. Next up were the enoki and shiitake mushrooms plus Chinese cabbage (hakusai=白菜) ❺, followed by grilled tofu (yakidōfu=焼き豆腐) ❻, chrysathemum leaves (shungiku=春菊) ❼, and finally starch noodles (kuzukiri=葛切り) ❽ - one alternative for the latter are kon'nyaku noodles (shirataki=白滝). See here for a simple recipe.

If you've got this far, you might be wondering why Kyu Sakamoto's massive hit, Ue o Muite Arukō (Look up and Walk), was called Sukiyaki outside Japan? What has one of the world's best-selling singles of all time, written by a young Japanese student in the sixties trying to hold back tears of frustration after a protest against the Japan-US Security Treaty (AMPO), got to do with Japanese beef hot-pot? The answer is absolutely nothing: it was used only because it was short, catchy, and recognisably Japanese. In this respect, it is refreshing that Babymetal, the Japanese band to finally overtake Sukiyaki in the charts, at least challenge and shake up some of the old tropes and stereotypes about Japan and the Japanese.

The Japanese Bubble Tea Boom: Explaining the Tapioca Tea Craze

Food & Drink may be the most popular tab in this blog - 46 posts to date - but the beverage I'm going to introduce today must be the only one with it's own verb: tapiru. While most older Japanese will have no idea what this means, it was voted by Japan's trend setters - junior high-school (joshi chūgakusei=JC) and high-school girls (joshi kōsei=JK) - as the word of the year in 2018 and was one of the buzzwords of 2019 last year. "Tapi" refers to tapioca while the "ru" is the typical verb ending in Japan; youngsters wanting to grab a tapioca drink might say tapiritai while the activity itself - usually involving taking photogenic pictures good enough to put up on Instagram, a practice known as insta-bae (インスタ映え) - is called tapi-katsu (タピ活) or tapioca-life.

The existence of these words is a reflection of just how massive a social phenomenon the bubble tea industry has become in Japan. While it has only truly exploded in the last few years, the popularity of tapioca pearls has been growing since the early nineties when tapioca coconut milk (タピオカココナッツミルク) dessert became a big hit. This was the first tapioca wave: the second wave (2008) saw the arrival of tapioca tea from Taiwan while the third and most recent wave (2018) is characterised by diversification of blends and flavours led by Taiwanese store Chun Shui Tang (春水堂) and the establishment of Daikanyama (代官山) in Shibuya as a bubble-tea mecca. The boom shows no sign of abating: the July 2019 Taiwan Food Festival held in Yoyogi Park last July, boasting a Tapioca Street, attracted an incredible 150,000 people over two days and tapioca drinks can now be bought not only in speciality shops but also convenience stores and family restaurants. 

Wanting to find out what the fuss was all about, I press-ganged my JK daughter and went to Gong Cha, one of the biggest and most famous Taiwanese tea cafes with 1300 branches worldwide. Ordering itself is quite an ordeal in itself (at least for this old codger): you have to choose (1) size and type of tea (jasmine green, oolong, and black are the staples) either hot or iced, (2) sweetness (amount of syrup), (3) amount of ice (if you chose iced), and (4) up to three toppings (which as well as the obligatory tapioca pearls, also include milk foam, aloe, nata de coco=coconut gel, basil seeds, and grass jelly).

I ordered medium hot jasmine-green tea with just a little syrup and pearls and milk foam for topping (I think) and joined the pick up queue, much like Starbucks. Ordering hot is not very cool apparently because the cup is not transparent thereby losing the chance for a good instammagrable snap showing the black tapioca balls floating in the bottom of the tea. The jasmine/green-tea blend was quite refreshing and the chewiness of the pearls rather unique at first though after sucking up what seemed like a never-ending stream of the things I was feeling quite full and wishing I had ordered a small size. Part of the reason for this may be that tapioca has a negative image for generations of British school children: tapioca pudding ("frog spawn") was a school lunch staple that has been named Britain's most hated school pudding. The Japanese, on the other hand, seem quite enamoured by the chewiness (described as mochimochi-kan in Japanese) which is perhaps not surprising given that the texture is very similar to that other popular Japanese jaw-breaker, mochi or rice-cake, which I covered only very recently in this blog.

But be warned, there's a darker side to the bubble tea boom. A Chinese teenager addicted to the drink was apparently rushed in agony to hospital where they found more than 100 bubble tea pearls stuck to her digestive tract! See here for a Japanese article and here for a short video with some scary x-ray pics. The moral here: chew your tapioca balls slowly if you want to avoid constipation and hospitalisation!

Coming of Age Day: Furisode Kimonos and the Legal Age for Everything

Selfie time at the "Coming of Age" ceremony

The second Monday in January - the 13th this year - is a public holiday in Japan known as Seijin no Hi (成人の日) or "Coming of Age Day." Seijin means "adult" or grown-up and in Japan this has traditionally refered to someone 20-years or older. On this day, cities, towns, and villages hold ceremonies (seijin-shiki=成人式）for those who turned 20 in that academic year (in this case April 2019 to March 2020). This year, only 1.22 million youngsters officially became adults, reflecting the shrinking number of children, a serious social problem known as shōshika (少子化): the number of babies hit a post-war low of 918,397 in 2018 something which will drive a dramatic population fall in the coming years.

There have been a number of problems relating to "Coming of Age Day" ceremonies in recent years. Primarily, there has been a drop in interest with youngsters seeing the ceremonies (and especially speeches) as boring and out of touch resulting in rising cases of disruptive behaviour, including drinking,  unconventional dress, and even heckling (the ceremony I attended this year was interrupted by two yankī or delinquent hot-rodders dressed in flashy kimonos revving their bikes!). As a result, many localities have been trying to make ceremonies more appealing to the new adults with incentives such as free entry to local attractions, photos, prizes and giveaways, and SNS stamps.

Another reason participation in events may be falling could be the exorbitant cost of buying or even just renting a kimono, worn by the majority of women (a few guys wear hakama or male kimono but most wear suits). To be more precise, women wear a long-sleeved kimono called a furisode (振袖) - furi means to swing or shake while sode is sleeve. The furisode is only worn by unmarried women; married women usually wear a less colourful tomesode or hōmongi kimono with narrower sleeves (meaning you can usually tell a woman's marital status by the sleeves on her kimono - not very gender equal!). Designs tend to be bright, flashy, and attention-grabbing as the pictures show.

Trailing bangs or shokkaku (feeler/antenna)

A basic furisode rental together with all the accessories begins at around ¥100,000 (£700/$915) but can go far higher depending on the quality. Surprisingly, actually buying the kimono is not much more: for this reason we were torn whether to rent or buy but chose rental since there are few other chances to wear furisode plus proper maintenance is important. It is necessary to reserve your furisode early - sometimes up to two years in advance; the same is true for making an appointment at a beauty salon who will help you put on the kimono properly (pretty much impossible if you don't know what you're doing) and do your make-up and hair. Since most ceremonies are held in the morning, this usually means getting up incredibly early; by midday most of the girls are almost keeling over from exhaustion and lack of food and liquid (the tight obi belt - pictured below - merely adding to their misery).

One big talking point is what will happen when the legal age is officially lowered from 20 to 18 in April 2022. The most popular option seems to be to continue to hold the ceremonies for 20-year-olds though some places are proposing lowering the age. Interestingly, one merit of lowering the age is that drunken disturbances would cease to be a problem, since the drinking (and smoking) age will remain at 20 "for health reasons." The change will create even wider inconsistencies over the legal age for different activities, something highlighted in the table below which compares Japan and the UK.

Welcoming the New Year with Sticky Rice Cakes

Dango "happy" mochi balls

Akemashite omedetō gozaimasu (明けましておめでとうございます) - Happy New year - to one and all! In the last few days there have been a lot of programmes looking back on 2019: according to a poll of Yomiuri readers, the top domestic news stories last year were (1) the new emperor and start of the Reiwa era (covered here) (2) the Japanese rugby team reaching the last eight of the world cup (here) (3) mass killing at Kyoto Animation studios in July (4) October 1st consumption tax raise to 10% and (5) typhoons hitting eastern Japan in September through October. Another traditional way to look back over the year is the annual 4.5 hour New Year's Eve Kōhaku Uta Gassen (紅白歌合戦) or "Red and White Song Contest" in which the top artists of the year split into teams of red (women) and white (men) and vie for the votes of audience and judges. American rock band KISS featured in a special one-off performance with legendary X-Japan drummer Yoshiki who was heavily influenced by the group, one of the few foreign bands to appear (together with Korean band TWICE).

New Year wouldn't be complete in Japan without mochi (餅) or sticky rice cakes which take many forms. While the glutinous rice is eaten year-round - small round mochi dumplings (dango=団子) on a stick (pictured above) are a popular snack - it is an especially common New Year food and decoration. The picture right shows a typical shop-bought mochi decoration made of plastic with a small mochi inside, known as kagami-mochi (鏡餅)
 

Disney themed kagami-mochi for sale

The name kagami-mochi comes from its shape: the copper mirrors or kagami used in the Muromachi period were round like a mochi. The kagami-mochi is thus two round lumps of rice cake (mochi) with the smaller one placed on top of the bigger one (representing the past year and the year to come). It is topped with a tangerine (this time featuring a "lucky" leaf); the tangerine is typically referred to as a daidai which is actually the colour orange in native Japanese (with the repetition of the syllables supposedly pointing to the continuation of generations). The decoration is usually opened, cut, and eaten on January 11th, a practice known as kagami-biraki (鏡開き) or opening. People don't wait until the 11th to eat mochi though - it is a staple in various New Year dishes (known collectively as osechi-ryōri=おせち料理), especially ozōni, a soup containing vegetables and mochi commonly eaten on New Year's Day (pictured below). As the picture shows, mochi comes in square (otoko=man) and round (onna=woman) shapes and the ingredients and soup base itself vary dramatically by region.

Today some people still make mochi themselves in a process which requires the glutinous rice to be strenuously kneaded. Traditionally, this is done in a wooden or stone mortar (usu) with a heavy wooden mallet in a process known as mochitsuki which is often carried out as a community or neighbourhood event. Pounding the mochi two hundred or so times gives it a smooth, shiny and whiter appearance, though today this task it increasingly done in a machine like a bread-maker. However it is prepared, the mochi is quite delicious when cooked: the pictures below show rectangular slices of mochi being ❶ fried on a hot plate ❷ until both sides are brown, ❸ soaked in soy sauce, and ❹ wrapped in seaweed ready to be eaten. This way of eating wrapped in seaweed is called isobe-mochi (or isobe-yaki), with isobe meaning seashore or beach. Be careful though - every year in Japan a number of elderly people die due to asphyxiation after getting mochi stuck in their throat...

Celebrating Christmas in Japan: Christians, Christmas Trees, and Xmas Illuminations

Tsuda Christmas tree under the Cold Moon

In the last two posts (here and here) I introduced Umeko Tsuda, a campaigner for female education in Japan who founded the women's university where I work today. Umeko was baptised as a Christian at age 7, a year after she arrived in America, and her Christian faith remains a key underlying principle at the university with compulsory classes such as "Introduction to Christianity" (キリスト教概論), a Christmas service (reihai=礼拝) every year in the chapel, and a giant Christmas tree (pictured). In fact, despite the small number of Christians in Japan - some 1.9 million or 1.5% of the population - there are a surprisingly large number of Christian schools and universities, the latter including Sophia, Rikkyo, and ICU (International Christian University), as well as Aoyama Gakuin and Doshisha (which Umeko's father, a strong proponent of the Christianisation of Japan, played a prominent role in establishing).

None of these universities insist on students being Christian, though some prefer full-time teachers to be Christian. ICU, for example, explains that it is "not a proselytising institution" and does not see nurturing Christians as its main goal though its mission is "the establishment of an academic tradition of freedom and reverence based on Christian ideals." Nevertheless, students from Christian High-Schools entering under the recommendation system (キリスト教校推薦) need to be either baptised or "seeking the way" (kyūdōsha＝求道者). The relatively large number of prestigious Christian institutions of higher education has produced a significant number of Christian educators and politicians in Japan - including eight Christian prime-ministers.

Despite the low number of Christians in the general population, Japanese have firmly embraced Christmas as a secular cultural event. Almost 60% of Japanese eat something special to celebrate Christmas - chicken and sponge cake are the big-sellers as described in an earlier post - while 55% of Japanese put up a Christmas tree, Christmas wreath, or other seasonal decorations. 3.9% even illuminate their house though for most Japanese illuminations are something they go out to see at Christmas. Indeed, illuminations featuring millions of colourful LED lights are one of the standout attractions in Tokyo during the winter: Timeout lists more than 30 here with the most famous one probably being Tokyo Midtown Roppongi which boasts 100,000 lights plus bubbles! One of my favourites though is the Blue Cave Shibuya (Shibuya Ao no Dokutsu =渋谷青の洞窟) which sees an 800m stretch of Koen-Dori lined with an astonishing 600,000 lights right up to Yoyogi Park. Interestingly, Ao no Dokutsu is sponsored by the maker of a popular pasta sauce of the same name, the brand coming from the famous Blue Grotto in Southern Italy. An estimated 2.8 million visited the event last year making it the most popular spot; when I went to check it out this year it was absolutely jam-packed - especially with couples! Which only leaves me to wish all loyal readers a big merī kurisumasu (メリークリスマス) - or merikuri - to one and all! See you next year.

Umeko Tsuda and Gender Equality in Japan (Part 2: Today)

Part 1 of this post focused on Umeko's role as a pioneer in promoting education for women in Japan. Her legacy was recognised in April this year when it was announced that she had been chosen for the new ¥5,000 bank note to be released in 2024. The Ministry of Finance explanation noted she was one of the first Japanese to be sent to study in the U.S. and in establishing Tsuda College contributed greatly to contemporary women's higher education. She was not the first woman to appear on a bank note though - the current ¥5,000 bill features Ichiyo Higuchi, the Meiji poet and short-story writer who died age 24. Before that two other women have appeared: Empress Jingu (who is still the subject of historical debate) and Tale of Genji  author Murasaki Shikibu. However, Umeko is undoubtedly the first to have promoted female empowerment, at least on an individual level: on the other hand, she was anything but a feminist and opposed giving women the right to vote (women in Japan gained suffrage in 1945).

New ¥5,000 note to be released in 2024 (© Japanese Ministry of Finance)

What of Japan today? Earlier, in part 1, I noted that Japan was ranked at 110 in the 2018 WEF Global Gender Gap Report. This was mainly due to its low ranking in two criteria: (1) political empowerment (ranking 125) and (2) economic participation and opportunity (ranking 117). The former is based on the number of female MPs and ministers; the latter is based on participation in the labour force, remuneration (the pay gap), and advancement (female senior officials, managers, and professionals). While Abe's womenomics policies have boosted the number of working women - they topped 30 million for the first time in June - a large proportion of these are irregular part-time or contract workers, leading to a punishing pay gap (women earn 30% less than men) and a tiny number of female legislators, senior officials, and managers. Of course, there are "lies, damned lies, and statistics" - in the UNDP Gender Inequality Index Japan comes a respectable 22 - but this reflects a strong weighting on education and health, two areas where Japan performs strongly.

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In everyday Japan, sexism is endemic. Last year, it was revealed that one of Japan's most prestigious medical schools, Tokyo Medical University, had deliberately marked down female test takers to ensure more men became doctors (apparently because women were thought to be more likely to quit to have children). Moreover, the #MeToo movement has been practically invisible in Japan; one of the few women to speak out, journalist Shiori Ito, has been widely vilified on social media and mostly ignored in the mainstream press for talking about her sexual assault (see here for good accounts in Japanese and English). After her complaint was dropped by police who cited insufficient evidence she sued her accuser in a civil suit and won ¥3.3 in damages in December 2019 in a rare case of a victim publicly coming out and pushing for justice (Japanese and English articles).

At the workplace level too, Japan still remains far behind. This year a group campaigning against women being forced to wear high heels in the workplace has gained a lot of attention. Drawing on the #MeToo movement, the group is called #KuToo, a play on the Japanese words for shoes (kutsu=靴) and pain (kutsū=苦痛). Despite the leader of the movement, Yumi Ishikawa, appearing in the BBC's list of the 100 most influential women of 2019, the Japanese media has given the movement short shrift with the Minister of Labour saying such dress was "socially accepted" and "occupationally necessary." A recent survey found that 11.1% of companies in Japan have rules on the height of heeled shoes worn by female employees in the workplace!

Now the trending hashtag is #メガネ禁止 (glasses forbidden) which highlights the fact that many women are told not to wear glasses at work. The whole regulation of female clothing and looks at work comes as no surprise personally: when working as an intern in a local bank in the 1990s I remember asking why all the female staff had to wear the fixed uniform (inevitably featuring a skirt) while the men were free to wear whatever they wanted. I still remember the incredulity that greeted my question: the eventual answer was that it was "convenient" for the female workers who "liked it" (though I'm pretty sure no-one ever asked them!). I wonder what Umeko would make of all this lack of choice in a country which, in terms of gender inequality at least, doesn't seem to have changed so much from the one she left in 1871. For more, see the Voice up Japan homepage, an organisation active in promoting gender equality in Japanese society.

Umeko Tsuda and Gender (In)equality in Japan (Part 1: History)

First, many apologies to my regular readers for the long gap since the last post - now is a horribly busy time for most university teachers in Japan. Actually, Japanese has a wonderfully evocative phrase that captures the unrelenting nature of the autumn term: jitensha sōgyō (自転車操業）literally "bicycle work", a phrase which suggests you have to keep pedalling furiously just to keep on top of things - with the implication that if you stop, even for a minute, you crash to the ground! In an attempt to keep pedalling, today's blog post stays close to home, focusing on the founder of the university where I work - Umeko Tsuda. I'm going to split the post into two parts: part 1 (this post) introducing Umeko and her historical role as a pioneer of female education in Japan and part 2 focusing on gender (in)equality in Japan today.

Umeko age 9

Friends and family in the UK often act with surprise when they find out I work at an all-female university (joshi-dai=女子大). In the UK, female-only institutions are rare: when I was a student at Durham University there were two women-only colleges but these have since turned co-ed, as have most other places in Britain - it seems that today only three colleges at Cambridge University remain single-sex in the UK. The U.S. has more, with over thirty active women's colleges - and apparently three men-only colleges - but the trend is firmly moving away from gender segregation. In Japan, in contrast, women-only higher-education institutions remain ubiquitous: this page lists seventy-eight four-year universities (including two national universities funded by the government) and over one hundred two-year colleges known as tanki-daigaku (短期大学).

In a country that was ranked by the WEF in 2018 at 110 on its gender gap index the first instinct is to conclude that such institutions are a reflection of - and reinforce - gender inequality in Japan. Certainly, there are over-protective parents who look to keep their "young-lady" (ojōsama) "locked-in-a-box" daughters (hako-iri-musume) away from the real world by sending them to female-only higher education institutions. On the other hand, there are universities like Tsuda whose motto is empowerment and which promote the advancement of women in society. To mark 90 years since the death of its founder, the university is currently holding a special memorial exhibition at the University Archives (pamphlet right) which includes many of her personal belongings, including the red kimono she wore when leaving Yokohama Port for the U.S.  (seen in the image below - Umeko is second on the left, the youngest of five).

The story of Umeko Tsuda who founded the university (originally the "women's institute of English studies") in 1900 is rather fascinating. In December 1871, 6-year-old Umeko left for the United States (volunteered by her father!), the youngest member of the diplomatic push known as the Iwakura Mission (岩倉使節団) whose goal was to modernise Japan and renegotiate the "unequal treaties" with the West. The departure of the young Umeko is captured in the beautiful painting by Tadashi Moriya (守屋多々志) on permanent display outside two of the lecture theatres. She eventually returned in 1882 after becoming a Christian and having forgotten the Japanese language. Thereafter, she threw herself into the promotion of women's education and the raising of women's status in Japan; after further trips to the U.S. and England which included much fund raising she returned to her native country to establish the first private school of higher education for women in Japan. Today her voice is still heard - in the form of an audio recording - at the graduation ceremony and students can also visit her grave on campus, which is reached by passing along a small plum orchard: plum is ume in Japanese which was also her original name before she changed it to Umeko. Be careful though: the superstition goes that those who visit Umeko's grave - she never married - will never be able to marry themselves!

Portuguese and Samba in "Shockingly" Multicultural Shizuoka

Welcome to Shizuoka - Bem vindo a Shizuoka

My last post introduced the rugby fever currently sweeping Japan and despite some games being cancelled due to the typhoon - as I sit writing the heaviest wind and rains in 60 years are shaking the windows - the passion remains unabated. This is in no small part down to the "stunner" or "shock" in Shizuoka, when Japan incredibly managed to beat the world number two, Ireland. With a nod to that game, today's post will introduce Shizuoka, famous for soccer, green tea, and Mount Fuji. I will especially focus on Hamamatsu, the largest city in the prefecture located on the coast and famous for the Nakatajima Sand Dunes, a breeding ground for loggerhead turtles.

Servitu Brazilian import shop

As a researcher specialising in Japan's non-Japanese residents, Hamamatsu is especially interesting due to its large Brazilian population - the largest in Japan - especially Brazilians of Japanese descent or Nikkeijin (日系人). Indeed, about a third of foreign residents in the prefecture are Brazilian, with some 25,000 in Hamamatsu. Their presence is largely due to the motor companies like Honda, Suzuki, and Yamaha, which were founded and/or have headquarters in the city. In other words, there is plenty of work in the small to mid-size car-part factories which supply these major auto companies.

The interesting thing about the Nikkeijin is that they were allowed to come to Japan and work freely on special semi-permanent teijū (settlement) visas following a revision to the Immigration Law in 1989. This was unusual because at the time (indeed until April of this year) blue-collar workers (tanjun rōdōsha =単純労働者) were not, in principle, allowed to work in Japan. However, a special exemption was made for the descendants of Japanese (and their families) who had emigrated to South America in the pre-war period. The thinking was that because they had Japanese "blood" they would integrate smoothly and pick up the language quickly. Thus, the Nikkeijin became one of two side-door/back-door guest worker programmes (the other the jisshūsei or trainee/interns) who were used to address Japan's increasingly critical manual labour shortages (while maintaining the country's "no-immigration" principle). Following the Lehman shock in 2008, many Nikkeijin were laid off and the government instigated a return programme to help/encourage them to go back to Brazil. Today, the Nikkeijin "experiment" is typically viewed as a failure in government circles due to the lack of integration into Japanese society.

Festa Samba - thanks again to L for the amazing pics!

Despite the negative government perception, Shizuoka (and especially Hamamatsu) boasts a rich multiculturalism rarely found in other parts of Japan. As seen above, signage in Portuguese is common and often even more prominent than English. Moreover,
Brazilian supermarkets, import shops, and restaurants are plentiful. Finally, there are incredible cultural events such as the recent Hamamatsu Cup "Festa Samba" held last week. The homepage lists seven Samba teams from both inside and outside the prefecture, often a mixture of Brazilians and Japanese whose goal is to build a bridge between the two countries. In a country where multiculturalism is often described as "cosmetic" it is extremely refreshing to see such a vibrant, open, and prejudice-free cultural exchange. Seja bem-vindo a Shizuoka!