Karaoke Boxes: Destroying the Myth of the Quiet, Shy Japanese

Amongst the hundreds of Japanese words which have made it into the Oxford English dictionary many remain unfamiliar to the average Brit - think hikikomori, karōshi, and otaku for example. Karaoke, though, is familar to absolutely everyone and some even know that the word comes from kara (meaning empty - the same kara as in kara-te or empty hand) and an abbreviation for "orchestra" (ōkesutora in Japanese). One interesting thing is how the pronunciation changes in English: mysteriously the Japanese ke and ka sounds often morph into a ki sound in English, so karaoke is typically pronounced kari-oki (just like kara-te is often pronounced karati by English speakers). It is not only the pronunciation that is different though: karaoke is a completely different cultural activity in Japan, one that takes place in a private sound-proof karaoke box with friends (or colleagues) not a public space in front of strangers as in the UK. Karaoke has lost some of its popularity in recent years: from a peak for around 58m customers and almost 15,000 outlets in 1995, 2016 saw that fall to 47m and 9,484 with one reason being the rise in solo (hitori) karaoke.

Last week saw a night out with friends to one of the ubiquitous karaoke boxes which are generally clustered around train stations in Japan. This reflects the fact that they are a cheap (and warm) place to stay if you've missed your last train (most karaoke boxes close around the time of the first train). There are various chains but the biggest is Big Echo and like many other places this offers a variety of differently decorated rooms, food, percussion instruments, wi-fi, DVD recording, and even cosplay. We paid around \1500 (£10/$14) per person which included free non-alcoholic drinks from a self-service drinks bar and unlimited time, something of a bargain. 

When I first came to Japan, you had to leaf through thick books of songs and then enter the number directly into the machine, but now you simply search and enter a song or artist name (or just a keyword) into an ipad like device (pictured) and you're good to go. There's plenty of English songs too - tens of thousands of songs in fact. At the end of a song you get a kcal score which is apparently the amount of energy estimated to have been used (though for us this seemed totally random!). Japanese friends may ask you to sing your "Number 18" (juhachi-ban =十八番) meaning the song you sing best, so make sure you have one ready! The expression "Number 18" apparently has its roots in kabuki.

A unique and unforgettable feature of Japanese-style karaoke are the videos that play as you sing along. A few songs do have the official video playing but most of the time you will get some terribly corny C-movie-type video playing that (very very) loosely corresponds to the song theme. These videos more often that not seem to be set in the UK and feature "actors" who appear to be randomly recruited passers-by. The fact that there must be a whole cottage industry somewhere that creates plot lines and recruits "actors" for these videos is one of the ongoing mysteries of life in Japan. Nevertheless, the videos add to the whole karaoke experience, an experience which sees normally quiet, shy friends and colleagues transform into screaming frenzied rock 'n' roll stars (usually helped by a beer or three). Vive le rock!

Tokyo Skytree: The World's Tallest Tower

Tokyo Skytree (東京スカイツリー), located in Sumida Ward, Tokyo, had a shaky start when it opened in 2012, failing to meet initial visitor targets after shutdowns due to bad weather (wind!) and expensive pricing. However, in recent years it has gone from strength to strength and numbers are expected to top 30 million very soon. This doesn't include visitors to Tokyo Skytree town (Solamachi =ソラマチ) a hugely popular commercial complex at the base of the tower full of restaurants, shops, concert spaces, an aquarium, a planetarium, and (at the moment) an ice-rink! See the floor plan here.

The Skytree, at 634 metres, is currently the tallest free-standing broadcasting tower in the world and the second tallest structure, though is not on the list of tallest buildings because it fails to meet the condition of having "continuously occupiable floors." The height itself is well known by most Japanese because the numbers 6, 3, and 4 can be read "mu", "sa", and "shi" the name of the ancient province that includes modern day Tokyo. Ticket prices depend on how high you want to go: it'll cost you ¥2,060 to go up to the Tenbo Deck (340-350m) and another ¥1,030 to go all the way to the Tenbo Galleria (Tenbō Kairō=展望回廊) at between 445-450m. At the moment there is a special asa-wari (朝割) or morning discount deal for weekdays from 8:00 to 9:30am (but these need to be bought in advance).

The lifts are the fastest large capacity lifts in Japan at 600m/minute which will get you to the Tenbo Deck in 50 seconds! Be warned though that you may have to queue a while - however a fast track ticket is available (at a premium price). But if you want to save some money, there is an alternative: the observatory at Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building in Shinjuku is not quite as high but you can still see Mount Fuji on a sunny day - and best of all it's free!

Valentine's Day Japanese Style: Friendship, Obligation, or Love?

One of my very first posts when the blog started last March introduced White Day, the day when men give gifts to women as a thank-you for the gifts they received today, Valentine's Day. Valentines Day in Japan, in contrast to the UK, is an exclusively one-way affair, with women giving chocolate to men. In that earlier post, I explained that there are three kinds of Valentine gifts: (1) tomo (friend) choco typically exchanged by schoolgirls and often handmade,  (2) giri (obligation) choco usually given to co-workers in an office or perhaps to a teacher as a sign of thanks - or just because everyone else is doing it - and the much rarer (3) honmei (true feeling) choco given with romantic intent.

This year there have been a couple of interesting advertising moves. One is encouraging people to buy chocolates as a treat or reward for themselves (watashi ni gohōbi o =私にご褒美を). The second, perhaps related development, was Belgium chocolate company Godiva's full page newspaper ad calling on Japanese (women) to stop buying giri choco (Nihon wa giri choco o yameyō =日本は義理チョコをやめよう). The text focuses on the stress giri choco causes women who "have to spend mental energy and money" on buying chocolates for all their male colleagues "for the sake of smooth relations at work."

It's going to be difficult to change ingrained social habits, especially considering the important place giri (social obligation or duty) has in Japanese society, though some bosses have reportedly been telling their subordinates to stop the giri choco practice. In contrast, however, tomo choco seems to be going from strength to strength. As explained above, in contrast to the lack of "pure feelings" (to quote Godiva) typical of the commercial giri choco, tomo choco is more a labour of love, a platonic gesture celebrating friendship by giving (usually) hand-made (te-zukuri =手作り) customised chocolates to friends. At the moment, our kitchen is filled with boxes of Oreos, white Ghana bars (a popular brand of creamy chocolate), and packs of cream cheese which apparently will soon miraculously transform into 120 Cookies and Cream Truffle balls (recipe here). These will be carefully placed in individual decorated bags (available from any ¥100 shop at this time of year) and given out to friends at school on the day. In return they will bring back a mountain of the most varied hand-made cookies and chocolates you can imagine, carefully eaten over the next few weeks (and rarely shared with parents!).

Keeping Warm in Winter: Musical Kerosene Trucks and Tragic Conflagrations

Most of the snow from the record snowfall in Tokyo has now gone, though other parts of the country are still struggling. Prefectures along the Sea of Japan have experienced very heavy snow, resulting in ten deaths and many more injuries since February 4th; 1500 cars were stranded in Fukui, some 200 miles west of Tokyo, while the village of Okura in Yamagata had an unbelievable 4.36 meters of snow. But even without snow, temperatures in Tokyo have been freezing, regularly dropping below zero, resulting in electricity demand pushing capacity to the limit. This is a little surprising given that one of the main sources of heat in winter for many Japanese - particularly less well-off Japanese living in houses rather than apartments - is kerosene (paraffin) known as tōyu（灯油).

Kerosene Truck: Note the kanji ki (危) meaning danger

Walking around the neighbourhood in winter one will typically see red plastic jerry cans placed in front of the gate or door (pictured). These are known as pori-tanku (ポリタンク) or tōyu-kan (灯油缶）in Japanese. These cans are waiting for the kerosene truck to come around, and the driver will stop and fill the tank and then ring the bell for payment. A standard 18 litre can costs ¥1,580 (£10/$14) where I live and the capacity of a regular kerosene fan heater is 5 litres. Given that one heater is typically able to heat a 15mᒾ or 10 jō (畳) tatami-mat room - yes, Japanese rooms are measured in terms of the number of tatami mats - this proves to be very economical. The trucks incidentally play a catchy little tune to alert people to their presence. The one in the video below is playing the rather melancholy "Tsuki no Sabaku" (月の砂漠) - "Moon Desert"? - but this varies by neighbourhood and region: the video here shows a truck in Kawasaki playing "Bonfire" (焚火), which, given the discussion below, is perhaps not the best choice.

I remember being taken aback when I first arrived in chilly Yamagata to find that my source of heating in technologically advanced Japan would be kerosene. One problem is the smell - kerosene releases dangerous fumes so the instructions on the side of my heater told me to open the window every hour or so to let the fumes out! This meant that leaving the heater on all night was a definite no-no (at least if I wanted to wake up alive). A second problem is that kerosene is obviously highly flammable and transferring the fuel from the jerry can to the smaller tank (there is a pump for this - see picture) is asking for trouble, especially in a Japanese style wooden house with tatami straw mat flooring. Indeed, every winter there are horror stories of houses burning down; just last week, 11 people were killed in a fire at a low-rent residence for the elderly in Hokkaido. Of the four things Japanese are said to be most fearful of - earthquakes, lightning, fire, and fathers (地震・雷・火事・親父) - in a rapidly ageing society in which dementia is a growing problem, fire could be said to be the most fearsome of all.

Throwing Beans and Driving off Demons: Setsubun

Setsubun (節分), better known as "bean-throwing day" is a popular festival held the day before the beginning of spring (Risshun=立春) in the old lunar calendar named because it marks the division (分) between seasons (節). This year, Setsubun is on February 3rd with Risshun on February 4th. At this time of the year, supermarkets feature displays selling pan-roasted beans (iri-mame =煎り豆), specifically soybeans (daizu = 大豆) - labelled as "lucky beans" or fuku-mame (福豆) - together with ogre or demon masks (oni no men = 鬼の面).

Supermarket flyer promoting Setsubun

The idea is to throw beans (mame-maki=豆撒き) at someone wearing the ogre mask while chanting "Out with Demons! In with Fortune!" (oni wa soto! fuku wa uchi! =鬼は外！福は内!). The beans, which demons supposedly hate, will drive out evil, purify the home, and bring good fortune. Additionally, eating the same number of beans as your age is said to bring good health. In a twist on the regular bean-throwing custom, temples and shrines around Japan often hold Setsubun festivals (節分祭) where the priests - or at famous shrines a celebrity, especially a sumo wrestler - throw beans and other prizes/gifts to the crowd who excitedly try to catch them for luck. See here for a video of the Setsubun festival at Sensoji Temple in Asakusa which attracts crowds of over 100,000 annually. 

Fuku-mame are advertised as rich in protein (tanpakushitsu =たんぱく質) and dietary fibre (shokumotsu sen'i=食物繊維) but in actual fact are not particularly tasty. Fortunately, there is a far more delicious snack popularly sold and eaten on Setsubun - a special giant sushi/meat/vegetable roll known as ehō-maki (恵方巻き) stuffed full of seven ingredients (after the Seven Deities of Good Fortune or shichi fuku jin =七福神). Traditionally, you are supposed to eat these in silence while facing a particular "lucky" or favourable direction (hōgaku =方角) all the while making a wish for the year. Interestingly, this direction, like the date itself, changes ever year; this year it is apparently SSE (in comparison, 2015 was WSW and 2016 SSE!). The silence thing never seems to last long in our household but we do invariably have ehō-maki from the supermarket or convenience store for dinner on Setsubun night. As a rather sad aside, stores tend to over stock ehōmaki and afterwards these are thrown out and end up as pig feed, one example of the giant food waste problem in Japan. Mottainai!

The special giant sushi/meat/vegetable roll known as ehō-maki (恵方巻き) on sale in a 7-11 store

First Snow in Tokyo: Zao Ski Resort and Kotatsu

Garden Lantern (tōrō)

Tokyo typically doesn't see much snow, but Monday saw the capital's first snowfall of the season and it was the heaviest since 2014. Snow started falling in the afternoon and at around 2:30pm a heavy snow warning (ōyuki keihō =大雪警報) was announced, triggering the cancellation of classes at my university (and lots of happy students). Thereafter, it really started coming down and in the end we had around 20cm in the centre and 30cm out in Western Tokyo. In contrast to Tohoku and Hokkaido, which are used to the snow, people in Tokyo always seem taken by surprise by snow and don't know how to handle it. The rush of people leaving work early coupled with train delays saw entry restrictions (nyūjō kisei =入場規制) at Shibuya and Shinagawa Stations. Moreover, there were over 60 injuries from falls reflecting the fact that Tokyoites simply don't know how to walk in the snow; my Tohoku friend recommends walking like a penguin to prevent slips and falls! Since then, temperatures have dropped as low as minus 8℃, the lowest since the 1970s, causing dangerous patches of black ice. See the video below for a clip of our dog Jaz enjoying the snow on our balcony.


The sound of the snow chains making a shan-shan jangling sound on the tyres of buses and trucks always takes me back to my time in Yamagata, Tohoku, which marked the start of my life in Japan. The snow was unlike anything that I seen before in North-west England and I had to learn quickly how to walk properly! One common activity during the winter was yuki-kaki (雪かき) or snow shovelling, also called josetsu (snow removal=除雪), which saw all the neighbours band together to clear the snow in front of their houses and shops. During my time in Yamagata, one of the things I enjoyed most was taking the bus at weekends to Zao ski resort where I would rent skis and spend the whole day enjoying the web of slopes and courses (and in the process teaching myself to ski - very badly). Mount Zao is actually a volcano on the border between Yamagata and Miyagi prefectures with the ski resort and famous hot springs (onsen) on the Yamagata side. One of the biggest tourist attractions are the so-called "snow monsters" (jyuhyō =樹氷), frost covered trees which look amazing especially when illuminated at night. Zao was actually the location for world-cup ski jumping last week and is highly recommended for expert and beginner alike.

As the conclusion to this snowy story let me introduce one of Japan's most well-known and loved children's songs: Yuki (snow) which is popularly called Yuki ya Konko (雪やこんこ) supposedly meaning snow falling though linguistically it doesn't make a lot of sense in modern Japanese. The lyrics and a translation can be seen here. My favourite line is undoubtedly the last, one that perfectly catches a typical indoor Japanese winter scene: neko wa kotatsu de marukunaru (猫はこたつで丸くなる) - "the cat is curled up under the kotatsu." A kotatsu is a low heated table covered with a quilt which, given that most Japanese houses don't have central heating, serves as a cosy refuge during the cold months. Highly recommended!

New Year Decorations going up in Smoke

Mochi sticky rice cakes

January 1st to 3rd may be Hatsumōde, or the first shrine visit, for many Japanese but the second visit is often a week or two later to ritualistically burn the new year decorations known as dondo-yaki (どんど焼き). This is a practice to appease and "release" the gods which they have been housing over the new year period. Fuchu City in Western Tokyo is host to what is said to be the biggest of these bonfires, made with bamboo and straw, on the morning of January 14th. After the fire has burned down, participants roast sticky rice cakes (mochi =餅) - a popular new year food - on the embers, supposedly guaranteeing health for the new year. Dates differ between regions, but decorations are often taken down by January 7th and burned on or around January 15th.

So what new year decorations are usually burned? A previous post mentioned one of the most ubiquitous new year decorations, the kadomatsu (門松), a collection of pine, bamboo, and sometimes plum (ume) branches which are typically placed in a male/female pair either side of a door or gate to welcome the ancestral spirits or kami. Sometimes this is simplified to a pine branch or branch (matsu-kazari =松飾り). Pine and bamboo are both said to symbolise longevity and strength/hardiness.

Another common decoration placed on the dondo-yaki bonfire is the shime-kazari (しめ飾り), a wreathe like adornment typically hung on the door (or even on the grill of a car - see picture) featuring some combination of pine, fern, tangerine (mikan), and berries adorned with rice straw rope (shime-nawa =しめ縄). Note also the white jagged zigzag-shaped strips of paper (shide) which were explained in detail in this earlier post. The calligraphy in the picture reads kinga shin'nen (謹賀新年) a formal written form of "Happy New Year."

A final popular new year decoration but one which is eaten rather than burned after the new year break is the kagami-mochi (鏡餅), with kagami meaning mirror (the copper mirrors used in the Muromachi period were round like a mochi). The kagami-mochi is thus two round lumps of rice cake (mochi) with the bigger one placed on top of the smaller 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). Although traditionally home-made, today most people buy one from the supermarket (pictured) which is actually plastic containing a small mochi inside. The picture left lists a number of suggestions as to where to place this decoration, including the toilet and bathroom! It is usually cut and eaten on January 11th, a practice known as kagami-biraki (鏡開き) or opening. Here's hoping 2018 is a fruitful year for all!

Nengajō New Year Greeting Cards and Otoshidama

New Year's greeting cards - known as nengajō (年賀状) - are something of an institution in Japan and after coming back from the first shrine visit of the year (hatsumōde) on January 1st it's exciting to open one's mailbox and check the pile of cards that have (hopefully) arrived. Even after this date cards continued to arrive in dribs and drabs; the latest date they are supposed to arrive is January 7th. Much like sending Christmas cards in the West, the custom of sending cards to people who have helped you throughout the previous year - or just people you want to keep in touch with - is a key part of the New Year holiday. It's a tricky business though working out who to send cards to - and anticipating who you might receive cards from - and inevitably you'll receive cards from people you didn't send one to: cue a mad rush to find spare cards and get them sent off post-haste! Apparently, 2,599 million cards were issued for 2018 which works out at about 20 cards for each man, woman, and child in Japan!

Like many Japanese, we usually buy blank postcards specially made for ink-jet printing and create our own customised cards: since this year is the year of the dog, our own dog, Jaz (Instagram@jasmin.the.dog), was featured on the 2018 card (pictured). This is fairly common, and most people add pictures of family and pets as a way of updating friends on what happened during the previous year. Our cards contained the standard new year greeting in red at the top: akemashite omedetō gozaimasu (明けましておめでとうございます) followed by the ubiquitous but untranslatable Japanese phrase asking for indulgence in the coming year (kotoshi mo yoroshiku onegaishimasu =今年もよろしくお願いします). For a great explanation on how and what to write on a nengajō see here.

The excitement of nengajō is not yet over though: each card has a special unique number at the bottom (pictured) and January 14th (today!) is chūsenbi (抽選日) or raffle drawing day. The lucky winners will get a New Year's gift or otoshidama (お年玉) a word which typically refers to money given in small envelopes to children by relatives and visitors. You can see the winning prizes and numbers here: did I get anything?

The Festival of Seven Herbs: Seasonal Food in Japan

Japanese tend to strongly connect certain foods with particular seasons - previously I introduced some foods typically eaten in autumn such as sweet potatoes (satsuma-imo) and chestnuts (kuri). In winter, warming root vegetables are very popular such as the large white Oriental radish known as a daikon (大根). This radish is one of the ingredients used in making seven-herb rice porridge/gruel (おかゆ) pictured. The herbs are actually spring plants, the first green of spring that brings colour to the new year table. This is traditionally eaten on The Festival of Seven Herbs or Nanakusa no Sekku (七草の節句) which is celebrated (unsurprisingly) on January 7th. This festival is one of the five traditional seasonal festivals (go-sekku =五節句) that used to be celebrated at the Japanese imperial court mentioned in a previous post.

Supermarkets usually sell the ingredients in a convenient pack (pictured) to save people buying the herbs separately. The packet even has a recipe for making the gruel together with a pictorial description of the seven ingredients listed under their traditional names: hakobera (chickweed), gogyō (cudweed), suzushiro (white radish), seri (Java waterdropwort), suzuna (turnip), nazuna (Shepherd's Purse), and hotokenoza (Nipplewort). See here for a table. There are all sorts of chants and customs associated with preparing and cutting the herbs, but most Japanese today seem to have forgotten these and simply enjoy it as a simple, plain food after the excesses of the new year period as well as a way to wish for health in the coming year. Itadakimasu!

The first Shrine Visit of the Year: Hatsumode

2018 is now upon us, also known as the year of the dog (inu-doshi =戌年). 2018 is also the penultimate year of Heisei in the Japanese calendar - Heisei 30 - since the abdication of the emperor in May 2019 will bring with it a new (as yet unannounced) era. Most Japanese are now back at work but during the holidays - especially the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of January - many made a point of visiting a shrine to make their prayers and wishes for the new year, a practice known as hatsumōde (初詣) made up of the characters for "first" and "make a pilgrimage". Indeed, although most of the shops were shut during this period, trains were crowded with people and two or three hour queues were not uncommon at some of the most popular shrines.

Personally, I like to avoid spending hours queueing with thousands of others at a popular shrine like Meiji Shrine (=Meiji Jingu) in Shibuya (which reportedly sees three million visitors in the first three days of January!) and instead paid a visit to my local neighbourhood shrine (pictured). There's even a bilingual poster explaining how to pray properly at the shrine captured in three easy steps: two bows or ni-hai (二拝), two hand-claps or ni-hakushu (二拍手), and one bow or ippai (一拝). Typically people throw a coin - 5 yen is supposed to bring luck in romance - into the wooden box (saisen-bako =賽銭箱) before these steps. You can also ring the shrine bell to alert the deity to your presence after making your offering. For a more detailed explanation see here.

After praying, if you choose to buy a lucky charm (omamori) or fortune paper (omikuji) from the shrine shop you'll probably be served by a young woman wearing a white top and red hakama trousers with her hair tied back in a decorative clasp. These women are known as miko (巫女) or "shrine maidens" in English and act as assistants to the priest, often part-timers at busy times, though in the past they were powerful shamans. The video below was taken by a friend at the famous Iwashimizu Hachimangū Shrine (石清水八幡宮) in Yawata City, Kyoto Prefecture (京都府八幡市) and shows a traditional shrine maiden's ceremonial dance (miko-mai =巫女舞) or kagura (神楽) on New Year's Day (see here for an official video).

New Year's Cleaning: Decluttering the KonMari way

In Britain we have spring cleaning but in Japan the major cleanup takes place at the end of the year in schools, temples, and homes, and is known as ōsoji (大掃除), literally big cleaning. Ōsoji needs to be finished before December 31st, known as ōmisoka (大晦日) in Japan. In the home, this usually consists of cleaning oven hoods, sweeping balconies, washing windows, and dusting everywhere. Once the cleaning has been completed, the house is considered "pure" enough to put up New Year decorations such as kadomatsu (a bamboo/pine decoration) to welcome ancestral spirits or kami. Only then can holiday festivities can be enjoyed with a clear conscience!

A key part of the clean-up is getting rid of unwanted stuff and in this respect "organising consultant" Marie Kondo has been remarkably influential (indeed she was was one of Time's "100 most influential people" in 2015). Her 2011 book Jinsei ga Tokimeku Katatsuke no Maho (人生がときめく片づけの魔法) was a massive bestseller and has been published in over 30 countries. The 2014 English version was followed by a 2016 sequel and a 2017 manga, the former titled "Spark Joy" drawing on the verb tokimeku in the original Japanese which can be variously translated as to throb, flutter, or palpitate​. The basic idea is to take a category-by-category approach (such as clothes or books) and focus on what you want to keep rather than want you want to throw away; anything that "sparks joy" should be kept and given a proper place that is both visible and accessible.

Given the combination of small houses and a consumerist and gift-giving culture, it is no surprise that the KonMari method (こんまり式) has been something of a revelation in Japan. In the neighbourhood, it's very common to see storage containers or "trunk-rooms" which you can rent out to store the stuff that won't fit in your house (pictured). People who can't afford to do this - or who can't bear to throw anything out - simply hoard and in recent years the increase in the issue of so-called "garbage houses" (gomi-yashiki =ゴミ屋敷) where rubbish has been overflowing onto the street has become something of a social problem. Indeed, there are even specialist companies which clear out such houses in cases of the increasingly common case of solitary death (kodoku-shi =孤独死).

This will be the last post for 2017, so let me leave with you a couple of common greetings used around this time of year. If it's still 2017 I can say yoi otoshi o (よいお年を) which means (I hope you) have a good new year (holiday); if you're reading this in 2018 then I will wish you a very happy new year which is akemashite omedetō gozaimasu (明けましておめでとうございます) - shortened to akeome among friends!

The Old Ladies' Harajuku: Red Pants in Sugamo

Everywhere in Tokyo is ridiculously busy at this time of year, with people on a shopping frenzy as if the shops are about to shut forever. When describing a place full of people, Japanese use the term hito-gomi (人込み), a phrase which I misinterpreted as "human rubbish" when I first heard it! One of the busiest and best known places in Tokyo is Harajuku, a fashion mecca and a magnet for youth; less well-known (but equally busy) is Sugamo (巣鴨), known as the Harajuku for Old Ladies (おばあちゃんの原宿), a district for older people centred around the Jizō-dōri (地蔵通り) shōtengai or shopping street (pictured). Given that the Japanese population is rapidly ageing (kōreika =高齢化) Sugamo offers something of a snapshot of what Japan might look like in the years to come. The local MacDonald's for example is famous for its old people friendly menu with traditional Japanese words rather than the usual English loan words: for example, the menu has oimo for poteto (french fries) and toriniku instead of the normal chikin (chicken). 

A very distinctive feature of Sugamo is the number of shops selling red underwear (!), with the flagship store being Maruji (マルジ) pictured. The colour red in Japan, as in much of Asia, symbolises joy, happiness, and good luck as well as long life. For example, anyone turning 60 in Japan (known as kanreki =還暦) is traditionally presented with a red jacket again symbolising longevity. Consequently, senior citizens flock to Sugamo to stock up on red pants with the hope of a long life! Inside Maruji itself, red pants are divided into the 12 animal zodiac signs of the Chinese zodiac (eto =干支) so you can choose a pair that matches your birth year (pictured below)!

Christmas in Japan: Romance, Chicken, Cakes, and Gifts

Christmas in Japan is, on the surface, not a great deal different to that back in England in terms of the gaudy decorations, beautiful illuminations, and non-stop Christmas music in the shops. Many Japanese will put up a Christmas tree and/or lights, a wreath, and Santa ornaments. The main difference though is that December 25th is just an ordinary working day for most - the big holiday and family gathering time is New Year (Shōgatsu =正月). If anything, Christmas itself is more a time for couples; Christmas Eve (simply called ivu/ibu =イヴ in Japanese) especially has a strong romantic image - apparently created by the young women's magazine an-an - and making a reservation at a restaurant is next to impossible.

In terms of food, Christmas in Japan means two things: chicken (not turkey!) and cakes. The former is chiefly due to a smart advertising campaign by Kentucky in the 1970s whose slogan was "Kentucky for Christmas" (クリスマスにはケンタッキー). Today, you need to book weeks in advance if you don't want to spend hours queueing for fried chicken. Christmas is also the only time you can typically buy a whole roast chicken in the supermarket - though most people plump for the legs or thigh (pictured).

As for cakes, Christmas cake is not the rich brandy-soaked fruit cake with marzipan and icing popular in the UK but a sponge cake usually with chocolate or stawberries. The basement of department stores - where the grocery section is found - is usually unbelievably busy with crowds jostling to secure the best cake before they sell out (which they never do).

In one word Christmas in Japan is quintessentially about consumerism - your wallet can become light very quickly just buying a few Christmas goodies (perhaps Japan is not so different after all!). Gift-giving is big in Japan and year-end gifts known as oseibo (お歳暮) - for those you became indebted to (osewa ni natta hito) during the year - are big business. I spotted this "Merry Christmas" gift corner in a local department store today including \10,000 (£66/$88) melons, \5,000 dried persimmons (hoshigaki), and \4,000 strawberries (pictured). One of the nice things about gift-giving in Japan though is the way gifts are opened very carefully and slowly, taking care to keep the gift-wrapping neat and intact, and thereby showing respect to the gift-giver. Much respect too to all those who have followed the blog since it was born back in March: a big merī kurisumasu (メリークリスマス) - usually abbreviated to merikuri - to you all!

Osamu Dazai and Suicide in Japan

Osamu Dazai (1909-1948) is one of Japan's most revered writers with the semi-autobiographical Ningen Shikkaku (人間失格）- No Longer Human - a modern-day classic that remains one of the all-time best-selling works of fiction in Japan (see here for a short review). The story is about a young man's isolation and alienation from society - his failure to identify with or understand other human beings - and describes a spiral of self-destruction that results in a failed suicide attempt. The author too made a number of suicide attempts, beginning at age twenty and ending just before his 39th birthday when he drowned himself together with his lover in the rain-swollen Tamagawa River. He is buried at Zenrin Temple (禅林寺) in Mitaka, Tokyo; when I visited there was still incense burning in front of the grave (pictured), no doubt one of his many fans paying their respects. Note also the fresh flowers, including some white chrysanthemum (shiragiku =白菊）a flower of condolence in Japan.

Japan has the reputation of having a high suicide rate, thanks to famous figures like Dazai and also Yukio Mishima, and this image is reinforced by films such as "The Sea of Trees" (追憶の森), starring Ken Watanabe, about Japan's infamous "suicide forest" (Aokigahara=青木ヶ原) at the base of Mount Fuji. Certainly, in every day life, it is not uncommon for a train to be delayed due to a "human accident" or jinshin-jiko (人身事故) which is often a euphemism for someone jumping in front of a train (tobikomi). However, in recent years the number of suicides have actually fallen quite significantly, with 19,959 deaths in 2019, a drop of more than 14,000 compared to the 2003 peak and an all-time low (MHLW White Papers here). And against expectations, COVID-19 has actually pushed the most recent suicide numbers even further down compared to the previous year. WHO data for 2016 year ranks Japan at 15th in the world with 18.5 suicides per 100,000 (14.3 or 29th when adjusted for differences in age distribution). Nevertheless, suicide rates in Japan are high compared to other industrialised countries (more than double that of the UK for example) and youth suicides have been on the rise; Japan is the only G7 country in which suicide is the leading cause of death for 15-34 year-olds. In 2019, suicide became the leading cause of death for children aged 10-14 for the first time in the postwar period.

Lifeline Poster at a train station

The seriousness of the situation was brought home when nine dismembered bodies were found at an apartment in Zama City last month, all young people (including three high-school girls) who had expressed suicidal thoughts on social media and had subsequently been lured to the killer's apartment. The incident underlined the inadequacy of support and prevention programmes for suicide in Japan despite a 2016 revision of the Basic Law on Suicide Prevention. Telephone lifelines (inochi no denwa =命の電話) in particular are woefully under-funded and under-staffed; it can take up to 20 attempts to get through to a Japanese lifeline (which is then usually limited to 20 minutes). Moreover, COVID-19 has seen support groups having to cut back support raising fears of a spike in deaths during the period of isolation. For the English speaker (of whatever nationality) in Japan, there is an alternative that is still active during the pandemic: TELL (Tokyo English Lifeline) is Japan's only English-speaking lifeline and also offers a online chat at weekends. For more on suicide in Japan and what can be done, see the remarkable documentary "Saving 10,000" available here. "Sometimes all you need to save somebody’s life," concludes the film-maker, "is to take the time to listen."