The Joys of Japan: Engrish

Just what is Engrish anyway?

Engrish is JOB SECURITY! Well, it is for me anyway.

Also known as Japlish or Japanglish, Engrish is the Japanification of the English language. Its use in Japanese advertisement and graphic design provide a constant source of comic relief for those of us in Japan that can or care to read it ( let alone try to understand what it's all about) .

In the words of Matsumo, Japanese High School English Teacher Extrordinaire, 'the English language is used for fashion, not for communication, here in Japan!'

Why Engrish? Well, phonetically, the Japanese language has no hard 'r' sound. Instead they use a very soft r-l combo, which results in their inability to discern the difference between the two sounds (Unless, of course, they are repeatedly exposed to it, and taught to recognize the difference. That's where I come in!) One famous example of this confusion is rice and lice. The most famous, of course, is Engrish.

Let's Enjoying Engrish!

Tanabata: 七夕

Ryu and big bro Kaito beneath the branches of their Tanabata tree.

Tanabata, Japan's version of the Chinese festival Pinyin, or “The Night of Sevens" (because it falls on the 7^th day of the 7^th month), celebrates the love between the stellar shepherd boy, Hikoboshi (Vega), and the Weaver Princess, Orihime (Altair). Although the shepherd boy was of lowly birth, the princess’ father, the Emperor of Heaven, worried that Orihime worked so hard weaving cloth for the gods that she had time to do little else, allowed them to be married. They were so in love, however, that they neglected their work and spent all of their time together.

Ryu, holding his hand-made tanabata ornament.

Without the princess to weave their heavenly cloth, the gods were forced to wear the same thing over and over until they wore out. Without the herder to care for them, the flocks became sick. The emperor became so angry that he forced them to move to opposite banks of the River of Heaven, the Milky Way. They watched each other from afar as they tried to focus on their work, but their depression overcame them and they could do nothing. The king took pity on them, and promised to let them meet once a year if they worked as hard as they could.

Ryu, Moe and I beneath the tree. Moe has been taking Nihon Buyou, or traditional Japanese dancing lessons, since she was 3. All the girls ( 6 Geisha) in the house are trained in dance.

At the chance of being together again, they began to work as hard as before. Every year on the 7^th night of the 7^th month, a magical bridge of magpies forms over the heavenly river, and the young lovers are able to meet. It is said that if it rains, the heavenly river overflows, and they must wait for their chance to meet again the following year.

Unfortunately for them, Tanbata falls right in middle of Tsuyu.

Peek-a-boo! The geisha and the kids spent all week making these ornaments!

On Tanabata Eve I went to the Kamiya house (which just happens to be an Okiya, or Geisha house, albeit in good old inaka Ena) for our weekly English playtime. Infront of the house, proped up on the porch, was fresh, green bamboo tree, decorated in a rainbow of intricately folded origami and long, colorful strips of paper. Traditionally people would write their wishes for the star crossed lovers to be reunited, but nowadays people write their own wishes, in hopes that they will be granted. If the rain holds off and the lovers can meet, they believe their wish will come true, but if it rains, they, too, must wait till next year.

Growing up in a Geisha house makes you tough!

Are you wondering if it rained? It's TSUYU! Of course it rained! No wish for you!

Plum Rain 梅雨

Tsuyu, Japan's rainy season. The hydrangeas and irises that cover the countryside in a blossoming blue bonnet would not be the seasonal splendors they are without it. Written with the Chinese characters for plum (or Japanese Apricot), and rain, Tsuyu evokes the image of plump purple plums, sprinked in summer rain, and the ancient Chinese proverb that foretells its coming: "When the rain falls on the ripe plum, rain will follow for forty days after." (Hmmm...rain and 40 days...where have I heard that before?)

Tsuyu may seem mild in comparison to the Biblical allusion, but it sure does drop alot of juice! Infact, Japan is the 4th wettest country on earth (Indonesia is #1, New Zealand #2, the Phillipines #3), thanks to the plum-wetting-raininess that usually begins in early June and lasts until the middle of July.

But the Japanese owe a lot more to Tsuyu that their pretty purple flowers and tasty plums. Tsuyu is the catalyst behind the cultivation of rice, the sacred foundation of Japanese culture and collective consciousness. (Not to mention their incredible sense of Tsuyu fashion, complete with Prada umbrellas and Gucci golashes).

The cultural saturation of Tsuyu is also reflected in the Japanese language, drenched in poetic and colorful expressions for rain: Oame (great rain or downpour), aoba ame (green-leaf rain), to the jewel-like drops of rain that crown the lush green leaves, and kaiu, a rainfall of a strange, darkened hue, accompanied by whirlwinds that drop strange objects from the sky, such as fish. Tsuyu itself is also known as baiyu or samidare, after the 3rd month of the old Japanese calandar, and is broken down into Tsuyunoiri (Nyubai) and Tsuyuake (Shutsubai), the beginning and the end of Tsuyu.

But the tsuyu season isin`t just wet, it`s hot. It's a deadly cycle of rain, which cools things down a bit, followed by intense heat (about 90 degrees) that causes the freshly fallen rain to fill the air with a humid mist that makes people sweat just sitting around. The first day after a good rain is always bright and sunny, the slate grey skies turned a beautiful baby blue, full of puffy, picturesque clouds piling up along the verdant pine ridge of the mountains. The next day is blurred with a steamy mist that fades the colors of the mountains to a distant shade of forest green as the blue of the sky is slowly covered in thin white clouds, like spilled milk. The　next day brings a welcome rain, a cool breeze and a shroud that veils the mountains completely, as clouds, thrown down to earth like fallen angels, make it hard to know where heaven ends and earth begins.

Kyoto Maiko: Fukunami

Fukunami (ふく奈美さん), high-ranking Maiko of Miyagawa-cho, dancing in the grand finale of Kyo Odori.

Welcome to the Jungle

This kid is straight buggin' yo!

Ah, summer. Warm weather. Watermelon. Bugs the size of small animals!

One of the great things about my elementary schools is that they raise monster-size beetles as pets and play things for the students. You can't imagine the joy this brings me when, upon arriving at school, my overly-excited students try to introduce me to their beloved beetles. Instinct tells me to scream and run in the opposite direction, which the kids interpret as their cue to chase me around with the above mentioned beetles until I am rescued by a sympathetic teacher (rarely) or a game of dodgeball! Fun fun fun! The fun never ends! (Note: This picture was taken at full zoom, which with my little camera didnt keep me far away enough.)

I can run, but I can't hide.

As the days grow warmer, the many insects that inhabit this island exponentially increase in size, strength and number! Last week after returing from a hard day of beetle-fleeing at the biggest elementary school in Ena, I heard Colin shout, dash up the stairs and knock on my door in the span of about 3 seconds! Some kind of mischief was obviously afoot. I opened the door to a shaken shadow of a man who informed me that a mukade was attempting to invade his apartment, humbly requesting my assistance.

For those of you who are not familiar with Japan, you'll discover the opposite of a pleasant surprise when you visit during the warmer seasons. Japan is not only home of the fearless samurai and mysterious geisha, but to a massive, poisonous centipede called the mukade, known to grown up to 17 cm in length and kill small children and elderly people with a single bite! For someone who has a many-legged-bug-phobia ( that would be me), mukade are the epitome of evil. Not only are they the size of small puppies, but they move with a disturbing amount of speed.

By the time I descended to the battlefield, the creature had taken cover under a large piece of cardboard. When Colin flicked it away, what apeared to be a small black snake with spiny red legs and pinchers scurried out, sidewinding its way to Colin's door. Frozen with fear I watched as it tried to squeezed itself underneath the crack of the door. For a moment it was stuck before it disappeared. We stood in horror.

Me: Holy crap! Its in your apartment! You gotta open the door!

C: What? are you crazy? I aint goin' in there!

Me: You gotta! You gotta get it before it disappears and attacks you when your sleeping!

This is just an example of what we were dealing with, although ours was much longer! Mukades enjoy hiding in and under people's futons, wreaking havoc on unsuspecting gaijin and inflicting severe pain.

When Colin finally mustered enough courage to open the door, the mukade clung to a crevice carved out of the door jam. We knocked it out with a long piece of cardboard (where is all this cardboard coming from?) and, having cleared the path, Colin made a weapon run into his apartment. He emerged weilding a small knife he had gotten as a gift from Nepal, and like a true insecta-soldier, began hacking away at the little monster samurai-style. It actually made noises as blood and chunks muscle (?) squirted out from the slashes in its black armor, but continued its frantic retreat unphased (like the dark knight in Search for the Holy Grail: None shall pass!).

I remembered my teacher had told me that mukade are impossible to kill unless you cut them completely in half, like, with scissors (which her young son enjoys immensly) or pour boiling hot water on them. I relayed this information to a sweaty and tiring Colin, whos vengence would not rest. He continued haking away as the doomed devil scrambled across the pavement, leaving a trail of black blood in its wake. Finally he flicked the wounded beast into the overgrown jungle infront of his stoop.

Time: between 4 - 5:30 PM.

Curious cat that he is, Colin went back out at 11:30 PM to make sure it was dead. Unfortunately, it was still moving. Needless to say, I immediately invested in a special white powder that promises to repel mukade if you sprinkle it all around your home.

On the plus side of this whole summer jungle story, I have a newfound fondness for frogs! Super-cute little frogs are hoppin' around all over the place! Look how cute and little he is! Not the boy, the frog on his finger tip!

Kabuki ☆歌舞伎☆ Geisha Style!

Miyagawa's Kyo Odori also included a scene of a kabuki play performed by the Geisha themselves! Today, Kabuki is performed entirely by men, and the actors that specialize in playing female characters are admired, idolized and considered national living treasures.

Kabuki has come a long way from its inception in the dry bed of the Kamo River hundereds of years ago. Back then, kabuki was a woman's art, and wih the original kanji used to write it meaning "song, dance, and prostitution", its not hard to see why it became so popular. This began to cause problems, as brawls would break out during performances between the clients of different actresses, vying for their affection. It became so troublesome that the Shogunate, in an attempt to restore order, required all kabuki roles to be performed by men. Instead of calming the riotous behavior that had begun to errupt on the kabuki scene, this decree had the opposite effect! The young men who took over were even more popular than their female counterparts!

In the intrest of public morals, the shogunate was forced to intervene once again. This time they required all male actors to be of a certain age (I think it was quite old), Which immediately quelled the prostitution aspect of Kabuki. The public no longer flocked to see the beautiful women, young boys or men, so the importance shifted from seductive dancing to skillful acting and story-telling. At some point the kanji for 'skill' replaced ' prostitution', and the rest is history.

Kabuki is one of the oldest forms of theater in the world, famous for its elaborate costumes and set designs.

I have no idea what the name of the kabuki selection they performed was, but it was very interesting! It began with a man meditating on the buddah, holding his prayer beads. He seemed to be seeking enlightenment, a refuge from the world, but this woman came to him, destroying his sense of peace.

She seduced him, drawing him away from his prayers and meditations. At first he resisted...

...but he was no match for her charms...

Before I knew it, they were getting high! In this picture, she poured some mystery substance onto his fan, which he then proceeded to snort like lines of cocaine!

Having defeated his will, she preformed an amazing victory dance and disappeared into a dark and thunderous storm. In the end, the man was transformed into an evil, fearful presence and danced off stage.

Hanami, Kyoto Style! 花見, 京風！

Play of light. Kyoto, April 9th.

As sakura season got into full swing, I decided if I was going to do hanami (literally flowering viewing, in reference to the Japanese passtime of looking at flowers, while drinking sake ofcourse!), I had better do it right! My friend LINZ got me tickets to see sumo for my birthday, so I hopped on the Shink and headed for Kansai, my home away from home. Osaka is only 2 stops from Nagoya, but the first stop is Kyoto, which means I never take the train directly to O-town. I envisioned myself alighting in Kyoto and strolling beneath the shade of the sakura canopy long before ever reaching Osaka, so I texted Lindz, who was due to work for the evil spawn of Satan that is NOVA. Needless to say, after a little peer pressuring, I persuaded her to call in sick at meet me for a springtime sakura extravaganza!

The morning was rich with the promise of spring, sunny and warm. Warm? I mean I was hot! I couldn't remember the last time I felt warm without 5 layers of clothes on! It was a vast diffference from the winter chill that still hung in the air beneath the snow-capped summit of Mt. Ena. Although Lindz and I have been Japanified for sometime now (we met while studying abroad at Kansai Gaidai), neither of us had ever experienced sakura.

I don't think I can articualte the feeling I got when I walked down a street near a small river, lined with cherry trees in full bloom. It was so beautiful, it didn't seem real. The sakura blossoms diffused the gems of sunight that gathered in tiny droplets on their petals, creating a soft white glow that transformed everything into an magical dreamscape. It was as if delicate clouds of sweet smelling flowers had floated down to earth from a heavenly garden and were captured by the trees, whose branches reached up to heaven to catch them as they dance in the breeze. Rivers of light flowed through the loosely woven lace of flowers, cutting through the soft white mist, and the splatters of light that dripped through the blossoms formed flower-shaped puddles of sunlight on the ground beneath.

A family enjoys a picinic on the bank of the Kamo River.

As we walked through Gion with the myriads of flower-happy tourists, were inspired to take full advantage of the season by dressing up like maiko, venuturing around the photogenic Higashiyama district and taking pictures of the sakura. Lindz, who is an old pro at this Maiko wannabe thing, had Studio Shiki's number in her Ketai (cell phone). We figured they'd be booked, but Suprisingly they were free at 1 PM, which gave us just enough time to wind our way up towards Kiyomizudera, taking a slight detour through Maruyama Koen. Luckily I know the way by heart!

As we began the transformation from Gaijin to Geisha-in-training, I watched in a brightly lit mirror as my face disappeared behind a thin veneer of Oshiroi, white makeup. The artist used an array of brushes of all shapes and sizes to spread the snowly linen canvas smoothly across my face, and then began to brush highlights of pinks and reds around my eyes, dipping her brush in a bright crimson before carefully drawing in my lips, like rose petals curled on the surface of freshly fallen snow. I wore a thin linen robe with a deep neck line that hung low from my shoulders, exposing my neck, shoulders and back. She dipped a large, cresent shaped brush in the Oshiroi before I felt the cool, wet hairs slide down my back, sending shivers down my spine. I wondered how any woman would have the patience to go through this ritual every day, but it felt invigorating to be transformed so vivdly.The application of the makeup alone had awakened every one of my senses.

When she was finished we were sent off to choose kimonos, though they were so busy there were very few to choose from. Teams of women wrapped us in layers of fabric as we stood side by side, hypnotized by our own image in the mirror as we fought to keep our balance. When we had survived the worst, the women secured our katsura, or maiko style wigs, tightly in place (or so it seemed), and rushed us into a tiny studio for a few professional photos. As I struck each pose a chorus of "kawaii!" rose up from the trio of Japanese maiko-wannabes next in line. When the shoot was over, we fled the crowded studio, slowly sliding into the only peice of our wardrobe that had not been wrapped around us and tied into place- the Pokkuri. Pokkuri are thick, platformed, wooden clog sandals that make walking a hazard to one's health. After gingerly desending the three steps outside the studios door (it seemed more like 30) we slowly scuttled down the alleyway towards the corner. Our debut on the main thoroughfare of tourists enroute to Kiyomizudera did not go unnoticed. From a distance I could hear people point us out, comment on how cute or beautiful we looked, and then become quite shocked when they realized we were gaijin! We were like rockstars! We couldnt take 5 steps without being asked to take a picture, which was until we realized we werent taking any of our own!

I think I was actually posing for someone who had asked to take my picture. Yeah, thats my excuse for being the biggest dork of all time.



Slowly we made our way towards Maruyama Koen, the most famous hanami spot in Kyoto. On the way, a Japanese boy dressed up in kimono with his girlfriend, stopped to watch as Lindz took my picutre beneath a sakura tree. Finally he worked up the courage to ask if he could have his picture taken with me. How could I say no? He was wearing kimono! "Beautiful!" he said as he bowed to me "Meccha kirei!"

We hiked all the way to Maruyama Koen, famous for its cherry blossoms and Hanami parties.

The park was packed. In Japan, any reason to drink is a good one, and they really like looking at trees. In the fall, its the changing leaves, and in the spring, its sakura. So what better way to celebrate than to camp out under a sakura tree and get drank? I will say one thing for them...Their fortitude is amazing. They get up at 7 AM, go to wherever the cherry trees are and set out a tarp. Then they start eating and drinking. By noon everyone is passed out under the cherry trees, but before the clock strikes 2 they regain consciouness and commence drinking again! So much fun, and no one ver fights or starts trouble. Gotta love Japan!

Blue skies, cherry blossoms, wannabe maiko and squid on a stick! Nothing beats Maruyama Koen in the spring!

Alas, nothing gold can stay. The heat of the spring sun, combined with the 10 extra pound of silk we were burried under as we hiked across Kyoto, was taking its toll. The Katsura wigs we thought were tightly in place could not take the pace of our race to the park. Lindz`s wig began to slide back past her hairline, so every few steps we would casually disappear into the nook of an old, forgotten shrine as i tried to slide it back into place. Mine began its treachorus decent as well, as we hurried like Cinderella to make it back to the studio before we turned into pumpkins. By this time I felt like an old pro in my Pokkuri, speeding right along as we were being admired by a few tourists who I had heard comment on how well were waking in the medieval tourture devices. Thats when Lindz turned her head to say something and saw me float like a petal in the wind, down to the cobblestone road, where I began to burst out laughing. I was back up on my feet and fleeing the scene at an even quicker pace than before as Lindz, good friend that she is, tried to convince me that atleast I hadden fallen gracefully. We spent the rest of the time composing Haiku about ourselves as maiko, and about the fall.

Stopping for a chat in Nene No Michi.

We also composed a scheme to get more time in the limelight. Since Lindz wig really had come undone, I figured she should just let it come off, walk in holding it and ask that they secure it again so we could go out and take pictures. Though it was a less than nobel effort, we were out of luck. It was still an awesome adventure, and I can't think of anyone I would rather do it with than Takahana hereself!

Lindz could so be Japanese!

A famous alleyway in Kyoto.