June 9, 1991

Hasta Manana is one of those little European restaurants that you read about in the lives of famous authors. You descend from the street into its small whitewashed room, into the heady smells of baking cheese, garlic, onion, and spices.

Behind the bar, a bar made of salvaged, but unrefinished, wood are the cup boards--arranged in such a way to make you think how the word originated. Row after row of cups, all European in style, rest two deep on the shelves, in sets of 6 or 8, a singular one here and there in their midst.

The barstools are covered with a dirty and torn brocade. In salvaging the furnishings, nothing was redone, so the restaurant seems older than it is and authentic, not designed. Authentic save for the braids of plastic vegetables that give the cashier's counter the air of a cheap Italian restaurant.

The customers are mostly young, smartly-dressed women. I wonder where all the men in this country are. Probably in a dark, crowded office. Women here have free rein to the fruits of men's labors and they enjoy the rewards of new wealth: shopping, eating, going to the theater.

Two other women, both Japanese, sit at the bar with me, also writing. I always regret that I learn how to live in a life just as I am about to leave it. Perhaps, once I master it, I have to go on to something else. Or maybe after I decide to leave, I pay closer attention to the details around me, and I let go a little and let myself play. After all, when one is leaving one has nothing to fear, nothing to lose, in being thought foolish.

M2 said it was important to have friends for whom she didn't have to edit herself. And then she took her discussion further and said she liked people who liked those parts of her that the majority of people wished her to edit. It is best, I agree, to be loved not only for who we are, but for those things that make us different.

Dateline: 2006-08-31

I've received an interesting update from Rick Park and decided to pull this review to the front page to share it. Thanks, Rick!

A hundred years before I lived in Japan, Clara Elizabeth Poate was born to missionary parents in Morioka, the first foreign baby born in that region. Although she was only four when her family returned to the United States in 1892, she retained fascination for the land of her birth. In 1958, when she was 70, she published a children's book, Gift from the Mikado, based on her family's stories of Japan.

The book is dated but in the best way. It's funny to think that the events in it happen less than twenty years after the events in Little House on the Praire books. The style of the books is very similar. Japanese customs are introduced to the American audience in the method typical of children's social studies books: the children act as the mouthpiece of the reader asking questions about the new and strange things they encounter, and the parents patiently and wisely explain all. However, the explanations are well-woven into the fabric of the story. It's clear that the stories came first and the explanations followed, that the vignettes are actual family stories rather than fiction wrapped around a lesson.

Some things have certainly changed. Others have not. Gone from Japan today are rickshas and house servants. There is now a train line to Morioka. But hina doll displays, Boy's Day carps, and visits to the onsen are exactly the same.

"Outside a large packing case had been delivered, and around it stood a crowd of curious Japanese. For this was in the 1890's, a long time ago, when foreigners were still a novelty in Japan, and it always seemed worth-while to see what strange, outlandish thing a foreigner might be up to." 〜 p. 7

In the first few pages of the book, I held my breath wondering if it was going to be terribly politically incorrect. Before everyone jumps on me for using that phrase let me explain: I was worried that the tone might be moralistic, culturally imperialistic, and paternalistic--in short, something I wouldn't want my children to read. However, the descriptions of the Japanese is classist, but not racist. (Hierarchical relationships based on the old class system still seem natural in Japan even though the class system is overtly gone.) For example, when the girls are invited to Baron Hidegawa's house for Hina Matsuri, they are amazed at the honor and on their best behavior, just as they would be if visiting European aristocracy. There are good and bad people in the book, smart and silly people, but they are individuals, not stereotypes of their culture.

Recommendation: 4 stars (out of 5)
Audience: Collectible, primarily for historical interest. Out of print, but available online.

Fabrice Denis has designed a slick kanji flashcard site, Reviewing the Kanji based on Heisig's Remembering the Kanji and the Leitner cardfile system.

I've been using Reviewing the Kanji daily for almost six months now and the best testimonial I can give it is the fact I'm still plugging away at it. Given my mixed feelings toward Heisig's method, this is high praise for Fabrice Denis's implementation. I keep coming back because the site has such a clean design, is easy to use, works quickly, is somewhat customizable, and provides a way to share ideas with others lost in the kanji forest.

As I said, it is based on the Leitner cardfile system which has you review flashcards at different frequencies. Flashcards move through five stacks; each stack has a different review schedule: 1, 3, 7, 14, or 30 days. Cards that have made it through to the last stack will continue to come up for review every 60 days.

The obvious advantage of the Leitner system is that you spend more time focused on the kanji that give you trouble. The less obvious advantage is that less frequent review is supposed to help move the data from short term to long term memory. And yet, every couple of months those cards you thought you knew come back to haunt you from time to time just to see if you really learned them or if they need to go back to square one.

I like Reviewing the Kanji because it provides an easy way for me to review a little every day. And since the goal of the Heisig system is to be able to write the kanji, I find that I don't want to review more than about 30 kanji a day. But when you consider that there are more than 1800 kanji to learn, you could review 30 different kanji a day for two months without repeating yourself.

You have to register (name and email) to use Reviewing the Kanji. This enables the site to track your progress, keep your flashcard stacks up-to-date, identify kanji up for review, and keep the mnemonics and hints you've added for each flashcard.

You also have to be studying from Heisig's books. This site is called Reviewing the Kanji, not Learning Kanji from Scratch. It's a tool for an existing system, not a standalone system. I would never have gone back to Heisig's method were it not for Reviewing the Kanji. I don't trust his choice of keywords. And when I know the Japanese word, Heisig's English keyword often just leads me astray. However, as Fabrice Denis says, the most important thing is to be able to associate one concept with each kanji and not mix up ones similar in meaning.

As usual, despite being steady, my progress is slow. I've added only 615 flashcards and gone through 5516 reviews (counted each time a card is flipped). That's far fewer cards than other members with a comparable number of reviews. But I'm being very strict with myself. To cheat would only cheat myself. I've found that the best way for me to retain information is to use it...and in this case it means taking a pop quiz every day. Reviewing the Kanji provides a great pop quiz which makes for active learning.

February 9, 2006

Ever since last Sunday, when we went to San Antonio to meet my brother for dinner on the riverwalk, I've been going crazy trying to figure out where I've heard this song. We were sitting next to the river outside the Marriot, eating ice cream while waiting for my brother to arrive from Las Vegas. First the theme song from "The Godfather" played and then this song that I knew I knew. "It's Japanese," I insisted, even though it had a vaguely cowboy sound to it. And why would they be playing a Japanese song in the heart of San Antonio?

The song kept popping up in my head and I vowed to track it down. But how do you search for a song on the internet if you don't know the words, the artist, the song name, when it came out, or what country it's from? You can't type musical notes into Google and have it search every mpeg for a song. Looking for Japanese pop songs, golden oldies, and 1950s hits got me nowhere.

Mentally I hummed the songs from "Totoro" and "Kiki's Delivery Service". Was it that sentimental song from "Tokyo Story"? Nope. And it wasn't the theme song to Chibi Maruko-chan or "Sazae-san". I didn't associate it with any commercials I'd videotaped when I lived in Japan. It wasn't that Miki Hirayama song I liked from that silly movie, Adrenaline Drive.

And then it came to me. There was some other famous pop song that one of my Japan blogging friends discussed some years back because it had a completely unrelated name in English. It had been a big hit. Seems it was Kiyo who mentioned it. I searched his site, but I still couldn't find it. Not chrysanthemum. Not geisha. Not Hiroshima, Mon Amour. Grrrr.

Back to Google. Finally on page 2 of the search "Japanese international hit song writer died" I found it! Sukiyaki (ue o muite arukou) "One popular song in the US, 'Sukiyaki' remains the biggest international hit by a Japanese popular singer." This was exactly the information I was looking for...including mp3s of Japanese and English versions of the song...and even a Spanish version by Selena. Maybe that's why it was playing in San Antonio.

As for Kiyo, he did blog about Sukiyaki...about how Louis Benjamin, the president of a UK record company, introduced the song to the west and renamed it "Sukiyaki" after his favorite Japanese food--apparently because it was one of the few Japanese words familiar to westerners in 1963.

Despite the somewhat cheerful tune, the lyrics are about a heartbroken lover who must "look up as he walks, so the tears won't fall". My Japanese teacher brought the song lyrics to a class I had a couple of years ago.

Kyu Sakamoto, who recorded the hit song, died in 1985 in the crash of JAL Flight 123 north of Tokyo.

February 3, 2006

Added some photos from Flickr to the end of the post.

February 3, 2004

On the eve of the first day of spring in the old calendar, the Japanese celebrate 節分 (setsubun). They fling parched soybeans around the house while shouting, "Oni wa soto. Fuku wa uchi." Out with the demons; in with the good spirits.

Setsubun is celebrated at the coldest time of year. After this, the temperatures will begin to warm with spring. So it is no coincidence that setsubun falls near "Groundhog Day" and "Candlemas" (the old traditional end of the Christmas season). All three celebrations, almost midway between the solstice and the equinox, mark the turning of the seasons. In fact, setsubun, literally means "dividing the seasons".