The Samurai on the Bus

   I recently travelled to Japan after a four-year break. I toured the Nagoya and Kyoto regions and although the trip was ostensibly for business, I kept my eyes open for hints of the historical culture that I have long studied and admired. While I took a great many photos of machinery and such, I probably snapped an equal number of gnarled pines and tiled roofs. My fellow travelers would get a strange look on their faces when I stopped once again to take a picture of a meticulously trimmed black pine bough jutting over a weathered, wooden gate to someone's garden.
   In many ways, Japan is a culture built quite literally on wood and I have always been fascinated by its unique uses in Japanese art and architecture. Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines, and feudal-era castles would certainly be in the forefront. (See photo of the wood and stone-built Nagoya Castle above).  In addition, the bo-staff, shoji screens, and geta clogs come to mind as well. My trek to the Kyomizu-dera, one of the most impressive-an oldest-wooden structures in the world, was the highlight of a very eventful trip. Moreover, my first trip back to Kyoto in twenty-five years gave me new insights for stories that will be appearing on this site in the near future.

   Although I was able to seek out the traditional side of Japan, three things from its modern face really caught my attention. These, not in any particular order, was the fascination of young Japanese males with looking feminine, the almost complete lack of trash cans anywhere, and the huge numbers of foreign workers I found in every factory I visited. This may seem like a strange and disconnected list, but the first had me scratching my head and wondering what the attraction was for these young people. The second, caused me great consternation because I was nursing a head cold. And thirdly, while it might be an economic necessity, I found it odd to find factories full of Brazilians and Bolivians.
   As to the first, one might say,
   "Big deal," but I wasn't prepared to see nearly every young man between high school age, and thirty-something wearing makeup, blouses and frilly shirts, or sporting teased-out, orange hair. Conversely, my impression was that it's the women who are now dressing more conservatively, although mini-skirts and high-heels are all the rage. Certainly, none of the chaps in our group complained about that. Gone, however, is the long, beautiful (in my opinion), jet-black hair of Japanese women. Virtually every woman dyes her hair in shades from auburn to kool-aide orange. But enough on hair and on to trash cans, or their lack of.

   Due to my nose running constantly, I was forced to use large amounts of Kleenex. Which normally wouldn't be a problem, except I couldn't find anywhere to dispose of the used tissues in public. Whether I was in a train station, the subway, numerous tourists spots, or the hotel lobby, I could not, quite literally, find a place to throw out trash. What I could find were recycling bins for glass, plastic, and cans often next to the ubiquitous vending machine. I was finally forced to find public toilets where I could empty my pockets. Restrooms, by the way, didn't have trash cans either. Recycling is certainly in full force in Japan. Which is great for conserving resources, but annoying as hell if you are traveling with a cold! Now on to all the foreign workers.

   Japan has long been known as a country with restrictive immigration policies. Not a place that would be easy to find work, with the exception being foreign language teachers and club hostesses. Due to Japan's low birth rate since the 70's, however, and coupled with a lack of interest in manufacturing jobs among young people, Japan has been importing large numbers of workers for the last fifteen years or so. This would have been unthinkable in the go-go manufacturing days of the 80's. In the plants I visited, nearly every worker on the shop floor was either a Brazilian of Japanese ancestry or Bolivian. The factory workers--mostly women--appeared to be very dedicated, hard working individuals who have learned the language and culture and are keeping the Japanese economic engine going by providing the labor that can no longer be sourced locally.

   Now we come to the Samurai on the bus. When my son saw the title of this post, he thought I was describing myself, but alas, I am not comparing myself to a feudal retainer from Japan's Middle Ages. It is in reference to the airport bus driver who took us from the JR station to the Nagoya International Airport.
   From the moment we boarded the bus he reminded me of the Japan I first visited in 1974. Although less than 30 years after WWII, I found Japan to be a modernized country full of dedicated, intelligent people. Far from being a vanquished society, the Japanese had tremendous pride in their traditional arts and international accomplishments ranging from innovative automobiles to superior cameras. Our bus driver reminded me of the Japan of my youth not only because of his outward appearance, which was spit and polish with close-cropped hair, crisp uniform, and white gloves; but it was the professionalism and pride in which he approached his task. He sat up straight and moved with sharp precision. And he spoke with a clear, respectful voice when announcing the next stop, or assisting passengers. This was the norm thirty-five years ago. Much less common now.

   I do not harken for a return to a neo-feudal Japan. Quite to the contrary, modern Japan has given the world amazing, and practical, technological innovations. Moreover, post-modern Japan has become a progressive, peace-loving society.

   What concerns me, however, is that the culture which created the unique arts of Japan is ebbing away. Some years ago I had the great fortune to meet one of the Living National Treasures of Japan. An unpretentious and forthright man with a skill transcending art. The Living National Treasures are a select, yet rapidly declining group of masters in the traditional arts, and a testament to the idea that art is a living entity and not simply a collection of inanimate objects. I wonder if this current generation will produce any National Treasures? It is my ardent wish that they do.

   So once again my travels remind me that Japan is a land of sharp contrasts between old and new, traditional and ultra-modern, of orange-haired furita, and tea masters whose lineage reach back eight-hundred years. I indeed look forward to my next trip back.

Now, if I could only find a damn trash can!