there’s American English, Australian English, Caribbean English—why not Japanese English? The fact that it often doesn’t make any sense should be neither here nor there.
It’s wonderful stuff: sheer poetry…Almost.
ENKA
At some stage during your stay in Japan, you’ll probably turn on a television to see a (typically) middle-aged man or woman clad in a kimono, fronting a full band which consists both of such ‘modern’ instruments as drums and electric guitars, as well as traditional Japanese instruments such as the shamisen. Whether male or female, whoever’s singing will be wearing a plaintive expression, and you may well notice the almost excessively ‘warbly’ nature of their voice.
Well, that’s enka—a traditional form of Japanese ballad singing. The subject matter of the lyrics is popularly claimed to reflect something along the lines of a ‘sweet resignation towards life’s misfortunes’. Though, if you ask me, it can all get a bit bloomin’ depressing, packed full with references to death, the desertion of a lover, having a general lack of family and friends, being skint, etc.
Recently, however, a handsome young devil named ‘Jero’ has been pretty much turning the traditional enka ‘scene’ on its head. Jero (real name Jerome Charles White, Jr.) is an African-American from Pittsburgh, born in 1981, whose Japanese grandmother first began to teach him the lingo in which he would eventually sing. Following his graduation from the University of Pittsburgh, Jero came to Japan to teach English, but released his first single Umiyuki (‘Ocean Snow’) in February 2008.
Jero has a distinctly ‘hip-hop’ image, with baggy clothes and a cap worn at a jaunty angle. He also has a singing voice that has proved to be of huge appeal to many older Japanese (it also helps that Jero comes across as being a polite and intelligent individual). And his general image is credited with having caused something of an ‘enka renaissance’ among younger generations, who had previously largely abandoned enka in favour of such other musical styles as rap and heavy metal. Now, if only he could make those lyrics a bit more cheerful…
FUGU
Full name takifugu—the kanji characters for which read ‘river pig’—a member of the pufferfish family. Although it carries the poison tetrodotoxin in its skin, its testicles and, particularly, its liver and ovaries (to say nothing about fugu also being extremely expensive) there are still many people who are rather fond of eating it.
For this reason fugu can only be prepared by specially trained chefs, using knives that are otherwise kept under lock and key. However, a certain number of people (estimates vary quite dramatically, from under ten victims per year to well over a hundred) do still fall ill and die after consuming fugu.
Most fatalities are believed to arise from an ill-advised desire to taste a little of the poison along with the flesh of the fugu, which is reputed to be quite bland. (I’m neither rich nor brave enough to try it myself.)
Ingesting just a little tetrodotoxin apparently livens up the proceedings by causing a ‘prickling’ sensation of the lips and tongue—which really does sound great, I have to say—though have too much and you can expect your circulatory and respiratory systems to shut down fairly rapidly.
In almost all cases where there is no medical intervention in the shape of a life-support machine—and even in some cases where there is—death by asphyxiation soon follows. However, some people have previously been known to recover from the total paralysis that mimics death—on a couple of occasions just before they were about to be cremated.
FUJI-SAN
Should really get a mention, given that it’s probably Japan’s most recognisable symbol after the geisha. The facts are, then, that Fuji-san lies almost exactly in the middle of Japan, and although classed as a volcano has been dormant since 1707 (which, if you’re planning to climb it, will probably come as something of a relief).
Recognised since ancient times as a symbol of the divine, women were not permitted to climb Fuji until after the Meiji Restoration, which had something to do with the fact that only men were permitted to be priests and monks.
Nowadays, expect to see a fair amount of rubbish on your way up the mountain, with the surrounding forests in particular being well known as a ‘fly-tipping’ spot for unwanted furniture, freezers—even cars. And at the very top of Mount Fuji, alongside the 200-metre-deep crater, you’ll find, to your undoubted delight, an assortment of neon-lit vending machines.
According to a well-known Japanese proverb, climbing Mount Fuji once makes you a wise man; climb it twice and you’re a fool.
FURIN
You might see one of these hanging from the eave of a house—it’s a small bell that’s commonly constructed from glass or metal, and attached to its clapper is a strip of paper called a tanzaku. Upon this tanzaku there might be written a classical Japanese poem or verse—and when a light summer breeze catches the tanzaku, the bell emits a slight chime.
In spite of the delicacy of this chime, however, furin are not really to be found in built-up areas, as they don’t half annoy the neighbours.
FUTON
A first-time visitor to Japan, transferring by coach from Tokyo’s Narita airport to their hotel, or perhaps to the domestic airport Haneda for a connecting flight, can’t help but be struck by the thousands of futon that have been placed out to air on the balconies of Tokyo’s countless apartment blocks—assuming, of course, that it is a fine day.
Many ‘beds’ in Japan are made up of a futon covered by a sheet that is put out in the evening. Otherwise futon are kept in a cupboard known as oshiire, which serves to free up space in what are often slightly cramped living conditions.
You’ll encounter futon rather than beds if you stay at a ryokan—a traditional Japanese inn—as opposed to a hotel.
GAIJIN
Shortened form of the word gaikokujin, which means ‘outside country person’. A person born outside Japan will still be considered by most Japanese to be gaijin even after they have lived in the country for most of their lives, thus coming to understand the language and culture perfectly. Put it this way: you can have a seventy-year-old professor of ancient Japanese (or something of the sort), born in Oxford, England, but living in Japan since the start of the 1950s. He has a Japanese wife, and they have two grown-up children. The professor is, of course, completely fluent in Japanese; his wife jokes that he speaks it better than she.
When he dies the professor will have a Buddhist funeral, and his ashes will be interred in the family haka. He doesn’t expect ever to go back to England again—it’s a long flight, and anyway his family,
