Basic Black

Kunoichi craftiness in 2008

Somehow I missed resolution #2. I hope to make more stuff, and a greater variety of stuff, this year. Tonight's project was a simple case to help me with resolution #1, bringing my own chopsticks. The case holds two pairs, because food tastes better with company. I handstitched the tube of stripey cotton and you can just see the ceramic butterfly button, very 和風, wafu, Japanese style. The loop is scrap yarn from knitting dishcloths.

　This cable knit muffler was inspired by a pattern book I glanced at in the local craft store. I said to myself, That's dead easy. I can do that. But I didn't realize how much more time and yarn cables take than flat knitting. This will be done soon. It's a bit late for someone's birthday. Hey, men in black, don't count on your woolies being ready for your birthdays.

Immigration or not

I love Statistics Canada. They record and disseminate oodles of information about Canadians, our languages, our people and their origins. This week, Reuters reports, likely drawing from StatsCan press releases, that one in five Canadians was born in another country. My brother and I were the first two kids in my father's family, and the second and third kids in my mother's family, to be born in Canada. Everybody else came from somewhere else.

There are few stats on illegals in Canada. The entry in the Canadian Encyclopedia says there could be between 50,000 and 200,000 illegals in Canada. Immigration has no way of regulating undocumented people.

Amazingly, it is estimated that there are about the same number of undocumented workers in Japan. Just like Canada, foreign workers legal and illegal do the dirty work in Japan, jobs Japanese won't do. While some folks in Canada are calling for documenting labourers who didn't make refugee status in order to keep them in the Canadian work force, Japan tolerates the undocumented in their midst but does not account for the numbers.

Japan's population is aging, but the immigration policy does not introduce new people to the country or the workforce. The demographic time bomb is ticking - by 2050, fully 40% of Japan's population will be golden agers.

'Net and missing Daikomyosai

Civilization has come to my Armory-cum-bedroom in funky Kashiwa City - I have a 'Net connection at home! The first attempt left me bewildered, and with a whiff of surreality. A little man came to my door, armed with official looking name tag, clip board, and mysterious gadgets, looked my apartment up and down, whilstled through his teeth and said No, can't do it. The flex ducts wouldn't accommodate such a thing, he claimed. Besides, your air con unit is in the way of the one inlet for ducts, he said.

Well, this week, Harry Tuttle times two arrived at my door, a young fellow who wouldn't look me in the eye, and a terribly friendly older, wiser fellow who talked my ear off. It took them about 15 minutes with tea break to snake a line from what looked like an oscilloscope to find the portal and fire the proton pack to collect incorporate Sumerian deities...Wait, wrong movie. Well, they plugged me in and installed a cable modem ( and now I've got 'Net 24/7). At home, anyway.

This is my consolation for a week of being so tortuously close to Daikomyosai, but obligated to be at work and write stuff for school projects. The only chance I'll get anywhere near training is tomorrow night, if Shiraishi sensei is on for a post-game review.

Many wonderful moments with people happened in the last few days. we took pictures of visiting ninjas under gorgeous flaming maple trees at Kamakura; fortuitous timing put me on a train with two slightly lost kunoichi who I helped navigate the spaghetti that is the JR East rail system, then joined them on a shopping expedition (fabric and stationery!); some kind train passengers on the Joban Line consoled me when I dropped my mobile phone which exploded on hitting the deck; a slightly tipsy salaryman on his way home wished me a happy life before tottering off the train at Matsudo Station; the noodle guy on the Shinagawa Station platform slipped me an onigiri in thanks for my patronage (I hit him every week on the way to Ayase training); the Kashiwa Information ladies treated me to yuzu citrus marmalade and got me up to date on Kashiwa events so I can inform visiting ninjas; my sempai came over for dinner and spoiled me with a belated birthday present despite the fact that his isn't finished yet (gomen, ne!).

See? I can't complain.

Ruined Japan

Back in 1999 when I lived in southern Ehime Prefecture, I lived at the foot of a mountain at the edge of the sleepy little city. Crushed against this mountain were houses, temples, cemeteries and some crumbling "public works", legacies of the bubble economy when huge amounts of cash were squandered on public art, culture halls and hideous sculptures.

Above my place was a neglected lookout tower with a rusty jungle gym that no kids played on. Only the local grumpy old men with their Onecup Ozeki sake would sit on the benches. A short walk from the abandoned beauty spot, there was a decrepit farm house built in the old style, clay over bamboo on a cedar frame. The plaster was falling away exposing the bamboo ribs of the walls. It looked like a half-eaten carcass to me, the roof a ratty mane of reeds and invading kudzu vines.

Metropolis this week features the phenomenon of ruined places in Japan. The splendour of the bubble economy of the late 80s is faded, the birthrate is falling off, and the rural population is mostly old farm people. That leaves a lot of abandoned, ruined buildings. Sometimes whole communities or recreation areas are forgotten.  Check out Gunkanjima, once a thriving island city, now completely abandoned.

I used to marvel at how Japan's rail system could get you anywhere, or at least within striking distance of where you want to go. I was stunned when I saw the photos of the Okutama Ropeway which is within Tokyo proper. There are places the tracks won't take you.

Cable knitting on the Yamanote Line

A 20 minute ride on the Yamanote Line between Ueno and Gotanda stations is just enough time to put seven more twists on this rope cable muffler. Cables are bulky, and this muffler's eating up a stash of tweedy wool The Old Mum sent from Canada last year. As a novice knitter, I hadn't really considered the width, guage or volume of wool this project would need, so it's too narrow (too sissy) for a guy but it will be cozy and pretty for a girl. I think I have two or three more skeins of this stuff, so I'll try a less dense project for the next two skeins.

What I really want to make is a big capey thing. It's cold in the mornings and evenings in Tokyo, but a coat is too bulky. At The Gap in Harajuku, I saw this beautiful cabled and ribbed cape with tassels and assymetrical collar that rolled over to show off the ribbing detail. Nice.

I'm thinking, sure,  I could work from a pattern, but maybe I'll just eyeball it like I have done with all my knits so far. Um, but all my knits so far have been mufflers...

My knits are pretty simple and repetitive, but I find the rhythm of the knitting soothing and the projects manageable on the long train rides I take each day. I read a lot of academic journals for the uni courses on the train, but I can't do it all the time. My thoughts can percolate while I satisfy my twitch with this little bojutsu.

Tokyo Medical

In the latest edition of Tokyo Weekender, the spotlight is on on medical clinics in Tokyo that serve the foreign population.  Caroline Pover writes about medicine in Tokyo, and tells about her misdiagnosis by Japanese doctors she had trusted with her life. The Weekender's survey of medical Tokyo clinics is really telling. Few of the clinics that are frequently indicated as catering to foreign patients rank above 5 points on a 10 point scale. While it is true, the response was smalll, I think the survey indicates there are some serious problems with the practice of medicine in this town. Would Japanese people disagree? Not likely.  All kinds of problems have been exposed - illegal prescriptions at clinics, files being made public, pregnant women refused by hospitals.

I had very good care when I visited specialists in Tokyo and area. The only thing I found uncomfortable was being kept in an open examining room with half a dozen other people waiting. I prefer that my own details be kept confidential, and I really don't want to know about Mr. Suzuki's psoriasis. When I lived in Ehime Prefecture, I was aghast when I walked into the office the week after a medical check to find my results on my desk for all to see rather than in an envelope. Everybody kept remarking all day that I was a fine specimen!

Abroad, when you get sick or suffer an injury, symptoms see to be worse because medical care is so alien. You don't know what the local remedies are, none of the non-prescription drugs are familiar brands and you can't read the labels with confidence, and prescription medicines have different names in other countries. Add this stress to your initial problem, and you get worse.

I'm lucky I've been healthy all this time in Japan,  and if I do have a problem, national health covers me. As long as I'm concious, I can speak for myself in Japanese. I still need a good course in Japanese verbal self-defense, though.

I have a personality

My dear Siri put me onto this version of the Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator . Mypersonality quite congenially confirms that I have personality. But to my surprise, my tendencies seem to indicate I´m an inovator. I had always thought that my personality type was more indicative of a teacher type, an ENTJ, but it seems I am much more of a perceiving type than I had imagined.

Everybody carries a hankie in Japan

A handkerchief is a little necessity in Japan that has so many variations, so many uses.

  This is my meditation, budo and shrine hankie made of baby cotton, knitted in a basketweave pattern. I bought the yarn at Sanki in Kashiwa, the same shop which Lyssa, The Knitting Kunoichi, stumbled into some weeks ago when she was here, and binged on yarn and gadget purchases.

I say meditation, because I knit and do mantram and Think while I am on the trains. Budo because it helps me with small, precise movements, and gives me something to do with my hands when I'm fidgety and would rather be in the dojo.

And shrine because of the etiquette involved when visiting shrines. First, tuck your hanky under your elbow. Then pick up the dipper with your left hand, wash your right hand - outside the basin! - switch it to your right hand, wash your left, now take a sip, rinse your mouth out, and spit into the gutter discretely. Next, back to the left hand, let the remaining water run down your left hand, and finally place the dipper on the rack or basin edge upside down so that it drains. Dry your hands on your hanky. If the shrine priest or priestess is kind and concientious, he or she may have hung a cloth at the basin for the purpose, but it is certainly more hygienic and polite to have your own hankie. In Japan, etiquette and protocol maintain tradition and harmony. Bruce coached us at Tsukuba Mountain on Sunday.

Yamanote Shawl

I finally finished the shawl. Well, it wasn't a shawl to start with. In fact, it was a vest to begin with, but as I didn't have a good handle on the guage - the number of stitches within a 10 centimeter squared block, I couldn't figure out how to get the size right. The sweater was either fated to be too small for me, or I'd run out of wool before I got through the front side.

So, I ripped out what I'd done and opted for another project, a shawl. This one took me about three week's worth of commutes to knit. Yes, I knit on the Yamanote Line when I get a seat, and the 50 minutes on the Yokosuka Line always allows me ample room for knitting bag and briefcase.

Last night, Kelly did my hair at Sinden, so I had to take a picture in the shawl with my wonderful new cut. I'm like Sampson's opposite twin - if I cut my hair, I feel far genkier. So, I've given up on growing it out.

Gung Haggis Fat Choy!

A Chinese Canadian guy with great knees. A Canadian University named after a Scottish Explorer. A lot of whisky, some excellent Chinese cuisine, one Scottish poet and two celebrations. What do you get?
GungHaggisFatChoy

Robbie Burns Day is January 25th, and this year Chinese New Year starts on February 18th. Close enough to drink whisky, eat haggis and dim sum and recite some poetry.