School Ties

Over the last month and a half we've had a little battle with my daughter's school. In Japan, middle school kids walk to school on a specific route and her school is over a mile away from our house. So she walks two miles each day to go there and back no matter the weather. She also has to go to another middle school for Japanese class. Twice a week my daughter takes the subway from the station nearest her school to the Japanese class because this other one is farther away. On her way back the subway goes past the station near our house.

For some bizarre reason, her principal wants her to ride the subway all the way back to her school, tell them her class finished and then walk back home. That's ridiculous especially since she can just get off the train at the station near our house and walk 7 minutes and be home, instead of having to walk for half an hour. She can call the school from home to tell them she's back if they are so worried about her.

Two weeks ago, my daughter told her teacher she would just come straight home because it's safer and closer. You would have thought she had revealed she had the Ebola virus! The teacher went into a panic saying that's not what the rules say! You must obey the rule! They had to meet with the principal because not returning to school to walk the assigned route home was not possible! They had a very long meeting and they told her they would keep her backpack to force her to return.

Well, we had anticipated that and had told her to pack her homework in the small bag she uses for her Japanese class and just come home straight. She did just that, called the school, told them she was home and guess what happened?

NOTHING!!!

No one got angry at her, there was no punishment or retaliation. There's no even a measure in place to take action if a student breaks the dumb rule. So for now on, she will walk to school in the morning with all the other kids, take the subway to Japanese class and take it back home and call.

If the school had just said "good idea, do that" instead of giving us such a hard time, we would have more respect for them and we all would have been saved a lot of aggravation.

Now, I'm researching how many middle school kids had to go to the hospital all over the country each year, due to weather related issues because of the dumb policy of not letting them ride their bikes to school. This one may take years to win instead of a couple of weeks...

K and N: My son's friends

Our seven year old has two friends that come visit after school several times a week. One of them, let's call him "K", lives with his mother in the same building as us and my wife and her chat sometimes. He's a natural leader and has character for miles. This kid will simply not be put off by anyone or anything. He's fearless and also ridiculously short. About 10" shorter than our son. He embodies the "small dog syndrome" like a rat terrier on attitude and spunk steroids.

When our son first started attending his school, my wife or I would go pick him up. The first two weeks, we would get him at his classroom, then the school gate, then the corner. After a month or two of this, K volunteered to bring him home. He even told my wife he would make sure he would get here safe!

Sometimes, K goes to after school care but sometimes he comes to our home and hangs out for a couple of hours. He has his own house key but if it wasn't for our son, he would be home alone. Other times he comes and asks if our boy can go hang out at his place and I allow him.

Right before the winter school break, K brought over another little boy to play. He is just as short as K. We'll call him N.

N is nine years old and in the third grade, two years older than our son and K. He lives in one of the public housing buildings across the street, always wears the same red sweatshirt with a skull print on it and smells like Tide laundry detergent. He also always wears his uniform pants. He likes to speak English but only knows a dozen words or so. He lives with his mom and 11 year old sister. We don't know his mom yet and he told me that she doesn't get off work until after 8:30.

N is super smart. Sometime he rings the doorbell from downstairs and tells me in English: "This is K. Please open". He normally goes home first, does his homework and then comes over to play. He likes my son's Nintendo DS and is not as active as the two other boys. He's curious and always wants to know what I'm doing or if I'm watching TV he sits next to me and watches even if it's in English.

N is also hungry.

When the kids get home, I always give them a snack. But N always wants more. Sometimes he puts the snack in his pocket for later. Yesterday, when he rang the doorbell. the first thing he told me was that he was hungry. Then he rattled off a paragraph in Japanese that I couldn't understand, but he had tears in his eyes. He was ashamed of asking for food. The school has lunch, so I know he eats there.

During one of the few nice days in January, my wife took N and our son to the park one Saturday. Japan is safe enough that all the kids go by themselves, but because of our son's ADHD, we go with him to make sure he doesn't lose control. She sat on a bench and let the boys play but some older boys started roughing N up. Our son stood up for his friend but the other boys laughed at him and that sent him into a fit that caught my wife's attention. That's when she discovered that N is also being bullied. I wouldn't be surprised those older boys are stealing his lunch.

I don't think there's abuse at home. He doesn't have bruises and both N and his sister are healthy and happy looking. I think the main issue at home is poverty and bullying at the park and possibly at school. I feel like I need to observe and gather information from him and also learn how these things are addressed here.

In the meantime, both N and K have a safe place to hang out, play and eat. A place they don't need to feel ashamed to ask for food and will not get pushed around.

Reunions

I decided to take the holidays off from the blog because I knew we would be busy. Three different sets of friends and family graced our home with their presence starting Thanksgiving weekend all the way through my birthday, the most important holiday of course.

The first visitors were our friends Michael and Yuki, with their 10 year old son Tiger, from British Columbia, Canada. We met them in July 2015 when we first visited BC and rented their Airbnb apartment (Shameless plug. Seriously, stay at their place, you'll love it and them.). We hit it off immediately and spent a good amount of time with them and kept in touch afterward. Michael is a wonderful conversationalist, an avid reader and he challenges my mind in ways no one else does.

Last year we returned to BC and once more stayed with them and invited them to come visit us in Osaka. One of the many things I love about them is their adventurous spirit. Michael home schooled his older son, John, and traveled all over the world as part of his education. A couple of years ago, they spent a year in Spain and also traveled all over and in late 2017 they escaped the Canadian winter and traveled through Asia. That's living!

We celebrated Thanksgiving the Sunday after at our local Peruvian restaurant and enjoyed a feast full of laughter and Spanish! We also went to the Osaka castle grounds and walked around the very quirky Shinsekai neighborhood. After a few days, they left to visit Yuki's parents in northern Japan and from there went to Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia.

Lucky Michael!

A couple of weeks later, our friends Eva and Andy from Oregon joined as us part of an extended vacation through Osaka and Tokyo. With them we visited the nearby city of Nara, famous for a park full of free roaming, very aggressive and always hungry deer.

                                       

     

There are also some very old temples and shrines and a festival was going on.

   

But most of what we did with Eva and Andy was eat. Good grief did we eat! Then after, we ate some more. 

    

We also had Christmas dinner together, Andy and the kids attacked a gingerbread house and went to a German Christmas market held every year at the Umeda Sky Building in one of the several downtown areas of Osaka.

It was great spending Christmas with these dear friends that brought so much laughter, joy and Cheetos. Did I mention they brought six large bags of assorted cheesy snacks? I believe there is a law in Osaka that says when visiting it is required to bring Cheetos. Both families brought this required item.

The following week my wife received a special late Christmas gift. Since we married almost 15 years ago, it's been my desire to bring her and both her brothers together. Unfortunately, finances and other logistical issues have prevented us from accomplishing that goal, but this past New Year's week it all came together for her. There were tears of joy when our kids finally met their uncles. I couldn't hold back the emotions seeing my wife smile, look at them, talk and cook for them. We didn't do anything spectacular, the weather was cold and somewhat miserable, but they spent three days at our home and it was a wonderful time. 

 

 

Finally, right on time for my birthday, Michael, Yuki and Tiger returned to Osaka for a longer visit and more hanging out with us! They treated our family to a wonderful yakiniku dinner in Osaka's Koreatown. And once again the night before they returned home. I made a point of wearing my Canada shirts in honor of my friend.

Needless to say, this entire holiday season was memorable. We have always cherished all of our friends and having a few of them come see us so far away was very uplifting. I hope more make the sacrifice and come to this wonderful city we are growing to love more and more each day.

You are all welcome in our home! See you soon!

The Bladesmith

"I never wear shoes or socks" was one of the things master polisher Hitoaki Manazu told my wife and I while we visited his small Museum of the Sword in Hirano ward, Osaka City. Originally from Kumamoto prefecture in the southernmost Japanese island of Kyushu, Manazu-san started his apprenticeship when he was 15 years old, after the school board gave him permission to skip one semester each school year as long as he studied under his father, and is now in his 52nd year practicing his craft. He is a third generation "togishi" or master sword polisher.

When we called him at 9:30 AM to ask what time the museum opened, he told my wife that he was planning on closing the museum on this windy and cold Tuesday in December but since we called, he asked what time we were planning on visiting and he would be ready for us. We apologized for the intrusion, but he said it was fine and to come over. So we boarded the Osaka city bus #1 and headed out. When we got off the bus, I noticed that this section of the city appears to be very old, with even a few thatch roofed houses here and there. We followed the trusty old Google map directions and walked down the narrow streets, so commonly found in Japan, and that doubled as wind tunnels today.

We stopped at an intersection and looked around at the four corners to see if we could determine which one of the buildings was the museum. On the opposite corner of what Google indicated, stood a three story building with this banner sign over the door.

We opened the sliding door and entered a very small, warm room with glass cases on both sides and a separate section on a raised floor to the right. We called out "konnichiwa" but no one answered. There were Japanese katana inside the glass cases, mounted on silk lined wooden racks, one of them dating back to the 1830s and considered a national treasure. 

Many of these swords were destroyed during the US military occupation of Japan after World War 2 but a good many survive and can be found in museums and private collections. I was pleasantly surprised to see one in a small, admission free museum.

After a few minutes of us looking at the small display of blades, Manazu-san entered the room through the side door of the adjoining elevated room. He bowed in the customary Japanese fashion and welcomed us to his workshop where there are three stations set up, one for him and two for apprentices. The names of the apprentices are carved up on a large board above the work stations.

He explained the seven steps of katana making from the melting down of the metal to the hammering and forming and finally to the final step of working the blade: Polishing. The first six steps are completed in the forge, with the metal being heated up and formed into the shape of the sword. Once that is completed, the dull blades are sent to craftsmen like him, that sharpen the blade to its lethal form, and also polish it to the mirror finish that is desired by collectors. This mirror finish is not necessary and in no way increases the quality of the blade, but it increases its aesthetic value and desirability. 

Afterward, he showed us the many sharpening stones used in polishing the blades. The process starts with the most coarse stone on the left, down to the final smoothest one on the right. 

Then he proceeded to demonstrate how he polishes the blade. He sits on low stool and with his toes he holds the part of the blade where the grip will eventually be set. Then a cloth is wrapped around the part of the blade where his hand holds the blade. Then water is poured on the section of the blade he is polishing. Sometimes Manazu-san works through the night only stopping for eating and drinking tea and hopefully a bathroom break. On average, he spends about two weeks polishing each blade.

                                   

My wife asked him if his hands get cold, since he's constantly dipping them in water and Manazu-san instead of answering he showed her his calloused, scarred hands and explained that he gets cuts every day because he has to touch and feel the sharpness of the blade after every pass on the stone. I also noticed how his toes are bent at odd angles because of the way he grips the blades with them.  

After his demonstration, we bowed to him and thanked him for his kindness and showing us his work. This very gentle artist is a perfect example of Japanese hospitality, hard work ethic and dedication to perfecting his craft. 

Navigating the Nihongo seas

Most signs in Japan are written like this.

Unfortunately for me, I moved here without being able to read any of it, or speak it for that matter so seeing a sign like that meant nothing to me except maybe not to feed your children to trains.

Don't get me wrong, I knew enough spoken Japanese to order fried chicken, fries and a Coke because really, how hard is it to say "furaido chikin, furaido potato to Coca Cora"? But reading is another matter.

I have no memory of ever being illiterate. I don't remember kindergarten or most of elementary school. For as far as my memory goes, there's always been a book, a piece of paper or more recently some electronic device that allows me understand, learn or entertain myself or make myself understood. Most of us take our ability to read, write and communicate for granted.

When we moved over here, I was more concerned with my kids' ability to integrate themselves into the school system, make friends and communicate. But children have an uncanny ability to learn new languages. I've seen my seven year old son play with his school mates and they talk to each other in their own languages and answer back as if they knew what the other was saying. The first time I encountered this was years ago when my friends Anita and Tyler adopted a boy from India. Their six year old daughter played with him and they would talk back and forth without issue. When my wife asked her how she understood, her answer was "I just know what he's saying". Kids are amazing.

But us adults are not.

Besides the words Japanese has borrowed from English, Spanish or Portuguese, the three languages I can speak and read, I knew nothing of this tongue when I moved here. So often I stare at the pictures on signs or just shrug and move along because I can't read. Or when someone speaks to me I nod and smile and I can see their expression change from friendly to "what's with this stupid foreigner?"

To solve this I did what every person in my situation would do. Go to You Tube! No seriously. There I started looking at videos of Japanese lessons just so I could get acquainted with this language so different than any other I know. I found one goofy guy that has hundreds of instructional videos in a series he called Japanese From Zero. I've learned quiet a bit from it but it's not my main source of instruction.

Along with You Tube, I found a resource the City of Osaka offers. Several times a week, the city has free Japanese lessons taught by volunteers, mostly retired teachers, at elementary schools. Fortunately for me, one of those is offered at a school about a 15 minute walk from our home. About eight weeks ago, I went to my first lesson on a Friday evening at 7:15.

First, before going into the classroom, you have to take off your shoes and put on these silly green slippers. Needless to say they didn't have any size 13 slippers. Or 12. Not even a 10. The lady in charge of the class saw how absurd I looked wearing size 9 slippers and laughed at a very high decibel level. I just knew this place would be a good fit for me in spite of the tiny slippers. I kicked those ugly green things off and proceeded to just go in my socks. No use looking ridiculous and feeling uncomfortable.

The lady showed me to my seat, provided me with a pen and gave me a questionnaire, completely in Japanese, and told me to fill it up and walked away. Hmm... how am I supposed to fill this paper when I can't read it? After a few minutes I was able to get her attention and told her the phrase I've used the most over the last three months: "Nihongo wakarimasen" or "I don't understand Japanese". She was speechless. She appeared surprised and in my sarcastic mind, I said to myself "of course she's surprised, because everyone coming to this class speaks, reads and writes Japanese fluently!"

She told me to wait so I sat there confused and wondering if this is just not for me. After what seemed like a month, this little lady in her sixties, wearing a surgical mask and three jackets, in spite of it being 80 degrees, ran into the classroom, bowed deeply and apologized. The lady that handed me the still blank questionnaire went to her pointed at me and they both came to me. The newcomer introduced herself as Mrs Higuchi and told me in a mix of English and Japanese that she would be my "sensei" or teacher. Visions of "paint on/paint off" and "wax on/wax off" flooded my mind.

Japanese has three forms of writing: Hiragana, for words original to the Japanese language, katakana for words borrowed from foreign languages, like the aforementioned furaido chikin, and kanji which are characters borrowed from Chinese. On that first lesson she assessed my level of Japanese, which at the time was as fluent as a one year old and she started by showing me how to write the vowels in hiragana. At the end of this first lesson she sent me home with a stack of papers showing how to write each hiragana character and that we would work together in learning them all.

I find her method of teaching fascinating. She wants me to learn to read first. She believes that I should master reading and writing hiragana and katakana and that the meaning of the words is not important yet, the meaning will come later. Paint on/paint off, wax on/wax off.

So every Friday evening, I sit in a corner with Higuchi sensei and read story books for first graders. And every day I work at writing hiragana over and over again at home. I've filled up four notebooks with the same characters, page after page. I hear them and see them in my sleep and every time I go somewhere I look at the signs and I identify the characters. And every day I wonder if my almost 50 year old brain still has enough juice left to learn a new language.

After eight weeks, I was finally able to write the entire hiragana set of characters from memory and without hesitation. It was exhilarating! And in that moment of triumph, I remembered the words of Alfred, Lord Tennyson that so poetically describe this voyage my family has embarked on:

Come, my friends, 
T'is not too late to seek a newer world. 
Push off, and sitting well in order smite 
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds: 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
Of all the western stars, until I die. 
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: 
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. 
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' 
We are not now that strength which in old days 
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; 
One equal temper of heroic hearts, 
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Home

Osaka is a city of contrasts. A place where the old and the new blend together seamlessly. 

        

         Where the Eastern and the Western live in peace

                                  

 

                   and the ugly and the beautiful abide in harmony.     

  

                                 

 Where else you can find you find a monster truck parked in a Hello Kitty spot,

or an cannibalistic octopus about to eat a fried piece of octopus meat and fish on a stick?

In few places you can buy very expensive milk, cheese and eggs in the "Daily Foods" section,

and also find one of the best tasting gyros, cooked and served by a kind man willing to hand feed your child. 

Here you can find super heroes...

and villains' minions.

Lots of different kinds of socks 

and underwear.

Where art can be found sticking out of the ground,

on the side of a building,

under a building,

and even underfoot.

Where friends come in all sizes

and loved ones show up in unexpected places.

This is my home.

Getting my health care feet wet

A little background first. One of the many reasons why we left the United States was the high cost of health care. After my somewhat lucrative career at the bank abruptly ended and with the loss of private medical insurance brought by it, I signed our family up for the Oregon Health Plan (OHP), created under the Affordable Care Act signed by President Barack Obama.

Even after finding full time employment, we still qualified for full coverage, due to loss of income and because my wife was working part time while also going to school, and the insurance provided by my new employer was the equivalent of 1/3 of my monthly pay, which made it unaffordable. This carried us for over a year for which I'm grateful, but the moment I were to receive a 4% raise in pay, we would exceed the OHP income cap and would have to purchase private health insurance. As a diabetic and with the private insurance options available in Oregon, the two types of insulin I take would've totaled $800 each month, or roughly 40% of my income. That's prescriptions only, not counting premiums, doctor's visit copay or deductible. Without any health insurance the monthly out of pocket cost would have exceeded $1400 each month. With the change of federal policy, a legitimate threat of losing health insurance arose and I just couldn't risk jeopardizing the financial future of my family. Thus the need to take advantage of our ability to migrate and leave the country as soon as possible.

The process of finding and moving into an apartment and getting enrolled in the Japanese universal health care system took two weeks and 30 minutes. To be honest that's lightning fast and not how it normally goes for most immigrants. But now that I had my brand new shiny insurance card it was time to go to the doctor to get examined and get my prescriptions filled.

I had done my homework looking online for English speaking doctors before leaving for Japan and decided to take a chance with the Nakamura Clinic. It's centrally located and I felt I could easily access it from anywhere we settled in the city. When I did my research, I learned that the majority of non specialists don't make appointments. It's a first come, first serve system so I got up bright an early and somehow, still arrived at the clinic about an hour after it opened, which put me 10th in line.

In the US, the opponents of universal health care loudly proclaim that the wait times to see doctors in countries with national insurance are endless. Not one of them has produced evidence of their claim, but I was still hesitant. Being 10th in line probably meant that I would not be seen by the doctor until that evening and it was roughly 10:30 AM. My wife had brought snacks and sweets in case the wait was so long that my sugar dropped. But that was not the case. About an hour after arriving, the doctor called my name and we sat down to chat. He apologized profusely for making me wait, but he felt that my case would take longer and decided to finish the easy cases first. We spoke for about 40 minutes, he ordered lab work, which was done at the clinic, and after that he asked me to return to the waiting area until the results were ready. In the meantime, he continued to see other patients, one after the other and very quickly.

After about another hour, he called me back to his office to examine my results. He looked at how much medication I had left from what I brought in the trip and determined I still had enough for a few weeks. He thought this was good and gave him time to come up with a treatment plan. He apologized for the almost three hour doctor visit and asked me to return the following Monday because he wanted to talk about my prescriptions and if they were available in Japan and if not, which ones he considered to be good substitutes.

Back to the waiting room to see what the financial damage would be. Man, I was nervous. Lab work, two talks with him, plus the first time visit fee that doctors charge in Japan. This is the kind of stuff that breaks the bank in the States. The total for my visit? 3750 yen. That, my friends, is less than $35. I looked at my wife in shock. I haven't paid $35 for a doctor's visit since the mid 90s! But wait. Maybe things will change on my visit next Monday. Who knows, this next one may be the "big one".

So next Monday I woke up even earlier, went to the bank and took out a bunch of money to prepare myself for the charges. I arrived at 9:35 and I was still 3rd in line, but by 10:00 AM I was already sitting with doctor Nakamra. He had done his homework and had found out both my insulins were available in Japan as generics. In the States only one of them was available as generic and that was only since January 2017, when the FDA allowed it. He had two pens of my short term insulin ready and he gave them to me because he was worried I may run out. He told me to return in a month and by then he would have made a new treatment for me. He felt the care I was receiving in the US, although good, was only maintaining the status quo (he actually used that phrase) and was not doing enough to get me to reduce my insulin intake. Now that I'm doing more walking and my level of activity is higher he wants to adjust things, but wants to think about it first. I went to pay expecting a ton of money especially because he had insulin for me, but my total bill was 320 yen. Right around $3. Yes, you read it right, three bucks for a follow up visit.

Fast forward one month, to Friday before last to be exact, and once more I returned to the doctor. I arrived at 9:20 AM and the receptionist asked me to sit saying something I couldn't understand. I was 2nd in line this time. A few minutes later, Dr Nakamura came running into the office and exactly at 9:30 he called the gentleman ahead of me. Fifteen minutes later he called my name. He explained how he wanted to treat my diabetes and he started by drastically reducing my total insulin intake. He wants to start me from scratch. He said my sugar will be higher than normal for a time, but he wants to 1. stop the low sugar episodes I've been experiencing several nights a week and, 2. proceed with my treatment "the Japanese way". He told me he had my prescriptions ready to take to the pharmacy next door to his office and that his nurse would go with me to get everything ready.

HA! This is it! Now is when the financial drain will start. "These medications are not cheap" was what I thought. But first a description of the pharmacy. Pharmacies here are not department stores like they are in the US. They are tiny holes in the wall that serve one purpose only, to dispense prescription medications. They don't sell milk, bread, cosmetics or Halloween costumes. Those types are called "drug stores" and they also sell over the counter medications but rarely deal with prescriptions. The pharmacy was staffed by five ladies and the nurse went to one of the technicians, told her I didn't speak Japanese and gave her my prescriptions. Turns out they didn't have enough of of either one, so they called the supplier and told me, through a translation app, that my long term insulin would be there in 30 minutes but my short term insulin would not be there for a few hours. The entire staff apologized and bowed multiple times saying how sorry they were. I can picture this scenario at Walgreens or CVS... "Sir, siiiiiir! yes you! We don't have this one drug. We'll call the supplier but it probably wont get here until Tuesday. Your other one we don't have either but it may not be here until next Friday. You should go home now and come back then. NEXT PERSON!"

I was instructed to return to the doctor's office because he wanted to talk to me some more. After, I paid for my visit to the doctor, a whopping $20. Then returned to the pharmacy where they had part of the long term insulin and part of the short term one. The price came to just over $100. I called my wife and told her but she felt that was too much and that since the Doctor's office had held on to my insurance card when we brought the prescription, maybe they had charged me the price for uninsured. Either way, $100 bucks was nothing compared to what I would pay in the States, right? I let my wife speak with the pharmacy tech and everything was cleared up. The $100 price is for a three month supply of both insulins, another medication I take for my thyroid and two boxes of needles for the pens! So that's less than $33 a month for three prescriptions and hardware to inject.

The same medications that cost uninsured Americans $1400 each month, and up to $800 for insured ones, are less than $15 dollars each for a one month supply under the Japanese National Health Care system. The same exact medication!

I won't get political, but you know what? If there is one thing that reassures me that we did the right thing by moving to Japan, is that one fact. It's tempting to go off on the American health care system, but I'll refrain. The story alone tells the reality.

He who has ears to hear, let him hear...