November 30, 2011: “American Pastime”

There is this prejudice I just have to get over, and that is that I have it in my mind that I hate any film that has a sports orientation. Although a rather harmless one, and certainly only affecting me,  like most prejudices they exist only in the mind, have little to do with reality, and invariably limit growth. So, there were these two movies on the library shelf that I have been avoiding forever, even ‘tho I was pretty sure that a part of me would really like them. The first was “Invictus” that I saw last month. Loved it. C’mon. Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela? One of my most favorite poems in the title? Why did I wait so long? And, after that experience, why did I wait another month to try “American Pastime?” Why? Well, that’s the part of myself  I struggle with.

“American Pastime” begins as a an American utopia: it’s title sequence uses a blend of documentary footage of 1941 combined with movie stills to tell a quick story of a group of young integrated friends as they grow up in California. The movie starts as these friends are hanging out upstairs, talking about their loves: jazz, baseball, and their favorite movie stars. Their parents are downstairs organizing a cookout for them all. I love the quick pan of the food on the table where you get to see corn on the cob, spaghetti with sauce, and riceballs (and what I think is okonomiyaki!!!) all together on one table. This is an America that was supposed to be. Unfortunately, December 7th, 1941, the “Day of Infamy,” changed all of that.

Within the first few minutes of the film, the Nomura family (father, mother, and two teenage brothers) are packed up, along with 120,000 others of Japanese-Americans, told to sell all they own, and are shipped off inland, the Nomuras to Utah to be interred in the Topaz Relocation Center.

I’ve written about this black chapter of American history before in my article “Kiri’s Piano” and I readdress it here, because I still find it hard to believe that America interred it’s own citizens with no proof of collusion with an enemy. Yes, America was at war, but we were at war with the Germans and Italians at the same time, yet only Japanese-Americans were interred.

The Nomura family, along with their fellow internees, try to form a sense of normalcy in their new and rather bleak surroundings. The deal with the bigotry of not only their guards, but also a few of the townspeople, as they go into town to buy supplies to improve their camp. One of the things I like about “American Pastime” is that the bigotry is dealt with in a realistic way. They show people the way they really are: not every one of the townspeople is hostile, some of those who are, change to the better. Some will simply, never let go of their hatred. The bond that all the people have in common is the game. Baseball is the cultural glue of the American people and as long as you play well (physically and ethically) it doesn’t matter what your heritage is. Dignity and mutual respect can be achieved through excellence.

“American Pastime” is not a perfect movie. It tries a little too hard to stuff many worthwhile topics into the film: bigotry in time of war: issues between fathers and sons, between brothers, between lovers: all very noble topics, but a little too much for one film. Still if you like dramas based on real life, or (unlike me) have no issues with sports films, “American Pastime” could be the film for you.

Check out the “making of” part of the DVD. They interview some of the Japanese-American heroes of the 422nd Regimental Combat Team (the  most decorated in US Armed history.) They also interview the actors, and to quote one who sums up well the notion that dignity can come through a game says, “There are more important things in life, but sometimes it takes a game to understand them.”

September 30, 2011: “Shibumi”

If I didn’t have the honor, benefit, and pleasure of having several good friends that have been brought up in Japan, I think my fascination with Japanese culture would still exist for one source: the book “Shibumi” (1979) by Trevanian. I picked this up just after my move to Boston and that one copy has been reread by me so many times that the cover is gone and the rest of it is held together by rubber bands, when not being read. A hard-bound copy (if I can find one) is one of the first luxuries I intend to buy when I come into some cash. I’ve read just about everything else by Trevanian and have enjoyed his short stories, and his novels: “The Main” and of course “The Eiger Sanction” among others. Outside his writing, part of Trevanian’s appeal was the mystery of the man himself. While he was living, very little was know about Trevanian, including his real name. We now know him as Rodney William Whitaker. “Shibumi” is classified as a “spy-thriller” but could be just as well classified as a spoof of that genre. Trevanian manages to make Ian Fleming’s Bond look like a wimp by comparison to his anti-hero, Nicholai Hel. When “Shibumi” came out in 1979, it was a world-wide success and readers begged for more, but Trevanian in a “been there, did that” attitude went on to more personally enriching endeavors. There’s talk of a movie being made of “Shibumi” and the Trevanian estate has sanctioned a prequel: “Satori” by Don Winslow.

It would take forever to trace Nicholai Hel’s journey throughout “Shibumi,” but if you like extremely intelligent anti-heroes who speak seven languages, become a master in: (among other things) forbidden martial arts, arcane weapons, spelunking, mysticism, culinary arts, the game of Go, and gardening, while becoming the world’s highest paid assassin, “Shibumi” is the book for you. Like I said, Trevanian out-Bonds Fleming’s Bond!

With all his abilities, being vastly influenced by Japanese culture, Nicolai Hel wants only to live a life of “shibumi” which is described in “Shibumi” in rather vague (but later I found to be fairly accurate) terms in the book as a pursuit of the “understated excellence” or “effortless perfection.” For example, Nicolai’s one joy is perfecting his Japanese garden by making it “more simple.”

Outside of the sheer fun of the book, with its rich characters (typical of Trevanian) it is this concept of shibumi that brings me back, time and time again. There’s something very much against the grain of most of American culture in this concept. Most Americans value the “flashy,” the overt. Shibumi is its exact opposite. I once asked Yoshio for a good example of shibumi. He thought for a long while and then said that he observed elder women on the subway in Tokyo dressed in traditional Japanese garb, and for him, that was shibumi. Other have said shibumi exists in the Japanese tea ceremony: where the simplicity of behavior and precision of action of both the person giving and receiving the ceremony define it as shibumi. In art, shibui is defined as a “balance of simplicity and complexity where one continually finds meaning and appreciation.”

Unobtrusive beauty. Understated excellence. Effortless perfection. One could spend a lifetime searching for these. Entertaining spy novels aside, I can think of worse goals than a life striving to attain shibumi!

10.24.11 Update: I just went to the mailbox to find a hardbound version of “Shibumi” from my former student Isaac, as a belated birthday present. Included also was a sweet and funny card from him and Kelly. I have put Isaac’s copy of “Shibumi” on my coffee table and it is very tempting to start it, but I have to first finish “Pendragon” by Catherine Christian, yet another hardbound version of a beloved novel from the very same Isaac. This from many years ago when he actually was my student. Same situation: a loved paperback, ages old, falling to ruin by use. I let slip my concern of its eventual loss in Isaac’s presence. I take out “Pendragon” to read every year, and deliberately space it so that I never tire of it.

I think of books as old friends, and it is a special pleasure to have united a book with a living, breathing, thoughtful, and generous friend. Now, in two instances, I may drink both in, with just a few chapters read. Thank you, my friend. A most wonderful, appreciated, and unexpected gift!

August 25, 2011: Talk at Showa Institute

"Colcannon" (Kale, mashed potatoes, cream,& spices) Photo by Y. Saito via IPhone

A quick “thank you” to Showa Institute of Boston, Yoshio, Michelle, and the students from Japan for having me out, to once again talk about Irish Cooking. A perfect day of organizing my notes by the koi pond, cooking with Yoshio (always a pleasure) and meeting and talking to the students. Once again, Yoshio and I made a variety of Irish dishes showing the range of influences of different cultures on Irish cuisine. We made:

Corned Beef and Cabbage

Colcannon

Codling Cream

Irish Soda Bread

Recipes are available on last year’s entry “August 26, 2010: Irish Cuisine at Showa”

August 19, 2011: Lost in translation…Monty Python Dubbed in Japanese

Click to see youtube of two (abbreviated) scenes from "MP&THG" in Japanese

Most of us tend to group feelings (good or bad) to certain people, places, events, or things that can affect us later in life, just by bringing those things to mind. It takes just one shaky takeoff to make someone afraid of flying forever. Looking back, I can trace more than a few really, really good events/feelings with the comedy troop Monty Python.

It all started back in high school. My lacrosse buddy, John, who knew me very well in those days, took me aside at practice “OK, Steve” he said, “Sunday night, 11pm, turn on PBS and see this show, ‘Monty Python’. You won’t regret it.” In those days, every high school student assumed there was nothing good on PBS, especially on a Sunday night, so I expressed some skepticism. “Just watch it.” John said,  ”If you don’t like it, I’ll eat my helmet.” So I did watch, just as he suggested. At first it was “What the…???” but then…there was THE joke. I’m not going to tell what the joke was, because as I learned shortly after, it was an old chestnut, but as I never had heard it before, and that joke being given that pitch-perfect Python-ish bent, it struck a nerve. A major nerve! I consider myself lucky that I have been blessed with many moments of really extreme laughter since that Sunday night in high school, but I seriously don’t remember laughing uncontrollably for five straight minutes, before that night. My parents were somewhat concerned. I recovered, was forever hooked on Python and John didn’t eat his helmet.

So, I saw every show. Every single show! Luckily, late Sunday night is not exactly prime-time, so I had relatively few battles over the one set with my other seven brothers and sisters. I eventually saw all the Python movies in the theater. Another Python highlight was seeing the 2001 re-release of “Monty Python & the Holy Grail” with my former student, Isaac. Of course, the shows are all out on DVD now and I have revisited them and all the movies. So, I was thrilled to find the special-edition DVD of “Monty Python & the Holy Grail” in my library. It is full of extras and if you’re a Python fan, I can highly recommend it. Especially rewarding is the commentary by the Pythons. It’s been 35+ years since they made “MP&THG” it and it still cracks them up!

Among other extra features are clips of scenes from the Japanese version of the movie. The two scenes are “The French Castle” and “The Knight Who Say “Ni.” I was amazed to find the Japanese translation to be quite accurate grammatically, but with very different dialog! Another Python “Huh?” moment! Beforehand, I was thinking perhaps that the “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries” line might be hard to translate but, I mean, this was really different! I took the translation to my friend Teja, who understands comedy very well (he has been a stand-up comedian and uses humor in his shows on diversity) and was brought up in Japan (so he knows the language and the culture) to explain why the dialog was changed soooo much from English to the Japanese. Both scenes are interesting and even funny in a different kind of way, but I chose “The French Castle” scene to focus on. The setup is King Arthur, his knights and their “horses” are approaching a castle. Here’s a PDF of the scene as English vs. Japanese:

Monty Python

Teja explained that for the most part the Monty Python humor “just doesn’t scan” in Japanese. He said that most Japanese wouldn’t get the subtleties of the English-French rivalry that so much of the scene’s humor depends upon. “The context of humor is everything.” he pointed out, and “if you have to explain the humor, it doesn’t work.” He also said, “Humor must be absorbed through the culture it is presented through.” He pointed out that he, himself didn’t find “MP&THG” particularly funny when he first saw it, but he was still living within Japanese culture. Yet, Teja’s older brother Miguel (also brought up in Japan) loved the film, but Miguel had been in the states for a couple of years before he saw it.

In the commentary of the film, the Pythons address the humor of the “Witch Scene” when Sir Bedivere asks the villagers (besides wood) “What also floats in water?” the villagers respond (in true Python-ish silliness) with things that obviously DO NOT float, like “stones” and “churches.” According to the Pythons, that humor was lost on the French who, in their translation, substituted things like “feathers” and “crickets,” things that actually DO float.

Oh, well…I guess whatever the culture, it isn’t so important what you’re laughing at, as long as laughter is happening…and happening often. To quote my good friend Teja: “Humor is not universal, laughter is!”

December 27, 2010: Snow Viewing Lantern

Here’s a view of a corner of my Japanese garden. With today’s blizzard, it’s easy to see why they call this kind of lantern “yukimo-doro” or “snow-viewing” lantern. It’s squat shape with its broad roof make the viewing of snow spectacular (and I enjoyed it as much as I could stand with today’s cold and wind.)

It also looks great in the summertime at night with an oil lamp inside and the waterfall running in the small pool at its base.

October 07, 2010: Koya Mountain Monastery

 

Photo: Charles Thuener (showing lunch and a fire ceremony)

 

This summer Yoshio was a guide taking a group through different parts of Japan. One stop was a Buddhist monastery in Kyo Mountains. The monastery was founded 1200 years ago by a Buddhist monk by the name of “Ko Bo” who was of the “Shin Gon” or “true word” sect of Buddhism. The monastery can only be reached by cable-car and is about as remote possible to the hustle and bustle of modern Japanese life, yet modern Japanese companies often send employees here for mental Zen training.

Yoshio’s family has belonged to the monastery for at least four generations back, (that he can accurately trace but most likely they have belonged for much longer). In addition to Zen training (and probably the most beautiful views on earth, judging from the photos Yoshio’s group took) the monastery serves “sho jin” or vegetarian cuisine. Having 1200 years of experience, the monks have refined their cooking to a visual and culinary art (however austere it may seem to a Westerner.)

A typical menu for the day might include:

Breakfast: Rice porridge with pickled plum and radish and a few vegetables

Lunch: Miso soup with a few pickled vegetables and rice

Dinner:

• Asparagus wrapped in tofu skin
• Five kinds of stewed vegetables
• Tofu with vegetables
• Wheat veggie dumplings
• Chestnut rice

The fire ceremony, shown above, is Buddhist ceremony commemorating the passing of ancestors.

October 05, 2010: Ozu’s “Tokyo Story”

Often I see a film that under the right circumstances, I should love, yet I walk away feeling a little let down after seeing it. Usually, all the major pieces necessary (good acting, writing, direction and of course…photography) are present, but somehow I still find them a little lacking. I usually attribute this feeling to a particular mood I have at the time of viewing, but after seeing Yasujiro Ozu’s masterpiece “Tokyo Story” today, I realized that there is more than a passing mood to appreciate a truly good film. The best term I can come up with is “openness.” Being open to a film seems to make all the difference. I knew enough about “Tokyo Story” that one would have to have a special frame on mind to watch it. One thing that helped me was to have watched one of Ozu’s previous films (“The Flavor of Green Tea Over Rice” see my August 25th review of this film) so I knew Ozu’s style: that his best films focus on Japanese post-war, middle class and deal with family issues. I could tell by the film’s length (over two hours) that I need to watch the film with a bit of Patience (deliberately capitalized…any film with two hours of subtitles needs Patience.) I also knew that Ozu can be slow-paced, as he takes his time to draw out personalities of his characters and I knew that this is considered his most “plotted” and more melodramatic of his films. I also read a few reviews of the film and it seems that people either love “Tokyo Story” or hate it.

So. Instead of giving you a lot of details about the film, I want you to trust me and just to see “Tokyo Story” with “openness.” In general, the film is about family and the inherent lessons about life that can be learned, via family. If you are Japanese, you’ve probably lived through issues that come up in this film, and if you are Western I promise you will recognize personality traits of characters of the family Ozu portrays. Also, the film’s most important feature is that it concentrates on the Japanese zen-like concept of “mono no aware” or “the sweet sadness of life” which is that at the moment you experience the most profound joy of your life you are also aware that that moment is temporary. If all of this is not quite enough to give you impels to see “Tokyo Story,” another draw (for me, at least) was that this film was rated in the top ten best film of all time in several lists that I found! Give yourself some time, patience, a little “openness” and give “Tokyo Story” a try.

June 29, 2010: Akira Kurosawa’s “Dreams”

While my muse Yoshio is away leading a group around Japan, I’ve had to come up with other inspirations to explore Japanese food and culture on my own. It occurs to me that I have not yet reviewed one of my favorite Japanese films, that of Akira Kurosawa’s “Dreams”  from 1990. If a culture reveals itself through its stories, and a person reveals himself  through his dreams (really a story that one tells oneself) what better way to get a glimpse of a culture via a recounting of a person dreams, most particularly when that dreamer is one of the best film makers of not only a country but the world at large!

For that is exactly what “Dreams” is about: it is a retelling of dreams Kurosawa had, told chronologically, throughout his life. Kurosawa captures the flavor and the “language” of dreams: their pacing, weirdness, and use of symbol to try to make sense of our world (often through non-sense) and to reveal our concerns, fears, and ultimate wishes. Although I own this beautiful and telling film, I confess that I find I have to be in the mood for it, as it often moves slowly, capturing as it does the meditative effect that dreams have, rich in detail.

Sunshine Through the Rain: In this dream, Kurosawa is a boy who ventures out on a day that is raining, although the sun is shining. He is warned by his mother that he shouldn’t go out on such a day as the foxes celebrate their wedding ceremonies, and it is forbidden to view them. This only increases the boy’s desire to see such an event. Walking through a rainy and fog-filled redwood forest he finds a troop of magical “kitsune” or people-foxes parading through the forest in wedding procession. Trying to remain hidden, the boy is inevitably seen by the troop. Returning home, the boy is told by his mother that she was visited by a fox who told her that she cannot let him in. She then presents him with a blade and he is instructed to kill himself for his transgression. She tells him, they may forgive them, but he must find them first, where they live under a rainbow. This dream shows a childhood awe of magic, the fear of banishment from the hearth and home, and the lure of the unknown.

The Peach Orchard In this dream, Kurosawa is still a boy. He is serving his sister and her friends who are celebrating “Doll Festival.” He sees an “extra” girl who the others do not see. Following the girl outside, she leads him to the family’s destroyed peach orchard, where the “dolls” pictured earlier have come to life. The “dolls” say they are the spirits of the trees come back and admonish the boy for the orchard’s destruction. Kurosawa, as the boy, begins to cry and is further admonished by the ‘dolls” that he is crying because he will miss the peaches the grove supplied. When the boy says that he is crying because he will miss the orchard’s beauty at blossom time, the dolls grant him one last view of the orchard as he remembered it. When the vision subsides, he finds the “extra” girl has been turned into the only remaining tree left in the orchard. This dream explores themes of loss of childhood (and childhood memories), again the awe of magic, regeneration through our youth, and the mystic of the feminine world.

The Blizzard In this dream, Kurosawa is a young man, on a mountaineering trip through the Japanese Alps. The group of men are linked together and in dire straights: they are lost, fatigued, cold and desperate. Also, there is an approaching storm and if they cannot find their base, they are lost forever. To make things worse, in the middle of the storm, all his men fall asleep from exhaustion. Trying to revive them Kurosawa is confronted by a “snow fairy” who tries to lull him to sleep also, saying that ” The snow is warm. The ice is hot.” Shaking himself from her spell, the storm suddenly clears. In this dream, Kurosawa’s famous use of color is absent. There is only the blue of a cold world of ice and snow. He uses sound well in this story: for minutes at a time all that can be heard is the labored breathing of the men and the clank of equipment, followed by the roar of the storm that suddenly becomes quiet as the “snow fairy” sings. This dream explores man’s fear of nature as well as the “kami” (spirits) that inhabit it.

The Tunnel Kurosawa is an army commander returning home from the war. He comes upon a tunnel guarded by a fierce dog carrying hand grenades across it’s back (literally a “dog of war” or perhaps Cerberus, the guardian of the underworld.) Getting around the dog he passes through the tunnel. On the other side he hears a noise in the tunnel behind him and out steps the ghost of one of his former men. The ghost is trying to return home and as he cannot find his way, he pleads with his former commander to help him. The commander explains to the ghost that he has died and must return through he tunnel. The ghost reluctantly does, but soon returns with the rest of his platoon. The commander explains that it was through his error that the whole troop was annihilated,  begs their forgiveness, and persuades them to return. As they recede down the tunnel the snarling figure of the dog returns. This dream explores the longing for home, fear of death, honor, guilt, and the futility of war.

Crows In this dream, Kurosawa is still a young man, a painter (that Kurosawa was before he broke into movies) that is visiting a museum showing the works of Van Gogh. Able to enter the world of the paintings the man goes off in search of Van Gogh himself. This is probably the least favorite dream in the series for most people due to two things: the digital effects of the “painting world” seem a little dated to modern viewers,( but remember this film was made 1990, really the birth of digital cinematography.) Also, the person playing Van Gogh…well..I don’t want to give it away, but I found it more humorous than distracting. This dream explores the passion for art, the drive to excel, hero-worship and our desire to be inspired.

I confess, I usually skip over the next two as I find these the most depressing as they deal with the threat of nuclear annihilation in Mt Fuji in Red and it’s after effects in The Weeping Demon. They are both worth a watch for first time viewers, as some people say that these are their favorites.

Village of the Watermills is perhaps my favorite of the lot. Kurosawa enters a peaceful and beautiful village that has a stream running though it, powering a series of watermills. He meets a very old man who is repairing one of the watermills. The old man describes his life in the village. The village has no electricity, no modern conveniences of any sort, yet the people remain very happy and live a long, full life due to their natural existence. The dream ends with a burial of the old man’s former lover. Instead of a solemn occasion, the whole village comes out with a happy parade, celebrating the woman’s life. Of course this dream represents an ideal of the way of life that a lot of us would want to live: free from the trappings of modern life and the stresses our modern “solutions” really end up making our lives more (not less as they were designed) complicated. Yes, an ideal…but a very beautiful one.

June 15, 2010: Hello…er..ummm…Hello Kitty!

Of course, I don’t exactly live under a rock, but I sometimes can be very out of touch with popular culture. I’ve managed to know of the popular Japanese character of Hello Kitty for an excess of 30 years but not to know much about her, despite having my good friend Lisa, who has been a big fan for as long as I have known her. But meeting my two new young friends, Nicole and Katie, last weekend, and finding that they were both HK fans as well, I thought it was way past time to find out a little bit more about the HK phenomena! Thank the world for Netflix. I ordered the most appealing HK title: “Hello Kitty Goes to the Movies” and the next day I was able to watch it.

If there could be anyone possibly less informed than I about Hello Kitty, she is a “manga” (print) and “anime” (moving image) cartoon character, drawn in a minimalistic style, first designed by Kuko Shimizu. She is portrayed as a young white cat with a red bow attached to her left ear and wears clothes. She is often drawn with no visible mouth. She lives with her mom and dad and her twin sister, Mimmy, who looks very much like HK but wears different clothes and has the bow on the right ear. In cartoons, HK sounds like a 4-5 year old girl. She appears to be adventuresome, kind, and thoughtful in personality In the cartoons she is shown having an extended family and a bevy of friends which she relates to and has adventures with. HK is supposed to be a Japanese bobtail cat. That’s a good choice for HK, as these cats are an active, inintelligent, and affectionate breed. Bobtails have soft voices and are said to “sing” as they are very “talkative” to their human owners (whom they have great affection for.) They learn tricks easily and are known to even “fetch” for their owners. They have soft, silky, medium-length hair. They can be any color, but tend to have a lot of white mixed with calico. Their most distinguishing characteristic is a short, “bobbed” tail, looking more like a rabbit’s tail than that of a cat. In rare cases, they can have different colored eyes (appearing in the more white cats, for some reason) one being blue (which the Japanese see as “silver”) and one being yellow (Japanese see as “gold”.) Kind of like a feline David Bowie. The bobtail, coincidentally, is also the auspicious symbol seen in a lot of Japanese businesses called the “maneki neko” (the “inviting cat.”)

I found “Hello Kitty Goes to the Movies” to be a good introduction to HK. In the series, she doesn’t so much as “go” to the movies as recreate famous movies in her “Furry Tail Theater” and as such making them more palatable to a younger audience. In “The Wizard of Paws” HK’s remake of “The Wizard of Oz” there was none of the trauma of the evil witch and the flying monkeys that still gives me shivers to this day. Her shows are full of punning “kitty-isms” like when she gets to Oz she says “I guess, I’m not in Catfish (Kansas) anymore!” I was surprised at a couple of phrases of well placed social commentary. One, is when HK and her family are playing aliens visiting Earth (the complexity of  a”show within a show” was interesting.) As HK is running off, her mom tells her “Watch out for the natives! They’re dangerous! I know…I’ve seen their TV shows!

So, I gave HK high marks for complexity and entertainment and being a part of the “kawaii” (cuteness) culture of Japan, she certainly is cute, but ultimately, I was very concerned about the merchandising of Hello Kitty as a product. This is nothing new, as any popular media figure is going to draw merchandising of some sort. Still, Sanrio Co. Ltd., who owns the rights to HK, generates $1 billion annually in licensing arrangements from everything from school supplies to fashion accessories!

I appreciate the chance to know a little bit more about modern culture, particularly as it gives me a chance (by proxy) to know my new young friends a little bit better, but I do hope that they are able to resist the temptation to fall into the draw of this merchandising, and resist the temptation to own things. I hope they will find cuteness and entertainment in all the manifestations of life, particularly the ones they find organically in friends, family, and nature.

May 19, 2010: East vs West Crossing Guards

Visiting Yoshio yesterday, I was stuck at a light where construction was going on. There was a crossing guard there and I kept waiting for him to signal me across…and waiting…and waiting!  I started thinking of my crossing guard from grade school days. I suspect good ‘ole Mr. Duda would be pretty upset what a shabby job this guy was doing. I was late meeting Yoshio, so having no help from the guy, I kept pressing the “walk” button, but that didn’t seem to work, either. I decided I could risk a jaywalking ticket or get very, very old waiting for this guy to do his job, so I scooted across at the best possible time. When Yoshio and I came out of the cafe…same thing…absolutely no help from this guy whatsoever. Yoshio said that it is very different in Japan. Crossing guards there take their job pretty seriously. Here’s a video of one of them. If taxpayers are going to pay these people $40-60+ an hour to do their job, have them take a page from this Japanese crossing guard’s book.