Where modern ways meet ancient customs

"See you in Tokyo, October 6," my friend said. 'O.K." I replied and hung at the telephone. The trip we had planned for months was finally about to happen. On my own I flew to Tokyo nonstop from Los Angeles. Pan American's Flight 001 leaves every day at 12 p.m. and arrives in Tokyo nearly twelve hours later. Heading west the airp(ane chased the sun all the way around the globe and the entire flight was made in daylight. There were no less than two movies and three meals. Nothing could quite disguise the length of time in the air, however, and tired passengers disembarked at Narita Airport the next day. We had crossed the International Dateline; it was Thursday, not Wednesday. Once I changed my watch to Japanese time I was never sure what time it was back in Chillicothe. The 'line' for customs went quickly; my small suitcase did not take long to search. I knew I would be carrying the suitcase up and down stairs, on and off trains, to and from lodgings and had traveled light on purpose. After changing dollars into yen, I set out to find a way to the hotel. Narita Airport is an even greater distance from downtown than Kansas City International Airport and the bus ride took about 90 minutes. It delivered me safe and sound to the hotel, weary but glad to be there. My two friends arrived about three hours later laden with souvenir purchases from Hong Kong. See you in Tokyo-exactly as planned! The next day we boarded a flight to Kumamoto, a city of 450,000 on the southern island of Kyushu, We were on our way to meet the final member of our party, another American college friend who had been living in Japan for over three years. Tom taught English in a private junior college that was run by the Lutheran Church. We piled into his little Japanese car and were off, driving on , the opposite side of the street with the steering wheel on the car's right hand side. The day was warm and sunny; the nearby ocean and low, distant hills seemed all of 8:000 miles from Missouri. The first evening we were invited to dinner at the home of a Japanese Lutheran pastor. We took off our shoes before we entered the house and walked in slippers on tatami mats that covered the floor. The table was about two feet off the ground and we sat on cushions on our knees. Not being used to this position we were soon sitting Indian style to keep some circulation in our feet. We sampled many kinds of Japanese food during the trip. Rice is a staple and served at almost every meal. Meats are chopped into bite-size pieces that can be picked up with chopsticks. Chicken, beef, or fish are never over-cooked, sometimes raw, and dipped in a tiny dish of soy sauce spiced with fresh ginger, onions, or grated radish. All meals are accompanied by a bowl of hot soup either made from soybean paste or a clear fish stock, and a pickled garnish of cucumbers, cabbage, or radishes. We tried sashimi-sliced raw fish served with shredded radish and seaweed; sushi raw fish and vinegared rice supposedly eaten in one bite; and soba- noodles made from buckwheat. All of us recognized tofu, one of the few Japanese foods here. Restaurants from McDonald's to the strictly Japanese displayed plastic food and prices of the. dishes in a display window. The plastic food looked real and was an enormous help to tourists. By the end of the trip we were adept at eating with chopsticks and pointing out what we wanted in the window when we couldn't read the menu. After dinner we found that Tom had scheduled us as guest lecturers for his advanced English class. "Just talk in English," he said. When, we introduced ourselves I explained that I was a librarian in a small town surrounded by farmland and open space. From the very first the density of the population in Japan made a strong impression on me. The class was composed of twelve adult students who wanted to improve their English primarily to use in their occupations. One student was a university physics professor, another a physician doing research in cancer,, another worked at an airport. One student from the class invited one visitor home to spend the night, and I stayed with the Toyoda family. Mrs. Toyoda was an elementary school health inspector. She and her husband had two sons. The guest room had doors made of paper and wood lattice that slid back and forth; a fresh flower arrangement graced the night stand. On the tatami floor of woven straw a pad was laid down and covered; a large quiltlike comforter called a futon was put on top. This was a typically Japanese bed. In the morning I gave Mrs. Toyoda two hostess gifts I had brought from Chillicothe--hand embroidered tea towels and crocheted doilies from the Retired Senior Volunteer Gift Shop. A highlight of our stay in Kumamoto was a visit to one of the three active volcanoes in Japan. ,.Mt. Aso is the world's largest compound volcano with five peaks in the center of its caldera. Three-sided stone shelters had been erected to protect tourists in case of smoke or eruption. A portion of the walkway that had previously been open to tourists was closed after the volcano exploded. Besides seeing the volcano we also visited the new museum. The exhibits had buttons to press, moving parts, sound, and a thoroughly technological appeal. What seemed like a dozen classes of Japanese grade school children toured the museum at the same time we did and the noise reverberated off the walls. Leaving my more studious friends I sought refuge in a quieter spot that I found on ah outside balcony on the second floor. Quiet, sunshine, and a bench-that was for me. I should have guessed that the children would not be far behind. In the first moment they saw me they would look and say, "guigy," or "foreigner." In the second moment they would come forward and say, "Hallo." "Hello," I said back to the first brave child and all the rest that immediately lined up after him. Pretty soon I was surrounded by thirty children, all nodding and saying, "Hello." We looked at each other for a long pause. "Bye," one boy finally said and held out his hand. "Bye," I replied and shook the outstretched hand. Every single student as well as another class that had arrived to watch shook my hand and said, "Bye." I must have shook hands and said goodbye to at least 65 giggling Japanese third graders. . The next evening I stayed at the home of the Ogatas. Hatsumi had asked specifically to have me as her guest because she, too, was a librarian. She was also an avid tennis player. When I arrived, her dog barked angrily at the unfamiliar sounds of English. "John," be quiet," she said. The dog continued to bark. "Do you know John McEnroe?" she asked. "Yes," I replied, puzzled. John McEnroe was the name she had chosen for her dog, she explained, because the dog's temper was just like the tennis player's. She had both characters perfectly down pat, but what a representative to choose for Americans! Her brother, Seiya, had driven from Fukuoka to meet me, the first foreign guest to stay in their home. Seiya is a 26-yearold electronics engineer for the Diamond Corporation, the makers of Noritake china. He had done well in school and was fortunate to land a job with an excellent firm. He expected to work for that firm his entire life. In Japan workers do not change jobs or move from company to company as we do. They work six days a week, a minimum of eight hours a day for the same company for their entire lives. Of the many people I met, only one young woman had ever changed jobs. With an investment of a worker's entire life, is it any wonder Japan is known for quality, productivity, and long range planning? Before leaving the United States we had purchased Japan Rail passes that provided unlimited travel on trains for one week at a cost of $80. After about five days with people in Kumamoto we left Kyushu for Japan's more cosmopolitan places, the journey eastward had begun. The first night on the road we stayed at a Japanese hotel or ryokan in Miyajima. Miyajima is located on an island that is known for its beauty and a famous shrine. At a ryokan guests sleep on the floor in futons, and a Japanese dinner and breakfas't are served. For both meals we sampled a variety of shrimp, raw fish, rice, pickles and soup. Our next stop was Hiroshima. That evening we were ready for ordinary,, familiar food: hamburgers. Before we left Japan we ate McDonald's, Wendy's, and Wimpy burgers. We didn't have a chance to try out Pizza Hut, Dairy Queen, or Kentucky Fried Chicken. At Hiroshima we visited the Peace Park and museum. The exhibits showed the devastation inflicted on city and civilians by the explosion of the atomic bomb in World War II. Shreds of clothing, stone turned white by the blast, and stark, frightening black and- white photographs made history real and moving. We went for a long walk around the park after seeing the museum; chrysanthemums leaped colorfully from carefully tended garden beds. The next day we stopped to visit Himeji castle on our way to Kyoto. Himeji was my favorite tourist spot. The television miniseries Shogun was filmed on location in this castle. Himeji was built in 1346, expanded in 1581, and rebuilt in its current form in the 1600's. The structure is made of wood with two 80-foot pillars to hold up the central building. It is also known as White Heron Castle because it appears as if it could fly into the sky like a lovely white heron. Tourists are free to explore most of the buildings and to climb the inner stairway clear to the top. Himeji is all that remains of feudal Japan and the shogunate government. We continued by train to Kyoto, once the ancient capital. Tom's vacation time ended and he returned to his job in Kumamoto. We missed his tour guide service as we continued the trip. One evening we went to a performance of traditional Japanese culture that included a tea ceremony, music, dance, flower arrangement, and a puppet play. The moderator asked for two volunteers from the audience to be part of the tea ceremony. Typically American, I raised my hand to volunteer immediately, but was nevertheless surprised to be chosen. The Japanese tea ceremony follows a formal and exquisite ritual. The tea master scoops hot water into a small bowl into which she has spooned a special kind of green tea and froths the mixture with a whisk. She presents it to the guest and bows. The guest returns the bow and slowly sips the tea. Following instructions given I sipped the tea, nibbled on wafers with sweet bean paste, bowed where appropriate, and wondered if I was living in a dream. Our last stop was Tokyo. The train station rivaled New York's Grand Central Station for sheer size. We called up an American acquaintance, went out for yakitori (fried chicken pieces on a stick), walked the crowded, well-lit Tokyo streets, and stopped for coffee and dessert before calling it a night. Time was passing swiftly; we would soon be going home. Shopping in Tokyo was fun. Prices for meals and lodging had been quite reasonable. Department stores in Japan have more merchandise than in the United States. The stores start at the basement with food and wine and work their way up seven or eight floors of clothing, accessories, furniture, arts and crafts, toys, and a restaurant on the top. A shopper might easily be lost for days. By the time we left Tokyo our hands were full and we had acquired one extra suitcase and two shopping bags. We parted company in Los Angeles. I waved goodbye and boarded a flight to Kansas City. The final destination was the same place the trip began: Chillicothe, Mo., U.S.A.

Tokyo taxi driver gives VIP treatment

Airlines and hotels offer VIP treatment and so does Tokyo taxi driver Setsuo Katoh — in a big way. His is one of about 19,000 privately owned taxis among the 50,000 operating in this city. A number of the private owners take pride in their cars and their courtesy, but Katoh has taken things further. A sign declaring it a "Presidential Suite" hanes in the $7,200 car Katoh bought three' years ago. On entering, passengers are greeted with the tape recorded voice of Katoh's wife saying: "Welcome aboard this taxi, and please watch your head." Then there are free cigarettes and chewing gum, a color television set, stereo music, and a selection of magazines ranging from weekly journals for the housewife to soft-core pornography. If a passenger is tired, there is an electric massage machine. There is also an electric shaver. And if the mood is for song, there is a microphone hooked up to the stereo system. There is no extra charge for these extras. Passengers pay only the regular fare, starting at about the equivalent of one U.S. dollar for the first mile. "Most of my passengers are astonished or puzzled when they step in," Katoh said. "One young lady started to get in recently, exclaimed, 'Is this a taxi?', and got out in a hurry." But the usual reaction, after the initial surprise, is one of appreciation. The inside of the taxi itself is impressive. In addition to the mechanical devices, the ceiling is decorated with a life-size, black-ink print of a two-foot bream Katoh caught. Scores of small dolls and other folk handicrafts fill the spaces unoccupied by electronics. "I think I have, invested about $3,000 in these extras but it pays," Katoh said. "It makes my passengers happy, and I've made quite a few friends. They often charter my taxi, which helps make me financially stable." Katoh said he usually pays about $40 a month to maintain the extra features of the presidential taxi, with the money going for cigarettes, chewing gum, fresh flowers and magazines. He works from 5 p.m. to 2 a.m., covering about 120 miles a day in about 15 to 16 paid rides, he said. "I make about $1,200 to $1,300 gross a month," he explained. "And I pay a maximum $300 for gas, oil and other mechanical expenses." Almost all his passengers comment favorably on his extraordinary taxi, Katoh 'said, with many asking for extra rides. "Once I picked up a gentleman in downtown Tokyo who wanted to catch a train at Tokyo Station for his town. But as soon as he was !in, he changed his mind and rode right up to his home. He paid, me $20 instead of $2; for the station," he said. "Another: gentleman, he invited me home and presented me with an antique paper lantern to put in the cabin. He noticed I am fond of handicraft, which I buy whenever;. I go on a trip." A stocky, gray-haired judo expert, Katoh got his private taxi license six years ago, and decided to let his passengers enjoy their rides as much as possible because there were a number of people who did not trust taxis.

Japan promotes use of deep sea fish

For a fish-eating people, the Japanese still approach some deep sea fish as ugly or unknown, but in the age of 200-mile zones, they are taking another look at these aquatic animals and ways to cook them. Shrimp - like crustaceans, for example, can be mixed with chopped onions , celery , mushrooms, white wine, bread crumbs and butter and spread on crackers. Deep-sea fish with sweet vinegar sauce is made with silverfish, whiptail or hake — fish caught south of the equator and fairly unknown in Japan — with rice wine, ginger, egg yolk, soy sauce, vinegar, green peppers and pineapple. These are just a couple of the hundreds of recipes being developed . A number were distributed to thousands of people during a food week fair in Tokyo, where samples of the foods were offered. "It's the first time I've eaten it and it's quite good," said 76-year-old Mitsugoro Kokaji of Tokyo, trying the crustaceans, "oki-ami" in Japanese. "It doesn't taste too much like fish," said Mrs. Masami Yabe, 44, also of Tokyo. The food week fair is a biannual event sponsored by the Agriculture and Forestry Ministry, the Economic Planning Agenc yand the T o k y o metropolitan government. What made this one different was its big new exhibit under the theme," "Eating Habits in the Age of 200-Mile Economic Zones." With the United States, the Soviet Union and Canada already having declared 200-mile zones, Japanese fishermen will be netting less tuna, bonito, salmon, herring and other popular fish, which supply the Japanese with 51 per cent of their animal protein. The effects of higher prices for fewer fish will not be felt for some time, officials say, but the fishery agency nonetheless has embarked on a program to raise enthusiasm for and knowledge about unpopular and unknown fish. It has built a 3,300-ton deep sea fishing vessel, targeted $700,000 each year for eight years to promote mackerel, sardines and other fish available to Japan, and stepped up research on the shrimp like crustaceans, an important food for fishes and whales and a future protein source for humans. "Deep sea fish have such big eyes and thick skins that they aren't attractive to people at first," said Mrs. Atsuko Takahashi, a p r o f e s s o r at Tokyo Women's Nutrition College. "But you don't know how they will taste until you try, so that's what we're doing — getting people to taste them." She said the reaction was generally favorable, and the free recipe cards were picked up readily. Another object of the campaign is to make better and different uses of the kinds of fish that have been in the Japanese markets all along, but not favored by Japanese palates. Some oft these possibilities are mackerel curried rice, marinated mackerel , curried mackerel gratin, mackerel soup, deep-fried sardines and sardine croquettes. Tamotsu Hasegawa, 58, owner of a "sushi" or raw fish restaurant, said the. new fish cooking tasted more like dessert to him, since he is used to the simple taste of raw fish dipped in a little soy sauce.