Puff, Leaving...

I'm sorry to see that Mary Travers of the 60s group Peter, Paul, and Mary has passed away. There's plenty of detailed information on the 'net for anyone interested in her, or the group's, history. I just thought I'd mention that even for a pretty hard-core hard rock lover like me, Puff the Magic Dragon and Leaving on a Jet Plane stand out in memory of the 60s and early 70s, and Mary's part of the three-part harmony stands out particularly.

An awful lot of my Vietnam War-era peers have memories, poignant or otherwise, with Leaving on a Jet Plane as the background music.

"I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go."

Cast Iron Memories

My first reaction was amusement when I saw a news story about a guy in Kumamoto who hit a "male relative" (bother-in-law, maybe?)for interfering in a fight with his wife.

The amusement's probably the result of having watched too many cartoons as a child.

Then, I noticed that the victim, although he had "injuries to his nose and face", was expected to take only a week to heal. That frequently used phrase in the Japanese media means quite minor injuries: scrapes, bruises, superficial cuts, and the like.

When I was growing up in San Francisco, learning to cook from my mother and grandmothers, "frying pan" or "skillet" meant a big, black, heavy, cast iron pan that required considerable strength just to carry, not to mention picking up and flipping to turn pancakes over. They were great for cooking all sorts of dishes, and very versatile, too. They weren't the sort of thing you'd want to get hit in the face with, though, for sure.

These days pretty much all the pots and pans in most kitchens are aluminum, with maybe a little stainless steel here and there, or copper for those who can afford the expense and the time to care for it. With the advent of practical non-stick surfaces, it has become pretty hard to find those heavy old cast iron frying pans, and I suspect that people who know/remember how to "season" those pots properly have become somewhat scarce, too.

I certainly don't see that sort of pan much in Japan; the closest thing is probably the ubiquitous Chinese-style woks, the best of which are indeed iron, and are seasoned similarly, but they're still a lot lighter than the pans I grew up with. I'm quite sure that I could find all the cast iron pans I could want on a trip to Kappabashi, but they'd likely be pretty expensive, and I don't cook as often as I used to, and storage space is a problem...and I'm lazy, too.

Anyway, I should thank the irate farmer in Kumamoto for reminding me of those great old skillets from my childhood. And his victim should thank whatever kind fate put a lighter frying pan in the hands of the assailant. I never seriously considered a cast iron frying pan as a weapon--there are many more deadly and easily used implements in a kitchen--but getting hit several times in the face/head by one, even if the wielder is drunk, could be expected to cause a lot more than minor injuries.

Cycle Clowns

Twice in only about 12 hours, I encountered bicyclists who--had they been more competent--might have qualified as trainee clowns for the next circus that comes to town. Unfortunately, both had an audience of only me, but I tried to make up for the lack of numbers by my enthusiasm.

Last night, a 20-something bicyclist riding 15 or 20 meters ahead of me was busily engaged in a conversation on his cell phone as he pedaled along. He was, predictably, weaving a bit, so I kept well back on the narrow road, waiting for a wider, safer place to pass him. This gave me a good view of his unintentional acrobatic act.

Apparently he didn't see the line of meter-high plastic poles set fence-like around a roadside safety zone. At first, briefly, I thought he might be intending to do a slalom among the poles, but I should have known better. Oblivious, he rode right into the poles, getting tangled up among them while still pedaling furiously. His attention finally switched from his phone to his bicycle and the road, around the time that the bike went down and he went over the handlebars and into the rest of the line of semi-flexible posts, cell phone still clutched tightly in his hand, mouth agape in surprise.

I stopped next to him as he tried to disentangle himself from the bent but springy posts and his tangled bicycle.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered, "I guess so."

"That's too bad," I said, "because I was hoping you'd been damaged enough to learn a lesson from this." As I rode off he still didn't seem to understand how he'd gotten into his predicament. Maybe next time he'll drive off a cliff and do the human gene pool a favor.

Not too many hours later, as I was riding down a major thoroughfare to my office, another 20-ish bicyclist sped through a red light and right in front of my motorcycle. I barely managed to swerve, avoid him, and stop. He lost control of his bicycle and fell down with it tangled up with his legs. I suppose he was surprised to see this big, bearded foreigner on a big black motorcycle appear magically in front of him...at least, I imagine it must have seemed that way to him, since he hadn't looked either way as he went to cross the intersection, and presumably either didn't see or else ignored the traffic signals, too.

I helped him up (not gently, but firmly...very firmly) and off to the side of the road; he wasn't hurt but was rather disoriented.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You stupidly went through a red light, and if I hadn't swerved around you I would have hit you. You seem to have lost control and fallen with your bicycle. You're lucky I didn't run you over. You're also lucky that my motorbike isn't damaged, because if it had been, I would have put you in the hospital, and it wouldn't have been an accident." I'm afraid that my tone was probably pretty vicious. My facial expression probably wasn't really encouraging and kindly, either.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'll be more careful in the future and stop at red lights."

"Please don't do that," I said, as I got on my bike to ride away. "By all means run through another red light very soon, but please do it in front of a big truck, or better still an express train."

The memory of the look on his face kept me happy for the rest of the morning.

False Economy

Sometimes what you think you have gained or saved isn't really worth what you had to sacrifice to get it.

How crass. How sad that our world, even this despicable little part of it, has come to this.

Japan Airlines Corp said Tuesday it will serve wine in plastic rather than glass bottles in the economy class sections of some of its international flights starting Thursday to reduce flight loads.

Can I Charge It?

There's a Mitsubishi car showroom near my office, and they've recently put a charger for electric cars outside in front, where they usually put a couple of display vehicles.
I'm not really sure if the charger--which looks a lot like a gas station pump, if you haven't seen one yet--is actually functional or just for display. I'm told that a "quick" charge takes about 30 minutes, though, and since that's longer than most motorists would consider spending in a gas station unless they're waiting for a wash and wax job, I rather doubt that it's intended for regular retail use. Maybe they use it to charge their electric car display models.

It got me thinking, though, about what happens if you're driving an electric vehicle and you happen to run out of power when you're not anywhere near a charger. I've known several people who ran out of gas out in the country somewhere, up in the mountains miles from a town, say, and had to walk or hitchhike to a gas stand to get a can of gasoline to take back and put in the car so they could drive to the station and get the car filled, or else had to call AAA in the States or JAF here in Japan, to get a road service guy to come bring some gas.

I don't see how it could possibly be that simple if your electric car loses the last of its charge in some remote spot. Do you have to push the vehicle to the nearest charging station? Since I have yet to see any charging stations other than the one in front of that showroom, that doesn't seem very practical.

High Risks

Earlier this week, I wrote my weekly article about the risks associated with climbing Mount Fuji. Just a few hours after I'd submitted it, the TV news began broadcasting the story of climbers trapped by sudden bad weather in the mountains of Hokkaido.

It sounded grim for the party of people, most apparently in their sixties but also mostly experienced mountain trekkers. Initial reports from guides by cell phone and e-mail were very discouraging, and with near-zero (Celsius) temperatures accompanied by 70 to 90 kph winds, that's not surprising.

Reports today when weather cleared enough for rescuers to reach them said a total of 10 people died, nine (including one of the guides) on 2,141-meter Mount Tomuraushi and one on another relatively nearby mountain.

Judging from the video clips, and statements from survivors and rescuers, it seems that the trekkers--even though some had as much as 20 years' experience--were too lightly dressed and insufficiently equipped to deal with unseasonably cold, wet, and windy weather, particularly after having already hiked for several hours. All of the details aren't in yet, and it's pretty pointless to reiterate all the statements of the many experts trotted out by the media every time some disaster takes place ("older people are more susceptible to hypothermia", for example). Older people climb Mount Everest, too, but they do it well prepared and well equipped.

I saw only a couple of small nylon alpine tents deployed in the middle of sweeping high altitude expanses with virtually no natural shelter, and Japan Self Defense Force rescuers mentioned that some of the climbers seem to have tried to stay warm with portable cooking stoves. It appears that the guides may have carried tents--they looked like one of my 4-person alpine tents--but not enough for all of the party, and apparently nobody had sleeping bags or even emergency "space blankets".

One of the survivors has been quoted as saying that the tour should have been cancelled, and he may well be right, but it does seem that the weather--often unpredictable and changeable in the mountains--closed in after they were well on their way. The guides apparently thought it safer to press on than to turn back.

I used to be a guide for mountain trekking tours, although both I and the customers were considerably younger and fitter then than these parties seem to have been. I sympathize with the guides,at least a little bit: it can be a tough call when you're trying to choose among bad alternatives for the most survivable one.

Hindsight's great regarding how one should be equipped, too, I know. They were on a pretty long trek in pretty high country, evidently intending to end up in an onsen (hot spring spa) rather than stuck up near a mountain peak, and carrying sufficient tents and sleeping bags for everyone would have meant risking debilitation of the customers...also not a real good idea on a long mountain trek.

But this still seems to have been a case of badly underestimating the potential risk, and I'm afraid that we're going to see more of this type of accident, since mountain trekking has become very popular, especially for retirees. Tour companies are naturally jumping aboard the trend train, and safety isn't always the first thing on their minds. Maybe this tragedy will cause some reconsideration of details--especially equipment and probably also time & distance planning--for future tours.

Incidentally, I don't mean to imply that the trekkers' age is necessarily the only--or even the main--risk factor involved. The only person I knew personally who died climbing Fuji-san was a young teacher, and the several times that the Grim Reaper's scythe gave me a near miss in the mountains were all when I was in my twenties. I was quite well-equipped, too, although probably insufficiently wary.

In any case, it's a bad idea to underestimate the mountains.

Thieves, Tanuki and Turtles

I see that last week a fellow named Kimura was arrested for trying to steal a ceramic tanuki (raccoon dog) from the garden of a home in Toyohashi, near Nagoya. 

It seems that a homeowner caught him with a ceramic frog in his hands, and the 70 centimeter tanuki in his bicycle basket, late last Wednesday night. When the police later searched Kimura’s home, they found 15 more tanuki statues along with some ceramic dogs and frogs, for a total of 30-odd items.

Kimura, who lives alone, claimed to police that he was lonely since the deaths of his father and brother, so he had been stealing the animal garden ornaments for the last year or so, to have someone to talk to.

In another country, I suppose it might have been garden gnomes, or maybe the flamingos that used to adorn many lawns in California when I was growing up.

I haven't been in Toyohashi for many years, but I doubt that it has changed much since my last visit. At the time, as is the case with many Japanese cities, there were plenty of stray cats around. Befriending one of them and caring for it would seem preferable to talking to garden ornaments.

Actually, my first reaction to the story was that he should be put in touch with the people who found an alligator snapping turtle in nearby Nagoya the week before Kimura's arrest. Maybe they'd let him keep the 37 kilogram turtle as a pet, or enlist his assistance in catching the other one that got away.