Imagine my joy and enthusiasm Sunday evening, when the weather arsehole on TV announced that rainy season had officially arrived here in the Tokai region of central Japan three weeks earlier than expected. It honestly wasn't much of a surprise. It had been dark, wet and miserable for most of the previous week. They kept saying that it 'looked like rainy season', but wouldn't commit. Rule of thumb...'if it looks like a rabbit, smells like a rabbit, and hops...it's probably a fucking rabbit'. When they finally came out admitted it, I felt a curious mix of vindication and despair.
"See! I was right! I knew it!"
"Omedetou! (congratulations!) You knew it!"
"I want to fucking cry"
Mina sighed and gave me that 'here we go again' look.
"You can't control the weather. Getting upset about things you can't change is a waste of energy"
Platitude or not, she was right. She contends that I spend entirely too much time complaining about the same things, ad nauseam. For the sake of being contrary, I tell her that there's a difference between 'complaining' and offering commentary, or making observations (though there does admittedly seem to be a rather large grey area). Either way, I have to concede that it's probably a major pain in the ass to listen to day in and day out. Who else do I have to talk to though?
Poor Minako.
The last year and a bit has been hard on everyone. Recently I feel like I'm on a more precarious emotional precipice than usual. Being stuck at home in a social vacuum/echo chamber most days, I tend to spend a lot of time peripherally absorbing then marinating in the most toxic events of the day as they come rolling off of the internet and TV - both of which seem to perpetually be running behind whatever else I'm doing.
I seize on and inflate the worst of what I retain, and that sorry harvest becomes grist for my 'bitching mill'. My 'go to' targets seem to encompass anything related to the Japanese government, America, Nagoya Television's inept weatherman (he gets on my last fucking nerve), and a potpourri of random people that run, have run, or are in the process of running me amok at any given time.
When I'm alone (which is most of the time), I find myself cursing and swearing aloud at the TV, or social media posts. Certain people or things really set me off. Donald Trump, for example. Everything about that individual burns my ass. I can't control myself. I'll start wringing my fists and cursing a fucking read streak. It's like I have Tourette's or something. Odd that when people do this while they're watching sports, it's somehow considered normal and acceptable. "Oh, he loves his footy team, he does." In every other case, you're considered insane.
A few months before COVID turned the world inside out, the natives discovered rugby. I guess Japan hosting the Rugby World Cup must have had something to do with it. They christened the Japanese squad 'One Team'. Very astute observation...and in the running for one of the dumbest sounding names ever. It also seemed that the majority of the national team's players weren't even Japanese; but hired hands from New Zealand or some other Commonwealth country where the game is venerated like a religion. Me? I've despised rugby, and the mouth breathing goons that play it ever since I was in high school.
Of course, the indigenous folk in these parts latched onto it like they do anything else seemingly fresh and novel.
During the competition, crowds of doe-eyed, newbie J-fans would group together at sports bars or other venues that were hosting public viewings of the matches, wearing their cruddy red and white national team jerseys, and wave little hinomaru flags while baying "One Team!!" at the TV monitors like drunk, wounded jackasses. Nationalism is such an ugly, embarrassing spectacle to behold.
When the team was finally eliminated, they all lost their shit, blubbering, sobbing and hugging each other like they'd just got word that they'd all been adopted from Chinese peasants that had cranked out too many babies back in the old 'one child per family' days.
At school, we were always told in the clearest of terms not to cry when we lose...regardless of how crushed or disappointed we may be. We were taught to smile, and congratulate the winners. To lose with grace, and win with humility. This doesn't seem to be a thing over here. The natives spend a lot of time crying at sporting events. Whether it happens to be the participants winning or losing, or the spectators in the stands...there's always blubbering and tears galore.
There are few things I hate more than sports, and sports fans.
Alas, something else to bitch and complain ...erm....offer 'commentary' and make 'observations' about.
Fucking hell.
It's like I'm watching myself morph into that crusty old man, sitting on his porch cursing under his breath, and yelling at the neighbourhood kids to get the fuck off his lawn. Or my Mum.
My late mother suffered from neurosis - and made certain that we all shared in her misery. As she got into her mid-late fifties, her growing social isolation and problem drinking combined to aggravate and amplify her increasingly paranoid, neurotic behaviour. The worse she'd get, the more socially isolated she'd become. As it got harder and harder for anyone to spend time around her, she'd descend further into her singular world...bitching and grousing; suspicious and paranoid of everyone. The booze would make her repetitive, and mean. It was a vicious cycle; my Gramma and sister bore the brunt of it.
Visits home became so fraught and unbearable by the late 90's that I finally stopped going. I ended up staying away for eight years...and didn't return until I learned that she'd been diagnosed with terminal cancer. While her initial rather bleak three month prognosis stretched into just over two years, the gift of time was squandered. Instead of making peace and seeking some kind of higher ground, she stayed her course - and ultimately ran riot over my younger sister, who had put her life on hold, and bent over backwards to do everything possible to make Mum happy and comfortable.
Nothing was ever going to be good enough.
The neurotic bitching and obsessive complaining has my Mum written all over it. It's a good thing I cut back on my drinking several years ago. Pouring booze on that mess is a sure-fire recipe for disaster. Fortunately, it's something I'm aware of. Mum would never own it, and refused to be told anything of the sort. Few things terrify me more than turning into some kind of weird version of my Mother. The older I get, the more frequently I catch glimpses of it, though.
In any case, shortly after the official word dropped that the nicest three weeks of spring had been thieved out from under us, I found myself perusing Mina's old photos in my Facebook 'memories' notification. Happy times. We'd been out and about...smiling and unmasked, picnicking and mugging against gorgeous backdrops of flowers and greenery. In these precincts, May is the month of azure blue skies, radiant sunshine, low humidity and warm weather. Everything is fragrant, lush and in full bloom. It's literally the calm before the two month storm.
While 2020 was a complete write-off, I guess I had been holding out a scrap of hope that we'd be able to squeeze in some kind of happy, late spring interlude before the six to eight weeks of shit weather descends on us the second week of June.
Apparently not.
It seems that seasonal levity just isn't in the cards these days. When we attempted it for one day last summer, things ended up going seriously sideways before the afternoon sun had even started to wane. And last Christmas? Best intentions aside, there was going to be no levity or 'joie du vivre' then, either...but we'll get to that story a bit later.
Could it be that through all of the isolation of the last year, I've somehow finally been reduced to living in a kind of proxy Polyanna type of fantasy, nurturing unrealistic expectations that are a sorry by-product of too much time spent perusing then wallowing in idyllic Facebook memory posts from years gone by?
While I've always been a bit on the sensitive side, 'the theft of May' - while thoroughly disappointing - seems to really be hitting me where I live...and prompting some kind of extended Jan Brady moment. I'm fifty four friggin' years old for fuck sakes. Must I?
Pathos.
*Note to self...'expectations beget disappointments'. Oh yeah...and spend less time in general perusing Facebook.
Check...and check.
It's no secret that we could all do with a bit less Facebook in our lives.
As I was setting the table for dinner, the poker faced weather guy on NHK went on to say quite matter-of-factly that this 'theft of spring', as it were, was, 'quite unprecedented, at least in all the years that records had been kept of such things' - or at least, prior to 1951. Either such records weren't kept before or during the war (which I find hard to believe, given the fastidious, near anal retentive nature of the J folk when it comes to compiling detailed accountings of absolutely everything), or said documents were simply burned up and disposed of by the occupying MacArthur regime, for some inexplicable reason.
I'm quite sure the conquering American forces must have kept their own records of regional meteorological patterns between August 1945 and April 1952. Why they wouldn't have availed their successors of these when they packed up and left is anyone's guess.
Perhaps it was considered 'classified information'?
In any case, 'unprecedented', in at least 70 years - and yet another major bummer in an era that seems to be characterized by shit news and disappointments of all varieties and pedigrees.
I can't help but feel robbed.
So, with spring having been suspended, and replaced with humid, wet darkness for the next two months. there's really not a lot left to look forward to in these parts. It seems that a 'good time' in Deadbeat City 2021 consists of waking up without a raging fever, and not dying alone at home, waiting for an ICU bed...or in a hospital room, sedated with a tube down your throat.
Everything else is gravy.
The pandemic over here continues to ebb and flow. In Olde Nagoyaland, we're seeing the highest rates of infection and spread yet. Hospitals are under duress, the number of serious cases is at a record high, and more people are dying. Younger people, too. It seems that several highly virulent imported strains have largely replaced the original 'Wuhan virus'...most notably recent variants from England and India. The Indian one in particular seems to be doing a lot of damage. While other countries have moved to block travelers to and from the subcontinent in a bid to stem the spread of this mean spirited new variant, Japanese nationals are still permitted to come and go freely (!), and Indian business travelers continue to be allowed to enter (!!), provided they are PCR tested 78 hours before departure, again upon arrival, and undertake a period of hotel quarantine for six days.
Six days? Really?
As far as the natives are concerned, upon arrival back in Japan they are allowed to complete their quarantines at home, as long they 'promise' not to go out, or use public transportation for (you guessed it)... six days. Never mind that the Indian variant seems to have a longer incubation period than its predecessors ( around fourteen days, as opposed to between five and seven). As for responsibly adhering to their quarantine instructions, it seems that your garden variety Japanese traveler isn't too likely to comply...unless they suddenly develop a high fever, and have trouble breathing. The prevailing thinking here is that, 'COVID is everyone else's problem, not mine'. Hence, they're generally spreading themselves around when they get back from traveling. Visiting friends and family with omiage (souvenirs), shopping, dining out...and so on. As long as they wash their hands and wear their masks (mostly), they feel they're doing nothing wrong. If cornered and asked about their sometimes questionable behaviour, they'll invariable suck their teeth and offer up a litany of excuses...always claiming to have done everything that they could, before assuming the default role of 'perpetual victim'. This seems to be an unfortunate hallmark of the national character. The Japanese love rules, and seeing them enforced....on everyone else, that is.
Outside of the Americans, I've never seen a group of people as hung up on their own self-perceived entitlement and exceptionalism as the natives. It's actually quite astonishing.
As for us foreign residents of Japan...we're allowed - even encouraged - to leave... but not as welcome to return. A special re-entry permit may be granted in the case of a 'family emergency', but an application must be made for permission. Legitimate proof of such an 'emergency' must also be provided to the Japanese Department of Justice and Immigration with your application for said permit. I assume that this would entail obtaining official copies of a death certificate, in the case of a family member's passing. Even with such a permit in hand, getting back in will not be an easy thing. For instance, if there are any minor irregularities in the PCR test documentation certificates you are issued abroad (i.e. - the certificate that you were issued doesn't comply with the recommended model, or falls even slightly outside of the format parameters that the attending Immigration official is familiar with) - they will simply turn you around and send you back. No chances, no quarantine hotel until everything is straightened out. Nothing.
Back you go.
Of course, your accompanying Japanese spouse and kids are free to re-enter, get PCR tested, then go home and quarantine for six days - on the honour system, of course. A promise is a promise, after all.
Any gaijin who has experience in dealing with the various levels of officialdom over here...from clerks at the bank, to the people at the local ward office or Immigration, will know how absolutely frustrating...even infuriating their level of anal retention can be. The simplest task can easily (and often) become the most monumental of undertakings. Their obsession with minutiae often seems deliberate; even mean spirited.
All things considered, it's essentially understood by members of the resident expat community over here that if we want to continue on with our lives and families over here, we stay put. That means no trips home for family funerals, or other milestone life events. Thousands of residents and visa holders were locked out last April on very short notice, and even now, not all have been able to re-enter. Scores have been left stranded abroad; in many cases with limited resources, and nowhere to go. Of course, while they are forced to scramble to figure out a way to support themselves wherever they've been marooned, they are also expected to continue paying their Japanese rent and taxes in absentia, no matter how prolonged their quest to gain re-entry might be. They are given absolutely no quarter.
Aside from maybe racist Australia, I'm not aware of any other country that has done anything even remotely like this to its expat community. We have become voluntary, de-facto prisoners - while the natives are allowed to carry on traveling wherever they like. The Japanese government seems incapable of treating people fairly and administering laws and edicts with an even hand. As demonstrated here, there is one law for the Japanese, and another one for the foreign resident population. The message seems to be that Japanese nationals are clean and trustworthy, while (given an opportunity) foreign residents are apt to be dishonest, and bring in diseases. If we care to complain about it, we are told that, 'it can't be helped...these rules are meant to keep everyone safe', and that if we can't accept it, we're 'welcome to leave'.
While they seem quite fond of the tax money they collect from their small foreign diaspora (even those trapped in limbo), they won't be questioned by gaijin.
Amid all of this, the Japanese government has made one exception. Businesspeople. Individuals from a short list of Asian Pacific (APEC) countries that have been deemed ' COVID safe', and traveling to Japan to engage in 'business' are most welcome. Is there some latent anti-viral value in 'business'? Are businessmen from India or Nepal somehow cleaner than tax paying, visa holding foreign residents?
This speaks volumes about the rather mercenary mindset of the men in suits over here. While the prevailing thinking behind many of the government's domestic policies is undeniably rooted in racism and xenophobia, their decision to throw the gates open to regional businesspeople (while keeping scores of tax paying, visa holding residents out) has nothing to do with 'protecting the Japanese people from a marauding virus', and everything to do with money, and regional political glad-handing.
Unsurprisingly, the local roster of exotic and deadly variant strains of COVID from the four corners of the world keeps growing.
How are all of these far-flung variants getting in here? Not on the backs of tourists - there haven't been any leisure travelers allowed in for over a year. The variants aren't being packed in by us 'de-facto prisoner' resident expats, either.
Perhaps they're just blowing in on the trade winds?
To add insult to injury, in late July the ne'er do well Japanese government are poised to let 80,000-plus participants, support staff and officials from 200 countries in here for a delayed, and extremely ill-advised Summer Olympics...because the IOC says so. While they won't be questioned on non-sensical and even racist COVID policy decisions by resident gaijin...they'll gladly be dictated to by a morally bankrupt international sporting body.
Sounds legit.
Never mind that a poll published by the Asahi Newspaper this month found that 83% of the Japanese people questioned oppose going ahead with the Olympics this summer. IOC spokesman Mark Adams is on record last week as saying, “We listen but won’t be guided by public opinion,” adding “everything is telling us... that the games can go ahead and will go ahead.”
In true, autocratic fashion, the Japanese government refuses to consider the opinions of its people. It keeps its head down and mouth shut, and simply defers to the IOC's authority. If the Olympic Commission Führer Thomas Bach, or his 'generals' say that the Games will go forward, that is what must happen. State of Emergency or not.
It's as if the Suga administration are afraid to contradict the IOC...and that they would rather abandon their own people than risk taking a stand. Where does all this cowardice and reticence come from? What type of power and influence can a seemingly benign international sporting body have over a (supposedly) sovereign nation? The amount of influence they wield makes them look more like an international crime syndicate than anything else.
This all begs the question...who are the Olympic Games actually for, if not the people? The answer to that seems more painfully obvious than ever.
With less than three percent of the total population currently vaccinated, and very limited number of doses in circulation, Japan's 'too little, too late' vaccine rollout ranks an abysmal 110th in world. Knowing that they have this self-inflicted Olympic 'Sword of Damocles' situation hanging over their heads, the Japanese government have had over a year to get their ducks in a row - and essentially done next to nothing. As other major economies are starting to emerge from the pandemic...it seems the darkest days are yet to come over here. We are now neck deep in our fourth and most troubling State of Emergency. For some reason, the government isn't cutting cheques to help people who can't go to work, either. There have been vague rumblings that a plan may be in the works to provide some supplementary help to bar and restaurant workers who've been affected by requests to close - but nothing broad and wide reaching seems to be forthcoming. There are no plans for a second universal stimulus cheque. The matter hasn't even been discussed.
As for the so-called vaccine rollout, when I talked to Dr. Cauliflower Ears (my Respirologist) on Tuesday morning, he simply grimaced and said that as far as anyone under 65 (and not employed in the medical profession) was concerned, vaccinations wouldn't be happening anytime soon. While the government's talking heads are on TV telling everyone that the seniors will be fully vaccinated by the end of July, the reality is that it will likely take until almost the end of the year to get them all done. The level of dishonesty, disorganization and flat out boobery on the part of the ruling coalition is nothing short of astounding.
"So, that means I'll have to wait until the end of the year, or 2022?"
He nodded. "It's too slow."
Interesting how he'll respond without actually answering the question. This is so characteristically Japanese. When Mina asked him if there was a waiting list that people's names could be drawn from when there were vaccine appointment cancellations, he told her that they had no such system in place at the moment...and added that they have 'very little vaccine'.
That seemed neither here nor there, as far as her query was concerned. He obviously had no interest in addressing any of our questions. He did tell us that he'd been vaccinated...as if that unsolicited tidbit of information was supposed to put us at ease.
I don't know whether the problem with this guy is his limited English, or whether he's just an obtuse asshole. Mina insists it's the latter.
Since the limited vaccination drive over here started in late April, there have been numerous reports of scores of doses going to waste at clinics and hospitals due to people cancelling, or simply not turning up for their jabs. With so precious few doses currently available, some of the more prudent facilities in Tokyo have started compiling waiting lists, and calling available subjects in on short notice if it seems that there's going to be excess vaccine that will go to waste due to cancellations and no-shows. Since I'm usually home in the mid-late afternoon, she thought that might be my ticket
to a slightly earlier jab. Nope. Even if there were such a system in place at his clinic, they'd be obligated to either give the vaccine to a senior citizen - or dump it into the garbage.
Though I'm in the 'at risk' category (being an asthma and sleep apnea patient), the wise and all knowing Japanese government hasn't approved vaccine distribution to any non-medical personnel under the age of sixty-five. In fact, there doesn't even appear to be a system in place to differentiate between high risk cases, and your garden variety non-seniors. Apparently (when the time comes) we'll all receive the exact same voucher or coupon in the post - then it will be a mad scramble for everyone to get vaccinated. People will be crawling over each other like dung beetles to acquire the limited number of doses as they become available. Hospitals, clinics and vaccine sites will quickly be overwhelmed, and risk becoming 'super-spreader' hot spots. I see a shit show of immeasurable proportions on the horizon.
I'll be staying away from the entire disastrous situation until I can secure a jab safely and easily... which will be sometime in mid-late 2022, I'm guessing.
Yes...at the end of the day, teeth will be sucked. Excuses will be made. There will be deep bows and dour grey poker faces all around.
"If only we knew then what we know now", "It couldn't have been helped", etc, etc....ad infinitum.
On a positive note, my wife's mother got her jab here in Nagoya last Sunday. She received her voucher in the mail near the end of April, and Mayumi spent most of one entire weekday morning trying to get through to their local vaccination centre to book her an appointment. The help lines seem to be understaffed and constantly busy. The websites are buggy and down a lot of the time. Mina's Mum, like most seniors, is essentially computer illiterate. As the vaccination sites have no capacity to accept drop ins, or even book people in person, a lot of oldsters without access to the online world (or family that can help them figure it all out) just give up. They have absolutely no idea what to do, or where to start.
Mina got her two jabs at her workplace, back in March. Mayumi and her crew all have COVID antibodies, with the exception of her eldest's twelve year old stepson, who somehow dodged the virus when it ravaged their household last summer. Apparently the antibodies hold up remarkably well...so even if they all have to wait until next year to be vaccinated, they should be somewhat protected. As Mina's Mum has taken up what looks to be permanent residence with Mayumi and her extended family, that means that everyone will essentially be sorted and 'safe' when she gets her second jab in a few weeks.
As far as the combined family is concerned, that leaves only the junior high school step son and I unprotected. Happily, they'll all be able to get together to pray, then eat and chat in other's faces with minimum risk at this summer's Obon memorial ceremonies. I'll insist that Mina joins them of course, while I send my sincerest regards, and stay home. The absence of her 'service dog' at the proceedings won't be a big deal, anyways. To the contrary, I'm quite sure my unvaccinated non-attendance will be greeted with muted expressions of joy and discreet sighs of relief all around.
This all brings us to the tale of December 2020, and the chain of events that culminated in Okasan's final departure from the family homestead in Shiga...
TO BE CONTINUED....
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