When Mommy says no, ask Daddy

In a previous post on this blog, I detailed about how Japan really is caught in the metaphorical door-jamb when it comes to the current state of its cultural situation.  Long has it been a country steeped in culture, a country that follows tradition to a T, kneeling in silence over a cup of tea and using a cell phone afterwards to send video of it to a friend.  This is a place where the sanctity of the temple humbles every man, woman, and child, and pachinko sucks the life out of smoking, middle-aged salarymen on a daily basis.  What exactly is going on here?

I was jogging in the glorified alley behind my house a few nights ago.  It's a glorified alley because it's slightly wider than a regular American alley, but it contains the front doors of many houses and restaurants as if it's a full-sized street.  I was quickly drawn in to the interesting architecture of the houses around me - very traditional-looking Japanese gardens, with very tiny, quiet, and traditional-looking Japanese homes.  If you didn't know what year it was, you might think you'd stepped back in time.  At the same time, across the street was a liquor store and an Aflac branch (yes, I found the Aflac branch in Choshi).

As it's been closed off for most of its existence, Japan has been able to "have it both ways," so to speak: they've, as a culture, somehow managed to preserve centuries of culture, customs, and tradition -- my money is on the idea that the rural areas cling to culture while places like Tokyo tend to disregard it, but that's just a guess -- while at the same time producing some seriously technologically advanced, culture-cutting concepts.  In America, one might say that the cell phone has destroyed any semblance of attention span and spelling ability of everyone under the age of 20.  In Japan, every in Japan watches television on their cell phones on the train.  But they're standing still, not looking away, not moving an inch, so that everyone else on the train can have a respectful, quiet, peaceful ride.  Try this in any big city in America.  Of course, there are always exceptions, and Friday and Saturday nights on the train in Tokyo are exceptionally loud and raucous.  But out here in Choshi, it's mostly tradition - a quiet, cultured city with bursts of the modern world -- pachinko places popping up between temples and rice fields.  Video game shops stuck between traditional Japanese drinking establishments and flower shops.

The moment of revelation for me was when I realized that among the old-school and comfortable, quaint feel of Japanese homes, I was also looking at a blaring red traffic light, and down the road the lights of the station were glimmering faintly.  Japan seems to really get it both ways.  It still stands on the cusp of global society as a nation with no natural resources.   The only thing it has is any nation's most important asset -- people.  And no matter how it progresses, the nation's biggest priority is to honor the past.

So, in Japan, when Mommy says no, and tradition disallows it, Daddy is sure to say "yes."