POLESTAR
l e i h
T a n
An Volume 13 Issue 19 November & December 2016
Photo courtesy of AJ Kay
Dear Hokkaido ALTs,
Winter time Hokkaido: sweet bliss for some, the reckoning for others. Either way vacation time is right around the corner and the annual SDC extravaganza is here. Raise a glass to an often infuriating year and usher in an extra yabai for the new one. We hope you like what you see and consider helping us to make it better. Anyone can submit work to Polestar. Facebook message or email us at editor@hajet.org with any ideas, questions, or concerns. Thanks to the writers and photographers who made this issue memorable!
Jack Powers, Editor Isabelle Legault, Designer
Next submission deadline: December 30th
From the Pres. Ferfie Brownoff President | HAJET
W
inter is happening for real now. Sorry nonbelievers - there’s no denying it. The good news is that winter in Hokkaido is pretty dope. Yes, it’s cold. Yes, the roads can be dangerous. Yes, you’ll pay more on heating. But here’s the trade-off: the sights throughout the Japanese North are nothing short of stellar. Not into nature? Winter festivals are abound ‘round these parts, too! Last year alone, I checked out giant snow mazes and sculptures, slept in an ice dome, and pulled a big ol’ block of ice around with some other dudes. Why? Welp, because these kinds of festivals don’t exist where I’m from. There’s also a slew of seasonal comestibles to warm your heart such as nabe, oden, nikuman, hot sake that are widely available when the days are short and the temperatures start to drop. I also hear that the kotatsu is a thing that doesn’t necessarily suck. Frugal as I am though (read: arguably the cheapest person you will meet), I’ll never know the pleasures of such heatedtable wizardry. I recognize that this rambling is somewhat aimed at those readers new to these parts. Most of y’all who’ve been here for a year have experienced all of the loingirding necessary to brave Hokkaido’s winter. That said, I would like to share with you an opinion about winter, regardless of your years in Hokkaido. While taking advice from those inured to Hokkaido’s harshest temperatures is probably wise, please don’t let the experiences of others influence you too much. Sometimes folks have a tendency to outdo each other on just how extreme or terrifying winter can be here. Still, I would suggest that you don’t let talk of the length or brutality of winter get you down. Even if you had a bad time last winter, think about ways that you can improve upon that this time around. I mean, I’m not entirely unrealistic though - if winter is a bad time for you, that’s totally valid. You’re free to take my suggestions and outlook with a grain of salt, as well. I happen to quite like this time of year, and welcome it with open (yet well layered) arms. But if you find it challenging, you don’t need to justify it to anyone.
Alls I can say is find a way to make winter work for you. If that means dabbling in snow sports to stay happy and healthy, have a go of it. Or if you need to see friends more often to keep your spirits high, that’s a great option, too! Whether you’re physically hanging out or slinging words on Skype, socializing is probably a very healthy choice. If yer not into sports, try and get up and about when you can by walking to the store or work. Even though the snow might be up to your shoulders, it makes for a good story. At the very least, you’ll be able to outdo your great-uncle Larry when he starts rambling about how, back in his day, he had to walk 3 hours to school in snow up to his waist. I’m also a big proponent of music matching my landscape, especially on long rides or drives across the island. This applies both to geography and the seasons. In the winter months, I tend to swap out my Kvelertak for Ensiferum or Emperor. So if you’re musically oriented, maybe try exploring (or re-exploring) tunes that reflect your surroundings. Of course, this can trigger negative effects, as music can at times evoke feelings of homesickness and the like. If this is the case, I suggest switching to something that totally disrupts that kind of thinking, like Behemoth. For me, Sculpting the Throne ov Seth tends to ward off any such lonesome feelings like a charm. Ultimately, though, whether you’re having a great time or a rough go, don’t think twice about reaching out to those around you. You needn’t hesitate to speak with your coworkers, friends, block leaders, or prefectural advisor if you have to. And remember that JETs have access to the AJET Peer Support Group, CLAIR online counselling, as well as a variety of services provided through TELL. For more information, you can always contact Emily Schuster at emily.schuster@pref.hokkaido.lg.jp or me at president@hajet.org. Stay Safe, Ferf
AJET Peer Support Group http://ajet.net/psg/index. php?title=Main_Page TEL : 050-5534-5566 Skype ID : AJETPSG Operating Hours : 20:00 – 7:00
CLAIR Online Counselling Web Mail Counseling: http://www.kokoro-soudan.net/en/ Skype counselling: https://www.fismec.co.jp/ hiroba/en/secure/
TELL http://telljp.com/ Tell Lifeline: 03-5774-0992 Tell Counseling: 03-4550-1146 Tell Outreach: 03-4550-1191
Photo courtesy of Ferfie Brownoff
Brand new
First Year Rep.
el cha ki Mi gajs Bu
Photo courtesy of Allison Lanthrum
W
e’ve made it through almost half of year one, so let’s keep going strong! Winter, as I am sure all of you have noticed, has arrived strong and kicking. Heck, I’m from Chicago, and it even snuck up on me in early November! Stay safe and warm! In case you didn’t see the first year election, my name is Michael Bugajski, and I am the new first year rep. I’m an ALT in Asahikawa (If you are passing through, hit me up! We can get ramen!), and I teach in four high schools and two special needs schools. However, I was also an ALT back in the wild days of 2011 in Niigata prefecture, where I taught at elementary and junior high schools, so I’ve got a wide variety of experiences under my belt. After a frightening experience working as an office jockey (think the movie Office Space), I elected to come back to Japan to do something that is actually rewarding and impactful. During my office jockey days, I was also the President of the Heartland chapter of the JET Alumni Association, and was responsible for organizing events, outreaches, and orientations for new JETs. I guess I kind of like this whole JET thing...? I know the decision has been weighing heavily on some of your minds, but I want to remind you that the time to make re-contracting decisions is fast approaching. Committing for another year is a big decision, and one worth thinking hard about. Think about it yourself, ask your friends and family, consult your fellow JETs, and even ask your predecessor! Personally, I’ve long since signed those papers and decided to stay, so my dice are cast. From my experience with other JETs, alumni, and even from my own fractured experience, it seems like year two is really where we get comfortable and hit our stride. But, if you decide that another year isn’t in the cards, please talk to me! I have a wealth of information about transitioning back to non-JET life that I would love to share! On a related note, the honeymoon phase may soon be wearing off, and the culture shock may be starting to set it. Personally, I’ve gone through all those phases of culture shock… twice, since we have arrived. Please don’t be afraid to talk with people if you are feeling down and out, in a slump, or just plain tired. Your JET friends are or have been in the same spot you are, and if I learned anything from my time in JET, it’s that we’ll always lend an ear for proper venting.
Coping Nachos
Gluck Kingdom Jack Powers Editor | Polestar
H
azy, cracked in heads, hearing my companions trample through the overgrown parking lot, I ducked behind a bush and relieved myself, looking up at the ruins. A once-proud amusement park adrift under the late autumn sun. With every step, the rusted plaster and broken stones whispered that we’d been together before. Past, apart, when I last was here, young. Truly young, enchanted uncaring for it was Christmas time 2002 and we were passing through Obihiro on our way back to Kushiro. Resurgent forest clouded the copula of the grand hotel until the structure steadily outstretched in front of usnot so much a welcome as an “I’ve been waiting.” Paint cracking. Yellow like mucus and old money. Pushing past the broken waddles of the old new old world by the side of the park, we negotiated through thorns, weeds, branches and broken cars into broken buildings, took photos, looked at each other laughing. There were tables overturned, holes in the floorboard, pictures oddly intact, and we gawked at it all. All the disrepair. But I felt something, too, with the place. Cruel joke to stumble back into. How every crevice and kitsch of katakana Medieval Germany was left open I can’t understand. Open for my memories to flood in. The foreign words we thought were English on the signs and buildings felt like magic. Big blue-eyed, authenticlooking white people patted us on the head and taught us how to grind sausages and make pottery in an old way. I was 10, she was 2 years older. We couldn’t stop laughing, sort of scared. It was always somewhat of a ghost town, I think. Even then, the place looked a little lost and a little long in the tooth. And now all pressure un-bottled and escaped. Nothing left but old Ezo to devour her.
Photo courtesy of Debbie Walter
G
lucks Königreich (グリュック王国) is a defunct medieval German theme park on the outskirts of Obihiro that has been closed since 2007. The park was opened in 1989 and operated by the realestate development company Zenrin Leisure Land. The construction of the park was planned in conjunction with the local government as a way for tourism to help replace the lost revenue of the area’s lagging industrial sector. Amidst the tizzy of Japan’s asset bubble in the 1980’s, the easy availability of credit and intense asset-price speculation encouraged developers to build highly extravagant projects in places that would now seem rather “random.” The world’s second largest economy had expanded for so long that few thought of any imminent corrections. Even amidst a rash of reckless development across Hokkaido and Japan, Glucks Konigreich stands out for its ambition. The developers spared no expense. As it was meant to approximate a dreamlike old German village, the grounds are massive. A Ferris wheel, a hotel, a large market, a church, a town hall/information center, dozens of restaurants and bars, crafts shops, 5 large sculptures, a manmade lake and harbor area, and an art museum, all smack dab between farmland in the Tokachi agricultural region. The central hotel (“Schlosshotel”) is a replica of the famous Buckeberg Palace in Germany, even the interior has faithfully-painted murals just like the original. Stones were flown in from Berlin to fill the walkways and, in some cases, entire German buildings were reconstructed brick-by-brick on the site. The park is located about 40 minutes outside of downtown Obihiro and just 5 minutes from the Obihiro airport. Business was good through the first few years. The park’s opening year in 1989 (Heisei 1) saw 750,000 visitors pass
Photo courtesy of Kelsey Fast
through its gates. The next two years averaged 700,000 visitors. But by 1992, the impact of Japan’s asset bubble crash had begun to spread well beyond Tokyo as the stock market fell by half and the economy severely contracted. Japan’s “Lost Decade” (失われた10年）ravaged the bottom line of its management company. People traveled less and had far less money to lavish on highpriced theme parks with around-2000 yen entrance fees. By 1997, the park averaged 300,000 average visitors and went deep into the red. The development company tried to leverage the park by offering it as a set for television dramas and extravagant weddings with little success. It even converted one of the central buildings into the “John Lennon Art Museum” to attract visitors. Yes, a Beatles museum in a German theme park in middleof-nowhere Japan. But that was the last gasp. By the new millennium, the maintenance of the massive park had become too much and serious investment in reconstruction was needed. In 2002, the park was temporarily closed as Zenrin Leisure Land looked for investors to help fill the gaps. They found none, and, after opening sporadically in the intervening years, Glucks Konigreich officially closed in 2007. Perhaps, the strangest thing about the place is that very little work was done to take it apart. The buildings were scheduled to be auctioned off but never were. Moreover, all sorts of objects lie around in each of the complex’s dozens of buildings as if no one cared enough to take anything away. What made it so perplexing and such a bone-headed business venture now make it an incredible haikyo opportunity for noveltyseekers. Enjoy! Photo courtesy of Debbie Walter
Table Tennis Michael Colbert Contributer | Polestar
I
sit next to the table tennis coach at work. I never see him speak without bobbing his head, and he always says, “Ha cha cha” before sitting down, dropping his laundry basket full of books on the floor. The state he seems to know best is one of rushing: jogging into the teachers room after class, dodging through the obstacle course of cardboard boxes, the laundry basket of books, and the precariously arranged heater in order to make it to table tennis practice on time. I, on the other hand, find myself in a state of ease, teaching English classes alongside Japanese teachers, preparing English lunch discussions three times a week, and grading essays in the nest that’s been created between the laundry basket, heater, and boxes. Our school has a bright red roof and is flanked by farms and small houses. When I first arrived, dragonflies hummed over the buckwheat field, looking for mates. Now the buckwheat has been cut to make soba and the sun sets behind the distant mountains before I leave school. Yukimushi, the snow bugs, once drifted before me and settled on my forearms as I walked home. They told me that soon it would snow, but now they’ve gone and we won’t again emerge from the Hokkaido winter until May. Though outside I’ve seen snow bugs and dragonflies and buckwheat, inside every day will be the table tennis coach, ha-cha-cha-ing, rushing, and dodging. The field he sees when he leaves work at eight must be much darker.
Photo courtesy of Michael Colbert
People`s history of the Japanese toilet Jack Powers Editor | Polestar
U
p here in Hokkaido, the soul-love and strength that the heated toilet seat provides is essential in such a cruel, dispassionate environment. Imagine a winter night on the john without it. The horror! But it’s merely one of a bevy of toilet quirks and conveniences that help make the Japan Life so appealing to so many people from other countries, with frankly inferior toilet cultures. The historical evolution of Japanese toilets from stank cesspools to the Toto Super Toilet marks an unceasing climb towards greater cleanliness and effectiveness. The Toilet God (kawayakami) must be proud. Japan historically has had a higher quality sanitary waste system than most other world societies. As late as the early modern period, Europeans still used chamber pots to pitch their waste on the streets, whereas in Japan excrement was commonly disposed of in an orderly fashion to be used as fertilizer for crops. In big cities like Edo and Osaka, townspeople made a little extra money by selling their waste to compost merchants who would sell it to farmers as fertilizer. The “kumitoribenjou” was the toilet in the house or apartment where waste was collected for disposal. Like the garbage sorting of today, there appear to have been laws regarding waste disposal procedures as early as the 9th Century. The first drainage system was created in Nara in the 8th Century with small streams that users would squat over. Historically, pit latrines were most common for those outside of the cities. The sewage system around Osaka Castle, built in the late 16th Century, still operates today. The Meiji Government started implementing modern sewage systems in major cities beginning in 1884. But effective sewage systems were rare until after World War II. By 2006, only 70% of the population was connected to a sewerage system, mainly in urban
areas. Small-scale water treatment systems (johkaso) are still common in small towns where large sewage centers are fiscally impractical. Johkaso serve over 20 million people in Japan, allowing flush toilets to be used in areas without extensive sewage systems. The clear delineation between clean and unclean in Japanese culture as underlined by Buddhist and Shinto thought encouraged proactive measures related to the disposal of human waste as well as maintenance of the bathroom itself, which was meant to be kept clean and pure. The Shinto Toilet God was believed to be very beautiful, and the cleanliness of a household’s toilet was held to be directly related to the beauty of one’s children. Many households used the toilet as a representation of the god itself and, thus, various rituals were based around the toilet. The toilet (benki) was a central part of most elite households from at least the Edo Period on. Today even train stations bathrooms are amazingly clean. The traditional Japanese-style toilet (referred to as washiki) is the squat toilet. Common all over Asia, the Japanese-style squat toilet is differentiated from those found in other countries by the handles on the side for balance, preventing users from falling in the toilet and drowning (a real fear in the old days). Squat toilets have been in use all over Japan for well over a thousand years- archaeologists found remnants of squat toilets during an excavation of Fujiwara Palace, built in the 8th Century. Squat toilets are still very common throughout Japan. They tend to be easier to clean and use less water than Western-style (youshiki) toilets, though they emit a stronger odor. Western toilets are now more common in households than traditional washiki types. Generally known as washlets (woshuretto), Japanese-made modern Western-style toilets are among the most advanced in the world due to the various functions that they offer,
from the intuitive to the theatrical. Among the more fanciful functions is the otohime (“sound princess”) that offers audio discretion to those worried about bathroom propriety, traditionally a sensitive topic for Japanese women. According to some accounts, some Japanese noble-women used to hire servants to blame for their flatulence. Though
the
importance
and
cleanliness of the toilet is a central tenet of the mainstream Japanese lifestyle, the actual shit that goes into the toilet has traditionally been seen as both physically and spiritually contaminating. The “night soil” (compost) merchants who managed and sold the human waste from pit latrines and bathrooms from the feudal period onwards were almost entirely composed of people of fixed Burakumin (or eta, 穢多 , meaning “abundance of filth”) status. Similar to the Dalits (“Untouchables”) of India, the Burakumin were severely discriminated against by all other classes because of the unclean nature of their work. The legacy of Burakumin discrimination persists today. For good and bad, the Japanese take shit seriously. Perhaps Japan’s public abhorrence of bodily filth mixes with a more private passion for it. Either way, the outsize attention
the
Japanese
have
historically placed on the toilet has paid off in many ways. These days there’s a clean public washlet on every corner. Blessings to the Toilet God next time you’re in need.
Photo courtesy of
Stephanie Serres