Gil Asakawa's Nikkei View | japan & asia
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In Japan, people wear face masks as matter of courtesy when theyWhen President Obama officially declared the 2009 H1N1 outbreak a national emergency over the weekend, I thought, "good. Now it'll force Americans to wear masks when they're sick, or if they don't want to get sick, like in Japan. The Japanese (and other people throughout Asia) have always worn face masks to prevent the spread of illness. It's partly out of personal interest -- so they won't have to breath in allergens, pollutants or other peoples' yucky germs. But it's also out of plain politeness and consideration -- to keep your own damn germs to yourself. H1N1, or as lots of people still call it, Swine Flu, is the first time in my memory in the U.S. that everyone is being reminded of simple ways to stay healthy with hygiene (wash your hands often) and even told how to sneeze or cough (into your elbow). At my office building, hand sanitizer dispensers have magically appeared everywhere from the lobby to the bathrooms. And, there are signs and poster everywhere, including on the door to the bathroom and on the paper towel dispenser in the bathroom, with diagrams showing people how to sneeze into their elbows, and to wash their hands. I always thought it was gross when someone sneezed or coughed into their hands, which was what our parents taught us when we were told to "cover your mouth," but then extended their hand in greeting.

Kabuki is one of the most dynamic and interesting theatrical forms in Japan.Like any school kid, I loved going on field trips when I was young, But, since we lived in Japan until 3rd grade, my earliest memories of field trips weren't the typical ones that American kids remember. I remember looking out of a school bus and seeing steaming lumps of sticky rice being pounded into mochi for New Year's celebrations, for example (I think we were on the way to a shrine where we learned about Oshogatsu, or Japanese New Year, traditions). And, I have a distinct memory of going from Green Park Elementary School, on a U.S. Army base in Tokyo (it's no longer there), to a grand old theater in the heart of Tokyo to see a form of traditional Japanese theater, kabuki. A lot of Americans probably know the word "kabuki" because it's been used for restaurants and hotels and other products. Like "Sukiyaki," "Mikado" and other words, they've become shorthand for "something Japanese." But many Americans who've heard the word probably don't know that kabuki is a cultural treasure in Japan, an artform dating back to the early 1600s that's a bit like a mix of stylized Chinese opera and melodramatic Western-style opera. The Japanese government is hoping to change that, and make more Americans aware of the traditions of kabuki. They're sponsoring a U.S. tour of a lecture/performance called "Backstage to Hanamichi," starring two of Japan's kabuki masters, Kyozo Nakamura and Matanosuke Nakamura (no relation) from the world-renowned Shochiku Company. Denver gets its introduction to kabuki this Saturday, Oct. 24, at the June Swaner Gates Concert Hall at Denver University, 2344 East Iliff Ave. (303-871-7720 for the box office). The performance costs $25. I have vivid memories from my childhood field trip:

The Miso Lobster Ramen is the ultimate dish at Bones, the non-Asian noodle house in Denver. Erin and I have always been wistfully jealous of our friends in Los Angeles and San Francisco, for lots of reasons but not least the fact that they can eat killer ramen any night of the week. We have our fave ramen-yas in both San Francisco's Japantown and LA's Little Tokyo ("ya" means "shop"). There's also great ramen to be had on the East Coast -- I've slurped up wonderful noodles and steamy broth in New York City's funky little "Japantown" district on the lower East side In Denver, for many years we had only one ramen-ya: Oshima Ramen, which was good (albeit pricey) when it opened about a decade ago, and has over the past few years become increasingly dirtier and greasier, and the ramen less special and more bland. As it went downhill, it gave us less and less reason to drive all the way across town for a sad bowl of noodles. Some people (including some food critics who don't know better) think it's "the real thing" but uh, sorry. So Erin and I have made it a holy mission to find good ramen without flying to the coast, and some brave Japanese restaurants have met the challenge just in the past year or so. The best we've found in the area is Okole Maluna, a Hawai'ian restaurant an hour north of Denver in the tiny eastern plains town of Windsor, whose owners serve a killer Saimin (Hawai'ian-style ramen). There's a very good, very authentic ramen served in a little take-out food court in Boulder called Bento Zanmai. Although it'a a bit unorthodox, the miso-ginger ramen served at the late Hisashi “Brian” Takimoto's East Colfax restaurant, Taki's, is very good. And now, even the fast-foody Kokoro is serving ramen (but at only one location, on 6th and Broadway, and only after 4 pm). We keep hearing about a Korean-run Japanese restaurant in Longmont that we haven't made it to. But as you can see, we're willing to drive for a good bowl of ramen, so we'll get there eventually. Imagine our surprise, then, to find that there's been a veritable explosion of ramen happening right under our nose (is that a triple mixed metaphor?) -- and that it's not ramen made by Asians!

Two panels from a 1942 US Army training booklet drawn by famous cartoonist Milton Caniff, "How to Spot a Jap." Racist caricatures of Japanese were common during World War II, with even Bugs Bunny getting into the act in a cartoon, and a young Theodore Geisel -- Dr. Suess to decades of American kids -- contributing his share of racist stereotypes. These images, though despicable, are somewhat understandable because of the long history of racism against people of color in the U.S., and in particular the decades of "Yellow Peril" hysteria that had been building before the war. There was context for racial stereotypes, no matter how wrong and unjust. The attack on Pearl Harbor lit a tinderbox of racial hatred that was ready to burst into flame, and one of the results was the imprisonment of 120,000 people of Japanese descent in American concentration camps. Even Dr. Suess got into the act with racist caricatures during WWII.Another was the proliferation and propagation of racist stereotypes. One incredible example is a training booklet published by the U.S. Army titled "How to Spot a Jap," which was drawn by one of the most acclaimed comic artists of the time, Milton Caniff. Caniff drew a popular comic strip called "Terry and the Pirates," about an American adventurer fighting pirates in "the Orient." The settings for his strip were a natuiral fit for the Army to hire Caniff to illustrate the differences between the enemy Japanese and our allies, the Chinese. The booklet makes outrageous claims comparing a Chinese man against a Japanese man, such as the Chinese "is about the size of an average American: (the Japanese) is shorter and looks as if his legs are directly joined to his chest!" "The Chinese strides... the Jap shuffles (but may be clever enough to fake the stride)." "(Chinese) eyes are set like any European's or American's-- but have a marked squint... (The Japanese) has eyes slanted toward his nose." These expressions of racism, as ridiculous as they seem today, were produced (I hope) in the name of patriotism, which doesn't excuse their ugliness but does explain their existence. Unfortunately, because many of these images are available today on the Internet, they're being resurrected, without their original context, and by a surprising group: bloggers in China. The Global Times, a state-owned English-language daily based in Beijing, reported yesterday on a disturbing phenomenon with an equally disturbing tone of gleeful agreement: Chinese websites passing around the Milton Caniff booklet and stirring up "a nationalistic and racist buzz among some Chinese online users about the differences between the two historic enemies."

Turnabout is fair play, right? It's karma. In Japanese, it's a bachi coming back -- basically, you reap what you sow. McDonald's in Japan has started using a laughable nerd who doesn't have a clue in its ads, mangling Japanese, looking all uptight in glasses and ill-fitting khakis. You'd think it's how an Asian would be cast in American commercials...

Coca Cola just introduced Coke with Green Tea in Japan.Consumer culture in Japan is where you'll see the collision of Asian and American tastes. More than in the U.S., Japan is where East mashes West. You can get shrimp Filet-o-Fish sandwiches at McDonald's, or pizza with seaweed or squid, and spaghetti with salty plum sauce. So I supposes I shouldn't be dismayed at the new Coca-Cola flavor, Green Tea Coke. After all, here in the states there seems to be a growiing market for almost anything with green tea added, from soap and shampoos to Lipton Ice Tea and Starbucks' Matcha Latte. But Coke with green tea? I'm not much of a Coke fan (Pepsi's the choice if I have a cola at all), so I don't care that much about the purity of the soft drink. But it seems heresy to put green tea into the syrupy sweetness. Can you even taste the subtle bitterness? This fits right in with conversations I've had recently with (non-Asian) co-workers about Lipton's green tea flavored ice tea. I pointed out that Asians don't sweeten their tea.

The Asakawa family circa 1960 in Hokkaido, Japan: (from left) George, Gary, Gil and Junko (stranger in front). I was born in Japan, so I can say this with a straight face: I'm becoming a born-again Japanese, and it's kinda fun. For years now, Erin and I have thought of ourselves as Asian American first, and Japanese American second. Mostly, it's because we're interested in and feel a kinship with other Asian Americans, whether their heritage is Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, Thai, Hmong, Indian, Filipino, whatever. We certainly have immersed ourselves in the local Asian American Pacific Islander community, through being involved in events such as the Colorado Dragon Boat Festival, the AAPI Heritage Month Community celebration, the (now defunct) Aurora Asian Film Festival, Miss Asian American Colorado Leadership Program, Asian American Journalists Association and others. Erin spent six months last year serving as editor of the feisty little local pan-Asian magazine, Asian Avenue. It's wonderful to feel a part of a larger community within which we share lots of cultural values and appreciate the various cuisines. We've become friends with and learned about Asians across many borders, and generations from immigrant gens to very Americanized. It's also partly because the Japanese community in Denver is small, and insular, and tribal, and ... well, small. It's not like LA or San Francisco or Seattle or New York, where there are lots and lots of JAs to hang with, as well as tons more AAPIs in general. We just felt too constricted sometimes by the local community. But lately, I've found myself being among Japanese, and enjoying it.

"Ancient Chinese secret, huh?" In honor of the final day of Asian American Pacific Islander Heritage Month, I wanted to share an iconic classic television commercial. I grew up with the accusing tone of the white woman who catches the affable Asian laundry owner in a lie, ringing in my head. The TV commercial was for Calgon water softener, and the scene is in a Chinese laundry shop, run by "Mr. Lee." Here's the quite accurate description of the 30-second flash of Asian stereotype from the YouTube page that features the video: