Hokkaido and the coronavirus - part 6

Well, I suppose it had to happen.
The coronavirus has officially arrived in Muroran. A receptionist at a pediatric clinic in the city was diagnosed earlier today. She had returned from Hawaii last week, went to work, a few days later began feeling 'a bit dodgy', got tested and lo and, indeed, behold, she has successfully taken the title of Muroran's 'patient zero'.
Cian thought it would be me, but no, yet again I disappointed the boy.
Mind you, I'd say there a fair few worried parents in the town tonight who have visited the clinic with their children over the past few days and must be imagining the worst.
And yet the Made-in-Japan absurdity train keeps right on rolling along. The school year is set to start as normal next week. Children will be asked to wash their hands a lot, wear masks, and the classroom windows will be opened at the end of each period.
There is snow forecast for this coming weekend, and masks can't be got around here for love nor money.
People are still being politely requested to 'refrain' from venturing out at weekends. As if the coronavirus only struck on Saturdays and Sundays. 
Then there was this morning's paper. After a weekend that saw three successive days in which a new record was set for the number of new confirmed cases of the virus in Japan, the Hokkaido Shimbun's front page led with ...

Yes, that's right, the Olympics. Or more specifically, the new proposed course for the Olympic Torch relay. You couldn't make this up. The country is on the brink of an uncontrollable epidemic and Hokkaido's largest newspaper thinks that the most newsworthy topic is an event that has already been rendered utterly irrelevant by the rest of the world.
I would describe this as 'ostrich head in the sand' stuff, but that would be cruelly libeling the intelligence of the bird.

Tokyo and the coronavirus

I think this is when we begin the ominous duuuh-nu, duuh-nu, du-nu, du-nu, du-nu theme from Jaws. The graph shows the sudden spike in confirmed cases within the largest city on the planet. Still relatively small, but what is worrying is that many of the cases cannot be traced to a specific person or cluster as the source of the infection. Based on what is happening in New York, this would suggest that the virus is already quite widespread in the city and that we are going to see an exponential rise in cases over the coming days.
And yet, the main story on yesterday evening's seven o'clock NHK news was about the cancellation of the Olympics. That's sport's news, in fact it is now 'old news'. There are much more pressing and important matters to be concerned with.
In a news conference last night, the governor of Tokyo, Koike Yuriko, called for the citizens of the city to remain indoors over this coming weekend and to work from home as much as possible. What was interesting that this was a 'request' rather an 'order' or even a 'directive'. It was phrased in elaborate 尊敬語, (sonkeigo), the honorific form of the language used when you trying to convey your apologies at how much of an imposition your request is. It is the sort of language Japanese politicians typically use when they are announcing unpopular measures or policies.
Unfortunately, this gives the impression that the crisis is still a political rather than health crisis. The implication is that the people of Tokyo have a choice; that they can ignore this request, venture out on Saturday and Sunday and at worst be thought of as selfish individuals.
What was needed (and will probably happen as the situation escalates) our medical experts, particularly epidemiologists, to explain clearly and calmly (and without using 尊敬語), what is happening, what needs to be done, and what the consequences are if expert advice is ignored.

Ad Astra - A brief film review

Now, like most of the other important international media (New York Times, The Guardian, the Economist, the Hokkaido Shimbun), it would be very easy for this blog to become all consumed with the coronavirus.
But I am not going to let that happen, dear reader. No, I will balance the darkness with light, the tragic with the uplifting, the Mayo Footballers with the special genius that will be forever Joe Canning.
So, with this post I am going to commence an intermittent series of brief film reviews. With my university classes suspended until April 22, and no overseas travel for the foreseeable future, I now, finally, have some time to catch up on matters celluloid.
First up is Ad Astra, a science fiction film starring my doppelganger, Brad Pitt. In this movie Brad plays a man suffering from bradycardia. For the medically illiterate among you (and by now that should be a vanishingly small number of you), 'bradycardia' describes a medical condition whereby a person suffers from an abnormally slow heart rate.
Ad Astra details Brad's increasingly wild attempts to accelerate his pulse into beating more than 40 times a minute. He free-falls from an exploding space station in low Earth orbit and his heart rate barely budges above 40. He gets assailed by Pink Floyd fans on the dark side of the moon and still his cardiogram blips along at the four zero mark. He tries to escalate matters by getting attacked by psychotic baboons on a spaceship (no, seriously) just beyond the Asteroid Belt (a.k.a. Cavan). And still his heart tick-tocks along under 50. He even gets as far as Neptune, has a bit of a schmozzle with his old man, all manner of things get blown up and yes, you guessed it, still no cure for the bloody bradycardia.
I will have to say that this film affected me deeply. Like Brad, I too suffer from bradycardia. Like Brad, I too possess a whiskey-oak handsomeness that defies age. And like Brad, I too have spurned the desperate love of Angelina Jolie (it's why I came to Japan. Long story).
Five stars.

The Tokyo Olympics

 This is Mori Yoshiro, former prime minister and current head of the organizing committee for the 2020 Olympics. Yesterday he presided over a packed press conference where he said that over the next 4 weeks a decision would be made regarding the event.
Yes, 4 weeks.
To make a decision that every dog on the street knows is inevitable. The question is no longer if the Games will be postponed, but rather until when? Indeed, just this evening the prime minister of Japan announced that he and the IOC are planning to postpone the event until next year.
But that's not why I am writing this piece. No, my interest is in Mori-san. Like I said, he appeared before the world's press and acknowledged the difficulty in proceeding with the Olympics as scheduled. Lots of reporters, lots of questions, lots of excitement in the air. God only knows what else was in the air, too.
Mori Yoshiro is 82 years old. What on this plague-stricken Earth was an 82 year old man doing in a hot, stuffy, windowless room with a crowd of people from all directions of the compass answering a question that we all know the answer to already?

Hokkaido and the Coronavirus, part 5

It would seem, from the number of page views, that my insightful explanation of Japanese work culture isn't particularly popular.
Philistines.
No, panic appeals. My posts on the coronavirus have by far and away the most views. So, loathe as I am to pander to people's acrid taste for the sensational, I must nevertheless abide by that journalistic axiom to give the reading public what they want.
So, here it is, another series of observations on the virus and its pernicious effect on life here in Hokkaido.
Let's begin with some comparative facts and figures comparing and contrasting Hokkaido and Ireland. Hokkaido has a total area of 83,424 square kilometers and has a population of 5,268,166 people. Sapporo is the largest city on the island with a population of 1,969,793. The island of Ireland has (including Northern Ireland) an area of 84,421 square kilometers and a combined population of 6,806,900 people. Dublin has a population of 1,273,069.
As of yesterday, March 22nd, Hokkaido had a cumulative total of 162 confirmed cases, with 6 fatalities.
In Ireland, the respective figures are 906 and 4.
Hokkaido recorded its first case on January 28th, in Ireland it was a month later on February 29th.
Sooooo, what can we conclude.
Firstly, I think that the number of confirmed cases in Hokkaido misrepresents the number of people with the virus. Japan has not been particularly aggressive with their testing and the paranoid, Alan J. Pakula fan in me suspects that this is a deliberate policy on the part of the government. They are trying to strike a very difficult balance between health concerns and economic interests. On Thursday, the 3 week state of emergency called by the Hokakido prefectural governor came to an end and wasn't renewed. This was despite the continuing uptick of cases on the island. The principal reason behind this wasn't that the emergency measures - chief among them school closures and people voluntary staying at home - were ineffective, but rather, from an economic point of view, they were proving to be overly effective.
Tourism (along with agriculture) is the main driver of the island's economy. Once the state of emergency came into effect, it basically fell of a cliff. Hotel reservations were cancelled by the thousands, restaurants, bars, cafes closed, tour bus companies went bankrupt, and a large swathe of part-time or contract staff suddenly found themselves without a job. In the face of all this, the governor declined to renew the state of emergency while at the same time calling on people to 'take care' when going out.
This, I feel, has bred a dangerous sense of complacency; the subjective (and scientifically unproven) feeling that perhaps the worst is behind us and we can begin to move on. Today the ministry of education announced that under certain conditions, schools would reopen again in April at the start of the new academic year. Meanwhile, the national figures for the spread of the virus are now increasing by 40 to 50 cases daily, with more and more cases cropping up in the three large urban centres of Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya.
And, adding to the rather surreal, head-scratching situation we find ourselves in, the Olympic flame has arrived in Japan and has begun its journey around the country. Given that the Olympics themselves seem set to be postponed by year (if not two), it will be a long slow journey. Better hope the flame doesn't go out entirely.

An unexpected visitor

A rare sighting of Aquila chrysaetos

We had an unexpected visitor to the bird feeder in front of our house. A wonderful surprise. Now, I am just an amateur birder, not an expert, but even I can recognize a golden eagle when I see it.
A truly magnificent bird.
Just look at that majestic, piercing gaze and that golden, bushy tail.
Though I'm not so sure about the eagle's, eh, ears.
But still, a spectacular photograph I think you'll agree.

Presenteeism

The Oxford Dictionary defines 'presenteeism' as "the practice of spending more time at your work than you need to according to your contract, in order to appear to be working hard". I would append that with "innate to, and ingrained within, Japanese work culture". The very fact that you are in the office, shop, factory, or, in Sanae's case, the school staff room, is equated with 'work'. Being present is considered more important than productivity. Well, maybe not more important, but more socially acceptable. Being present maintains a social norm - 'we' are all working. In contrast, completing all your work and then going home would be regarded as self-centred individualism.
This links with another, off-cited aspect of Japanese life - the distinction between tatemae and honne. Books have been written about these concepts. Most of them are woefully tenuous, unsubstantiated rubbish, people's subjective opinions sequinned onto a thin gossamer of what they pass off as objective fact.
This blog is no different but at least I'm upfront about it.
Anyway, 'tatemae' can be equated with 'appearance', while 'honne' refers to a person's true feelings buried beneath their seemingly placid, acquiescent demeanour. Japanese working life, and particularly presenteeism, provides instructive example of this inherent duality. In the office, people are seen to be working; they may not be doing anything particularly productive, but they are seen to be 'working'.
When I worked in Shibetsu in the preceding millennium, this time of year during the spring holidays, I would have to go into the office of the Board of Education. Next to me sat S-san, a man ostensibly in charge of the procurement needs of the schools in Shibetsu. When he wasn't out being wined and dined by blackboard manufacturers, he would spend his days sitting at his desk, puffing his way through a pack of Seven Star cigarettes (like I said, this was the last millennium), slurping Boss canned coffee, and idly flicking through furniture catalogs. He was, in the apt words of Karl Marx, when explaining historical materialism and the concept of labour surplus, "doing fuck all". And I'm sure he knew that. In the heart of his honne, he no doubt realised that this wasn't anything even resembling work, but he was working for the town office, he had a good, pensionable job for life and if the most he had to do was maintain some tatemae by spending an inordinate amount of unproductive time at his desk, then what the hell: crack open another can and light up another cigarette.
Hokkaido is now into the fourth week of school closures, yet teachers all across the island are still required to be in school by 8:15 and be there until 5:15. This is institutional presenteeism and nobody objects. Or rather nobody objects in public because that would be revealing your honne when you should be maintaining your tatemae. Sanae comes home in the evening and fairly vents; it takes a couple of beers and a long foot massage before she finally calms down. She (rightly) points out that having 30+ people confined to the same room for 8 hours every day directly conflicts with the health advice being given about people maintaining their social distance.  Yet, nobody in authority wants to burst this particular bubble because to do so would be a refutation of not just presenteeism, but a quintessential part of Japanese work culture as well.

Okanyňyz üçin sag boluň!

That is the Turkmen for 'Thank you for reading'.
According to the always fascinating statistical information provided by Google about this blog, this week I have had 12 page views by my avid, cultivated, and clearly well-educated readership in the great country of Turkmenistan.
By contrast, I have had all of 6, yes, 6! shagging views from the country of my birth. Ignorant feckers.
Admittedly, Human Rights Watch describes Turkmenistan as one of the world’s "most repressive countries. The country is virtually closed to independent scrutiny, media and religious freedoms are subject to draconian restrictions, and human rights defenders and other activists face the constant threat of government reprisal."
Still, they have excellent taste in blogs.

A modest statue honouring the magnificent author of the Gaynor-Takahashi blog.  The resemblance, you will have to admit, is uncanny.

Back to school!

Kind of.
Cian went back to his school this morning for the first time in nearly two weeks. He was there for all of 35 minutes before he (and his classmates) were hastily ushered out and told not to darken the school doorways again until early April.
Ostensibly, Cian and the other 79 students in first year, were in school so that their teachers could check on their well being, offer 'guidance' on their home studies, and ensure that students were taking the necessary precautions against the coronavirus.
In practice, it was a PR exercise, one repeated in many schools across Hokkaido all this week. Since the governor of Hokkaido declared his state of emergency and 'requested' the schools be closed, he has come in for sustained criticism about 'over-reacting'. That and for not providing an answer to the question of 'what parents are supposed to do with bored kids forced to stay at home all day?' (As an aside, it is an interesting insight into Japanese culture that politicians [the governor] and the formal education system [schools] are expected to answer that question rather than the parents themselves.)
To counter this criticism, the Hokkaido Board of Education mandated a system of 分散登校 (bunsan toko), 'dispersed school attendance'. According to this initiative/ public relations stunt, students go to school once a week for a maximum of 60 minutes so that their teachers can, well, I don't know, remember who they are? Remind them not to congregate in large groups in small areas like restaurants, and playgorunds, and schools, and, eh, hang on a moment...
This being Japan, there was also a lot of fine detail involved in order to give the appearance of specific concrete measures being taken. Hence, students in each grade would come at different times during the day; students would be not be allowed into their classrooms, but rather would have to assemble in the school gym, sitting exactly 2 metres apart (front and back, left and right) from each other; masks to be worn; not to mingle with their classmates; and following the dispersion of each batch of students, the teachers would then frantically scrub clean and disinfect the entire school (Sanae had to this 6 times in her school yesterday).
Like I said, a PR exercise so that the prefectural governor and Board of Education can demonstrate  that they are taking specific (albeit completely futile) actions for the well-being of the island's students.

Rusutsu Ski Resort

One of the Imperial Stormtroopers on his day off.

 According to the home page of the Rusutsu Ski Resort, it has been the winner of Japan's 'Best Ski Resort' for the past three consecutive years. I don't know about that, but as of last Wednesday I'd say it was well on its way to winning this year's award for Japan's 'Emptiest Ski Resort'.
As I detailed in a previous post, Cian is now on an enforced 5 week lay off from school. And pretty much everything else. And these 5 weeks aren't officially holidays but a preventive measure to thwart the spread of the coronavirus. Thus, the boy is supposed to be making up for lost school time by hitting the books every weekday from nine to three.
Luckily for Cian his naturally gifted irresponsible father is from Ireland and doesn't believe in any of that auld educational shite. Never got me anywhere.
So on Wednesday last we jumped in the Forester and made for Rusutsu figuring it wouldn't be too busy on a weekday.
Too busy?
Choose your antonym: empty, vacant, bare, deserted, desolate, abandoned - all of them apply.
This is the car park.

Cian trying to make the car park look full.

And these are the slopes on Japan's triennial winner of the 'Best Ski Resort'.

Tumbleweeds just out of shot.

Yet again, another eerily quiet place. Or is it quietly eerie?

Essentially, we had our own private ski resort. There were a few other scarce souls slipping and sliding around the slopes, but I reckon there were more resort staff than skiers.
Yes, yes, I realize than the coronavirus is creating havoc and that my prideful claim of irresponsibility may not be so responsible, but you are not going to catch the coronavirus skiing on the airy, snowy slopes of Rusutsu.
As Cian so deftly demonstrates in this video. Those of you scared of rapidly moving objects may need to look away. And those of you easily queasy (nice) may also want to turn away (the camera work goes a tad juddery towards the end.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SWEHvteIUQ

Birthday Girl!

 It is Sanae's birthday today. She insists that she is still in her early 40's but I think something may have got lost in translation. No more details are forthcoming so you'll just have to take her word for it. Given the sniffle, sneeze, cough police are out in force, we decided to skip the usual all night drinking session at Uncle Sochi's Homebrew and Goodly Times Bar ("Where everyday is a day like not going before. Cheers to your health chin chin"). Instead, I outdid myself in the kitchen and produced a square-shaped cheese cake. (The slicing of which totally stymied Sanae.)

My default setting tends to what I like to think is 'humorous self deprecation', but which is probably closer to 'glib' than I am willing to admit. In reaching for honesty I don't always succeed (or convince). So, instead, on this special day for my darling wife, I will gently borrow this wonderful poem by Mary Oliver to speak for my heart.

I have just said

I have just said
      something
ridiculous to you
       and in response,

your glorious laughter.
     These are the days
the sun
     is swimming back

to the east
     and the light on the water
gleams,
     as never, it seems, before.

I can't remember
      every spring.
I can't remember
      everything -

so many years!
    Are the morning kisses
the sweetest
    or the evenings

or the inbetweens.
    All I know
is that "thank you" should appear
    somewhere.

So, just in case
     I can't find
the perfect place -
    "Thank you, thank you."

Paper masks! Toilet rolls!!

So, the collapse of civilization and rapid descent into anarchy will be marked not by bloodshed and wanton destruction, but by the panic buying of toilet roll.
Today, in a first I suspect for any of the OECD countries, the government of Japan officially announced that the toilet paper situation was ... okay! The NHK news showed warehouses stocked from floor to ceiling with rolls and rolls of paper and a man in a hard hat tried his best to convince us that there was enough in the warehouse for a country of 128 million people.
'Cheese', I replied.
'What?' said Cian.
'Cheese', I repeated. 'What the Japanese need to do is eat less rice and consume more cheese. Makes you constipated. That and, eh, persimmons.'

Some other random observations:
* Cian is now finishing his first week of enforced holidays (he stopped school last Wednesday). And he is bored. Completely and utterly bored. He is effectively banned from meeting his friends, rugby has been stopped for the foreseeable future, public facilities like parks, swimming pools and libraries have all been closed, and he has no interest in computer games. And 5 more weeks to go of the same.
* Partially, I suspect, in response to the above, Cian's school have contacted him to say that from Friday, homework will be posted on his school's homepage. And it will be regularly updated. And that, currently, he should be studying at home every day from 9:00am to 3:00pm just like a normal school day.
* In response to both of the above, I am taking Cian skiing tomorrow.
* I am supposed to be traveling to Myanmar next week for work. I am supposed to be flying from Sapporo to Yangon on Korean Air via Incheon. Korean Air emailed me earlier this evening to say that my initial flight has been cancelled and the rescheduled flight means that I will have to spend more than 24 hours in Korea.
* Korea has now close on 5,000 confirmed cases of the coronavirus.
* Ergo, I will not be flying with Korean Air and spending more than 24 hours in Korea.
* Today the University announced that they are canceling this year's graduation ceremony which was due to take place in two weeks time.
* The new academic year is due to begin on April 8th, but I reckon Paddy Power wouldn't give you particularly good odds on that happening.
* As of this evening, Hokkaido still tops the domestic COVID-19 league table for most confirmed cases. We're at 79, nearly twice the total of second placed Tokyo (on 39).
* No cases in Muroran so far, though Sanae sneezed a couple of times this evening ...

Defiance or irresponsible?

"Anyone buying or selling the toilet rolls?"

Eerily quiet, or quietly eerie?

That's Yotei-zan in the background.

So, I went for my jog yesterday morning and the streets were indeed 'eerily quiet'. I might go so far as to say that they were in fact, 'quietly eerie'.
Though to be honest it's hard to know if the streets were any different than normal. Muroran is not exactly renowned for its metropolitan joie de vie and vibrant, urban lifestyle.
The supermarket did seem quieter than usual but that may well be because they had sold out of toilet roll and the crowds had charged off elsewhere in their desperate search for extra-absorbent two-ply tissue. A number of cities around Japan are undergoing a, (cough), 'run' on toilet paper at the moment. Somebody somewhere claimed that all of the toilet paper in Japan is made in China and we wouldn't be getting any more. This naturally got on social media and before you could say the Japanese for 'Fake news', the panic buying had erupted. We're not too worried as, well, we have snow. Nothing purer. Admittedly a tad chilly, but refreshingly clean and zesty.
Anyway the governor of Hokkaido had asked us this weekend to stay at home and refrain from going out unless absolutely necessary. The governor of Hokkaido is only a whippersnapper of 38 and I'll be damned if I am going to let some young fella tell me what I can and can't do.
So we took ourselves off for a walk as it was a nice day and there is only so many times you can count rolls of hoarded toilet paper before the feeling of superiority wears off.