Pet Parents

There are studies that show the Japanese population could be cut in half by the end of the century. While I could get into a serious discussion behind the reasons for the lower birth rate and its socio-economic end game, I won't. I want to talk about something infinitely more trivial - a frivolous outgrowth of a latent need to parent something, anything - pet parenting.

To set the stage, here are some statistics: there are more than 23 million pet dogs and cats in Japan. That's 5 million pets MORE than there are children under 15 in all of Japan (18 million kids). Pets are the new millenium's children.

There is plenty of anecdotal evidence. I am hard pressed to find pictures of people's families or kids at the office, but there sure are tons of pictures of people's cats.

Small dogs and older dogs are usually carried around town in baby strollers.

We've seen dogs dressed up in hats, sunglasses, sweaters, long-johns with the button-flap over the bottom, etc.

Then there are articles from MSNBC.com and Nikkei Weekly that outline a variety of services that pet parents spend on their pets, including: accupuncture and physical therapy for aging dogs, spa treatments and aromatherapy, funeral services including joint pet/master gravesites, matchmaking parties and doggie wedding services that can cost upwards to $3,000. I wish I were making this up. But I am not.

The video, while all in Japanese, shows one of these wedding ceremonies, including the ceremony, cutting the cake, photo session, throwing flowers at the happy couple and an interview with a girl who is throwing this party in hopes that her future wedding will be this, uh, nice.

Japanese Dog Wedding

Brother, can you spare some...butter?

Japan is going through a weird butter shortage. I kid you not. For a country that has the second largest economy in the world, with one of the largest per capita GDPs, and is on the leading edge of most technological innovations, it's hard to imagine that it would have a hard time making something as simple as butter.

But it's true. The supermarket in our local area will get butter a few times a week and if you're not there within an hour or two after its restocked, you're evidently out of luck. This is reminiscent of Soviety-era bread lines or the 70's gasoline shortages in the U.S. In response, I've been turned into a butter mule, smuggling in butter at the request of my wife. Luckily, it's not an illicit trade...yet...and I've been spared having to ingest small balloons of butter to evade authorities.

The problem is that demand for milk is falling, which has forced milk producers to cut back their "supply" of cows and milk products, or redirect them into higher margin business like cheese. For you economics buffs out there, you're probably thinking that retailers should just import butter. And would you believe that the domestic butter market is highly protected? There's roughly a 30% tarrif that's levied on all butter imports, along with a 1,000 yen ($10) per kilogram tax placed on all butter imports. Basically, that leads to an 800% increase in the price of imported butter. That's why you NEVER see imported butter in Japan. Now we rarely get to see any butter at all.

If you're interested in a little butter-arbitrage scheme, maybe we can work something out. We can probably make a tiny fortune selling butter to the poor expats in our area! :)

Links:
Japan Today article
Asahi Shinbun

Business Trips and a Pregnant Wife

In yet another strong showing in my bid to become "husband of the year", I spent last week in San Francisco attending a global sales conference with my company, while Shelley was only weeks away from giving birth to our second child. Nothing like cutting it too close. Needless to say I kept the Blackberry close at hand...while Shelley made contingency plans with various friends from our church congregation just in case. I knew that if I missed this birth I would never live it down. Luckily everything worked out fine. No baby was born while I was gone.

The decision to go was made at the last minute, only after the doctor seemed pretty sure that our baby wasn't about to be born. But sometimes doctors can be wrong. My brother-in-law left for a medical school interview after receiving such assurances and his wife had the baby with him listening in on the phone.

Business trips are much more difficult now than they were when we lived in LA. First of all, Shelley would always say that she would miss me whenever I would leave for a trip. But now she's also envious - and I don't blame her one bit. I've been back to the U.S. twice since our move in January. I've tried to make it up to her, though. I have a "honey-buy" list and I lug Sure-Jell, canned pumpkin filling and corn masa, etc., in an extra bag back to Japan for the family. Secondly, it's harder on Anthon. He had to be pried from my arms so I could board my train. I could hear him crying all the way onto the train platform. That makes me feel good to know I'm giving my son abandonment issues! And it's harder on me. For a variety of reasons, it's just harder to be away from family now. Business travel can be fun, but it is lonely and I'm missing my family much more.

On the bright side, I have to say that I was glad to get to come to this conference. I saw my 90 year old Grandmother, my parents, my sister from New York and her new little baby girl, and I had a ton of opportunities to shoot pictures...a rarity. The meetings were productive.

You know the cheesy cliche, 'home is where the heart is'? I think it's true. Though we've been in Japan only three months, it feels like home to me. Having been in LA twice now since the move, I felt myself that home was with my family back in Tokyo. And that I couldn't wait to get back there to see them.

I took some pictures of my time there. Click on any of the pictures to take you there.

Sleeping Very Well, Thank You Very Much

I am not what you call a great sleeper. By about 4:00 AM, I'm pretty much tossing and turning, falling in and out of sleep until the alarm goes off. I miss not being able to sleep like I did when I was younger. I envy my son, sometimes.

I walked into Anthon's room to check up on him before heading to work one day and I found him dangling off the side of his bed, totally asleep. How in the world could you ever stay asleep lying like this, I don't know.

In the checked luggage

I am in San Francisco and LA this week on business. Anthon wanted to come, so I thought one way around having to pay for a two-year old's ticket is to have him stow away in my bag. He almost fits. He just needs to curl up a little and tuck his head in.

Anthon the Musician

There are some things you just know your kids were born. In Anthon's case, his love for music was manifest in the womb. Shelley said he would go crazy whenever we went to the Hollywood Bowl or listened to good music. We went to a Ben Folds concert within the last trimester and I think the bass stunned him - he didn't move the entire concert.

Day by day, we're amazed at the most recent manifestation of this love for music that Anthon was seemingly born with. The other day as we were getting ready for church Anthon blasted his CD of The Three Tenors (his favorite CD, no less), strapped his little-drummer-boy drum around his neck and was walking around beating the drum in time with the rhythm as if he were in "The Music Man." But it doesn't stop with classical music.

Last night I came home from work and he was singing, "Hey Hey You You I Wanna Be Your Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne. I can assure you that wasn't on my iPod. And he customized Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" by saying, "Big Boys Don't Cry."

There's plenty else...his favorite song is a Broadway show tune - "Popular" from Wicked. After dinner every night, he "plays" the piano by banging on the keys. He sings himself to sleep most nights. Shelley's begun teaching him how to play the piano via the Suzuki method. Anthon's Nana and Papa gave him cymbals and a harmonica which he loves. (The harmonica we love...the cymabls, not so much.) He likes to pretend to lead the music at church. It goes on and on.

Anyway, click on the link below for a video of Anthon trying out to be in Avril Lavigne's back up band.

Our Male Model

We spent last Saturday at Shinjuku Gyoen Park and spent the late morning underneath a small grove of cherry blossom trees. We brought a lunch, and a bat & ball to keep Anthon entertained. We didn't on, however, Anthon being the subject of no less than 6 photographers.

For those of you who know Anthon, he's a very outgoing and verbal kid. He's fun loving and because of both his parents incessant picture taking, he is used to hamming it up for the camera. He knows when he's on and can be quite boisterous and entertaining...at least to his parents. We were playing around and I noticed in the periphery one lady who was ducking behind a tree snapping pictures of us. This went on for about five minutes before I made eye contact and she approached us asked if it was OK to take more pictures of our son. Literally 15 minutes later and she's snapping both film and digital pictures, directing on how to position him and how to make him laugh, etc. A bit odd. Then as I'm playing tee ball with Anthon (I hold the ball, Anthon swings the bat, and more often than not hits me in the process), another man comes up and starts taking pictures of Anthon playing ball...another 10 minutes following us around. We had two more groups of people ask to take pictures with Anthon and then two other, more shy photographers, that were more intent on either taking video of Anthon running around or taking pictures of the photographers taking pictures of Anthon. All in the space of two hours.

I certainly hope this doesn't turn Anthon into a Zoolander clone. I would hate to have him ask me, "Have you ever wondered if there was more to life, other than being really, really, ridiculously good looking?"

Here's a picture Shelley took of one of the photographers taking pictures of Anthon.

Sakura Thoughts

I saw that Shelley posted a few thoughts on Sakura here, and here.

This is probably the single best time to be in Japan, and while it is hard to plan to time a visit to see the cherry blossoms at their peak, it's well worth a trip. I think in many ways Japanese view cherry blossoms as a metaphor for life - in that it's delicate and fleeting yet inherently beautiful and should be celebrated.

On the flip side, sakura were used as a symbol in World War II to signify those young Kamikaze pilots who were flew suicide missions and never came back, essentially giving up their lives in their youth. In the same way, according to our friend and neighbor Walt, sakura symbolize the Japanese warrior, including the samurai, who are honored while dying in their youth in battle.

Despite the heavy symbolism, sakura season is a great excuse for the Japanese to party. As Shelley put it so eloquently, it's as if it's one big tailgate! And it's true. Walking through Ueno Park one night we saw thousands, literally, of people sitting on tarps on the ground, with their shoes off, underneath (mostly) the sakura trees, drinking heavily and eating. I would guess that these spots had been staked out for hours. Everyone seemed to be happy, even the homeless people in the park were happy collecting all the recyclable cans and bottles...it was payday for them. The daytimes were even more croweded families, friends and coworkers gathered to have "hanami parties" (flower viewing parties). Shelley remarked that it was one of the first times to see the Japanese cut loose like this and it was good for her to see that, I think. Seeing people get so excited about sakura showed a very human side to our adopted country.

And finally, we went to a park called Shinjuku Gyoen Park to get one last view of the sakura before the rains came and wiped all of the beautiful blossoms away. We happened upon a grove of trees that had shed half of its blossoms - which effectively covered the ground with what seemed like millions of white and pink petals. It was like snow, so peaceful and serene. The wind was blowing gently so you could pick up the blossoms and toss them in the air and they would float away. Anthon particularly liked that, though he would do more throwing at or mashing into people. Or he liked to try to eat the blossoms.

So if you have any desires to come visit us during the sakura season, it's normally the last week of March and the first week of April. Click on the links below to see pictures from our various sakura outings. Just be aware that pictures do not do this justice...sakura season is something to experience.

Showa Park, Ueno Park at night, Imperial Palace Moat, Shinjuku Gyoen Park

My Son the Photographer...and Painful Lessons in Parenting

Anthon is my mini-me. I feel flattered that he likes things that I like. He likes tacos, yakitori, sports, and a lot of other things that I like. He's a morning person like me, which I think is unfortunate for Shelley.

Shortly before we left for Japan, Shelley gave him her old 35mm point-and-shoot film camera. It's funny to see him act out how he perceives me and Shelley's incessant picture taking of him. Anthon puts the camera up to his eye, backwards no less, and says, "Dad, look at me, say cheese." He pretends to take the picture and without fail says in a matter of fact voice, "cute." When he's feeling like a true photographer, he hunts for my tripod, pulls it out and pretends that's his camera.

I thought that this would be the end of my post, but unfortunately, I learned a really interesting lesson about parenthood from Anthon, his camera and my lack of seeing the forest for the trees.

We had a family outing one night and I brought my camera along to take some pictures. Anthon ran to get his camera, but I told him that he couldn't bring it along for a variety of reasons, namely he would drop it and because I said so. He freaked out of course and resisted any attempts by me to put it back in his room. I kept getting mad because he wasn't obeying his Dad and it never occured to until we were making our way to the train station that the only reason he wanted to bring his camera was because I brought my camera. It killed me to think that I was being so focused on Anthon obeying me that I totally missed the intent of his actions.


I'd like to think that I've learned my lesson. I wore a french cuff shirt to church on Sunday and I wore the cuff links that Anthon gave me for Father's Day last year. Anthon of course wanted to wear cuff links like his Dad to church. Well, I've never seen a french cuff shirt for a two year old...have you? Shelley helped Anthon put on one of my cuff links into his shirt and he was happy and showed it off that day to others.