There is a new trend in Japan among girls. It's called "tsuke yeba" and it's a modification of girl's teeth. It's a surgical procedure that adds a small amount of plastic or ceramic (a special type as hard as bone so it doesn't break or interfere with anything) to the canine teeth of the girls. The effect of this interesting procedure is to make teeth appear crooked. The fascinating thing about tsuke yeba is that girls get this procedure to feel more approachable. Girls with perfect teeth may intimidate guys with their beauty, so it's important for Japanese girls to seem approachable. Apparently, a cute but not drop-dead gorgeous girl will get more attention from guys because the cute girl is in many more guys' leagues. At least, that's the thought process of many girls in Japan who are getting this procedure. They also give the girls a cuter and more youthful appearance, because teeth that seem crooked are typically more common in younger girls that haven't had braces or any orthodontic treatment.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Accepting Compliments in Japanese
Accepting compliments in Japan is a lot different than in America. Due to the different cultures, many different types of responses are fine in English, but that's not the case for Japanese. In America, when you receive a compliment, it's customary for the person receiving a compliment to accept it and say "thank you" or "that's nice! [insert an additional compliment of the other person here]" If you deny the compliment and say it's not true, people might think you don't have very high self esteem or your self confidence is very low.
In Japan, that's completely the opposite. If you get a compliment, it's considered arrogant and rude to say "thank you." Instead, it's important to say something that would be considered self-deprecating to Americans. In Japan, humility is seen as a very important virtue. If you just accept a compliment, it's seen as not having any humility. No matter how true the compliment is, in Japanese it's important to reject it somehow. Here are some examples below:
まだまだです mada mada desu - meaning "I'm not quite there yet"
そんなことはないよ！ son na koto wa nai yo! - meaning "That's not true/you're incorrect"
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Calligraphy
Japanese calligraphy is called shodo (書道). Calligraphy is a huge part of Japanese culture. Calligraphy was the main form of writing long ago, and the mainstream katakana, hiragana, and kanji that are used today came from calligraphy because these characters were written over and over again. This caused the characters to evolve slowly over time, to create the written Japanese language we have today.
For example, the hiragana "se" (せ) came from the first kanji in sewa (世話) which means "to take care of," or sekai (世界) which means "world." Many other Japanese hiragana evolved from kanji.
There are many different important aspects of calligraphy. The ink stone holds the ink. It's called a suzuri (硯). The ink stone is very important because it holds the ink and creates a smooth base for your brush and grinding the ink. The stones can come in black, dark blue, or sometimes dark green. Many different ink stones are sold, but the best ink stones have a flat, smooth "land" area, or the flat place you mix the ink, and a rounded or rectangular "ocean" area, or the well where the ink runs down into. Ink stones should be sturdy and strong, if there are any chips or damaged areas on an ink stone you're buying, make sure the price is marked down accordingly. Another thing some shops do to try to trick customers is painting certain less sturdy stones to look like ink stones. These stones are not very good for grinding ink and will wear down over time, potentially contaminating your ink or breaking. If an ink stone breaks while you are using it, it could create quite a mess. If your ink stone is heavy, that's a good sign it's good quality.
The ink stick is one of the most important parts because you get your ink from it. In Japanese, an ink stick is called a sumi (墨) To get the ink, you grind your ink stick onto your ink stone, and ink comes off in a powder. Mix this solution with water and you get rich India ink perfect for calligraphy. A very important aspect of grinding the ink for the ink stone is making sure the ink stick is completely perpendicular or at a 90 degree angle with the "land" area of the ink stone. Usually the "land" area of the ink stone has a very slight gradiation, and it can be difficult to tell whether or not your ink stick is straight vertically or not. If you end up grinding the ink stick at an angle, it could break more easily and you'd have to replace it. The best ink sticks are between 50 and 100 years old, so to break an ink stick could be very costly.
Another important aspect of calligraphy is the mulberry paper. It's called washi (和紙) in Japanese. This paper is special for calligraphy. It creates a feathery effect when it is saturated with ink. Mulberry paper is light and it resembles rice paper in appearance. Heavily processed mulberry paper just looks like slightly transparent printer paper. Mulberry paper that's been lightly pressed will have larger paper fragments and create a more rustic, old effect. The oldest calligraphy masters used this type of lightly pressed paper, since they didn't have the modern paper technology we did.
A paper weight is very important to hold the paper in place as you paint. It's called a bunchin (文鎮) in Japanese. You add various pressures with the brush as you're doing calligraphy to create different effects, and it's important the paper doesn't move when you're doing these effects.
A cloth called a shitajiki (下敷き) is placed under the mulberry paper to prevent the ink from bleeding through.
Finally, the arguably most important part of calligraphy: the brush. In Japanese, it is called a fude (筆). There are various different types of brushes to create different effects, but the most traditional brush is wide at the bottom and comes to a fine point. Like the ink sticks and ink stones, the older brushes are better. As the brush fibers age, they apply ink more evenly to create effects similar to the ancient calligraphy techniques. These techniques are very difficult to achieve and must be practiced for hours.
Calligraphy is a part of the curriculum in Elementary schools in Japan. In high school, students are allowed to choose calligraphy as an elective, along with music or drawing and painting classes. It's also popular in high school clubs. There is a high school club that's performance calligraphy, which is where students perform calligraphy paintings in front of an audience. Universities like Fukuoka University of Education, University of Tsukuba, and Tokyo Gakugei University have special majors and departments specifically for calligraphy. These universities have classes in the special departments that allow teachers to train students one on one in calligraphy.
[source]
For example, the hiragana "se" (せ) came from the first kanji in sewa (世話) which means "to take care of," or sekai (世界) which means "world." Many other Japanese hiragana evolved from kanji.
There are many different important aspects of calligraphy. The ink stone holds the ink. It's called a suzuri (硯). The ink stone is very important because it holds the ink and creates a smooth base for your brush and grinding the ink. The stones can come in black, dark blue, or sometimes dark green. Many different ink stones are sold, but the best ink stones have a flat, smooth "land" area, or the flat place you mix the ink, and a rounded or rectangular "ocean" area, or the well where the ink runs down into. Ink stones should be sturdy and strong, if there are any chips or damaged areas on an ink stone you're buying, make sure the price is marked down accordingly. Another thing some shops do to try to trick customers is painting certain less sturdy stones to look like ink stones. These stones are not very good for grinding ink and will wear down over time, potentially contaminating your ink or breaking. If an ink stone breaks while you are using it, it could create quite a mess. If your ink stone is heavy, that's a good sign it's good quality.
The ink stick is one of the most important parts because you get your ink from it. In Japanese, an ink stick is called a sumi (墨) To get the ink, you grind your ink stick onto your ink stone, and ink comes off in a powder. Mix this solution with water and you get rich India ink perfect for calligraphy. A very important aspect of grinding the ink for the ink stone is making sure the ink stick is completely perpendicular or at a 90 degree angle with the "land" area of the ink stone. Usually the "land" area of the ink stone has a very slight gradiation, and it can be difficult to tell whether or not your ink stick is straight vertically or not. If you end up grinding the ink stick at an angle, it could break more easily and you'd have to replace it. The best ink sticks are between 50 and 100 years old, so to break an ink stick could be very costly.
Another important aspect of calligraphy is the mulberry paper. It's called washi (和紙) in Japanese. This paper is special for calligraphy. It creates a feathery effect when it is saturated with ink. Mulberry paper is light and it resembles rice paper in appearance. Heavily processed mulberry paper just looks like slightly transparent printer paper. Mulberry paper that's been lightly pressed will have larger paper fragments and create a more rustic, old effect. The oldest calligraphy masters used this type of lightly pressed paper, since they didn't have the modern paper technology we did.
A paper weight is very important to hold the paper in place as you paint. It's called a bunchin (文鎮) in Japanese. You add various pressures with the brush as you're doing calligraphy to create different effects, and it's important the paper doesn't move when you're doing these effects.
A cloth called a shitajiki (下敷き) is placed under the mulberry paper to prevent the ink from bleeding through.
Finally, the arguably most important part of calligraphy: the brush. In Japanese, it is called a fude (筆). There are various different types of brushes to create different effects, but the most traditional brush is wide at the bottom and comes to a fine point. Like the ink sticks and ink stones, the older brushes are better. As the brush fibers age, they apply ink more evenly to create effects similar to the ancient calligraphy techniques. These techniques are very difficult to achieve and must be practiced for hours.
Calligraphy is a part of the curriculum in Elementary schools in Japan. In high school, students are allowed to choose calligraphy as an elective, along with music or drawing and painting classes. It's also popular in high school clubs. There is a high school club that's performance calligraphy, which is where students perform calligraphy paintings in front of an audience. Universities like Fukuoka University of Education, University of Tsukuba, and Tokyo Gakugei University have special majors and departments specifically for calligraphy. These universities have classes in the special departments that allow teachers to train students one on one in calligraphy.
[source]
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Tempura vs. Tenpura
In Japan, a very commonly made food is tenpura. Tenpura is basically battered and fried vegetables and sometimes shrimp. This is usually a main dish in Japan, but can be a side dish to bigger meals. In America, it's called tempura in many Japanese restaurants. Americans love anything fried, and it's often served as a side dish to sushi. In a local restaurant in my area, it's one of the most popular side dishes to sushi. This restaurant also sells Chinese food, and many of the dishes are fried as well. These dishes are considered very delicious. All of the people who eat at sushi restaurants in America, especially sushi enthusiasts, usually enjoy sushi. I mean, fried butter is a food that's commonly served at many state fairs in America. Of course tempura is popular. I'm not sure why, during the transition from Japan to America, the n in tenpura changed into an m. This confuses me because in my opinion it's easier to say tenpura than tempura. In Japanese, the hiragana for tenpura is てんぷら. The "ten" in tenpura is the beginning kanji of the word "tenki" or weather. This is what tenpura looks like with its first kanji included: 天ぷら
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Hooded Eyelid Correctors
Japan has a huge makeup market. There are hundreds of thousands of product from eyeliner to pore reducers to wrinkle cream. One large aspect of this is makeup to make Japanese women look more like American women. For example, read my Ganguro Girl post. Ganguro Girls are an extreme example of this phenomenon, but it's apparent in many ways. One of the most startling examples I've found is a type of glue that creates a "western eye" or gets rid of hooded eyes, which are the most common type of eyes among Japanese people.
[source]
First, you need to find where your eye creases naturally. Then use a shaping stick to create fake creases above your natural crease and see which one you like best. There are many different types of creases you can create with the glue. each of these creases make your eye a different shape. The reason this glue is most often used is to make eyes appear larger than they are, which is similar to "stereotypical American" double-lidded eyes.
[source]
[source]
First, you need to find where your eye creases naturally. Then use a shaping stick to create fake creases above your natural crease and see which one you like best. There are many different types of creases you can create with the glue. each of these creases make your eye a different shape. The reason this glue is most often used is to make eyes appear larger than they are, which is similar to "stereotypical American" double-lidded eyes.
[source]
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Flaying Live Eels
In Narita on our way to lunch after visiting an elementary school, my group in Japan passed a shop that specialized in eels. I didn't think much of it, and glanced at the signs that said うあぎ(unagi, or eels) with a painted eel squirming around the hiragana. The air was hot and it hung in heavy clouds around me--I was eager to get to my destination. Hunger was digging a hollow pit in my stomach, walking 10 miles a day was a big change from my mostly sedentary life back in America. After lunch (fried vegetables and shrimp, tea, rice and various pickled veggies) I felt reinvigorated despite my aching feet. I noticed my surroundings and soaked up and increasing amount of small details: a small, intricate sake bowl nestled in between two larger ones in a shop window, the glowing smiles of a high school couple newly in love, a cat pouting in an alley that couldn't be more than a foot wide.
I'd eaten cooked eel in America before, in a sushi restaurant called Kaji. It closed a few years ago, and I recently learned the name and the kanji on the front of the restaurant meant fire. The word didn't mean cooking fire, it was the type of fire that burned down forests and destroyed buildings. I chuckled to myself when I learned that. Had the people who had chosen the name gone beyond an English-Japanese dictionary? Who owned the restaurant when it was in its prime? Did they know the difference? If so, did they care? The eel was tender and drowned in a sweetened soy sauce.
When we walked back to the high school we came from, I noticed the eel shop more closely. A few people ahead of me had stopped to watch something. The group was mostly foreigners, and something in the shop was causing quite a commotion.
"Oh look, he's skinning eels." My Japanese teacher said nonchalantly. He'd been to Japan many times and must be familiar with this. I took one look and was instantly captivated.
A man perched on a small wooden stool. His features were worn with age and bent in concentration. His movements were swift and methodical, as if he'd been doing this for years. He probably had. Despite the slab of wood he was working on being stained a deep red, his white uniform sleeves only had a few speckles of bright red blood at the cuff. His stomach and chest were completely white, and it created a stark contrast to what he was doing. To the right of him, nearly completely out of sight, was a five gallon bucket overflowing with eel heads. He held a nail and a bloodied knife that he wiped clean with a cloth between each eel.
The man grabbed an eel out of a bucket of churning water on his left. Other eels flashed pieces of their bodies above the surface and continued to tangle themselves deeper into the water, seemingly unaware of their imminent death. The single eel in his hand squirmed as it rose into the humid air, thrashing slightly with the shock of being out of the water. When it was set onto the table, its sleek black body was quickly covered in blood. Almost as soon as it hit the table, a nail was driven through the eel's head and into a hole in the wood. The eel writhed violently and opened and closed its mouth in panic. In one swift motion the man smoothed the eel's body flat with his hand, his knife following and flaying it open all the way to the tail. The eel's body jerked and wiggled slightly and its mouth opened and closed frantically. The man opened the eel, scooped out its intestines and cut out its spine. The head was chopped off and thrown in the bucket, and the fresh eel filets were tossed into a pile on top of the huge wooden slab.
He grabbed another eel as if it was nothing. I watched intently, the knot in my stomach feeling like twisting eels. Suddenly I realized words had been tumbling out of my mouth the whole time. "Gross! He's just skinning all those eels! Just like it's nothing! Its mouth! Look, oh my God it's still alive!" I needed to look away but I couldn't. My teacher and another girl from my group were taking videos, amazed at the man's efficiency. They seemed to have only fleeting empathy for the eels, who only died once their vital organs were ripped from their splayed bodies. Are all mass-produced meat products prepared like this?
Yet when I went back to America, and even in Japan, I ate steaks, ordered fried pork cutlets, ate sushi, went to a yakiniku restaurant. The eels made me want to be a vegetarian only for a moment: the separation between cow and packaged steak was too large for me to give empathy.
I'd eaten cooked eel in America before, in a sushi restaurant called Kaji. It closed a few years ago, and I recently learned the name and the kanji on the front of the restaurant meant fire. The word didn't mean cooking fire, it was the type of fire that burned down forests and destroyed buildings. I chuckled to myself when I learned that. Had the people who had chosen the name gone beyond an English-Japanese dictionary? Who owned the restaurant when it was in its prime? Did they know the difference? If so, did they care? The eel was tender and drowned in a sweetened soy sauce.
When we walked back to the high school we came from, I noticed the eel shop more closely. A few people ahead of me had stopped to watch something. The group was mostly foreigners, and something in the shop was causing quite a commotion.
"Oh look, he's skinning eels." My Japanese teacher said nonchalantly. He'd been to Japan many times and must be familiar with this. I took one look and was instantly captivated.
A man perched on a small wooden stool. His features were worn with age and bent in concentration. His movements were swift and methodical, as if he'd been doing this for years. He probably had. Despite the slab of wood he was working on being stained a deep red, his white uniform sleeves only had a few speckles of bright red blood at the cuff. His stomach and chest were completely white, and it created a stark contrast to what he was doing. To the right of him, nearly completely out of sight, was a five gallon bucket overflowing with eel heads. He held a nail and a bloodied knife that he wiped clean with a cloth between each eel.
The man grabbed an eel out of a bucket of churning water on his left. Other eels flashed pieces of their bodies above the surface and continued to tangle themselves deeper into the water, seemingly unaware of their imminent death. The single eel in his hand squirmed as it rose into the humid air, thrashing slightly with the shock of being out of the water. When it was set onto the table, its sleek black body was quickly covered in blood. Almost as soon as it hit the table, a nail was driven through the eel's head and into a hole in the wood. The eel writhed violently and opened and closed its mouth in panic. In one swift motion the man smoothed the eel's body flat with his hand, his knife following and flaying it open all the way to the tail. The eel's body jerked and wiggled slightly and its mouth opened and closed frantically. The man opened the eel, scooped out its intestines and cut out its spine. The head was chopped off and thrown in the bucket, and the fresh eel filets were tossed into a pile on top of the huge wooden slab.
He grabbed another eel as if it was nothing. I watched intently, the knot in my stomach feeling like twisting eels. Suddenly I realized words had been tumbling out of my mouth the whole time. "Gross! He's just skinning all those eels! Just like it's nothing! Its mouth! Look, oh my God it's still alive!" I needed to look away but I couldn't. My teacher and another girl from my group were taking videos, amazed at the man's efficiency. They seemed to have only fleeting empathy for the eels, who only died once their vital organs were ripped from their splayed bodies. Are all mass-produced meat products prepared like this?
Yet when I went back to America, and even in Japan, I ate steaks, ordered fried pork cutlets, ate sushi, went to a yakiniku restaurant. The eels made me want to be a vegetarian only for a moment: the separation between cow and packaged steak was too large for me to give empathy.
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