The Land of the Rising Sun

In 2013 My youngest son, Collin, graduated with a degree in Business. That summer he moved back home and announced that he wanted to go to Japan to get into the video game business. His reasoning was that he had always liked video games. His brother said, “that’s like going to Kenya because you want to become a runner.” I think the “Experience” section of his resume included his high score from Super Smash Brothers.

Super Smash Brothers. 
Originally created for Nintendo 64 in 1999.

The Japanese video game industry does not exactly stampede to UNC-Wilmington to snatch up all those promising graduates of Beach Bummery. Collin knew he would need a trojan horse to get to Japan and the most likely one was teaching. He didn't have much of a plan. The first place he looked for employment was called “JET” (Japanese Exchange and Teaching) but they wouldn’t talk to him. He needed to get a visa for the trip, so he drove to Washington DC only to find out the consulate for our region was in Atlanta. After a few of months I didn’t see much progress. Sure, there were more dirty foot prints on his wall, and that precarious tower of dirty dishes next to his computer monitor had become even higher, but nothing other than that. He finally found a company and landed a Skype interview. To prepare for the 3 AM appointment he knocked back the Red Bulls like he was playing quarters. Nowadays the kids down that ass nasty soda as often as we used to pop Certs.

On his way to Japan
November 2013

The next morning he announced “Well they said I am an ideal candidate!” I said “great!”, but I thought “why?” I know Collin is great guy, but on paper…well…not so much. He had no language experience. He had no teaching experience. And his only travel experience was when an adult was holding his passport. All things considered the word “ideal” seemed just a teensy bit hyperbolic. To me it sounded like it could be a scam. Curses! That wily Nigerian prince was at it again! Only this time he would promise to place your kid in a foreign country for an attractively low application fee of just $2,000. That fear proved to be unfounded and the request for money never came. After Collin nailed down the details, they sent him a contract and an itinerary. A couple of months later I drove him to the airport with two suitcases and his graduation gift: a one way ticket to Japan.

He settled into an apartment in Nagoya which, with over 9 million residents, is the country’s third largest city. He was excited to be there, but the trajectory for overseas living is pretty easy to predict. At first every thing is exotic and wonderful. Next, it gets a little irritating not being able find the things you want and are used to, or having to constantly decipher that foreign language. Finally, it sucks. It turns out that it is work, just like it is anywhere else, but not as easy. His initial contract was for six months. I figured if I wanted to see the place I’d better get over there before it expired. I booked my trip for March 2014.

I flew into the local airport and caught the train to the center of the city. Public transit in Japan is pervasive. They have trains, bullet trains, buses, and subways. Nagoya’s station is enormous. Twelve passenger lines disembark to approximately 4 and a half million square feet of floor space. It is about twice the size of Grand Central Station. I arrived in the early evening, which is one of the busiest times of day. There were thousands of people moving about. Most of them were businessmen and each looked as eager and earnest as a schoolboy applying for a management job at Hooter's. I learned that they were headed to the post-workday ritual known as taki-keritsu, which translates: “to smoke heav-i-ree in smaw ress-a-raunt.”

Collin told me to get off the train and meet him “under the large gold clock.” That sounded easy enough. I figured as soon as I got off the train it would be right there like it was waiting for the Hogwarts Express. But there was no clock.

This is the gold clock in the Nagoya Station,
which is no where close to the train platform.

 I wandered around for about an hour. I was wearing a back pack and a long beard looking like I had been cast as a homeless veteran extra in a B-movie. Then I decided it would be best to just wait where I had arrived. On my way back to the platform a young man asked in halting English, “May I help you?” My cell phone still had a sliver of red battery, just enough to power up the picture Collin had texted. He nodded. We left the building, walked about three hundred yards down the street to the end of the block. We entered another door and, with choirs of angels, found the clock. We were still in the train station.

Collin showed up about 45 minutes later and we walked to his apartment.

When Collin moved home from college his stuff filled the bed of a pick up truck. That truck was also towing a loaded trailer. I think he had possession of everything he ever owned, seen, or thought about. He had birthday gifts that were still in their original boxes. He had a microwave carton just for wires. He even had a section of a log from the summer when he worked on a chainsaw crew. He lovingly stroked it like a stuffed animal as he said wistfully “This is from the first tree I ever cut down.” Things in his new place were totally different, but he seemed to embrace the change to a minimalist Japanese aesthetic. He made us dinner. I ate first and he ate afterwards because he only had one plate, one knife, and one fork. I noticed, however, that he did have the complete pair of chopsticks. 

"Don't Do It."
(What I don't know.)

The next couple of days we toured Nagoya. I have to say I was impressed how well he could navigate. Prior to arriving a few months earlier he had no experience with either a foreign language or public transit. Japan was not like either El Paso or Quebec and did not feel the need to post things bilingually. You either knew the language or you did not. To make it even more difficult, the signs were written in traditional Kanji lettering. It would have been easier to decipher smoke signals, but we never got lost.

Taking a break for lunch.

After that we headed over to Kyoto for the Cherry Blossom Festival. We toured numerous shrines. The Japanese shrines are like the European cathedrals in that after you’ve seen a couple they all look the same. The thing about them however is that none are original. They are all recreations. They are made of wood which is then given about 1,000 coats of varnish. Then they are filled up with candles, and surprise, surprise, they burn down. Even the iconic Golden Pagoda is a rebuild. However it’s demise was not accidental. In 1950 it was torched by a disgruntled arsonist monk. That makes me wonder, what does it take to disgruntle a monk? Long hours? Poor working conditions? I’ll bet it was the policy that banned transistor radios. 

My visit ended after about a week or so, but Collin stayed on. When his six months was up, he signed on for another six months. And when that time was up, he renewed again. All this time he was not only teaching, but also taking Japanese classes. The levels of Japanese proficiency go from 5 to 1, with 5 being the easiest and 1 being most difficult, meaning the graduate has attained a business-level mastery. As a student moves from level to level it gets exponentially more difficult, like the Richter Scale. I was impressed when he passed his Level 3. It is so hard for a westerner to learn Asian languages. Their sentences are not constructed like a Latin-based dialog. They make sounds that we don’t make. Japanese is about as hard as that language where they make tongue clicks and hollow log sounds by knocking on their head. It is some tough shit. It is going on five years and Collin found a video game mentor. I’m not talking about some guy with wicked fast thumb skills who knows how to use a B button, but an executive that works in the industry. He speaks both English and Japanese and they meet once a month for drinks. When Collin recently passed his Level 2s his mentor congratulated him and said “That’s great! That will get you the interview, but it won’t get you the job. You will be first place among the losers.” He takes the Level 1 exam later this year. Looks like he had a pretty good plan after all.

Collin with his mentor.

I have to close with a horrible but unavoidable pun, they don’t call it the land of the rising son for nothing.

With the managers of Collin's apartment building.
I made the masks so they could get the feel
of competitive bearding.