Tag Archives: Shizuoka

A Different Ball Game: Welcome to the J-league

Posted on July 21, 2011 | 7 comments

There’s something not right about Japanese football fans. It’s like they haven’t got the memo. Don’t they know that football is supposed to be endured?

It’s an affliction, an addiction that blights the lives of supporters across the world.

I mean, teams are supposed to be owned by morally dubious Russian Oligarchs or Arab Sheiks, not by local companies, local government and certainly not the fans themselves.

It’s supposed to be the last bastion of masculinity, not a place where women, children and babies in tiny replica shirts venture or even god forbid participate as fans.

You’re supposed to randomly hurl abuse at the referee, a man or woman who has devoted countless hours to the game, who knows the rules inside out and yet still doesn’t know better than you. You are most certainly not to be respectful of them.

Then of course there are the songs and chants; these should at least be mildly offensive to the other team and its fans. However, if you can manage to incorporate, racism, sexism or homophobia into them, all the better.

They should not include dance routines.

But most of all and this really is quite important… you’re not supposed to enjoy the game!

Actually, on second thoughts, Japan might be onto something here…

Let’s face it, Japan has got fan culture down pat. They are Zen masters in the fanatic arts, fully in tune with Wa, their sense of a communal Japanese identity. Their football is still like all football worldwide, tribal at heart, but this tribe at least is open to most.

Even at my hometown club, Huddersfield Town AFC, a club voted Family Club of the year a number of times, I still wouldn’t want to take a young kid all the time. Exposing a kid to the kind of red faced, vein throbbing, eye popping anger and vile language that can come out of some supporters isn’t exactly high on my to do list. I may not blink when I see or hear it but I’ve seen little kids absolutely stunned by it. I can still remember the look on the face of a little four year old girl, just staring, mouth agape as a man nearby turned a bright shade of red as he hurled invective in the direction of the fella with the whistle.

My experience at an Shimizu S-Pulse game was somewhat different. The contrast was in fact pretty stark at times. The S-Pulse fans, all decked out in bright orange replica kits and homemade fan t-shirts, spent almost the whole ninety plus minutes singing their hearts out. Simply put, they were enjoying the sing-along and the football too much to be incensed to such a degree by one decision not going their way on the pitch. On top of that, the friendly, though no less passionate atmosphere was welcoming enough that a girl who couldn’t have been more than ten years old spent the entire match bouncing and cheering away, cajoling her rather less interested older sister to do the same. She must have picked up this habit at a young age, much like the one year old a few seats away who had already mastered the fist pump to, “ore!” Yes, “ore.” The Japanese ‘l’ isn’t ready for a full Spanish “ole!” quite yet.

So, what is it about Japanese football that makes it so different from that played on British, European and every other nation’s soil that includes kicking a ball as a national pastime?

First of all, age. The J-League has only been in existence since 1992/1993. The historic rivalry of clubs like Liverpool and Manchester Utd in England, Barcelona and Real Madrid in Spain, Inter and A.C. Milan in Italy and Rangers and Celtic in Scotland cannot possible have had time to emerge in such a way here in Japan. In addition, the political, historical and in the case of Rangers and Celtic, religious differences have no equivalents here in Japan. Also, by starting their existence within the last twenty years Japanese clubs benefit from a supporter environment that would not have held the inbuilt sexual and racial biases of those in countries that have played football far longer.

There is also the rather complicated fact of culture to contend with. If you ever wonder why Spain plays pretty football while the English hoof it and the Scottish cheer slide tackles like goals, think of the weather. Have you ever tried to play the beautiful game on a rain sodden pitch? Wind blowing too? Not so simple. Ever slide tackled on dry soil? Not so easy.

What about mentality?

What do fans traditionally value? The British; a player busting a gut, appearing all over the pitch, a one man whirlwind devoted to team play. Italy; catenaccio, otherwise known as the door bolt. The Japanese, a beautiful passing game, but one that rather lacks in a cutting edge as said cutting edge requires a degree of selfishness rather lacking from their sporting mindset.

Although perhaps the most telling difference comes with the alcohol. Japanese fans can bring their own. Three hours before kick-off even. In contrast it’s banned in Scottish football stadiums, though not in Rugby ones. The mentality is simply different.

But is it better? Well…

Frankly it’s a matter of taste. If you bleed, sweat and cry your team’s colours and so did your father before you and his before him, then it may not be your pint of bitter.

But for me? For the kids and families filling the stadium? Passing football, cheap beer, food aplenty, friendly fans and a victory dance called the Roko Roko (the loco loco, again struggling with the ‘l’)?

That’ll do us just fine. And with the Nadeshiko Japan (Japan’s women’s team) having brought home the world cup. You have to assume it’s only going to get bigger still.

Viva S-Pulse!

 

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Posted in Football, Japan

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The Benefits of Lonely Travel on a Friendly Planet

Posted on November 1, 2010 | 4 comments

I’ve had some peculiar moments in Japan (as you have no doubt noticed already) and they have almost always come from the kindness of strangers. Now I’ve never really addressed why they are quite so kind before, but indeed there is a simple reason for it; more often than not, I travel alone.

I noticed as far back as on my trip around America with a good friend of mine, that a certain kind of person was simply more likely to attempt to engage you in conversation if you were by yourself. On some level you are simply more approachable. Also, the person about to randomly introduce his or herself might simply be more comfortable revealing their inner eccentric when in the presence of fewer people. Less potential embarrassment all round.

In Portland, my friend’s trip to the bathroom left me alone for the few minutes in which I struck up a conversation with the bartender as to why the fine brew I was currently quaffing was not available on Blighty’s fair shores (the answer is that production on the scale of Budweiser most often inevitably leads to an inferior product, therefore they were happy in Portland), the next thing I know the guy next to me was asking whether I fancied a tour of the very brewery I was stood in. Informing him that I’d have loved to, but alas, the tour closed two hours ago he quickly handed me his business card and replied, “no problem I’m a brewer here, let’s go.”

The friendly brewer then proceeded to lead my friend and I through every stage of the brewing process. Embarrassingly, I was so pleased with this I hugged the tiny brewer while we were stood in the hops fridge. As we reached the end of tour my friend and I wondered, how could this get any better?

“So here’s the beer lab.”

….brain explodes…

“and here’s your free six pack of unlabelled IPA.”

…oh dear Christ almighty…

So you see, I have much faith in the kindness of strangers, at least when said strangers have the opportunity to introduce themselves.

Japan certainly hasn’t let me down in this respect.

On my second trip to Shizuoka City to see a friend of mine, I found myself in need of a place to kill a few hours time and more importantly to get some grub in me. Not remembering the city all that well from my previous visit I attempted to wander in the direction of a hamburg restaurant I’d visited last time. Eventually, I tracked it down and found myself sat in a fairly empty slice of Germany, hamburg and spaghetti parked in front of me (some food combinations in Japan remain thoroughly beyond me). I was about half way through my meal when the only other customer, an elderly Japanese man started to talk at me. I say talk at me because I barely understood a single word of Japanese at the time, essentially any question asked of me that didn’t precisely match my text book was lost on me. But we persisted, each making efforts to bridge the gap, me with scraps of Japanese from my notebook, him through sheer bloody persistence.

One question he asked was fairly simple, ‘do you like cake?’ I nodded. The next thing I know a slice of cake appears in front of me, courtesy of the kind old man. I thanked him once and then again as he was leaving, at which point he asked me, ‘Do you like tea?’ Once again I answered in the affirmative, not expecting another slice of generosity. I hadn’t realized at this point just how prepared Japanese folk always are for gift giving. Sure enough, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a brick of green tea, handed it to me, smiled and was on his merry way.

It’s good tea too.

 

 

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Posted in Food, Japan, Living Abroad, People, Travel

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Slurpy Noodles and Hamburger Sushi

Posted on August 4, 2010 | 6 comments

Food in Japan is a curious beast. It is at times a gloriously wonderful thing, beautifully, even artfully constructed from an array of ingredients while remaining remarkably simple. At other times it’s a cup noodle. But at least the Japanese have a clear idea of what Japanese cuisine is. From snack to fine dining there runs a thread that identifies the creation as Japanese through and through.

But that’s a lie, if I’m honest.  Generally it is far easier to identify something as being part of Japanese cuisine than to do the same with British food. It’s there in British food, I just think that it has become much more internationalized as immigration and empire has completely altered the make up of British cuisine. Japan, a considerably more homogenous nation than the UK perhaps has a more singular culinary identity, but it is by no means Japanese to the bone.

Japanese cuisine, like every other nation in the world is open to the effects of globalization. Their attempt at an Italian style pizza can be found in every supermarket and many restaurants. In most cases it doesn’t compare to the original, or in my mind the American variant but they love it nonetheless. I used to work in an Italian restaurant, scrubbing baked on lasagna off of pans, pizza dough from plastic trays and dodging flying frying pans flung haphazardly towards the sink with a trajectory that were I not quick on my feet would have taken them straight through the back of my head. Health and safety, which is to say, my health and safety were not always cared for, but one thing they made sure was right was the pizza oven; four hundred degrees plus, the required temperature for a true Italian pizza. Here in Japan, the oven sits at 220 degrees. It’s a somewhat soggier creation.

I recently discovered from an article by Paul Greenburg, that even tuna of all things is not in the least bit traditional fare in Japan. The fat tooth required to crave and devour such a fatty, muscular variety of fish flesh was acquired with the introduction of beef into the Japanese diet only some fifty or so years ago. So quickly have they cultivated this taste that the Bluefin Tuna is all but buggered, avoiding extinction wise. As such, even something as Japanese as sushi and sashimi is not spared from the whim and caprice of the global market place. Topping that rectangle of rice with a wedge of tuna flesh simply wouldn’t have occurred to the Japanese a hundred years ago, it would have been too heavy a dish. Now in Kappa Sushi they put a hamburger on top along with a healthy dollop of mayonnaise.

Then there is ramen. The slurpy noodle.  An incredibly popular dish in Japan that finds its origins in China. Ramen joints are a late night thing for me. Steaming bowls of noodles, meat, a few bits of veg and half an egg floating in a brothy mix while delicious at the right time (approximately just under one too many beers into a night out) hold slightly less appeal to me come the sober light of day. Though I’ll admit that this is in part a weather thing. In the stifling humidity of the Japanese summer a heavy dish like ramen doesn’t appeal all that much. But come winter, being huddled over the bowl will take on a whole new dimension of culinary pleasure. There is an additional benefit to this too. While at times I feel self conscious in Japan eating something as delicate as sushi while simultaneously trying to shove it in my mouth in one mouthful as the Japanese do, slurping noodles, face barely above the bowl while sat at a counter is about as relaxed and informal as Japan gets. It’s a welcome break.

I’ve had some weird and wonderful eating experiences in Japan. I’ve eaten intestines hot off the electrical griddle at a house warming party in Shizuoka city, Hiroshima style Okonomiyaki (see Hiroshima post for description of the wonderful dish) off of the teppan in a restaurant that was little more than an old ladies living room  and shabu shabu (cooking thinly sliced meat and vegetable in a boiling pan of water then dipping them in sauce) at a friend’s dining room table while sipping sake with her father.

One event that tends to come to mind though is the time I ate dinner at a small izakaya (bar/restaurant) in Shibuya, Tokyo. Having already eaten my friend and I tried to turn down the chef’s initial effort but to no avail. It was delicious, it was beautiful and beyond it being green and containing some tuna I couldn’t tell you what it was. I tried to tell the man I was full when the second dish arrived. I’m glad he didn’t believe me because it was tataki, slightly seared slices of tuna, and it is incredible. My mouth waters at the very thought of it. Finally he asked me whether I like tako (octopus). I nodded. This was a mistake. He reached into a blue plastic bag behind the counter and proceeded to pull out a live baby octopus that immediately wrapped its tentacles around his arm. Frantically I told him not to start cutting and blow torching the poor thing up in front of me. Not that I have a problem with eating meat in any way, I just don’t see why an animal should die when someone isn’t going to eat it. Fortunately, the chef put the poor little blighter back in his blue bag and bucket, slowly pulling the little suckers from his arm.

I had a slice of him later. Not bad. A little chewy if you must know.

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Posted in ESL, Food, Japan, People, Travel

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