...beneficial for both Japanese ladies and myself.'
In November I presented at the CIO Club, the meeting was held at my main office and I was invited to present on my experiences with the talent development- that meeting's theme. Being in a development program that is to give me opportunities, resources and a network to be on track to becoming a future leader has been a great experience. Though I got my start in communications at this company, and made my move to IT since I have found opportunities in every new role and every new team for better communications. Though I join the team for the chance to expand on my personal IT development, usually it ends up being a mutually beneficial relationship where I bring my communications skills. That's what's happened here in Tokyo as well. In fact I was brought in to support their IT Communications, and having found they didn't have a dedicated communications person I fell into that role yet again.
I don't mind it though, it's thrilling to be able to have the freedom to test new limits of your imagination and to be the driving force in relationship building between the Japan organization and the rest of the world. Recently, I have been asked to focus more on my IT development by my U.S. manager because my role was becoming deeply embedded in communications and so now I am working on a couple new projects involving iPad marketing and recently introduced global technology that houses documents/team calendars/etc.
Anyways, at the CIO meeting (it was held on the evening Friday, November 26th- Thanksgiving!!) I was asked to present on myself, my experiences and explain this development program I am in to all the Japan CIOs. To my surprise I learned that my company of the dozen or so represented that day, was the only one to dedicate three years to a single individual, and giving them the opportunities that I have. Most programs in the Japan offices of these international companies only gave young talend 3 months maximum to try their hand in a new area of IT. My program dedicates the three years for me to move around IT in 3 different roles and gain a diverse experience and understanding.
Following the meeting was when all the fun began. There was a CIO Club cocktail party/dinner thing where on the 22nd floor of a really tall building in Shinjuku, we mixed and chatted over delicious food and refreshing beer. At this event, the CIO of a rival company invited me to present to his female employees. He proposed that this would be a great opportunity to give them exposure to an American, something that is difficult to come by, and share with them my story. He told the CIO of my company this, and he nodded along and that was that.
The next week, I asked the CIO if he thought it was a good idea, and whether I should pursue this meet and greet chance with the rival company. He supported it and told me that I should go for it, so long as I 'cc' him on the e-mail to the rival CIO. I did that and in response got this:
"Great to have your contact!
I have confirmed that some of IT ladies in [company] Japan are also very much interested in meeting with you.
Just touching an American young lady who is challenging new experiences in Japan as well as knowing you personally on how you try to grow will be very beneficial for both Japanese ladies and myself.
What you presented at the previous CIO Club meeting will make sense for us to start discussion.
The forum will be informal so all the participants should be very open to talk."
We scheduled the meeting for January 28th, a meeting over lunch at the rival company's head office. Today the day arrived, and though my CIO was to join me he had completely forgotten about our plans and had to travel to Osaka on business. I took the trip alone to their office and entered the room to find a dozen Japanese women, the CIO of their company and his two top men. Interestingly enough, his two top men are foreign-born. The one man is Austrian, soft-spoken and brilliant at everything IT-related, the other man is Brazilian-Japanese and the IT Department's head manager. There is a large Japanese population in Brazil, dating back to some event in history where there was a mass migration there.. this man's father is from Japan, and his mother is longtime Japanese in Brazil, so he grew up in Sao Paulo.
The meeting lasted from 11:30 to 1:30 and it was terrific. Though at first it was challenging to have everyone relax and open up by the end of the session everyone had contributed to the discussion. Though I had expected the conversation to be about personal development, it quickly turned to the challenges of speaking English in an international company, when you live in a non-English environment. I was blown away by the adeptness of the people in the room. Every individual were capable with English though at times timid. Eventually I learned that everyone of them had been forced outside their comfort zone and had either lived or spent time abroad in the US/UK. It was inspiring to meet these women! I was at this lunch because they wanted to meet me, but I felt so honored to meet these amazing women. Not only do they have the work-life balancing act in juggling family and personal life with their careers, but to add to their obstacles they also continually dedicated time to learning and practicing English. One woman's story was that she had just returned to work about 1 1/2 year maternity leave and was struggling with regaining her English skills. Her and her husband nightly practice their English at home to study.
By the end of the meeting I left feeling energized by the great discussion, and the CIO admitted that the 'outcome has been better than I expected.' After the meeting different women came to exchange their 'meishi' or business card and to chat. They were all very kind and I hope to be able to keep in contact on their English adventures. The CIO and his top two guys engaged me in conversation at the very end when everyone had left. They shared that though I'm very young I have my head on right. They felt that I am 'akarui' and that my energy and optimism permeated the room and brought positivity to the discussion. It was fantastic to hear. I do my best to be myself and open with those I meet, and to hear that this translated to a room full of Japanese I had never met before.. felt like a small victory.
They suggested we do this lunchtime meeting again in a few months to update us on what's going on with the ladies and I agreed- should my CIO be okay with it as well.
It was a great experience, and I'm glad that I had the chance to meet some amazing people and hear their stories.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
SUMO WRESTLING Part II
Following the final sumo match, there was a mass exodus for the exits. I was at the mercy of a large crowd, trapped in the middle of a tsunami. Trying to leave the building in a quick manner (even with the multiple exits) left me feeling powerless. There was no use fighting against it, and there was no way of influencing its speed. I was only able to ride the wave, and hope that the little old couple in front of me would shuffle a little faster with everyone else. Trapped in the middle of the crowd, as we made it outside the building most people were going in my direction and headed towards the corner as I did. Upon reaching the JR Japanese Rail station outside the venue, only then the majority of the crowd broke off and flooded away. Fortunately for me, I was riding the subway to my home, so it was going to be a quick and direct ride from the subway station on the other side of the block.
Arriving at the eki (station) and determining which line was going my way, I found a place away from the constant stream of people arriving to wait the few minutes for my train. After a couple minutes, I looked to my left and to my right and noticed the majority of faces around me were non-Asian. This isn’t something you often see in Japan but remembering the appeal of sumo wrestling to the many foreigners I had seen earlier at the Kokugikan, and remembering that my train headed in the direction of the most-foreigner friendly neighborhoods, it made sense. Just then, the family coming of the escalator caught my eye. They were a mish-mash of adults and children, reminding me of the big family from Home Alone where no one really looked like they’re actually related. The Dad dressed in ankle socks, denim shorts, fanny pack, and thick lensed glasses made me suspicious we were of the same nationality, and when I saw one kid dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, and another in a Tiger cub uniform, it confirmed it. As they came off the escalator, loud and strange to the calm, quiet atmosphere, I hoped to myself, ‘don’t stand behind me, don’t stand behind me.’ Alas it was to no avail, and my isolated spot waiting for the train drew in the clamorous crew of nine. The train arrived soon after and most of the seats were open. I found an available end seat, and took my place to relax and unwind when the rambunctious Tiger Cub dove into the seat next to me. His little feet were already all over the seat, so I made the executive decision, stood up and relocated a little ways down the car.
The seat that I selected was optimal for observing this curious family from a safe distance. I had gone from riding the tsunami to being on safari. It appeared as though they really were like the Home Alone family in that there were 3 or so different families travelling together. The random assortment of mismatched kids sat grouped together on the bench, and the parents, some sitting and some standing held conversations that echoed throughout the car. Suddenly something caught my eye. The Tiger Cub had gone from a state of rowdy excitement to the faraway look of zoning out. Slowly the Tiger reached up with his little finger and stuck it in his nose. He went to work, thoroughly poking and picking around. ‘Gross!’ I thought, ‘Look away! Look away!’ But I couldn’t for long. I was sucked into watching the Tiger, and even as I averted my eyes to look elsewhere, they’d have to verify this horror was still happening and inevitably look back. I’m not proud of myself. Though I was unable to look away from the mess, the other kids and parents around him had developed a resistance to sensing the unabashed booger party infront of them.
After I had vacated my original seat, a young Japanese man had hopped onto the train last minute and taken it. He had settled in, and was playing a game on his iPhone with rapt attention. The eyes of the Tiger, finger still in nose moved slowly like a zombie to his left and landed on the iPhone screen. The action on the screen quickly drew him in, and thankfully drew his finger out. When the guy sensed the kid hovering over his shoulder he looked up, and they made the instant gamer connection, wordlessly and in a matter of moments. The little boy pulled himself onto his knees to look at the screen and the action was so good, that after a few minutes the little boy began making suggestions to the guy. ‘Why don’t you make it go here?’ was how it innocently began. That gradually built up to ‘Put it over there.’ And ‘No, try it the other way.’ He offered advice for a little while, and it looked like the guy was just not acknowledging him because he didn’t speak any English and didn’t know really understand what this little kid was saying. Tiger Cub didn’t let this deter him, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that he completely understood that he was in a country where not many people speak English. The guy just kept playing intently, and this led the kid to become hands-on with his advice.
Reaching his trusty finger out, it began to move horizontally in the direction of the touch-screen phone. ‘No’ I thought to myself, but it was too late, the Tiger Cub began to smear the finger that had not long ago been buried knuckle-deep in his nose, around the screen. ‘Do it like this.’ He said, and the guy smiled as the Tiger helped, thinking he was connecting with a kid from another country, not knowing the whole truth. After a little bit, Tiger Cub tired of the action and went back to his zombie-like zoned out state. Reliably, the finger went back in the nose.
I felt like a weirdo for being on a safari turned nightmare, unable to resist the horror playing out before me. Usually subway safari is less gut wrenching. This time Tiger Cub decided to raise the stakes and make it a little more interesting. Like a serial killer, he began to evolve his technique. Instead of going the straight vertical motion required of his hobby, he added a twist. With every treasure he’d find, he would incorporate a new motion where he brought it close and examined each new discovery. Then this led to the consumption of said discovery. Things went on for a while like this, feeling a little sick and counting down the stops until I got off, I found it safest if I began staring at the floor. Eventually the guy playing with his iPhone had concluded his gaming, and the motion of him putting the phone in his lap caught my eye. He looked up to determine which stop we were at and then looked over at his new friend. Tiger Cub was oblivious to this, and was mid-examination of his latest speciman. Suddenly, I saw a look of recognition cross iPhone guy’s face when he realized what Tiger Cub was looking at. And then a wordless look of horror flashed next as Tiger Cub ate the specimen. iPhone guy jumped up , walked over and stood by the door. At the next stop he got off, never looking back.
Though I doubt iPhone guy got off at the next stop solely because of the horror he witnessed next to him, I’m sure it helped that he lived in ignorance for so long. I find that the Japanese have this adept skill for nodding off, half-sleeping, gaming, or listening to their iPod and then becoming alert exactly in time for their stop. And it was only because iPhone guy had to get off then that he finally discovered what was happening next to him. The stop after iPhone guy’s departure, the entire clan left the train too, and I was able to ride two more stops in comfortable quiet. Though I’m not sure how comfortable I can actually pretend the rest of the ride was. The ride home of horror had left me feeling tense and grossed out, as well as aware of just how wrong a simple game of observation can go. By sharing this now I’m letting out the horror that I’ve bottled up inside. In the words of Forrest Gump, ‘That’s all I have to say about that.’
Arriving at the eki (station) and determining which line was going my way, I found a place away from the constant stream of people arriving to wait the few minutes for my train. After a couple minutes, I looked to my left and to my right and noticed the majority of faces around me were non-Asian. This isn’t something you often see in Japan but remembering the appeal of sumo wrestling to the many foreigners I had seen earlier at the Kokugikan, and remembering that my train headed in the direction of the most-foreigner friendly neighborhoods, it made sense. Just then, the family coming of the escalator caught my eye. They were a mish-mash of adults and children, reminding me of the big family from Home Alone where no one really looked like they’re actually related. The Dad dressed in ankle socks, denim shorts, fanny pack, and thick lensed glasses made me suspicious we were of the same nationality, and when I saw one kid dressed in a Boy Scout uniform, and another in a Tiger cub uniform, it confirmed it. As they came off the escalator, loud and strange to the calm, quiet atmosphere, I hoped to myself, ‘don’t stand behind me, don’t stand behind me.’ Alas it was to no avail, and my isolated spot waiting for the train drew in the clamorous crew of nine. The train arrived soon after and most of the seats were open. I found an available end seat, and took my place to relax and unwind when the rambunctious Tiger Cub dove into the seat next to me. His little feet were already all over the seat, so I made the executive decision, stood up and relocated a little ways down the car.
The seat that I selected was optimal for observing this curious family from a safe distance. I had gone from riding the tsunami to being on safari. It appeared as though they really were like the Home Alone family in that there were 3 or so different families travelling together. The random assortment of mismatched kids sat grouped together on the bench, and the parents, some sitting and some standing held conversations that echoed throughout the car. Suddenly something caught my eye. The Tiger Cub had gone from a state of rowdy excitement to the faraway look of zoning out. Slowly the Tiger reached up with his little finger and stuck it in his nose. He went to work, thoroughly poking and picking around. ‘Gross!’ I thought, ‘Look away! Look away!’ But I couldn’t for long. I was sucked into watching the Tiger, and even as I averted my eyes to look elsewhere, they’d have to verify this horror was still happening and inevitably look back. I’m not proud of myself. Though I was unable to look away from the mess, the other kids and parents around him had developed a resistance to sensing the unabashed booger party infront of them.
After I had vacated my original seat, a young Japanese man had hopped onto the train last minute and taken it. He had settled in, and was playing a game on his iPhone with rapt attention. The eyes of the Tiger, finger still in nose moved slowly like a zombie to his left and landed on the iPhone screen. The action on the screen quickly drew him in, and thankfully drew his finger out. When the guy sensed the kid hovering over his shoulder he looked up, and they made the instant gamer connection, wordlessly and in a matter of moments. The little boy pulled himself onto his knees to look at the screen and the action was so good, that after a few minutes the little boy began making suggestions to the guy. ‘Why don’t you make it go here?’ was how it innocently began. That gradually built up to ‘Put it over there.’ And ‘No, try it the other way.’ He offered advice for a little while, and it looked like the guy was just not acknowledging him because he didn’t speak any English and didn’t know really understand what this little kid was saying. Tiger Cub didn’t let this deter him, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that he completely understood that he was in a country where not many people speak English. The guy just kept playing intently, and this led the kid to become hands-on with his advice.
Reaching his trusty finger out, it began to move horizontally in the direction of the touch-screen phone. ‘No’ I thought to myself, but it was too late, the Tiger Cub began to smear the finger that had not long ago been buried knuckle-deep in his nose, around the screen. ‘Do it like this.’ He said, and the guy smiled as the Tiger helped, thinking he was connecting with a kid from another country, not knowing the whole truth. After a little bit, Tiger Cub tired of the action and went back to his zombie-like zoned out state. Reliably, the finger went back in the nose.
I felt like a weirdo for being on a safari turned nightmare, unable to resist the horror playing out before me. Usually subway safari is less gut wrenching. This time Tiger Cub decided to raise the stakes and make it a little more interesting. Like a serial killer, he began to evolve his technique. Instead of going the straight vertical motion required of his hobby, he added a twist. With every treasure he’d find, he would incorporate a new motion where he brought it close and examined each new discovery. Then this led to the consumption of said discovery. Things went on for a while like this, feeling a little sick and counting down the stops until I got off, I found it safest if I began staring at the floor. Eventually the guy playing with his iPhone had concluded his gaming, and the motion of him putting the phone in his lap caught my eye. He looked up to determine which stop we were at and then looked over at his new friend. Tiger Cub was oblivious to this, and was mid-examination of his latest speciman. Suddenly, I saw a look of recognition cross iPhone guy’s face when he realized what Tiger Cub was looking at. And then a wordless look of horror flashed next as Tiger Cub ate the specimen. iPhone guy jumped up , walked over and stood by the door. At the next stop he got off, never looking back.
Though I doubt iPhone guy got off at the next stop solely because of the horror he witnessed next to him, I’m sure it helped that he lived in ignorance for so long. I find that the Japanese have this adept skill for nodding off, half-sleeping, gaming, or listening to their iPod and then becoming alert exactly in time for their stop. And it was only because iPhone guy had to get off then that he finally discovered what was happening next to him. The stop after iPhone guy’s departure, the entire clan left the train too, and I was able to ride two more stops in comfortable quiet. Though I’m not sure how comfortable I can actually pretend the rest of the ride was. The ride home of horror had left me feeling tense and grossed out, as well as aware of just how wrong a simple game of observation can go. By sharing this now I’m letting out the horror that I’ve bottled up inside. In the words of Forrest Gump, ‘That’s all I have to say about that.’
Sunday, January 16, 2011
SUMO WRESTLING
Looking up at the sky, it was an overcast day as I emerged from the subway station. The temperature was 43 degrees Fahrenheit, 6 degrees Celsius, and brisk because of the chilly wind that would whip about causing people to pull their scarves a little tighter to cover any exposed bits. Though I’m used to having ample snow this time of year, it has been a warm winter without a flake of snow in Tokyo and only now is drawing into the colder time of the season with temperatures dipping into the 30’s (F).
Reaching the corner outside the stadium, slightly in doubt to which way I should go to find the ticket booth, just like that Ace of Base song you couldn’t get out of your head in 1994, I saw a sign. As I edged up to the corner to determine my next move a car pulled up on my left the doors opened and two gargantuan men stepped gingerly out. You wouldn’t think you could describe such massive athletes as carrying themselves delicately, but to my surprise they did. And the manner by which they moved on their traditional wooden geta shoes, dressed in their traditional yukata robes with long hair tied into knots on top of their heads, was so controlled they appeared regal.
A different wrestler arriving that I later snapped a photo of.
Watching the direction they headed, I followed suit and found myself infront of the venue’s ticket booth. Immediately, as I so often find in Japan, someone appeared at my arm ready to assist me. I explained it was my first time, and I was looking for the full experience as close as I can possibly get. The employee explained to me that because it was a Saturday, many of the seats had already been reserved but she led me to the booth and helped me to secure a 12th row seat with the attendant there.
Making my way past the ticket collector I entered the courtyard outside the stadium and took in the moment, the music, the smells and the people milling about. There were large murals in the ancient-Japanese style painted on the walls on either side of the doors. I saw fellow foreigners setting up the timer on their digital cameras and posing infront of a sumo mural as colorful flags with names of the wrestlers flapped in the cool wind.
Entering the large doors, I stopped and asked for directions. The attendant walked me to my seat, 12th row, 7th box. The reason it was a box and not a seat was because I had purchased a ticket to sit in a square that can seat 4 bodies with 4 floor cushions. By the looks of it, I was in for a long day. Settling myself in, I realized that the box was created as most of the space I have encountered in Japan is, compactly and precisely. It was perfectly designed for the bodies of 4 people alone to sit on cushions that didn’t offer much extra space. Add in my winter coat and I had just enough room to sit within my cushion space. Over the course of the day until I was joined in the square, I stretched out and made myself comfortable. Kneeling on a cushion for more than 20 minutes can really make your legs fall asleep.
The stadium around me was nearly empty. It was 10:30am and because I didn’t read up in advance wanting to discover things as I went, I didn’t realize that many people waited until the most anticipated matches at the end of the day to arrive. Many seats were empty and the building was chilly. Those that were there around me still wore their outerwear- down coats/scarves, had blankets in over their legs, and drank hot tea or cold beer. They were in it for the long haul. Looking down at the wrestlers currently in the ring, I could see that they were lower on the rungs of the hierarchy as they battled in the ring. They didn’t have much of an audience and their moves were still being developed, but nonetheless I wondered how they could perform in such a cold arena.
As the day went on more people trickled in. I had lunch at a food stand, and wandered the area sensing the energy growing with each person entering the area. I saw children wearing plastic sumo topknots on their heads and looks on their faces that read of pure joy and anticipation at seeing their heroes in person. The people at the venue that day were of all ages and ranged from entire families, young couples, elderly couples and many foreigners.
Gradually with more bodies in the stadium the large space had warmed up significantly, and as the skill level increased with the wrestlers, the more thrilling each match was. Watching the intermediate-level sumo wrestlers I could see how their techniques were more developed than the morning wrestlers. The attacks were more precise, and they could read their opponents better. What impressed me about this sport is the same element that I enjoy in boxing, that you are the sole competitor in that ring against the lone opponent. With no one else to rely on but yourself, you must trust your instincts, senses, focus and training to do your best. And with only one match each day for a wrestler in the 15 day tournament, it’s up to you to bring your all to that one match, which can be over in a blink of the eye.
The objective of the match is easy, it’s the actual wrestling that’s that hard part. From the Rules of Sumo: “A bout is won by forcing the opponent out of the inner circle or throwing him in the dohyo. To lose the match it is not necessary to fall in the circle or to be pushed completely out. The rikishi who touches the ground with any part of his body, his knee or even the tip of his finger or his top-knot, loses the match. Or he need only put one toe or his heel over the straw bales marking the circle.
Some matches would have a large man pitted against a leaner opponent, and though you think you’d know who was going to leave victorious, very often you would be surprised. One match between a large bellied, large bodied competitor versus a smaller one proved the athleticism this sport requires. As soon as both wrestlers touched knuckles to the ground, the larger one charged like a rhinoceros and the leaner guy agilely side-stepped him, grabbed his mawashi and threw him to the ground. Just like that, the bout was settled. Another match-up had a very large man and a wrestler a bit shorter but of comparable girth. After being locked up in a few different moves, finally the larger opponent grabbed a hold of the smaller one by his mawashi and lifted the wrestler up, as the other struggled to get his grip back into the dohyo but his toes just scraped the clay. The taller one walked him over and threw the smaller wrestler out of the ring.
Though the men before me were large and barely covered by their tiny silken mawashi, witnessing the sport in its entirety was evidence enough of its dignified elegance. The many rituals that had been integrated into the matches brought a sense of reverence that carried to the audience. The more important the wrestler, the more tradition and decoration there was. Salt purification, stomping to drive evil spirits from the dohyo, bowing, rinsing their mouths with water, these roots in the Shinto religion were a reminder that this sport dated to a time before North America even knew the U.S.A.
Towards the end of the day with the most revered sumo wrestlers entering the ring was when the show really began. These wrestlers brought the animated showmanship that only those with an established reputation can bring and expertly tapped into the crowd’s promise. It felt like sitting in the middle of a colony of bees, where everyone had assumed their place and buzzed with excitement until it grew into a hum of electricity for the best wrestlers. The audience was no longer a sea of individuals, you were a part of something bigger than yourself. Looking around me, I could see why Led Zeppelin wrote a song about their stadium audiences called ‘The Ocean’. There were a sea of faces surrounding me, and when a crowd favorite entered the ring before us, the fluid motion of the collective cheering and clapping surrounding me held my sense of individuality hostage.
Ultimately, I had to relinquish my Alexander the Great takeover of the entire box space when another person arrived in the afternoon. An older woman who had been a long-time fan of sumo and finally made the trip to Tokyo to see her favorites in the ring, she had also purchased a ticket that day. We bonded over our solo arrivals and eating yakitori as she served as my informal guide, sharing the background and stories on the traditions and wrestlers. After watching the highest ranked wrestler, the yokozuna do his ceremonial warm-up, the crowd was at a high and as you would expect with the best wrestler, he later stepped in and owned his competition in a matter of moments. With the tournament over, it felt as if the end had come all too soon. My six hour day had gone by leaving me with thrilling memories, a souvenir t-shirt and a backache from the floor seating.
Though this multi-day tournament ends soon, I’m anticipating the next time I can watch these great titans battling in Tokyo. Now that I’ve felt the sumo electricity, I’ve just got to wait a few more months and then it’s comfortable upper-level seating and May grand tournament, here I come!
Reaching the corner outside the stadium, slightly in doubt to which way I should go to find the ticket booth, just like that Ace of Base song you couldn’t get out of your head in 1994, I saw a sign. As I edged up to the corner to determine my next move a car pulled up on my left the doors opened and two gargantuan men stepped gingerly out. You wouldn’t think you could describe such massive athletes as carrying themselves delicately, but to my surprise they did. And the manner by which they moved on their traditional wooden geta shoes, dressed in their traditional yukata robes with long hair tied into knots on top of their heads, was so controlled they appeared regal.
A different wrestler arriving that I later snapped a photo of.
Watching the direction they headed, I followed suit and found myself infront of the venue’s ticket booth. Immediately, as I so often find in Japan, someone appeared at my arm ready to assist me. I explained it was my first time, and I was looking for the full experience as close as I can possibly get. The employee explained to me that because it was a Saturday, many of the seats had already been reserved but she led me to the booth and helped me to secure a 12th row seat with the attendant there.
Making my way past the ticket collector I entered the courtyard outside the stadium and took in the moment, the music, the smells and the people milling about. There were large murals in the ancient-Japanese style painted on the walls on either side of the doors. I saw fellow foreigners setting up the timer on their digital cameras and posing infront of a sumo mural as colorful flags with names of the wrestlers flapped in the cool wind.
Entering the large doors, I stopped and asked for directions. The attendant walked me to my seat, 12th row, 7th box. The reason it was a box and not a seat was because I had purchased a ticket to sit in a square that can seat 4 bodies with 4 floor cushions. By the looks of it, I was in for a long day. Settling myself in, I realized that the box was created as most of the space I have encountered in Japan is, compactly and precisely. It was perfectly designed for the bodies of 4 people alone to sit on cushions that didn’t offer much extra space. Add in my winter coat and I had just enough room to sit within my cushion space. Over the course of the day until I was joined in the square, I stretched out and made myself comfortable. Kneeling on a cushion for more than 20 minutes can really make your legs fall asleep.
The stadium around me was nearly empty. It was 10:30am and because I didn’t read up in advance wanting to discover things as I went, I didn’t realize that many people waited until the most anticipated matches at the end of the day to arrive. Many seats were empty and the building was chilly. Those that were there around me still wore their outerwear- down coats/scarves, had blankets in over their legs, and drank hot tea or cold beer. They were in it for the long haul. Looking down at the wrestlers currently in the ring, I could see that they were lower on the rungs of the hierarchy as they battled in the ring. They didn’t have much of an audience and their moves were still being developed, but nonetheless I wondered how they could perform in such a cold arena.
As the day went on more people trickled in. I had lunch at a food stand, and wandered the area sensing the energy growing with each person entering the area. I saw children wearing plastic sumo topknots on their heads and looks on their faces that read of pure joy and anticipation at seeing their heroes in person. The people at the venue that day were of all ages and ranged from entire families, young couples, elderly couples and many foreigners.
Gradually with more bodies in the stadium the large space had warmed up significantly, and as the skill level increased with the wrestlers, the more thrilling each match was. Watching the intermediate-level sumo wrestlers I could see how their techniques were more developed than the morning wrestlers. The attacks were more precise, and they could read their opponents better. What impressed me about this sport is the same element that I enjoy in boxing, that you are the sole competitor in that ring against the lone opponent. With no one else to rely on but yourself, you must trust your instincts, senses, focus and training to do your best. And with only one match each day for a wrestler in the 15 day tournament, it’s up to you to bring your all to that one match, which can be over in a blink of the eye.
The objective of the match is easy, it’s the actual wrestling that’s that hard part. From the Rules of Sumo: “A bout is won by forcing the opponent out of the inner circle or throwing him in the dohyo. To lose the match it is not necessary to fall in the circle or to be pushed completely out. The rikishi who touches the ground with any part of his body, his knee or even the tip of his finger or his top-knot, loses the match. Or he need only put one toe or his heel over the straw bales marking the circle.
Some matches would have a large man pitted against a leaner opponent, and though you think you’d know who was going to leave victorious, very often you would be surprised. One match between a large bellied, large bodied competitor versus a smaller one proved the athleticism this sport requires. As soon as both wrestlers touched knuckles to the ground, the larger one charged like a rhinoceros and the leaner guy agilely side-stepped him, grabbed his mawashi and threw him to the ground. Just like that, the bout was settled. Another match-up had a very large man and a wrestler a bit shorter but of comparable girth. After being locked up in a few different moves, finally the larger opponent grabbed a hold of the smaller one by his mawashi and lifted the wrestler up, as the other struggled to get his grip back into the dohyo but his toes just scraped the clay. The taller one walked him over and threw the smaller wrestler out of the ring.
Though the men before me were large and barely covered by their tiny silken mawashi, witnessing the sport in its entirety was evidence enough of its dignified elegance. The many rituals that had been integrated into the matches brought a sense of reverence that carried to the audience. The more important the wrestler, the more tradition and decoration there was. Salt purification, stomping to drive evil spirits from the dohyo, bowing, rinsing their mouths with water, these roots in the Shinto religion were a reminder that this sport dated to a time before North America even knew the U.S.A.
Towards the end of the day with the most revered sumo wrestlers entering the ring was when the show really began. These wrestlers brought the animated showmanship that only those with an established reputation can bring and expertly tapped into the crowd’s promise. It felt like sitting in the middle of a colony of bees, where everyone had assumed their place and buzzed with excitement until it grew into a hum of electricity for the best wrestlers. The audience was no longer a sea of individuals, you were a part of something bigger than yourself. Looking around me, I could see why Led Zeppelin wrote a song about their stadium audiences called ‘The Ocean’. There were a sea of faces surrounding me, and when a crowd favorite entered the ring before us, the fluid motion of the collective cheering and clapping surrounding me held my sense of individuality hostage.
Ultimately, I had to relinquish my Alexander the Great takeover of the entire box space when another person arrived in the afternoon. An older woman who had been a long-time fan of sumo and finally made the trip to Tokyo to see her favorites in the ring, she had also purchased a ticket that day. We bonded over our solo arrivals and eating yakitori as she served as my informal guide, sharing the background and stories on the traditions and wrestlers. After watching the highest ranked wrestler, the yokozuna do his ceremonial warm-up, the crowd was at a high and as you would expect with the best wrestler, he later stepped in and owned his competition in a matter of moments. With the tournament over, it felt as if the end had come all too soon. My six hour day had gone by leaving me with thrilling memories, a souvenir t-shirt and a backache from the floor seating.
Though this multi-day tournament ends soon, I’m anticipating the next time I can watch these great titans battling in Tokyo. Now that I’ve felt the sumo electricity, I’ve just got to wait a few more months and then it’s comfortable upper-level seating and May grand tournament, here I come!
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Art of Gift-Giving
December 2010 brought with it the end of the year and in true 2010-tradition, also inspired new experiences. In retrospect, for a person who is usually on the hunt for adventure, 2010 was the most amount of adventure I have been fortunate to pack into a year in recent memory.
Because I have long felt since my arrival that 1 year is such a limited amount of time, and that I need to make the most of living in Tokyo, I opted to remain in Japan for the holidays. I had a couple of weeks for vacation, and I assured myself that I was going to finally do some of the things that I had never had the free time to do. Visit Akihabara. Check. Visit Disneyland. Check. Wear a kimono. Check. Yet even with such diverse new opportunities, my favorite new experience was the one that I had with gift-giving in Japan.
Gift-giving is where this journey began. Having had to long bear witness to the complexities of gift-giving inherent to the Japanese, it was no surprise that when I was preparing to move to Japan my mother sent with me dozens of gifts or 'omiyage' for my family. That was back in the summer, and because I grew up in the American culture, and upon my arrival was so busy getting settled and keeping work as my priority, I didn't get around to passing on the gifts until December! The Philadelphia-esque books and pencils omiyage I brought for my colleagues I handed out promptly on my first day.
Fortunately, as a foreigner you are given many free passes and looked upon with leniency in terms of the ubiquitous customs so everyone was extremely polite and happy to receive the family gifts belatedly in December (though there were a number of summery shirts and other warm-weather things). I had planned to also give out small Christmas gifts to my family to thank them for their incredible hospitality in accomodating their often-confused American relative as she re-acquainted herself with (and frequently butchered) the language. They had been infinitley patient, kind and generous. My cousins still live at home with my Aunt and Uncle so the fact that I live on my own, I think when I return to my home in Roppongi after visiting, it's kind of like when your child goes back to college and you wonder what they'll eat. After my first visit to their home I returned with an abundance of dishes, glasses and silverware. Returning from consecutive visits has netted me a bounty of food and tea worthy of a pirate.
They were all pleased with the variety of things I bought them, ranging from alcohol (my family enjoys a good party) to winter products and clothing. And then at work, I decided that I was going to break precedent (in Japan they don't exchange gifts for Christmas to the extent we do- it's a limited custom) and give presents. As with my family, my colleagues in Tokyo have been incredibly patient, kind, generous and more important- dear friends. I wanted to give everyone something to show my gratitude and that could make them laugh.
As the Japanese rarely turn down an opportunity to view pictures, I'm always sharing pictures with my surrounding colleagues of my friend Kewpie-chan. Kewpie-chan is a little doll that I purchased to spice up my photography. After a few online photo albums of Japanese architecture and culture it was time to make my pictures stand out and engage. Thus I concocted a plan, and began to bring Kewpie-chan along for the ride.
Traditional Japanese sake and Kewpie-chan.
Hilariously tiny liquor shop in Roppongi (wide enough for the one man to stand). And there's Kewpie-chan!
Mount Fuji and Kewpie-chan.
She appears in many of my pictures, and it's been a funny way to tell stories. Because of the ongoing Kewpie-storyline, and that many find it funny that I refer to her as my friend, I thought it would be perfect if I picked up Kewpie doll 'friends' for all of my co-workers as well. The last day before I left for Christmas break (everyone here works on Christmas Eve and through until December 29th), I presented my friends with their very own 'friends'. The response was exactly what you hope for when you give a present. Surprise! Delight! Laughter! It was a good feeling. I didn't expect anything in return, just wanted to show my gratitude and appreciation, but what came afterwards, was quite a surprise.
Later that week I had planned to meet with some colleagues for a Japanese sake party. We're forever going out to this one place, Utopia, under the guise of finding which is Sara's favorite Japanese sake. Needless to say, by the end of the night, I usually can't remember how many different types I've had, let alone which one is my favorite.
That Friday evening, I had stopped by work to find everyone, but arrived a little late and they had gone ahead. I caught up with my manager and a couple other people on the walk to the location. Along the way, I asked if everyone else had already gone ahead, and was told they had. We arrived at Utopia and to my surprise only Nakagawa-san was sitting there waiting. He is an older gentleman, and my very good friend. He says he thinks of me as a daughter and I think of him as a grandfather (it's not really balanced is it..?). Come to think of it, in reflecting on us as I write this we have what you might call a dysfunctional family relationship. One where you go out and drink together until your eyes are swimming in your head. And then sing karaoke until you're hoarse. Well, I'll take what I can get.
Anyway, he was sitting there all alone and had a neatly wrapped present beside him. Of course I wanted to know what this present was all about so I sat beside him. Asking him where everyone was, he said they had a couple errands to take care of. The 5 of us sat and waited for 30 minutes then began to order food and Japanese drinks. Gradually 3 more people trickled in.
Imagine this. You're sitting at a table with 5 other people drinking incredibly strong liquor and rice wine. You're being offered different types to drink next with varying degrees of flavor from either side of you. After you finish one kind in a glass the size of a shot glass, you begin to sip on the next one. Suddenly as your friends sit down and join the table of 5, instead of handing you drinks, you're being handed gifts. I enjoyed it immensely though it felt strange to get presents when no one else did. It was a bit like my birthday, but with Christmas wrapping paper. We had a great time, and I received a shocking mulitude of things from my colleagues. Wooden toy snake, glow in the dark eyeball, crock pot, Japanese tea set, digital photoframe, bath salts, antique Japanese doll, a purse, origami paper, Hello Kitty kitchen timer (Nakagawa-san didn't know what to get his 25-year old 'daughter').
The gifts were nowhere the equivalent of the silly Kewpie-dolls that I gave, but it just goes to show the generous spirit of the people I work with. I have learned that when you give a gift, the Japanese will give one in return, but looking at all that I received from my many colleagues it was too much! I felt so lucky, and it was with this gesture and the ensuing hangover that I began the countdown to 2011.
A couple of pictures my colleague shared with me today. My Kewpie pictures inspired him to do his own. Meet Majima-san's Kewpie (they come naked, I fashioned my Kewpie a toga for modesty's sake):
Because I have long felt since my arrival that 1 year is such a limited amount of time, and that I need to make the most of living in Tokyo, I opted to remain in Japan for the holidays. I had a couple of weeks for vacation, and I assured myself that I was going to finally do some of the things that I had never had the free time to do. Visit Akihabara. Check. Visit Disneyland. Check. Wear a kimono. Check. Yet even with such diverse new opportunities, my favorite new experience was the one that I had with gift-giving in Japan.
Gift-giving is where this journey began. Having had to long bear witness to the complexities of gift-giving inherent to the Japanese, it was no surprise that when I was preparing to move to Japan my mother sent with me dozens of gifts or 'omiyage' for my family. That was back in the summer, and because I grew up in the American culture, and upon my arrival was so busy getting settled and keeping work as my priority, I didn't get around to passing on the gifts until December! The Philadelphia-esque books and pencils omiyage I brought for my colleagues I handed out promptly on my first day.
Fortunately, as a foreigner you are given many free passes and looked upon with leniency in terms of the ubiquitous customs so everyone was extremely polite and happy to receive the family gifts belatedly in December (though there were a number of summery shirts and other warm-weather things). I had planned to also give out small Christmas gifts to my family to thank them for their incredible hospitality in accomodating their often-confused American relative as she re-acquainted herself with (and frequently butchered) the language. They had been infinitley patient, kind and generous. My cousins still live at home with my Aunt and Uncle so the fact that I live on my own, I think when I return to my home in Roppongi after visiting, it's kind of like when your child goes back to college and you wonder what they'll eat. After my first visit to their home I returned with an abundance of dishes, glasses and silverware. Returning from consecutive visits has netted me a bounty of food and tea worthy of a pirate.
They were all pleased with the variety of things I bought them, ranging from alcohol (my family enjoys a good party) to winter products and clothing. And then at work, I decided that I was going to break precedent (in Japan they don't exchange gifts for Christmas to the extent we do- it's a limited custom) and give presents. As with my family, my colleagues in Tokyo have been incredibly patient, kind, generous and more important- dear friends. I wanted to give everyone something to show my gratitude and that could make them laugh.
As the Japanese rarely turn down an opportunity to view pictures, I'm always sharing pictures with my surrounding colleagues of my friend Kewpie-chan. Kewpie-chan is a little doll that I purchased to spice up my photography. After a few online photo albums of Japanese architecture and culture it was time to make my pictures stand out and engage. Thus I concocted a plan, and began to bring Kewpie-chan along for the ride.
Traditional Japanese sake and Kewpie-chan.
Hilariously tiny liquor shop in Roppongi (wide enough for the one man to stand). And there's Kewpie-chan!
Mount Fuji and Kewpie-chan.
She appears in many of my pictures, and it's been a funny way to tell stories. Because of the ongoing Kewpie-storyline, and that many find it funny that I refer to her as my friend, I thought it would be perfect if I picked up Kewpie doll 'friends' for all of my co-workers as well. The last day before I left for Christmas break (everyone here works on Christmas Eve and through until December 29th), I presented my friends with their very own 'friends'. The response was exactly what you hope for when you give a present. Surprise! Delight! Laughter! It was a good feeling. I didn't expect anything in return, just wanted to show my gratitude and appreciation, but what came afterwards, was quite a surprise.
Later that week I had planned to meet with some colleagues for a Japanese sake party. We're forever going out to this one place, Utopia, under the guise of finding which is Sara's favorite Japanese sake. Needless to say, by the end of the night, I usually can't remember how many different types I've had, let alone which one is my favorite.
That Friday evening, I had stopped by work to find everyone, but arrived a little late and they had gone ahead. I caught up with my manager and a couple other people on the walk to the location. Along the way, I asked if everyone else had already gone ahead, and was told they had. We arrived at Utopia and to my surprise only Nakagawa-san was sitting there waiting. He is an older gentleman, and my very good friend. He says he thinks of me as a daughter and I think of him as a grandfather (it's not really balanced is it..?). Come to think of it, in reflecting on us as I write this we have what you might call a dysfunctional family relationship. One where you go out and drink together until your eyes are swimming in your head. And then sing karaoke until you're hoarse. Well, I'll take what I can get.
Anyway, he was sitting there all alone and had a neatly wrapped present beside him. Of course I wanted to know what this present was all about so I sat beside him. Asking him where everyone was, he said they had a couple errands to take care of. The 5 of us sat and waited for 30 minutes then began to order food and Japanese drinks. Gradually 3 more people trickled in.
Imagine this. You're sitting at a table with 5 other people drinking incredibly strong liquor and rice wine. You're being offered different types to drink next with varying degrees of flavor from either side of you. After you finish one kind in a glass the size of a shot glass, you begin to sip on the next one. Suddenly as your friends sit down and join the table of 5, instead of handing you drinks, you're being handed gifts. I enjoyed it immensely though it felt strange to get presents when no one else did. It was a bit like my birthday, but with Christmas wrapping paper. We had a great time, and I received a shocking mulitude of things from my colleagues. Wooden toy snake, glow in the dark eyeball, crock pot, Japanese tea set, digital photoframe, bath salts, antique Japanese doll, a purse, origami paper, Hello Kitty kitchen timer (Nakagawa-san didn't know what to get his 25-year old 'daughter').
The gifts were nowhere the equivalent of the silly Kewpie-dolls that I gave, but it just goes to show the generous spirit of the people I work with. I have learned that when you give a gift, the Japanese will give one in return, but looking at all that I received from my many colleagues it was too much! I felt so lucky, and it was with this gesture and the ensuing hangover that I began the countdown to 2011.
A couple of pictures my colleague shared with me today. My Kewpie pictures inspired him to do his own. Meet Majima-san's Kewpie (they come naked, I fashioned my Kewpie a toga for modesty's sake):
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The 1st day of the rest of 2011..
And not only that, it's also the first day back to work for many people.
I have always enjoyed the holidays, as most people do. The (mostly) unscheduled blocks of free time, the general good cheer and merriment, and spending time with the people you care about- everything about the end of year holiday season suits me just fine.
Here in Japan, I have learned that the holiday season operates in a slightly different fashion from the U.S. Having always been immersed in a culture of white Christmases and Jolly Old Saint Nick, it hadn't occurred to me that Christmas could be less than priority #1 for most people hanging out in their countries and cultures all over the world and outside my bubble. Though I took a holiday break around Christmas by staying away from work for a couple weeks, the Japan IT work calendar had people working on Christmas Eve, and then the 27th-29th as regular office days. This was an additional surprise because it is contrary to the Year-End office Shut down I had experienced in my home office location.
Though Christmas isn't the holiday that shuts things down in the office for a week, it is the celebration of the New Year that does! Thinking back now, we're pretty lucky in the U.S. and U.K. that Christmas is such a celebrated occasion that we will take a break for much-needed personal time from the days before Christmas until after New Year's Day. Around Tokyo, the big city that is most diverse and foreigner friendly in this country, when I tried to head out for some late brunch on Sunday, January 2nd I expected things to be up and running again in the neighborhood around me. In retrospect though it's silly (always be ready for the unexpected!) I was shocked that the majority of stores and all the restaurants I tried were closed. I'm glad that everyone who works so hard can take a break, but as a first-time witness to the Japanese start of the New Year I had been slightly unprepared for their Christmas-like reaction and shutdown of many places for the next few days.
Fortunately, the 24-hour supermarket was still open around the corner, without which I might have temporarily moved-in with my relatives to get some good eats.
I have always enjoyed the holidays, as most people do. The (mostly) unscheduled blocks of free time, the general good cheer and merriment, and spending time with the people you care about- everything about the end of year holiday season suits me just fine.
Here in Japan, I have learned that the holiday season operates in a slightly different fashion from the U.S. Having always been immersed in a culture of white Christmases and Jolly Old Saint Nick, it hadn't occurred to me that Christmas could be less than priority #1 for most people hanging out in their countries and cultures all over the world and outside my bubble. Though I took a holiday break around Christmas by staying away from work for a couple weeks, the Japan IT work calendar had people working on Christmas Eve, and then the 27th-29th as regular office days. This was an additional surprise because it is contrary to the Year-End office Shut down I had experienced in my home office location.
Though Christmas isn't the holiday that shuts things down in the office for a week, it is the celebration of the New Year that does! Thinking back now, we're pretty lucky in the U.S. and U.K. that Christmas is such a celebrated occasion that we will take a break for much-needed personal time from the days before Christmas until after New Year's Day. Around Tokyo, the big city that is most diverse and foreigner friendly in this country, when I tried to head out for some late brunch on Sunday, January 2nd I expected things to be up and running again in the neighborhood around me. In retrospect though it's silly (always be ready for the unexpected!) I was shocked that the majority of stores and all the restaurants I tried were closed. I'm glad that everyone who works so hard can take a break, but as a first-time witness to the Japanese start of the New Year I had been slightly unprepared for their Christmas-like reaction and shutdown of many places for the next few days.
Fortunately, the 24-hour supermarket was still open around the corner, without which I might have temporarily moved-in with my relatives to get some good eats.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A taste of Japan IT: My Obento Box
The major project that consumed my time in the month of November was my Bento Box. The idea was that we needed a 'big' update on my Japan team for the global team (rest of the world, US/UK and beyond) and I was told I was allowed to do anything I wanted, and write about whatever I choose. Instructions like these, I have to say.. I absolutely love. They make work so much more worthwhile. And as I am the communications person for the Japan IT team, my team here has put their trust in me to produce something interesting on their behalf.
I'm not sure if pulling things out from the depths of my imagination was quite what they expected, but when you give me a bit of freedom.. I'm going to run with it. That's what we American do. Give me liberty or give me death! Don't. Tread. On. My country is the world, and my religion is to do good. Hm well, that last one doesn't fit into the entire American liberty theme I was going for, but the words still resonate with me and my intentions.
Anyways, it occurred to me when people in the United States or United Kingdom think of Japan what they often think of are a few things, samurai, sushi, kimonos and when they dine out at a Japanese establishment-- bento boxes. These little boxes have a variety of food conveniently divided up into sections of the box. My goal with this was to take Japan IT, a team that normally people establish relationships by e-mail and not through face-to-face interaction and to make them real. With this project I decided as I was given the green light to do anything, I was going to give the global team everything.
I made multiple videos of my team, interviewing them on things I thought would be interesting. I went to lunch with people and would ask they what they like to eat while capturing their meal on camera. I figured, what do people enjoy more during the day than your mid-day meal, where you can take a break from work, and this would be a commonality that everyone in my company the world-over can relate to. I took pictures of events we did outside the office, a team BBQ, fireworks party, and wrote updates to some of our projects. Finally I created a few tables and resources where you can find basic Japanese phrases and click on the link to hear it pronounced. I find my U.S. and U.K. colleagues are always great about trying new things, and will make the effort to try out a little Japanese if they feel confident enough. I hoped these resources would increase understanding to how things generally operate in Japan.
When it came time to review the concept I had spoken with my department manager in early November as I was still gathering the content for the bento box. When I explained what I wanted to do, at first he was hesitant. The past updates for other teams and regions had always been straightforward write-ups, nothing quite so visual, so it caught him off-guard as I began to explain. As I continued, my enthusiasm clear, he nodded and finally said, 'I'm not sure exactly how this will come out, but this is what you do, so I trust you.' Those were the most reassuring words, and after hearing that, it furthered my momentum on this project.
It was further exciting because as I continued interviewing my team and speaking with my boss at length about what I was doing, the office began to really get into it. Though they also weren't quite sure how everything was going to fit together, they also began to catch my enthusiasm. Especially my manager, he was great. Initially when I began with this project he was surprised anyone would care what we eat for lunch here, or would care to see the pictures of our team events. Yet as time went on, he would begin to stop by my desk to ask, 'what about this, would people be interested if we shared an update about this?' It's a nice feeling to get everyone involved, that's how I like to work best, on projects that allow me to work with a variety of enthusiastic people.
When the project was done, it was wonderful to watch the videos and other various things I had created for the bento box in a meeting together with my team. Though it was cringe-inducing to watch their own interviews (it was funny to see people sinking into their chairs when they came up on the screen) people came up to me to tell me afterwards they had never seen anything like this for Japan, and thank you for taking the efforts to create it. It was an incredible feeling to hear that.
Following the posting of this bento box to my work blog, the global response has been better than I had expected. It seems like people are really interested in getting to know my fabulous Japan IT team, and I'm so happy to be the conduit for it. That was the reason I came here, and to deliver on what I intended to bring. Words don't compare to the actual feeling of this happening.
Update: Top Secret Project
As you may have noticed, following my top-secret project post, I went into blogosphere hiding for a little while. I wish I could blame it on the fact that I had been so busy with my social life, and doing great things all around Tokyo that I couldn't post, but the fact was that I have been quite busy with work during the week and spending Q.T. (quality time) with my relatives all around Kanagawa and Mt. Fuji.
Sadly, I have not been so busy picking out what kind of dog I want for my office. Though the idea piqued the interest of the head of IT here, ultimately after speaking with his department heads he concluded that a dog might not be the best fit for an office in the middle of Tokyo. I understood his position, and knew it was a long-shot anyways, but I really appreciated the fact that he had gone to the extent of thoroughly researching the concept. In our meeting where he broke the news, Mr. Japan IT was well-armed with facts and research, how it had worked in other offices (they were usually based in suburbia, and smaller companies) how the public transportation system wasn't a factor in bringing the animal(s) to work, etc. He presented all of this not in a manner that would bring me further down, but in such an articulate and factual manner that I walked away feeling great respect that he had taken my borderline absurd proposal seriously. I appreciated it.
It hasn't been all bad either. Following that meeting I have been able to set a once-weekly standing meeting with Mr. Japan IT, so that we can discuss what else I can do to kick butt and take names. What I can continue to contribute and how I can make Japan IT a better place. Last week he even invited me to work on a top-priority project with him. So though I am without a dog in the office, I am doing my best to take this in stride. Afterall as things tend to go in life, sometimes when a door shuts, a window opens.. or something like that. And in this case, though I didn't get the office pet I'd hoped for, it's allowed me to find new opportunities with Mr. Japan IT. And that is exactly the kind of thing I'd hoped to do while working in Tokyo.
Sadly, I have not been so busy picking out what kind of dog I want for my office. Though the idea piqued the interest of the head of IT here, ultimately after speaking with his department heads he concluded that a dog might not be the best fit for an office in the middle of Tokyo. I understood his position, and knew it was a long-shot anyways, but I really appreciated the fact that he had gone to the extent of thoroughly researching the concept. In our meeting where he broke the news, Mr. Japan IT was well-armed with facts and research, how it had worked in other offices (they were usually based in suburbia, and smaller companies) how the public transportation system wasn't a factor in bringing the animal(s) to work, etc. He presented all of this not in a manner that would bring me further down, but in such an articulate and factual manner that I walked away feeling great respect that he had taken my borderline absurd proposal seriously. I appreciated it.
It hasn't been all bad either. Following that meeting I have been able to set a once-weekly standing meeting with Mr. Japan IT, so that we can discuss what else I can do to kick butt and take names. What I can continue to contribute and how I can make Japan IT a better place. Last week he even invited me to work on a top-priority project with him. So though I am without a dog in the office, I am doing my best to take this in stride. Afterall as things tend to go in life, sometimes when a door shuts, a window opens.. or something like that. And in this case, though I didn't get the office pet I'd hoped for, it's allowed me to find new opportunities with Mr. Japan IT. And that is exactly the kind of thing I'd hoped to do while working in Tokyo.
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