Harbour City - Wellington

Home at The Loch - Kapiti

Debating Flags

Votes have been cast and counted in New Zealand’s flag referendum. The result, status quo – keep the existing flag. We are told it was done in a democratic way so why is the outcome so unsatisfactory to many?

The flag that was presented to the people of New Zealand as an alternative to the existing flag was a bit shit. Perhaps that is not the most eloquent way to make the point but it does sum up quite accurately one of the major aspects of the anti-new-flag-ism I have observed since my arrival here. I mean yes, it ticked a lot of the necessary boxes in terms of colours, connection with history and contemporary kiwi identity. But, and I am being serious here, it failed in some of the most basic elements of flag design to such an extent that you could argue it’s not a flag in the truest sense. Flags, or so I understand from vexillologists (study-of-flag-ers), should be recognisable, replicable and representative. The alternate flag was: recognisable in a hotchpotch kind of way; not easily replicable -  apparently the measure for this is that a small child can recreate it and quite frankly, the fern on the alternate flag was a bit too ‘squiggly’ (to use the technical term); and barely representative. Graphic designer friends of mine (one of whom is not even a Kiwi) were aggrieved that there was no one with design expertise on the flag-deciding panel and therefore the alternatives to the current flag were never going to be informed by principles of good design. Flags, like brands they say, should be simple, bold and stylish. Only ‘Red Peak’ (consisting of three triangles) met their criteria in the short list (an addition due to popular pressure but with a Canadian precedent).    

All the traditionalists said that the Union Jack was important part of their history and of this nation. Just as many disagreed with that view, like any self-respecting student of NZ history, who would equally see it as a colonial imposition and symbol of oppression. As a friend of mine pointed out over a quiet beer as the sun set on the day of the vote: give the new flag twenty years and this generation would be used to the new flag, probably like it and see it as having historical significance simply because they grew up with it. We get attached to many things we are familiar with and by all accounts the Canadians, who now have a flag which enjoys widespread popular support, were deeply divided during their flag debate and in the years after it came out in 1965. The reality is that everyone has their own opinion, unique taste and very different preferences which the full list of over 10,000 flag submissions proves. I like my revised version of the Flag of the United Tribes of New Zealand (pictured above) which was the first official national flag raised on in 1830. Unfortunately, the official long list of forty showed there were many better flags than the final alternative – ‘Silver Fern’ (black, white and blue). But like many other Kiwis, it’s just my opinion. And that is the beauty of democracy except that it often seems quite ugly and disappointing.   

We spent a lot of money (NZ$26 million) and a lot of time (hours of debate from pubs to parliament) on this flag referendum. People criticize the Prime Minister John Key for pushing it on New Zealanders and that it was a vanity project designed to establish his legacy. Well, maybe it was. But the fact is that for decades there has been a significant minority of Kiwis interested in and actively campaigning for a new flag. Now we have the same flag as before, which will still be confused with Australia’s, and no one is terribly happy about it. How very English. All this really means is that the Union Jack still has a place on the NZ flag as we whinge just like a pack of Poms. This brings me quite nicely to a few potted comments about democracy which was probably correctly touted by Winston Churchill as “the worst form of government, except for all the others.” Perhaps first having a referendum on whether people wanted a new flag or not (like the referendum on the electoral system) would have been a good idea before considering all the alternatives. The process itself made this a waste of money in the face more pressing needs in this country. It seems that the compromises required in democracy leave us very often with policies that no individual with common sense would ever concoct or agree to. In attempts to accommodate the many, we regularly compromise principles and practicality to cobble together bad, unworkable and sometimes unconscionable decisions that appeal to none, yet all agreed to by the headless leviathan that allegedly represents us. Hey, on the up side, at least no one died and democracy means I’m free to say this.

Sabbatical Days

Haiku: A Lament for Trees

Where the tall trees grow

In a concrete covered land

Shrines the one refuge

There is no more damning indictment of post-war Japan’s corrupt modernization and environmental degradation than Alex Kerr’s Dogs and Demons: The Fall of Modern Japan. Yet amid the carnage of an urban dystopia full of loss for traditional ways that understood and respected nature, the plentiful shrines are final bastions of green, protecting ancient trees, like oases in a desert of concrete and neon. My god-daughter upon returning to Tokyo from a holiday in New Zealand said to her mother: “Where are the trees”?

In other recommended reading I suggest The Lorax by Dr Suess.

Crafting Japanese Beer

From Texas to Tokyo the beer does flow. Yes, the craft beer phenomenon that seems to be everywhere I travel is also happening in Japan. That may be simply because I like beer and am powerfully drawn to good expressions of it wherever they may be found. But clearly, there is a rapidly expanding development occurring across the globe. During this short stay in the capital I have explored the scene and tasted a range of beers claiming craft status. So, let’s talk about new JPAs and what is going on in this corner of East Asia when it comes to good brews.

First, a bit of history. There are four giants of the Japanese beer industry. In no particular order they are Asahi, Kirin, Sapporo and Suntory. They make many other drinks also but the beer they produce is predominantly lager which is consumed in great volume across the archipelago and enjoyed by the overwhelming majority of the beer drinking population in Japan. I drank a lot of mediocre beer during the years I spent here and although never enthusiastic about the quality, it did play an important role in social bonding and my embracing of all things Japanese. You can do worse than Asahi Super Dry but you can do much better, at least nowadays. Back in the early 2000s that wasn’t so easy except for the occasional bottle of Chimay Blue which somehow made it to the beautiful rural backwoods of Japan where I lived and was often to be found boozing with mates under the cherry blossom while we barbequed and tried to impress the local ladies. So, before I begin to assert any kind of prejudicial or other musings on the subject let me just say, I like good beer but what ‘good’ means is necessarily subjective and even if there had been craft beer back then, I couldn’t honestly say I would have bought it or enjoyed it. I had a couple of lagers for old time’s sake recently and found it bland, boring and frankly not that enjoyable even when served up with a healthy dose of nostalgia. So, what has changed?

For starters, and as an aside, my taste in beer has changed. But then so what? If you enjoy Japanese lager, drink it and be merry. For me though, what we have come to call craft beer is incomparably better than anything the big brewers make (including Japanese ones) and I like to believe that anyone who tries it would be an instant convert. I’ve been wrong before but will, however, keep on embracing craft beer.

The big thing that changed in Japan and saw the rapid rise of micro-breweries was a relaxing of the brewing laws in 1995. This enabled smaller operations to get going because there was no longer a requirement to brew a minimum of 2 million litres per year. However, without a history of home brewing like Britain, the US and Australasia, the initial efforts were by all accounts poor. That is not the case today and now it is not hard to find decent craft beer even at supermarkets. Having said that, during my stay of about two weeks in which I doggedly sought out the best offerings I could find, I was disappointed. Perhaps my expectations were too high. I had just flown in from London which has a proliferation of brewers and purveyors of consistently excellent standard and progressive expressions of every kind of beer style you can imagine. Admittedly my survey was not exhaustive and I did not necessarily tick any expert’s top ten. That said, I did not taste much that “wowed” me which has been a regular occurrence in other parts of the craft brewing world like California, Texas, New York, the UK and New Zealand (again, not a complete tour).

Were my taste buds having an off day? Was my jet-lagged body not on beer appreciation form? Was I experiencing Japanese cultural overload? I love Japan and craft beer and want both to flourish so me being overly prejudicial seems unlikely. So, why was J-craft beer only okay? Notable moments were at Beer Faucets in Shibuya where I tasted a Brimmer Brewing pale ale, Baird Beer’s Teikoku IPA (6.5%) and Sugura Bay Imperial IPA (8.5%). These are all very drinkable and well crafted but the hopping regime seemed to be lacking and fresh bitter and hoppy flavours expected in such styles were not present as expected, especially in the latter two beers. Baird Beer appeared to be doing some pretty interesting stuff, quality branding and delivery through a number of welcoming tap rooms was a good way to explore. The Rising Sun Pale Ale (5.5%) is respectable with fresh flavours, hops nicely present and the right bitterness for the style. The 1,000 yen (6 GBP) sampler set is good value for the three 140ml glasses (pictured) of any of the Baird range: Morning Coffee Stout (7%) – a balanced, clean stout; Dark Sky Imperial Stout (10%) – big, smooth and grunty but far from its claim to be “a torrential downpour of hop character within a maelstrom of roasted malt”; and Angry Boy Brown Ale (7%) – solid flavours and tasty. The Wabi-Sabi JPA (6%) was clean and herbal in ways that captured Japanese cuisine ascetics that are polite, refined and unassuming. I also tried the Kurafune Porter (6%) and the West Coast Wheat Wine (10%) which were decent and produced with artisanal care but in my opinion fell short somehow of the Baird Beer philosophy of creating a celebratory experience with beer bursting with flavour and character. Balance and complexity may as they say equal character but everything seemed so smooth and balanced that it was a bit boring. There were no nice surprises and generally it tasted like the hops had been dialled down and any overt bitterness avoided. Maybe that better suits the Japanese palate and a population of which a tiny percentage drink craft beer but it was underwhelming and flattened my Tokyo high.

Moving on I tried many and various beers including some by Nest, Yo-Ho and Coedo whose Black Lager ‘Shikkoku’ is among the finest beer I tasted and comes in beautiful bottles with a superb design. Yes, there is plenty to be excited about on the J-craft beer scene and clearly it has come a long way through Japan’s brewers’ perseverance and the high quality output is a credit to them. A number of the better craft breweries are owned and run by expatriates with Japanese partners and while this is understandable given Japan’s beer brewing history it is still uncertain what a more fully authentic Japanese influence might look like. Locals and the industry generally have a distance to go and there are signs of cooption by the big four mass producers and attempts to retain market share by using satellite micro-breweries to replicate craft beer at which they are all failing as in other countries. Big British breweries are attempting to make craft-style beers but even a blind taste test shows they haven’t got what it takes. It remains to be seen whether the likes of Asahi will try and buy up craft breweries and tempt today’s artisans to sell out. The trumpeting of a ji-biiru (lit. local beer) coming of age is premature. However, if the story of top Japanese whisky is anything to go by, craft beer in Japan has a very promising, and possibly world class, future ahead.

Bullet Train Views

Three steps back to a reality all foreigners can identify with if they spend any decent length of time in Japan. Firstly, asking for directions at Wakou Station the young man leapt sideways a full metre, totally ‘freaked’ by my approach to ask a polite question in passable, not perfect Japanese about departing trains. Then jumping on board the soon to depart Fukotoshin line train to be greeted with suppressed giggling by passengers – a bearded gaijin (foreigner), like a circus novelty. Finally, on the full carriage with many people standing but two seats, one either side of me, empty all the way to central Tokyo. No one wants to sit by the alien in their midst. To observe one is okay but a close encounter of that sort is not welcome at all. Having spent many years in Japan, these experiences grounded me in the all too familiar and sad reality of the way most (though thankfully not all) Japanese relate to outsiders. Was I to be feared and avoided? Intrigued by but not related to in my full humanity? Racist compartmentalizing is probably part of the answer in a country that still requires fourth generation Japanese of Korean descent to have special registration cards for their residency. Also, it’s not like foreign residents and visitors are a new or uncommon occurrence so why after so many years are gaijin so difficult to relate to? Well, you need to ask. And so I did. But a trusted Japanese friend, although aware of this phenomenon, couldn’t really explain. The vacant seats next to me matched the knowledge gap in this matter. Perhaps even among friends such personal, pertinent questions are too uncomfortable. Later that day a lady, old enough to have lived through World War Two, happily walked with me as we chatted happily in a equal sharing of stories about where we were from and going to that day. Her openness and humanity were markedly different from earlier encounters. Seeing how little things have changed since I lived in Japan makes me wonder whether more exposure to the world outside its borders has actually hardened Japanese perception of others and my view of them. Perhaps it is not unlike my perspective from the shinkansen (Japan’s bullet train) which bends houses (pictured above) as I hurtle at high speeds of 186 miles per hour taking photos through still, raindrop-beaded windows. Neither image nor understanding can be captured adequately.

The Shinkansen is impressive. Invariably it is on time to such an extent that you can set your watch by the departures. I travelled on the ‘nozomi’ service from Tokyo to Nagoya which took a mere 110 minutes to cover 160 miles. I paid 10,360 yen (65 GBP) which considering the efficiency combined with comfort and style is good value for money. It’s like an aeroplane on tracks which blasts through the low-lying and densely populated landscape cities of Japan’s Pacific coastline which were on the day of my journey grey and grim. Contrast this with the train track I spent hours happily building for a friend’s son. It was colourful but equally stressful to keep only two model bullet trains running on the tracks without crashing. Real life takes it to another level. No wonder suicide rates among train operators are disproportionately high (or so I am reliably informed). The birthday boy seemed intent on causing collisions at what I came to call Wakou Junction where four intersecting, multidirectional tracks came together. Even the plastic carnage was immense, especially when combined with an infantile ‘Foot of God’. Five year old boys love a bit of destruction. I remember vividly one of my nephews stomping on the head of an unsuspecting doll’s head for no apparent reason. Good to know Japanese lads are no different. I guess. I spent hours playing but never for a moment wanted to be responsible for any aspect of Japan’s train network. Eventually the stress of trying to keep trains from colliding and failed attempts to cultivate a more merciful, smooth and humane approach to the endeavour led me to flee the wreckage and wander to a nearby shrine in search of some peace of mind.

Taking Flight & Landing

Landing at Narita Airport was straightforward and my familiarity with Japan meant that I was really just on autopilot. My Japanese was still reasonable even though I haven’t spoken much since living here thirteen years ago. A local TV crew approached me in their search for stories (and people to follow during their stay) focussing on why each one had chosen to visit. My reason was simple – to see old friends and enjoy the many and various good things to be experienced here. I’m glad they didn’t want to tail me but was grateful of their assistance in finding the correct bus. I have always found the Japanese to be incredibly helpful and polite people and my first interaction confirmed this. Onto the bus and I began my cross-Tokyo journey to Saitama via the raised tentacle-like expressways which extend across the capital and give a good view of this crowded conurbation. The urban sprawl as seen from the Chuo Expressway is vast and I found myself wondering how it is possible for so many people to live so densely packed together. Struck by the apparent anonymity of it all I had to remind myself that all these people are special, unique and quite ordinary, just like me. And that’s okay. I guess generalisations are an easy option for jet-lagged and somewhat jaded travellers like me as they attempt to make sense of such sights before their eyes. But there is always more going on which is usually profound and more complex than appearances. Sometimes not. But on this first stopover on my itinerary (and in a note to self), I hope these assumptions are only ever starting points on journeys to a better understanding and a deeper appreciation of these lives we lead on planet earth. After two months in the United Kingdom following my last aid work contract, I’m well into my sabbatical and beginning a six month journey which leads from Japan to New Zealand, then America and finally back to the UK.

Already I am doing lots of walking, writing and reading. It may be a kind of ‘post-contract trauma therapy for humanitarians’ but I find walking particularly helps. Just how much is required depends on the day but it is much cheaper than visiting a therapist. Yes, aid work has taken a heavy toll on mind, body and soul. The pace and rhythm of walking seems to help purge or process thoughts and ease the way to a more peaceful mind. One of my favourite writers, Robert Macfarlane, talks in The Old Ways (2012) of people who employed solvitor ambulando and thus ‘solved by walking’ the matters which occupied their mind. Simply put, it seems to work. I am currently reading another of his books (The Wild Paces, 2007) in which he describes the peregreni, those ascetics ‘whose travel to wild places reflected their longing to achieve correspondence between belief and place, between inner and outer landscapes’. These, my Sabbatical Scribblings, contain something of this longing which is well put by John Muir in the following quote: “I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in”. Shibuya Junction (pictured above) is perhaps the busiest pedestrian crossing in the world (Google it and see) but it is certainly not wild in the sense I long for. Still, it is a place if you stop and observe can make you think deeply about cities and urban living, which the majority of the world experiences now over fifty percent of us are ‘citizens of the concrete realm’. How much more I felt like a voyeur than a peregrini in Tokyo those first few days and would long for escape from the frenetic activity, bright neon lights and the tide of Japanese masses who swept me along and in upon their crushing tide towards strip clubs, kaiten (revolving) sushi, shops and pachinko parlours where in a noisy, smoke-filled haze people gamble as they guide ball bearings through something like inverse gravity-fed pinball machines. A visit downtown can be bewildering and enough to send any sensible Peregrine, pilgrim or gaikokujin (alien/foreigner) tourist to nearby Yoyogi Park and the peaceful wooded paths of the Meiji Shrine.