A potpourri of freshly picked seasonal miseries...

With winter 2019, (part one) gradually taking it's leave, and the vernal equinox now a couple of weeks behind us, spring is in the process of 'springing' in Olde Nagoyaland - albeit, with seemingly a bit less vigour and splendour than it did last year. While winters here are relatively short (as compared to those at my distant point of origin), they're more than cold and dark enough in these precincts to effectively turd up my seasonal corn flakes. To further the mirth, no sooner had the thankfully uneventful New Year's holidays wound down, than I promptly manifested a lovely case of this year's 'flu du jour' - the beloved 'influenza A'. While its source remains debatable, I suspect it's a toss up between snagging it while unsuccessfully dodging the herds of disease ridden arseholes first day back at Nagoya Station, or dealing with the 150-odd pint-sized runny nose and fever cases at my income destination point shortly thereafter. Regardless, the end result demanded the purchase of a rather pricey sack of meds, AND the knocking off of a full week's work...which for the self-employed yours truly, meant taking a nice knee to the fiscal groin - and right on the tail of the standard mass money hemorrhaging of J- holiday season, to boot. Straight out of the gates, 2019 was already sucking from among the bitterest possible New Year's phalluses - and in a very big way.

In contrast, winter 2018 was illness-free, and everything 'spring' came on all guns blazing about a week and half earlier than usual. The air had seemed charged with a sense of renewal and energy. I recall actually feeling somewhat 'happy'. Relieved, even. The icy extremes of late winter in Losersville had only lasted about a week; the late February lipoma surgery that I'd been stressing out over and putting off for so long had finally been a success, and I was healing up well. The early sakura, and mild, sunny weather seemed like a real bonus, and - if nothing else - made my daily 10km arse hauling up the canal and back almost a pleasure. On top of that, I'd had no major winter maladies, and somehow my seasonal allergy symptoms were staying in check. These all seemed like good omens. I was feeling pretty good...even, I daresay, 'optimistic' about the prospects for a comparatively 'good' year. As good as it can be in this deadbeat town, anyways. Alas...the year was young.

Segue back to the present. This is the last spring of the Heisei era here in J-land. To those in the dark as to what this 'era' business signifies, in these parts, an 'era change' means the ascension of a new Emperor. What we're looking at over here is the abdication of the current sitting Emperor Akihito, and the ascension of his eldest son, Naruhito, whose 'era' will be christened with a new name, as is the ritual on this ancient tradition bound archipelago. Word came down earlier this week that April 30th will see the demise of 'Heisei', and May 1st will usher in the beginning of the REIWA era. Those in the know are already coming in with less than glowing interpretations of what this means, based on the references and kanji (Japanese characters) used. The characters chosen (from Japanese rather than the traditional Chinese text sources - a troubling sign of hard right nationalism in itself), '令和' (REIWA) can be interpreted as meaning, 'Peace through Order'. As in 'coercion', or 'force'. To those familiar with this county's history, and the current ultra-right wing bent the ruling party has been pushing for the better part of the last decade, there are obvious fascist overtones, reminiscent of an early 20th century Japan in it's militarist Imperial heyday. Lovely. I suppose this was to be expected, in light of the socio-political climate of the last several years.

Abdications have also never really been 'a thing' over here, so this is all a bit out of the ordinary; sitting Emperors are basically expected to continue their official 'duties' until they wither and drop. The last Emperor to actually step down was the late Edo period Emperor Kokaku, in 1817. Not certain what his excuses were. I doubt that he needed one, back in those days. While the departing Emperor Akihito's official 'reasons' for stepping down are 'fatigue' and 'declining health', it's suspected that deep, irreconcilable differences between the Emperor and Japan's demagogic, authoritarian right wing Prime Minister, Shinzo Abe, have played a significant role in this well known pacifist's decision to finally give up the mantle. Hopes are that number one son, in assuming the throne, will be able to assert a more willful position regarding the ultra-right wing government's wholesale gutting of the country's post war peace constitution, at least in so far as said constitution allows. Since the end of WW2, the position of the Emperor has remained largely ceremonial and symbolic, and the Emperor's ability to speak out or effect matters of any real importance are considered limited, to non-existent. He is, essentially, an impotent figurehead. In fact, he couldn't even decide to abdicate without first seeking out and being granted 'special permission' by latter day Daimyo Shinzo Abe's hardline government. Prior to the country's surrender on August 15th, 1945, Japanese Emperors were considered living deities. While the Showa era wartime Emperor Hirohito (under considerable duress from his American captors) renounced his 'godhood' in an infamous live national radio broadcast shortly after Japan's surrender, it remains debatable as to how the general populace actually took his forced proclamation. Did they really buy into it? After all, this is the guy in whose name the country was brought to the cusp of absolute and voluntary annihilation. Suddenly, some American arsehole with a corn cob pipe shows up, and the Emperor is just a 'regular guy'. Right. Old habits die hard...and it's certain that more than a few J-folk still consider the Imperial bloodline to be a gold-dipped stone's throw from actual divinity. In any case, all of this ceremonial show business nonsense will go down during the Golden (Shower) Week spring holiday period at the end of April, and it promises to be a spectacle - in equal parts fascinating, cringeworthy, and frightening. I already sense the hardcore ultra-rightists that hold sway over the government angling things toward some sort of highly counter-productive and embarrassing display of national patriotism, with all the attendant neofascist undertones and themes in place. Look for at least one highly insensitive and inflammatory public statement from a senior government official downplaying Japan's war crimes and history of militarism, or minimizing it's wartime record in Asia at large, and the resultant knee jerk protests and diplomatic withdrawals from both the South Korean and Chinese diplomatic missions. Good times.

Meanwhile, the vaunted spring sakura, promised a week ago, are dilly-dallying and coming out in fits and starts. A few mild, warmish days will still suddenly yield to stark, late-February class cold spells, garnished with a frigid, cutting north wind. Hence, it's little surprise that my latent bronchial asthma seems to have rallied, aiming to make up for lost time, and last year's merciful respite. This year's wildly oscillating temperatures, high pollen count, and an accumulation of stress seem to be the main culprits, according to my stalwart, and somewhat English speaking allergy doctor.

Stress.

By chance, a rather unwelcome old 'friend' also seems to have darkened my doorstep for an unheralded, and (I suspect) overdue visit. Always beguiling and seductive, with that sly grin, and 'come hither' ambience. Who could it be?

Depression.

I'm not sure which begets which. Does stress trigger depression...or vice-versa? While I know better than giving in, and going down that velvety rabbit hole...inevitably, that's where I'm finding myself. In an endless tunnel. An echo chamber. In short, I'm just not feeling the joy. I feel sorry for my lovely wife, having to deal with me when I'm like this. I can't even stand myself. If I could crawl out and take flight from me, I surely would. Kudos to her for sticking it out. I am grateful...and mindful to at least try to marshal as much of it in as I possibly can. It is what it is, though...and denial does no good. So...what's going on? What are the sources...beyond the garden-variety neuro-chemical deficits or imbalances that are usually at least partly responsible for these shadowy, maudlin detours into melancholy and self loathing?

Late last year, I was informed that I would finally need to avail myself of a U.S. Social Security number. This was not news that I had wanted to get. While I hold a U.S. Passport - and am 'technically' a citizen of the United States, since leaving Los Angeles for Vancouver with my late Mum at the age of 4, I have spent my entire life outside the borders of the U.S.A. Having immediately set about with a round of research into how I might ultimately be able to avoid submitting to getting this dread 'number', I found that there was, sadly, no alternative but to finally acquire the document in question. Whereas in the past, life-long ex-pats like me could kind of skirt the edges of U.S. government scrutiny, and just get on with our lives wherever we happened to have settled in, the status-quo situation appears to have changed rather drastically, and in a relatively short period of time. Now, the U.S. government mantra appears to be, 'COMPLY'. Either come forward, and bend over for your U.S. federal government colono$copy...or know that 'UNCLE SAM WILL FIND YOU'. Sooner or later. And when 'he' does - look out. We're talking passport revocation, asset seizure, and even federal prosecution. No more flying under the radar. No more private banking information. They want in. To everything. It doesn't matter where you are, either. They WILL get you.

Henceforth, the last several months have been an odyssey of hassle and red tape the likes of which I have never experienced, culminating in the U.S. Federal Government's coup de grace - an intrusive 'inquisition' type probing into the details of a life (my life) lived outside of their borders. Details, details, details. None too small, or nondescript. Decades needed to be accounted for with OFFICIAL documentation, as if I were a criminal on the lam. Decades 'abroad' - AN ENTIRE LIFE - in short - needed to be proved AND justified. The prize (!?!) A card bearing a series of numbers that ultimately represent not only my induction into a historically unprecedented system of global monitoring and tax extortion, but forced complicity in what amounts to the most monstrous and venal criminal enterprise the world has ever seen. Never mind that I don't live in the United States. I haven't for almost a half century. Also disregard the fact that my taxes are filed and paid here in J-land...where I actually live. No...none of that matters. The U.S. government cartel now DEMANDS a full and regular accounting. They also consider this MY privilege. Only TWO countries do this to their expats. The United States...and Eritrea. At this stage of the game, into third period, to finally be caught up in this carbuncle simply because of where I was grunted out 52 years ago? I should have had my shit together and become a dual citizen all those years ago, before I decided to blow the Canada scene for these sorry shores. Alas, I didn't. At least then I would be in a position to renounce. As it is now, I'm fucked.

Stress.

It's actually making me physically ill.

Spring 2019 also once again marks the expiry of the three year 'renewable' spouse visa that enables me to continue processing oxygen at the side of my lovely wife here in these far-flung precincts. That means that my status as a 'spouse-resident' in this country again needs to be renewed. At best, I can expect an additional three years. As I sadly no longer qualify for the much less fraught Permanent Resident Visa (which only requires an appearance and vetting at Immigration every seven years), I can look forward to going through this increasingly invasive process at regular three year intervals for the rest of my natural (and possibly un-natural) life. Or as long we stay here. In the period since I last appeared at the Nagoya Bureau of Immigration for a status renewal, things appear have become even more chaotic and disorganized than they were before. In short, it's become an absolute menagerie. I guess the new strategy over here as of late is to start bringing people in on 'temporary work visas' in an attempt to fill the labour gap created by the country's long running declining birth rate. Jobs that the J-locals don't want are now going to a 'temporary work force' from remote locations near and far. Southeast Asians, South Americans, Eastern Europeans, Indians and Nepalese all seem to be well represented. A potpourri of your 'huddled masses', chasing a dead-end road. Not many 'westerners' at all. A few hanging around the periphery of the facility. In the waning English teaching game, I would suspect. One very odd sight. A big African American guy. Big like a pro football player. I'm pretty sure he must have been American...because he was wearing a red 'Make America Great Again' baseball cap. I almost choked on my green tea. What the actual FUCK? First real life MAGA hat I'd ever seen, too. It takes all kinds, I guess. Obviously considers himself a rebel. Pretty fucking sad.

I wish I could tell the rest of them what to expect. The non-renewable short term visas on offer allow them to stay for up to five years, and work in what amount to the lowest paying manual labour and service industry jobs on offer. Construction. Convenience stores. Mopping up and slinging fast food. The pay scale is commensurate with the work, of course. Minimum wage. Long hours. Rampant labour law violations and abuse in the workplace. When all is said and done, this is not a cheap country to live in...and these short-term workers are often traveling vast distances, and at considerable personal expense for what the Japanese government considers 'the privilege' to live and work here. To have that precious SHORT TERM 'Japanese' experience. In other words, to be used up and cast off. I can foresee no happy ending in any of this. What we have unfolding here is a slow motion, socio-economic, cross-cultural train wreck in progress. The result will be social malaise, and effectively exacerbate the J-native's already problematic xenophobia and thinly-veiled racist tendencies. It doesn't take a genius to see what's on the horizon. Maybe this is all part of the ultra-right wing government's plan? To seed a deeper sense of superiority among the local natives, who will be further conditioned to look down on these people as a type of 'servant class'. Of course, nothing really new is afoot here. The Japanese have done this all before, most notably before and during WW2, when they brought massive numbers of Korean nationals over to serve the same purpose. At that time, it's said that they were deceived into believing that they were entitled to Japanese nationality...based on the fact that the Japanese had invaded and colonized the Korean Peninsula in the early part of the 20th century, and that they had all been granted de facto Japanese nationality. Before the dust of WW2 had even settled, the ones that had actually survived the war over here were then informed that this was actually not the case at all, and that they actually didn't have any of the rights they were assured of. The long running schism and animosity that exists between the Japanese Korean community and your garden variety Japanese is well recognized. To this day, four generations later, the descendants of these people, born in Japan, are still denied Japanese nationality, and required to carry South Korean documents and alien registration cards. They are also still broadly looked down on.

When I first arrived, times were different. It was the tail end of the 'Bubble Period'. Life was good. Japan's economy was booming. There was a sense of optimism. For newcomers looking to teach English, there were abundant opportunities. There was money to be made. Attitudes seemed different here then. The local natives were more outward looking; less insular. The society at large was. That was thirty years ago, now. Things seem very much the opposite, today. It's certain that I've been here too long. I'm just not feeling it anymore. The only thing that keeps me here is my wife, truth be told. I try to peel back the negative for that ever more elusive 'silver lining'. It's nice to have proper medical coverage. As my advancing age has brought on health issues that weren't a concern twenty five years ago, it's good to be able to see a doctor regularly, and get the meds that I need. The monthly rent we pay isn't as bad as it would be at my point of origin. If you know the neighbourhood and where to shop, you can actually get by alright. We can afford to live - for now, at least. The winters, while cold and dark - are also relatively short - as compared to those at my point of origin.

It can be quite isolating, though. Even for a loner. At least there's Netflix here now. Life really is all about the little things, I guess. Silver linings. Ha.

What if something happened to my wife? That's another rabbit hole that I've been going down, recently. We've resolved to consult with legal council to explore this potential situation, and try to get a clearer picture of what I'd be facing, and how we might begin to piece together an exit strategy, for such a worst-case scenario. We need to do it this year. There is no one else here that I can trust or depend on. That actually sounds pretty bad, after decades of living here; but it's fact. It took a long time, but my station over here finally became clear to me when there was a big sea-change some years back. Being surrounded by people of acquaintance can often be mistaken for having an abundance of 'friends'. That term gets flung around so casually. Some tough lessons have been learned, and the result is a much more solitary space. For better and worse. Our hope is that if something fatal does befall one of us, it's me. My wife's big fear is dying before I do. Ultimately, the sooner I have a knowledgable lawyer on side, and a plan in place, the better I will feel.

Anyways, back to the three year visa business. The wait is on. They kept us cooped up in the Immigration corral for 4 hours before we could submit the package of paperwork and disclosures needed for my visa-extension application to be processed. I filled out a post card, and was told to wait. It usually takes three-four weeks to get it back. Then it's back to the Immigration Bureau holding area again, to submit a bit more paperwork, and cough up the fee. ¥4000, it appears. Then another round of waiting...hopefully at the end of which is a fresh resident card, good through 2022.

Stress.

So, the temperature was up a bit today...more tenable, and I set out to run the canal side shortly before noon. It's not my favourite thing, and the bout of asthma these last couple of weeks has made it a bit of a dyspnea gasping, huffing and puffing struggle, but I've kept at it. If nothing else, it defrays some of the stress, and gives me a short term endorphin boost. This works toward blunting the depression at least a bit, and making me feel a little better for a couple of hours. Not today. Two thirds of the way up the fucking canal, I've found my pace, and have settled in. Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, there's a quickening 'pitter- patter' behind me. Then panting. Clearly audible, slightly laboured, and right up the back of my neck. Then, to my right, there he is, a couple of full strides behind me. Working his short assed legs double time, panting like he's going to fucking expire. Some arsehole has apparently decided it's 'race time'. You must be kidding? Fuck me. So, I pull a bit ahead, and start cursing. First three, then four full strides. This a major pain in the arse... as I'm just now recovering from a hardcore two week bout of bronchial asthma. I don't fucking need this bellend insinuating himself in to my personal space. Up the embankment and a right turn to cross the bridge. Maybe the prick will take a left and get off my heels. The pitter-patter and panting are working me out. My stress levels are starting to peak. But NO...he turns right and follows... straight on my fucking heels. Foot of the bridge, I hang a left to go through the corner park, and head back down the opposite side of the canal. He pulls a left and shadows me. All the fucking way. 'Pitter-patter, pitter patter, pant, pant, pant'. It had to be deliberate. In the years that I've been running this course, this has NEVER happened before. Fucking cocksucker. It took me almost twenty minutes to shake off this prick. I guess he got tired of dogging me, and finally packed it in. I avoid group running events for a very specific reason - namely - I hate this type of behaviour. 'Good natured competition'. Fuck off. Leave me the fuck alone. People like this are also why I stopped going to gym over here years ago. Absolutely NO CONCEPT of anyone else's personal space. They'll infringe on it anywhere and everywhere, like it's their natural, god given fucking right. People are always on about how considerate the Japanese are. It's a load of crap. They aren't. Anyways, I rolled back in to my place, post run, way more fucking stressed out than when I left. What the fuck is wrong with these people? If it happens again, I swear I'm going to pitch his scrawny little short legged J-arse right into that smelly fucking ditch of a canal. Last year I had a fucking black helicopter shadowing me up and down the same stretch for almost 45 minutes. No shit. It sounds like some paranoid moment from 'Good Fellas', but it really happened. That fucking stressed the shit out of me as well. Then there was the fucker in the black Prius with shaded windows that parked directly across from our place every single day, for the same 3-4 hour time block for most of last year...like he was staking the place out. If he was trying to be inconspicuous, he couldn't have failed more miserably.

Stress.

And there you have the tale of my fraught life in Olde Nagoyaland, and the things that are sapping any potential joy therefrom. Spring 2019. What a shit show. I imagine that there will indeed be more to add at some point on our shared future timeline. In the vicinity of solstice, I'm guessing. Somehow, at some point, this story will continue.

For now, you'd be well served to remember that, indeed, "no matter where you go...there you are" - and that no matter how hard you might try, you probably can't hide if they're really dead set on finding your ass.

Like it or not. It is what it fucking is.