I can distinctly remember a moment in November as a tallied the number of weeks I had before me. This seemed to be such a long time. Full of potential, full of separation. Now, I am coming ever nearer to the end. In fact, I am growing fearful. Fearful that I have fallen in love with a land--come to know its plants, its mountains, its soil, its sky--and will be parted. I am sure I speak for others in this fear. During my first months living in Japan, if I am truthful, I could not understand the frequent claim that those who visit Japan are bound to return. Now, I understand completely. Although I might be sad to acknowledge that there seems so little time left, I am also extremely happy to realize how important my time in Japan has been.
Amidst these feelings this past month, however, there have been so many wonderful experiences and developments. As I described in my last report, my advisor helped me to polish a Japanese version of my research paper on earthworms and buckthorn from the Japan Forest Society. This has now been submitted to the Hoppo Ringyo journal, and will hopefully be accepted. Spring is in full bloom, if not summer. The trees are green and leaves flushed. I have been very happy to participate in field work helping with various experiments as well as my own. The HOBO light sensors have been attached and are recording measurements. On one day in particular, I spent nearly 5 hours sorting larch seedlings and transplanting them to plots. I’ve even come to realize that I recognize a growing number of plant species, both trees and herbaceous, by their Japanese names. This seemed a hopeless task last fall. But I’ve made unexpected progress this spring, watching each plant from sprout to stalk. I’ve even learned a number of edible plants, and cooked them myself. I’m not yet brave enough to try my hand at collecting mushrooms. In my previous report, I mentioned that there may be an opportunity for me to compile my research results into a paper. My advisor continues to encourage me to do so, and I believe it will be possible by the end. This lends me confidence. The winter was long indeed, and I often worried if I would have much in the way of research to offer despite what I had learned.
To compliment the scientific field work that is at last fully underway, I have continued to look for articles and essays to piece together my own thoughts on the status of environmentalism in Japan. Part of this has involved delving deeper into issues involved with TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership). This has been the topic of some protest here in Japan. It is a trade agreement involving primarily the United States, but also a handful of other countries. TPP would effect a variety of sectors, but the majority of controversy stems from the effect it would have on Japan’s farmers. Few in number, they are surprisingly strong in political clout. If Japan accepts TPP--and Abe as far as I can tell has joined the talks--farmers would lose most of their market because their products would be replaced with agricultural products imported from the United States. Currently, crops such as corn are imported in large amounts from the United States. As far as food production, Japan is only about 40% self-sustainable. Joining TPP could cut this percentage in half. My dream for Japan is to achieve higher self-sustainability, not food dependence on outside sources and certainly not importing food from so far away. Local is undoubtedly better, and the Japanese model of small farms and small fields is far safer, in my opinion, then the monstrous American farming monopoly. Nonetheless, Japanese farmers do also participate in damaging land-use practices. If Japan could encourage more individuals to return to farming, and to implement methods such as suggested by Masanobu Fukuoka in his One-Straw Revolution, I believe that Japan could become a model for other countries. In addition to learning more about TPP, I hope to attend some community meetings, and also to consider that status of Japanese political and environmental mindsets. Unfortunately, apathy tends to be a persistent roadblock for significant change. Just like in the U.S., there is also considerable superficiality when it comes to environmentalism. That is, the appeal of being “green” to avoid guilt, while accomplishing very little. Still, there are passionate groups to be found here and there.
And just this week, I finally saw a glimmer of hope for becoming involved within the Ainu community through the lens of environmentalism. I have been trying for the past few months to become involved, to seek help, advice, discussion, and to offer whatever I can in return. Yet I received no responses to any inquiries and continued to feel lost. On a whim, I contacted a lecturer at Hokkaido University whose name I had found connected to past presentations on indigenous issues. I had little hope that I would receive a response. But I did indeed receive a response and some suggestions for where to look next. In Biratori, there is an ongoing Ainu-led reforestation project called Chikornay ( ‘chikoronai’). Specifically, the Chiornay is being reforested back to a state before larch plantations replaced the original trees. I was overjoyed to learn this. I have contacted the secretary of the project, and unfortunately I just missed out on the annual reforestation event, at the end of May, when many volunteers are welcomed to come assist and learn about the process of reforestation. It is a shame I did not know of this project sooner. However, I can only hope that there will be some way for me to volunteer or help with maintenance of the planted seedlings. Even simply to speak to those involved in the project, I would be happy. I have read a number of articles and essays from their website and from their founder, Koichi Kaizawa. Many of his ideas about land use and culture align closely with my own ideas and hopes for the future. I sorely regret that I did not learn about everything sooner, or have a chance to meet the lecturer who helped point me in the right direction sooner. This week I was able to meet with him and talk for many hours, in particular about the importance of culturally respectful and mindful forest practices. Just as I had hoped in my proposal so long ago, strict scientific research neglects the insight of the many cultures of the world. Native nations, especially, are often overlooked--sometimes purposefully ignored. Land use, environmental degradation and human rights are all linked. In any case, I look forward to the potential opportunities for involvement even if I have only a few months left.
I am also glad to say that I have continued to volunteer with the urban bee-keeping group here in Sapporo of which I spoke last month. My first meeting with the members was so pleasant and joyous, it left me smiling for days. I have since gone to help once a week, first to help prepare the top of the building, and now twice to work with the bees who have made their arrival from Kyushu! On a glorious sunny day, I stood upon the rooftop of a building in downtown Sapporo surrounded by hundreds of buzzing bees. And eating golden honey straight from the combs! The older lady, Takushima-san, is full of energy and kindness. The other ladies also take excellent care of me--sometimes embarrassingly so!--always vigilant to prevent me from being stung. Today I was given a small jar of honey, a handful of honeycomb, and a potted plant just for coming. I feel that I contribute very little as far as work--mostly I feel that I am standing around, hoping to be of help, and staring with fascination at the swarms of bees--but they continue to give me such kind gifts. At the midyear conference, I had wished that I could become involved in some sort of volunteer activity. Now I am so happy with my weekly bee-keeping experiences! Many of the volunteers are passionate about maintaining and increasing the number of plants in urban areas. The greening of cities brings bees and habitat, and I adamantly agree. Besides the chance to meet such kind people, it is an excellent practical application of ecological studies.
Lastly, I am happy to report that my Achilles tendon has healed as far as I can tell on my own. Unfortunately, this came at the expense of all of the training and endurance I had worked hard for all year. I am back to basics, having been prevented from running for longer than in my entire life. It is a frustrating situation, but I am so grateful to have my freedom back. To be able to run, walk, bike, and be active without (significant) pain. The week that I was finally able to slowly jog, I was so ecstatic to at last have my mobility returned that I used every opportunity and spare moment to be active. The weather seemed to clear from grey, rainy skies to bright blue sunshine in coordination with this! I took to waking up as early as I could to hike and climb around Sapporo before classes, always making it back in time with a story and many bruises. In the span of a week, I managed to bike to the ocean (taking up the trail I had attempted long ago in the fall), and hike three different so-called mountains within Sapporo. Among them I even set my sights on the to nearby Mt. Teine, and all by myself clamored up to the top. The trailhead at a beautiful waterfall was itself an adventure to locate by bike--and as I later learned, haunted as well. There was snow starting half way up the climb, and I was arrayed in only running clothes and running shoes. The small number of well-equipped (often over-equipped, if you ask me) hikers that I met along the way undoubtedly questioned my soundness of mind. I fell waist deep into snow, where it was not solid enough. I banged my shins on rocks, and I had to search for light tracks in the snow to re-find the ever disappearing trail. This accomplishment left me with a sense of pride and confidence. Biking to class or arriving at track practices, I could look to the line of mountains in the west and remember the view from above. Meanwhile, when I had climbed up the modest Maruyama, I was rewarded with a similarly enchanting experience. Watching a songbird flit past my head, I held up my hands out of curiosity. To my shock, one by one little songbirds came to land on my fingertips! Although being injured for so long has done its damage, I cannot complain. For I have been richly compensated in the form of such magical experiences.
Amidst these feelings this past month, however, there have been so many wonderful experiences and developments. As I described in my last report, my advisor helped me to polish a Japanese version of my research paper on earthworms and buckthorn from the Japan Forest Society. This has now been submitted to the Hoppo Ringyo journal, and will hopefully be accepted. Spring is in full bloom, if not summer. The trees are green and leaves flushed. I have been very happy to participate in field work helping with various experiments as well as my own. The HOBO light sensors have been attached and are recording measurements. On one day in particular, I spent nearly 5 hours sorting larch seedlings and transplanting them to plots. I’ve even come to realize that I recognize a growing number of plant species, both trees and herbaceous, by their Japanese names. This seemed a hopeless task last fall. But I’ve made unexpected progress this spring, watching each plant from sprout to stalk. I’ve even learned a number of edible plants, and cooked them myself. I’m not yet brave enough to try my hand at collecting mushrooms. In my previous report, I mentioned that there may be an opportunity for me to compile my research results into a paper. My advisor continues to encourage me to do so, and I believe it will be possible by the end. This lends me confidence. The winter was long indeed, and I often worried if I would have much in the way of research to offer despite what I had learned.
To compliment the scientific field work that is at last fully underway, I have continued to look for articles and essays to piece together my own thoughts on the status of environmentalism in Japan. Part of this has involved delving deeper into issues involved with TPP (Trans-Pacific Partnership). This has been the topic of some protest here in Japan. It is a trade agreement involving primarily the United States, but also a handful of other countries. TPP would effect a variety of sectors, but the majority of controversy stems from the effect it would have on Japan’s farmers. Few in number, they are surprisingly strong in political clout. If Japan accepts TPP--and Abe as far as I can tell has joined the talks--farmers would lose most of their market because their products would be replaced with agricultural products imported from the United States. Currently, crops such as corn are imported in large amounts from the United States. As far as food production, Japan is only about 40% self-sustainable. Joining TPP could cut this percentage in half. My dream for Japan is to achieve higher self-sustainability, not food dependence on outside sources and certainly not importing food from so far away. Local is undoubtedly better, and the Japanese model of small farms and small fields is far safer, in my opinion, then the monstrous American farming monopoly. Nonetheless, Japanese farmers do also participate in damaging land-use practices. If Japan could encourage more individuals to return to farming, and to implement methods such as suggested by Masanobu Fukuoka in his One-Straw Revolution, I believe that Japan could become a model for other countries. In addition to learning more about TPP, I hope to attend some community meetings, and also to consider that status of Japanese political and environmental mindsets. Unfortunately, apathy tends to be a persistent roadblock for significant change. Just like in the U.S., there is also considerable superficiality when it comes to environmentalism. That is, the appeal of being “green” to avoid guilt, while accomplishing very little. Still, there are passionate groups to be found here and there.
And just this week, I finally saw a glimmer of hope for becoming involved within the Ainu community through the lens of environmentalism. I have been trying for the past few months to become involved, to seek help, advice, discussion, and to offer whatever I can in return. Yet I received no responses to any inquiries and continued to feel lost. On a whim, I contacted a lecturer at Hokkaido University whose name I had found connected to past presentations on indigenous issues. I had little hope that I would receive a response. But I did indeed receive a response and some suggestions for where to look next. In Biratori, there is an ongoing Ainu-led reforestation project called Chikornay ( ‘chikoronai’). Specifically, the Chiornay is being reforested back to a state before larch plantations replaced the original trees. I was overjoyed to learn this. I have contacted the secretary of the project, and unfortunately I just missed out on the annual reforestation event, at the end of May, when many volunteers are welcomed to come assist and learn about the process of reforestation. It is a shame I did not know of this project sooner. However, I can only hope that there will be some way for me to volunteer or help with maintenance of the planted seedlings. Even simply to speak to those involved in the project, I would be happy. I have read a number of articles and essays from their website and from their founder, Koichi Kaizawa. Many of his ideas about land use and culture align closely with my own ideas and hopes for the future. I sorely regret that I did not learn about everything sooner, or have a chance to meet the lecturer who helped point me in the right direction sooner. This week I was able to meet with him and talk for many hours, in particular about the importance of culturally respectful and mindful forest practices. Just as I had hoped in my proposal so long ago, strict scientific research neglects the insight of the many cultures of the world. Native nations, especially, are often overlooked--sometimes purposefully ignored. Land use, environmental degradation and human rights are all linked. In any case, I look forward to the potential opportunities for involvement even if I have only a few months left.
I am also glad to say that I have continued to volunteer with the urban bee-keeping group here in Sapporo of which I spoke last month. My first meeting with the members was so pleasant and joyous, it left me smiling for days. I have since gone to help once a week, first to help prepare the top of the building, and now twice to work with the bees who have made their arrival from Kyushu! On a glorious sunny day, I stood upon the rooftop of a building in downtown Sapporo surrounded by hundreds of buzzing bees. And eating golden honey straight from the combs! The older lady, Takushima-san, is full of energy and kindness. The other ladies also take excellent care of me--sometimes embarrassingly so!--always vigilant to prevent me from being stung. Today I was given a small jar of honey, a handful of honeycomb, and a potted plant just for coming. I feel that I contribute very little as far as work--mostly I feel that I am standing around, hoping to be of help, and staring with fascination at the swarms of bees--but they continue to give me such kind gifts. At the midyear conference, I had wished that I could become involved in some sort of volunteer activity. Now I am so happy with my weekly bee-keeping experiences! Many of the volunteers are passionate about maintaining and increasing the number of plants in urban areas. The greening of cities brings bees and habitat, and I adamantly agree. Besides the chance to meet such kind people, it is an excellent practical application of ecological studies.
Lastly, I am happy to report that my Achilles tendon has healed as far as I can tell on my own. Unfortunately, this came at the expense of all of the training and endurance I had worked hard for all year. I am back to basics, having been prevented from running for longer than in my entire life. It is a frustrating situation, but I am so grateful to have my freedom back. To be able to run, walk, bike, and be active without (significant) pain. The week that I was finally able to slowly jog, I was so ecstatic to at last have my mobility returned that I used every opportunity and spare moment to be active. The weather seemed to clear from grey, rainy skies to bright blue sunshine in coordination with this! I took to waking up as early as I could to hike and climb around Sapporo before classes, always making it back in time with a story and many bruises. In the span of a week, I managed to bike to the ocean (taking up the trail I had attempted long ago in the fall), and hike three different so-called mountains within Sapporo. Among them I even set my sights on the to nearby Mt. Teine, and all by myself clamored up to the top. The trailhead at a beautiful waterfall was itself an adventure to locate by bike--and as I later learned, haunted as well. There was snow starting half way up the climb, and I was arrayed in only running clothes and running shoes. The small number of well-equipped (often over-equipped, if you ask me) hikers that I met along the way undoubtedly questioned my soundness of mind. I fell waist deep into snow, where it was not solid enough. I banged my shins on rocks, and I had to search for light tracks in the snow to re-find the ever disappearing trail. This accomplishment left me with a sense of pride and confidence. Biking to class or arriving at track practices, I could look to the line of mountains in the west and remember the view from above. Meanwhile, when I had climbed up the modest Maruyama, I was rewarded with a similarly enchanting experience. Watching a songbird flit past my head, I held up my hands out of curiosity. To my shock, one by one little songbirds came to land on my fingertips! Although being injured for so long has done its damage, I cannot complain. For I have been richly compensated in the form of such magical experiences.
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