The city becomes slightly shuffled and recoded each time I let my bike sit for more than a week. Not an “Out of sight, out of mind,“ kind of forgetting, but rather, the dynamic image of the city in my brain starts to pause, dry out and crystallize, making me see an idea wrought in stasis--a memory--rather than the living and breathing of place. In the city, streets get closed or boxed by new construction walls or cut open to autopsy their veins of water, gas or sewage. These changes affect and connect. They keep place up-to-date. The paths become layered with new experiences while I’m out of their sight. So, when I do roll back out along the city’s lines, and corners, and corners to lines that were recently familiar and still seem current as the engrained patterns of my memorized practice, there are places that I don't as readily know how to flow through and which then confront me as a dreamer awaking within a beast that never sleep.
For a lazy fuck like me, I’m fortunate that such recoding in the streets are few enough to not disrupt much, like how a few coughs don't signal a reason to seriously worry about illness. To the degree I can negotiate them, they become recognizable layers of memory in my history on the streets.
Today, I rode for the first time in maybe two weeks, since when I saw the crow.
I made my usual left turn after the metal-shearer shop and started accelerating up the alley behind Gyoumu Supah. Up ahead, I saw the back-hoe of a back-hoe come swinging out from behind its waiting dump truck. My first thought was that the back-hoe swung out quite far into the path I would be going through. As well, I noticed there were none of the usual construction caution cones set up on the road which outline the safe barrier between where the soft bodies of people can safely pass and where the blunt-object brutality of the metal shovel can safely work. Rather, there was a bit of wildness taking place in the usually carefully cordoned-off Osaka. Also, there was no security man posted up on the road to signal me one way or another. So, as I approached, I assumed I was to navigate the construction area myself.
No big deal. I can see, ride and think.
But, then there came a security dude who looked like he was Jason Moser in a part-time construction guard halloween suit. Bulky cover-coat and white hard-hat. Red and white flags. He looked pretty new. Surprise: a non-Japanese construction guard. He came walking my way as I rode his. At first I didn't know what was happening, but he was swinging his flags and shouting at me in a broken Eastern European-tinted Japanese. I couldn’t really make-out (or don’t remember) what he said, but I know it didn't convey much clarity. I didn’t know what to do. Whether to proceed or stop. Usually, Japanese guards have a clear gesturing of stop or pointing where to go through. He shouted “Hidari. Migi” (“Left, Right”) and waved his flag to emphasize the those two opposites. I assumed I was supposed to stay to one side and proceed, so I tried to roll through. But, then he physically body-blocked me. Not knocking me down, but physically contacting me so I wouldn’t go forward. That shocked and pissed me off. Then he shouted, “Kuruma ichi ban” (“Car Number One”) “Wakarimasuka?” (“Understand?”), which I assume meant that the car is first or most important. I stopped and waited for the car, but was pissed and complained at him in English--which I assume he didn’t understand. As I rode off, he shouted more, “Kuruma ichi ban”s at me, and I shouted in English, “Okay, okay,” like I was sick of my mother’s nagging.
In my life as a foreigner in Osaka--roaming through contexts and having vague exchanges via speech--I usually work mostly by eye contact, context, energy and instinct. I've become relatively adept at sussing out situations--reading the air and stomach talk, as Japanese call feeling the atmosphere of a time/place/situation--to figure out how to navigate whatever's taking place and get things I need done. My ability partly relies on a few key bits of useful language, but mostly non-language things like knowing how Osaka people interact, their rituals, flows, borders and magic charms (when in doubt, say "YoroshikuOnegashimasu" which roughly translates as “I value our mutual commitment to helping each other”). This is where eye contact and context are so useful. Eye contact usually makes a quick but genuine connection between me and the other person and from that I can see if they are freaking out, calm, bored, up-tight or just an agitated creep. Their eyes and face and body language usually tell me most of what I need to know and show me how I need to respond to move through the little but particular maze that each interaction with another person always requires. To get something through contact with another person always requires some kind of maze-running. How I interact with them can either quickly open lots of doors for passage, or shut all but a narrow and formal few. If trusts get synced, then doors fly open. If suspicions or threats, flows don’t really flow. And, if the person is a manic creep, well that’s good to know from the get go and hopefully avoid all together or quickly pull back on any expectations of how my plans will go.
So, when I came into contact with Moser-man's agressive and territorial approach to flow control, I didn't know how to interpret his commands and mode. To be fair, this may be because I was expecting a Japanese vibe, but got Western Man. The confrontational guy in uniform is something I grew tired of in the US. And, maybe a privilege of being a Western foreign man in Asia is that the uniform doesn’t work in the same way. Maybe a Japanese construction guard feels some false-power from the uniform, but I have never seen it. Rather, they seem exceedingly polite and genuinely sorry for blocking the road for people who use live in the neighborhood. Also, while I don’t put much emphasis on Japanese language in interactions, Western Man was primarily relying on language, as we do. I am also interested in how focused he was on “Kuruma ichi ban.” This may have been the primary rule that his foreman drilled into him as he learned the job--perhaps that morning. And, as he has probably not been in Japan for long, he maybe has no background in how construction guards typically do their job. In the State, I never saw such jobs being done, which are really as much a neighborhood public relations officer as a safety monitor.
As Japan increases the number of foreign workers, I can imagine more and more of these types of cultural contacts/confrontations will occur, likely with little improvement over time. As someone who has lived in Osaka for 23 years, I now know more about how the culture flows. But, much of what makes sense to me now felt like total oddity 20 years ago.
For a lazy fuck like me, I’m fortunate that such recoding in the streets are few enough to not disrupt much, like how a few coughs don't signal a reason to seriously worry about illness. To the degree I can negotiate them, they become recognizable layers of memory in my history on the streets.
Today, I rode for the first time in maybe two weeks, since when I saw the crow.
I made my usual left turn after the metal-shearer shop and started accelerating up the alley behind Gyoumu Supah. Up ahead, I saw the back-hoe of a back-hoe come swinging out from behind its waiting dump truck. My first thought was that the back-hoe swung out quite far into the path I would be going through. As well, I noticed there were none of the usual construction caution cones set up on the road which outline the safe barrier between where the soft bodies of people can safely pass and where the blunt-object brutality of the metal shovel can safely work. Rather, there was a bit of wildness taking place in the usually carefully cordoned-off Osaka. Also, there was no security man posted up on the road to signal me one way or another. So, as I approached, I assumed I was to navigate the construction area myself.
No big deal. I can see, ride and think.
But, then there came a security dude who looked like he was Jason Moser in a part-time construction guard halloween suit. Bulky cover-coat and white hard-hat. Red and white flags. He looked pretty new. Surprise: a non-Japanese construction guard. He came walking my way as I rode his. At first I didn't know what was happening, but he was swinging his flags and shouting at me in a broken Eastern European-tinted Japanese. I couldn’t really make-out (or don’t remember) what he said, but I know it didn't convey much clarity. I didn’t know what to do. Whether to proceed or stop. Usually, Japanese guards have a clear gesturing of stop or pointing where to go through. He shouted “Hidari. Migi” (“Left, Right”) and waved his flag to emphasize the those two opposites. I assumed I was supposed to stay to one side and proceed, so I tried to roll through. But, then he physically body-blocked me. Not knocking me down, but physically contacting me so I wouldn’t go forward. That shocked and pissed me off. Then he shouted, “Kuruma ichi ban” (“Car Number One”) “Wakarimasuka?” (“Understand?”), which I assume meant that the car is first or most important. I stopped and waited for the car, but was pissed and complained at him in English--which I assume he didn’t understand. As I rode off, he shouted more, “Kuruma ichi ban”s at me, and I shouted in English, “Okay, okay,” like I was sick of my mother’s nagging.
In my life as a foreigner in Osaka--roaming through contexts and having vague exchanges via speech--I usually work mostly by eye contact, context, energy and instinct. I've become relatively adept at sussing out situations--reading the air and stomach talk, as Japanese call feeling the atmosphere of a time/place/situation--to figure out how to navigate whatever's taking place and get things I need done. My ability partly relies on a few key bits of useful language, but mostly non-language things like knowing how Osaka people interact, their rituals, flows, borders and magic charms (when in doubt, say "YoroshikuOnegashimasu" which roughly translates as “I value our mutual commitment to helping each other”). This is where eye contact and context are so useful. Eye contact usually makes a quick but genuine connection between me and the other person and from that I can see if they are freaking out, calm, bored, up-tight or just an agitated creep. Their eyes and face and body language usually tell me most of what I need to know and show me how I need to respond to move through the little but particular maze that each interaction with another person always requires. To get something through contact with another person always requires some kind of maze-running. How I interact with them can either quickly open lots of doors for passage, or shut all but a narrow and formal few. If trusts get synced, then doors fly open. If suspicions or threats, flows don’t really flow. And, if the person is a manic creep, well that’s good to know from the get go and hopefully avoid all together or quickly pull back on any expectations of how my plans will go.
So, when I came into contact with Moser-man's agressive and territorial approach to flow control, I didn't know how to interpret his commands and mode. To be fair, this may be because I was expecting a Japanese vibe, but got Western Man. The confrontational guy in uniform is something I grew tired of in the US. And, maybe a privilege of being a Western foreign man in Asia is that the uniform doesn’t work in the same way. Maybe a Japanese construction guard feels some false-power from the uniform, but I have never seen it. Rather, they seem exceedingly polite and genuinely sorry for blocking the road for people who use live in the neighborhood. Also, while I don’t put much emphasis on Japanese language in interactions, Western Man was primarily relying on language, as we do. I am also interested in how focused he was on “Kuruma ichi ban.” This may have been the primary rule that his foreman drilled into him as he learned the job--perhaps that morning. And, as he has probably not been in Japan for long, he maybe has no background in how construction guards typically do their job. In the State, I never saw such jobs being done, which are really as much a neighborhood public relations officer as a safety monitor.
As Japan increases the number of foreign workers, I can imagine more and more of these types of cultural contacts/confrontations will occur, likely with little improvement over time. As someone who has lived in Osaka for 23 years, I now know more about how the culture flows. But, much of what makes sense to me now felt like total oddity 20 years ago.
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