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Dear Readers,

Winter is upon us! I write this from underneath my kotatsu, which is lovely in principle but hard on your back after a few hours.

My first winter in Japan, I had absolutely no idea what the hell I wasdoing. I still don’t. So what I set out to do with this issue was to create a guide of sorts for winter living in the ken. We’ve got tips on driving, on winter sports, and on just what to do with those ten tons of apples you’re going to pick up this season. With that, we’ve got some great creative work, photography, personal essays, as well as a scholarly article about the color (or colour) pink.

Also contained in this edition of Yomoyama is a special section featur-ing two sides to an issue that has rocked our fair prefecture this winter: facial hair. This might be the most controversial topic that the magazine has ever covered. No matter what side of the debate you ultimately come down on, all I ask is that you treat those who disagree with you with some manner of dignity. Not too much dignity, because we don’t really have that here. But some.

As always, we welcome any questions, comments, or submissions that you may have. Simply email yomoyamamagazine@gmail.com.

Thanks for sticking with us,

Molly Conner

Editor-In-Chief: Molly ConnerGraphic Designer: Daniel PierceWeb Designer: Jon DillowAssociate Editors: Shannon Lough and Tonya KneffCover photo: Molly Conner

Letter from the Editor

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LifestyleRich’s Winter Driving Tips by Richard Gomes…………………..04Sweet Spots for Snow Sports by Patricia Dorsher.....................06Manifesto of a Reluctant Occasional Skier by Molly Conner…10

In Defense of Pink by Hugh G. Rection ………………………….13

TravelA Thai Holiday: Photos by Dougal Graham………………………15

Reverse Culture Shock by Shannon Lough……………………..20

GourmetTwo Boxes of Apples byErin King…………………………………21

MusicAn Important Question by Derek Hurst………………………...23

Special Feature Section: To Beard or Not to BeardMen of Our Time by Anthony Ciero..........................................24Beards Are Evil Twin Designators: A Gentlewoman’s Rebuttalby Molly Conner…………………………………………………...25Re-Rebuttal by Daniel Pierce.....................................................29

Creative Writing/Personal EssayPROTREPTICUS: A Dialogue by Justin K. Ellis…………….……...30Boarding Bliss by Richard Gomes………………………………..36

For Your Information!Winter Links……………………………………………………….37

Contents

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After a second treacherous snow filled drive to the annual Nozawa Fire festival, I realized I had accumulated quite a bit of useful information and safety tips for winter driving. Even

though that wealth of knowledge didn’t stop your Yomoyama’s Editor-in-Chief from screaming for her life in the back seat, here are some Dos and Don’ts that will help get you safely through the winter in Nagano. [Editor’s note: the screams were very proud and dignified.]

Do’s• Keep the following in your car:• candle and matches (can keep you

warm if stranded, remember to crack the window for oxygen): ice scraper and snowbrush, flare and flashlight with batteries a sand or salt bag

• Prop up your windscreen wipers (follow your Japanese neighbours). It saves from having to rip your wipers from the windscreen after they freeze overnight.

• Keep your washer fluid topped up. You’ll need it to remove sticky/fluffy snow and to clean the dried snow gunk of your wind-screen.

• Get a snowboarding rack. It leaves more space for beer in your trunk!!!

• Turn into a skid. If your car skids, turn towards where you are skidding. It will help you center your car and regain control. A car with ABS – Press and hold the brakes down.

• A car without ABS – Tap the breaks repeatedly. [If stuck in snow/ice]

• Pour sand or salt under the tires to melt the snow.

• Use your car mats for traction. Put them behind the two wheels with power (FYI, all Subarus have All Wheel Drive)

• Accelerate out of the snow very slowly, so as not to dig a deeper crevice.

Winter Drivingby Richard Gomes

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Additional Tips (I found on the internet)

• Clean wiper blades with windshield washer fluid.• Keep at least 1/3 - 1/2 tank of gas to minimize condensation. Should the temperature

outside dip below freezing, allow a maximum of four to five minutes of idle time before driving away.

• If you still need winter tires, you can get a set of four Nankin brand winter tires at Tire Man for a decent price. They are a low end Taiwanese brand, but still safe (I bought them and they work fine).

Don’ts• Drive fast! The biggest tip I can give you is to drive roughly half the speed you

usually drive in regular conditions. • Drive without decent winter tires. You can test if your tires have a decent tread

depth with 100 Yen. The start of the ‘1’ on the 100 yen coin should just be covered. [refer to picture]

• Pour hot water on your windscreen to de-ice it. It will crack the windscreen (I’ve seen my neighbours do this many times)

• Brake midway through a turn. The tires could lose their traction because they are at an angle and you will skid. Brake before the turn and let the momentum of the car pull you through. If stuck on snow or ice, absolutely DO NOT, push a car forward that is facing uphill. It could slide down over you!!!

• Be mean to Canadians. Thanks, eh!

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SWEET SPOTS FOR SNOW SPORTSCompiled by Tonya Kneff

“Soft, fluffy and fun.” “Demanding, raw and pretty.” “Copious amounts of untouched fluffy white shit.” This is just a hint of the vibrant verbiage to describe the best places for snow sports in Nagano. Maybe for some, winter heralds pseudo-hibernation and toyu-induced torpors, but unless you’re a squirrel, a skunk or a snake, it really is a great time to go out and play. No matter your level or your preference for skiing or boarding, there’s bound to be a suitable slope nearby. Give one (or all) of the following recommendations a try – we’re sure you’ll find it “picturesque, powder, perfect.”

My favourite snowboarding spot in Nagano is Nozawa Onsen. The village itself is pretty and quaint, with plenty of great eateries and free onsen! On a clear day the view from the top of the slopes is amazing, as are the snow-covered trees (see the January photo of the JET Calendar).

Board/boot rental will cost you 3000 yen (the little shack at the bottom of Nagasaka Gondola is usually where I go, but there are plenty of rental places throughout the village). A full-day slope pass is about 4500 yen and a half-day is about 3500 yen.

If you live in the area you should already have been there! However, if you are heading up from anywhere south of Nozawa Onsen you need to get off the Joshinetsu Expressway at the Toyota-Iiyama Interchange and take the right at the first crossroads you get to. Head through Iiyama and follow the signs for the Nozawa Onsen Village. From the IC, Nozawa Onsen is approximately a 30-40 minute drive, weather dependent.

If you have the inclination, Myoko Kogen in Niigata is another fantastic resort and very close to the IC. You need the second interchange after Toyota-Iiyama.

All the resorts have sweet spots that are pow-gasmic when conditions are peak. Shiga Kogen, although difficult and often times dangerous to get to, isn’t as frequented by tourists, both of the native and non-native persuasion, so the there isn’t much of a queue at the lifts. It’s really

high up there so the snow stays softer and fresher longer than the other resorts, which is good if you’re going to go down on each other because nobody wants the funk when they’re going downtown. Furthermore, if you can read a topographical map, there are spots in between the courses and off to the side that are sure to give anyone the powder giggles. On top of that, it’s massive and you could spend an entire season up there without covering every square meter (though when the snow is good you could easily get sucked into one or two giggle-spots). Lastly, because of the layout of Shiga, many areas don’t get baked by the sun like they do in Hakuba and Myoko.

HOWEVER…

Matt Kohler’s Off-piste Piece

Paul Marshall's Persuasive Parlance

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If you’re feeling really adventurous and have a car, Kashimayari (west of Aoiki Lake), can be an amazing place, but you have to search for the off-piste areas (I ain’t sayin’). I’ll give you a hint, though; you’re going to have to go off the resort at the second-to-top lift and the top lift.

Lastly, Tsugaike has some crazy steep runs and some unreal back country areas. It has the longest and steepest back country run that I’ve ever done but the out-track can be long and tiring. If you could replace the act of sex with snowboarding and say that the boarder and mountain are the two parties involved in the act of sex (boarding), then the back country (in Tsugaike) and I screwed our brains out several times last year. Beginners and intermediates need not apply to the back country in either of these last two places, but the resorts are fun in and of themselves.

In any case, when the snow is good, these places are spunk-a-licious powder places—as if God and all his angels had a massive orgy and blew their loads all over the mountain.

My recommendation is to definitely get to Cortina. The mountain is less crowded than the rest of the Hakuba Mountains, going out of bounds isn’t frowned upon, the ticket is cheaper and the powder is usually about twice as much as in Hakuba. It is my favorite mountain.

How much is it? A full-day is 3300 yen, and a half-day is 2300 yen. Here is the webpage: http://hakubacortina.jp/ski/

How do you get there? It is in Otari Village, just north of Hakuba. Follow the road (Chikuni Highway) that the Hakuba train station is on, going north out of the village. In about fifteen minutes or so on your right, there is a big sign with a massive Swiss Alps-looking hotel on it (and the hotel has a red roof). Just after that sign is a major left turn. Take it. Follow up the hill and in about 500m make a right to go up the hill more. Follow that road for maybe 5 minutes and you will see another sign (which looks the same) directing you to take a right. Then about another 5 minutes later you will find the hotel and a big parking lot (which does fill up on the weekends and you have to sit and wait for someone to leave, so get there early. Lifts open at 8:30). Here is what their webpage says for access:

http://hakubacortina.jp/ski/access/index.html

Nozawa Onsen is up in my top 3, maybe my favorite, it depends on the day. Nozawa catches so much snow - it’s always snowing up there - so it’s a great standby if powder seems to be getting scarce. However, you’ve got to get high up on the mountain and take the ‘course less traveled’ to get at the really good stuff. Sometimes this blurs the lines of where you are allowed to board and not

allowed, but the top of Nozawa has glades you are actually allowed to go down. I really like that area of the mountain. Also, Nozawa has a certain beauty that other resorts lack, with its

A Message from Meredith Habermann

Emma Pierce Evinces the Excitement

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ornamental, snow-covered deciduous trees scattered around you. The time you want to avoid Nozawa is during a snowstorm. Other mountains might not be hit so brutally, but I tried to venture to Nozawa once when the sky was crapping down snow and winds were high. It didn’t seem that bad when I was driving through Nagano, but when I hit Iiyama it was a different story. I almost got my car stuck in the blizzard on the way there, having to stop many times and wait for the visibility to clear. When I got there, the gondolas weren’t even open and I had to dodge tree branches flying at me while dealing with periodic white-outs on the way down the slope. It was exciting at first, but it got tiring and the runs were limited.

My best outing this year was at Hakuba’s Happone. It might have been the buckets of powder coming down that day, but Happone has a lot of really wide slopes with just enough steepness and obstacles to make the perfect powder day. The mountain is huge from top to bottom, too, making your run last that much longer. The downside is it can attract big, annoying crowds sometimes; if it weren’t for that, I’d probably rank it #1 so far.

Another one I can’t leave out is Goryu/47. The mountain pass lets you ski both resorts, so it’s probably #1 in my book for variety. At the top there is a little shrine you can hike up to, and nearby there are some less traveled routes where you ride through some untouched powder if you’re lucky and the day is right. The view from the top of this mountain is the best I’ve seen, too.

My resort of choice so far has been our local one - Yamadabokujo Wild Ski Park above Takayama. It’s not the biggest resort in the world and only has three lifts, but here are its plusses:

It’s super close to Suzaka (maybe 25-30 minutes by car).It has the longest ski course in Japan (13km) - but it’s best to be on skis as there are some

slow patches. It’s not really one for boarders.Open terrain - the mountain has been tamed so that there are off-piste sections, which means

that if you get stuck, you will be rescued and won’t get into any trouble with ski patrols.It’s a smallish resort, but this means that it’s a) very quiet with no queuing at lifts or dodging

people on the slopes, and b) reasonably priced: 1-day pass is 3500 yen, 1/2-day pass is 2500 yen, or 10-lift ticket is 2500 yen (which can be carried over throughout the season).

It’s been great going with my girlfriend who is a beginner, bless her. There are some nice easy runs for her to practice falling on, and I can leave her to it but it’s super easy to meet up because of the resort’s compact size. I can enjoy riding in the powder and she can enjoy the easy, quiet slopes. Everyone’s a winner!

The uppermost course is called the Panorama Course, and on a clear day the view alone is worth the money. Mountains seen from the valley floor are completely transformed as you look down on them from about 2000m and feel on top of the world.

There is a small snowboard park, which has a great kicker with a nice landing as well as a couple of rails.

The Sentiments of Sam Pritchard

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The resort offers backcountry tours with a CAT vehicle that can take large groups at once (haven’t done it, but looks awesome). The tours go off the back of the mountain into Shiga Kogen territory, or down the Takayama side and end up at the onsen there.

This year they’ve created a great website - no English, but it’s pretty self explanatory. Have a look:

http://www.yamaboku.jp/index.html

I’ve not eaten at the resort, but there are a few restaurants at the base of the lifts. I usually just go for half a day or do the 10-lift pass option, then it’s easy to get back into Obuse/Suzaka/Nagano for an onsen and some food. Takayama supposedly has some great onsen, but I’ve yet to sample one.

To get there: From Takayama, head east up into the mountains. Go through Okuyamada Village and just keep going up and up. There are 2 nice waterfalls (but frozen in winter) on the way, and numerous onsen. Yamadabokujo is at the top of the hill.

I love, love, love Seki Onsen. It’s 2,500 yen for a 12-ride lift pass or 3,500 yen for a day pass. It’s just over the border into Niigata-ken. From Nagano city, drive north on 18, and after you pass Myoko City you will see road signs for Seki. It’s around another 15 minutes of driving on ice

roads with 3m snow walls…don’t attempt without 4WD.

I think Nozawa Onsen is probably my favorite place. This year particularly there seems to always be new snow, and the runs are nice! Some areas can get a bit busy with long waits at certain lifts,

but most quad lifts offer an “I’m on my own” line. It’s worth queuing up in that even if you are in a group. Nozawa offers a decent snow park with a few jumps, rails, tabletops and a half pipe, too. You can get a 5-time pass for 2man, and it not only covers Nozawa, but Happo and a few other places too. The bad points... although Nozawa is awesome, it is expensive to get to from down south due to expressway fees and the long distance eating up your gas.

Lianne Stansbury Shares the Love

Rider Remarks by Ross Lawrie

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The Manifestoof a Reluctant Occasional Skier

By: Molly Conner

I never wanted to die the death of a rich white per-son. Don’t get me wrong:

I wanted to die a rich white person. I just didn’t want to die the way the most attrac-tive of them seem to go out: doing crazy things that no one in the world actually needs to be doing: bush piloting, deep sea diving, and skiing.

I realize that the previous statement is a bit loaded, but please bear with me.

Growing up, it seemed to me that every single time I saw a rich person (and we’re talk-ing rich, here. Not “my dad manages a BMW dealership” kind of money, but “my dad is Norbert Reithofer” kind of money) under the age of forty-five in the newspaper, it was in an article that read, “Tragic Accident Takes Fam-

ily by Surprise!” When

you read under the headline, though, there was never any real surprise to the death. Sur-prise deaths come completely out of nowhere.

A man is standing in line at Dairy Queen, deciding if he wants a bowl or a waffle cone (get the waffle cone, stupid). He reaches for his wallet when a rotator blade drops down from the sky, crashes through the store window, and lops his head off. That’s a sur-prise! A man pilots a tiny-as-hell plane through the Alaskan bush during a snowstorm and said plane crashes. Not a surprise. You expect a tiny-as-hell plane to crash during a blizzard. You do not expect to be crashed on by a tiny-as-hell plane while ordering a Blizzard.

A tornado rips a full-grown oak tree out of the ground. That tree then impales a woman walking her dog some two hundred miles away, in Kansas. A shocking tragedy! A woman is skiing through the backwoods of Vermont and runs into a tree. Still a tragedy, of course, but not a particularly shocking one. There are plenty of trees in the backwoods of Vermont. I’m pretty sure there are no trees in Kansas.

To be honest, I’m not certain that I ever actually saw a news story about a young person dying while deep sea diving. It just seemed to me like a

thing that had probably hap-pened somewhere, and thus got grouped in with the rest.

Bush piloting, deep sea diving, and skiing. I am not saying that the newspapers were wrong in labeling these deaths as tragic. Dying young is one of the most fundamen-tally unnatural things in the world. Of course they were tragedies. They just seemed, to my young self, like easily preventable ones. It made no sense to me that people would risk their lives in this manner when they could afford to go to go to Chuck E Cheese as many times as they wanted instead. Wanting to avoid a similar fate I reasoned that, all of 12 years old, the only thing I needed to do was stay away from the sports that rich people enjoyed and I’d be just fine.

It worked well for me. I played basketball and soccer without incident. I ran track. I tried my hand at shot put. I was bad at pull-ups. I went to college. I managed not to kill myself or anyone around me, which is pretty much the gold standard.

Deep-sea diving, bush pilot-ing, and skiing.

It was the latter that made the least amount of sense to me. While I couldn’t understand going so deep underwater that your lungs could actu-ally burst just to see some

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new species of goldfish, I could understand wanting to explore the vast depths of the ocean. I watched The Little Mermaid. I’ve been on a Jet Ski. I’ve got as much respect for the sea as the next person. I could even under-stand wanting to fly your own tiny-as-hell plane. We’re a generation raised on the The Rocketeer and Back to the Future with no access to rocket packs or hoverboards. A tiny-as-hell plane is the next reasonable solution.

“Skiing, I never understood in the slightest. Strapping two pieces of wood to your feet andgliding down a mountain?”

You’re basically giving the finger to the worlds of both physics and nature, daring them not to come together in an unholy union to strike you down. You’re saying to all of the snow covered trees and rocks in the world, “Hey guys! People say that you’re solid, unmovable masses. Being rocks and trees and all. But I’m gonna go ahead and challenge that notion. I think today’s my day.” Then you ski off on your merry way, asking that all trees and rocks

in the general vicinity not be solid and easy to run into.

Spoiler: they are and you will.

This world outlook in place, you can see how despite growing up a few hours away from the Poconos and living for two years in Colorado, I’d managed to make it 25 years without setting my feet into a pair of death trap skis.

And then I applied to the JET program.

And then I was placed in Nagano.

You’ll find that even the most stalwart resolve – a resolve that had gotten me through twenty-five years of graceful living – can crumble after months and months of the following conversation:

“Nagano! Great placement, eh? Do you ski or board?”“No.”“Sorry, which one?”“No. Neither. Not really into—”“[Insert rant here about how *I’m* the crazy one, not wanting to offend the worlds of nature and physics them-selves and all.]”

Eventually, it wears on you. Not unlike the first twelve hours of a cult initiation, your resolve is chipped away

at until you decided to give this unnatural thing a try. Just one time. I’m pretty sure that even Scientologists could learn something about recruitment techniques from the winter sports enthusiasts of Nagano ken. I mean that as a compliment.

So, I’ve skied now. I’ve been three times, and I am aw-ful at it. I mean – just really, really bad. And that’s a very real step up from the first time that I tried skiing. The first time I tried to ski, I got so sick of falling, losing my poles, and getting laughed at by five year olds that I took off my skis and, alongside a like minded friend, walked down the mountain in my klunky, calf-cramping rental boots.Now, at least, I attempt to ski all the way down to the bottom of the hill. Children still pass me by. They laugh and point. But I am com-forted by the knowledge that if these children and I collide they will almost assuredly die painfully, given that their skulls and kneecaps aren’t fully formed yet.

I’ve got my own skiing technique down pat, now. There’s an order to the way I do things. The first time that I get on top of the beginner’s course I freeze up, picturing myself colliding headfirst with a rock, tree, or person. It doesn’t matter that beginner’s

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courses are almost complete-ly free of rocks and trees. I know one will find me.

After that, I start to snowplow (though I prefer “pizza slice”) down the mountain. I go as slowly as possible. Then I go a bit faster. I fall. I freak out. My second time skiing, I fell down miles away from where any of my friends were and realized, sitting there with my butt in the snow and my pride having long since abandoned me, that while I sort of knew how to french-fry and pizza slice down the mountain…I didn’t actually know how to get up from a fall. I flopped there, limp and fish-like, for about fifteen minutes and then resigned myself to wait-ing for some passerby to fall down so that I could copy what they did to get up.

It was probably a low point in my life: shivering on the mountainside and praying not for help or salvation, but for another human being to fall down hard.

Eventually, someone did fall. I copied what they did and got out of my skis. Twenty minutes later, I finally man-aged to get back into them. Then I pizza sliced on my very unmerry way.

That’s been my first run for three times in a row: freak out, fall, freak out more,

finish. As I freak out,

the twelve year old inside me who had oh so long ago worked out a survival plan for us shakes her head. I didn’t have to be stranded on the side of a mountain, about to die. I could have been off riding dolphins or manatees or horses.

Twelve-year-old Molly’s plan for me also involved becom-ing a Marine biologist and part time cowboy. She was good at time management.

Sometime after my third run of the day, twelve-year-old Molly starts to shut up. I fall less. I stop picturing all of the solid objects that I can run into, and instead concentrate on the ground in front of me. In some brief moments, I feel like I am having what some people might akin to fun.***As I’m writing this piece, the manifesto of someone who reluctantly skis on occa-sion, I’m sitting at a small cabin in Hakuba. Yesterday, I managed to go down the hill twelve times. I fell a lot, but only had to get out of my skis once. My knees are not happy. People assure me that it only gets better from here on out. Granted – these are the same people who go on black diamond courses, with rocks and trees aplenty. So I am not sure how trustworthy their opinion is. A crazy man tells you that the sky is or-ange – he isn’t lying, it’s just

that the two of you see very different skies.

Last night, after a day at the slopes (and I feel the need to mention here how very strange it is to me, that I can now begin a sentence with “after a day at the slopes”), my friends and I stumbled into this same cabin. Weary and battle worn (half of our group consisted of people just learning how to snowboard, which is reportedly its own special subset of hell), we slumped over to the nearest onsen. I sat outside, as steam rose up from the water and small hills of snow surround-ed our own private backyard section of Hakuba. After that, we sat around the kotatsu and had a feast of kimchi nabe. We lapsed into those periods of comfortable silence that you can only have when everyone in the room is bone tired. We got into fights about winter beards, made plans for the next day, and asked the Canadians in the room to explain what the hell a “tuk” is. Between bites of spicy mushrooms, tender beef, and sips of sweet umeshyu, I think I finally started to understand what it is about skiing and snowboarding that so readily pulls followers into its flock.

Like any decent cult, it’s not the doctrine. It’s the people.

Lifestyle

[Editor’s Note: Tired of consistently being ridiculed for wearing one of his favorite colors whenever pos-sible, an ALT in Nagano did some background research and came across the following article. He was nice enough to share it with the magazine.]

It has come to my attention that pink has been getting a bad name and is being ridiculed as “unmanly.” Meanwhile pink wearing

people have been described as “neither male nor female” by some well-known authors. Here I will defend pink and show how it can change the world.

An article from an extremely reliable and respected academic journal (The Journal of Random Studies and Goodness) on how pink can save the world came to my attention recently. The study examines how pink affects the brain in different ways depending on its consumption. Visually consuming pink (in this case through looking at a globe placed in the centre of the room that had been covered in a pink cloth), and physically consuming pink (through the garmentation of pink) produced two slightly different, but nevertheless positive reactions in the participants. “this study has found a correlation between pink and feelings of happiness and peace.”

By placing the pink cloth over the globe and playing Enya in the background, participants gathered in the room began to experience a heightened sense of well being, peace and happiness. When the pinkness was expanded, by placing pink articles of clothing on the participants and repeating the process, the participants entered a state of bliss and began frolicking and prancing around the room like baby foals.

This study has therefore proved the link between inner happiness, peace, and pink, and suggests as a matter of course that pink be employed as the key colour in the formation of military uniforms, equipment…”

An examination of life, harmony, and virilityby Hugh G. Rection

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In Defense of Pink

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The study continues, but the main point has been made. That is, that the consumption of pink, either visually or physically, leads to happiness and peace. This has great ramifications for world peace, and as the author suggests, pink could be implemented in military uniforms to achieve this purpose.

Another study conducted by a famous and presti-gious Spanish research institution also comes to mind. The study examined how pink affected a group of men’s lovemaking when they had been wearing pink (in the form of socks, underpants, t-shirts) up until the act of lovemaking began.

“…the men, having been exposed to pink through wearing pink t-shirts, underpants and the like, began ravaging the women with such zest and passion that the women later described it as ‘the most satisfying moment in their lives’. “On a vi-rility scale from one to ten, the women described the men as ‘five f#”$ing thousand’, and all the 612 female participants have signed up for the follow-up research.”

Here we see the direct link between a man’s pink wearing and his virility. I believe that a pink wearing man could therefore be defined as “a master in the art of lovemaking” or a “multiple-orgasm-donor,” and can therefore be an asset to the appeasement of bad relations between men and women.

So, putting these two studies together, I have come up with the following theory. The effects of consuming pink in a number of ways cannot be overestimated. Not only would we succeed in creating a race of peaceful men, through their adoption of pink in a manner of accessories and clothes, but also, through their virulent lovemaking, generations of women will also finally find peace and happiness in the bedroom. Who needs wars when you can fight with your love juices every night between the sheets?

In the words of one extremely masculine and forward thinking person: “pink is not only a colour, but a way of life, man.”

Go forth, and pink.

Written, researched, and composed by:Hugh. G. Rection

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Lifestyle

A Thai Holiday

Lanterns at Night

photos by Dougal Graham

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Pink & White

Tempe Bell Roof

King’s Palace

Supper

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Wood Cage

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Travel

Giant Buddha

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A small comment on reverse culture shock. by Shannon Lough

From the moment you step off the plane and follow the crowd of passengers onto the speed walkway towards customs, everything already seems louder. An air flight attendant pushes her way past a dawdling family yelling, “Stay to the right, so people can pass!”

Then the airport employees seem to be raising their voices unnecessarily. It’s not the gentle, “doozo” or “sumimasen.” Only authoritative voices yelling “next!” and “over here!”

I love Canada, and the people here are generally friendly and welcoming, but after being in Ja-pan for a year and a half, I begin to feel like a foreigner in my home country. This is commonly referred to as REVERSE CULTURE SHOCK. All of my Canadian familiarities have become somewhat strange to me. The food portions are large. Restaurants and beer are more expen-sive and you have to tip. People seem to speak louder. Tax is added to everything so things seem cheaper when actually they’re not. The cars are big, they move fast, and the roads have too many confusing lanes. But there are some very welcoming differences: indoor heating is fantastic. I never noticed how big my parent’s house was before, or how much space they have to store food.

There’s just so much space. Backyard space, basement space, kitchen space. Yet, I can’t help but feel self-conscious about my actions around other Canadians. I feel overly polite and my English seems overly simplified with lazy grammar. I made a slight bow, unconsciously, when I tipped my hairdresser. When I offered a seat to a couple I gestured and said “please.” I almost feel more Japanese in my mannerisms than Canadian. I respond by making little “unnn” noises rather than my previous “uh-huh.” I have become sensitive and aware of a Canadian culture that I never knew existed, simply by becoming used to a vastly different culture.

Re-contracting time is coming up for a lot of ALTs (assistant language teachers) and it’simportant to be aware of the inevitable reverse culture shock when you decide return home. At one point during my vacation in Canada, I felt the slight twinge of homesickness for Japan. This is something I have yet to feel in Japan for Canada. This brief taste of reverse culture shock has allowed me to appreciate what I have in Japan: the gentleness of the people, feeling like a superstar for being the only blonde foreigner around town, the lightness and deliciousness of the food, onsens, mountains, my tiny apartment with my cozy kotatsu, endless outdoor activities on weekends, and practicing another language.

Embrace the enjoyments of culture shock that Japan has to offer, because reverse culture shock has always been the bane of my returns home.

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AN IMPORTANT QUESTION by Derek Hurst

One of the biggest questions in our collective human culture is what “makes” great music. It is a seemingly difficult question to answer because music is usually

considered to be an immensely subjective art. It seems there is no universal truth or maxim that exists in regards to what defines great music. Fans of classical opera would just as fervently defend their choice in music as fans of hardcore death metal. Yet throughout the centuries, there has been enough so-called “great music” made that I think we can at least loosely define the parameters of a great piece of music. To do this, we must first ask the question, what is the single best indicator of great music? And I think the answer is much simpler than would be expected. I would have to say that universal human appeal factor, in other words, the degree to which a piece of music can be universally enjoyed by the young and the old, the weak and the strong, the happy and the depressed, is one of the key components to understanding what makes music great. There is a reason that Mozart and Beethoven are loved around the world equally and why classical music has for decades been prescribed to expectant mothers. The reason is because it is accessible, that is to say that great classical music can be grasped by almost anyone. Its simple progressions and clear dynamics are as universally beautiful as a sunset or tranquil beach. But classical music is not alone in the claim of being accessible. Michael Jackson, The Beatles, Frank Sinatra. These are the timeless faces of great music. And they are not great because of clever market-ing, pretty faces or financial success. They are great because they are accessible and speak to the universal human traits that are present in every person. And they speak not through spoken language but rather through the language of the heart. They are beautiful, or there is a beauty in them that makes them appealing to the masses. Great music is simple enough that it can be understood by anyone, yet unique enough in its construction that there is a fresh quality to it. The four-chord progression, (I, V, vi, VI) has been used by almost every successful artist in history (at least since the mid-baroque) because it is easy on the ears. We don't have to have a Ph.D in music theory to enjoy Pachabel's Canon or Let it Be. Great music is unassuming, selfless and without ego. It craves not attention nor recognition, because it knows that those things will come naturally as long as it can be heard. Great music is confident and quiet. It doesn't need to scream to get its point across. And while I am sure there are excep-tions, these are the qualities, I think, that almost all great music shares.

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Today, a dear friend of mine posted an opinion that shook me to the core. Before reading it, I believed such notions died with the twisted fascist beliefs of World War II. Now I realize this disease is alive and well in our society, lingering on like a metastasizing cancer, eating away at the core of our being before we can even understand

how much of our society it has corrupted. I speak, of course, of Beardism. The Oxford Dictionary defines it as a belief in the in-feriority of beards to a clean-shaven face. These thoughts are often perpetuated by fearful minds unaware of their own ignorance, who claim that beards are too scratchy, or that they make men look like hobos. These cruel hearts pay no heed to the fact that the worth of a man’s soul lies in his ability to grow facial hair. Men have used facial hair for many things over the centuries, from signifying their ma-turity and wisdom to protecting faces from snow and ice crystals in cold climates. Additionally, soldiers have historically used it to cushion the chin straps of their helmets, and experienced climbers have lashed it to pitons as safety catches when climbing high cliff sides. Whatever the practical uses, one cannot deny the impact bearded men have had on our lives. Gilgamesh, the first hero of written history, as well as his dearest friend Enkidu, are never depicted as clean-shaven. In the famous epic, Enkidu tears the haunches off a heavenly bull us-ing only his bearded chin, saving the city Uruk from a massive flood. In classic swashbuckling fiction, actors such as Errol Flynn and Cary Elwes grow moustaches as thin and quick as the swords they wield. Would we not have walked out of the theater in disgust had a baby-faced Leonardo DeCaprio replaced them when their films debuted? The mastermind of visual art Salvador Dali himself claimed the darkness of his upper-lip was a window through which he scried his very soul. However, I understand the drawbacks to having friends and loved ones with beards. I myself had many uncles’ stubble grate my cheek every time we greeted each other at family reunions, so I am not a stranger to the discomfort. If you are concerned about those close to you growing uncomfortable facial hair, please consider grooming items such as trimmers, combs, and high-quality conditioner as Christmas presents for our bewhiskered companions. Under-stand that a scraggly mess can be turned into a shimmering lion’s mane with proper care. I am not proclaiming that bearded men are somehow superior to those unfortunate souls who cannot grow facial hair. I am simply asking for some understanding and acceptance. To ask a man to shave the beard on his face just tells him you want him to lock away the beard he already has in his heart. Realize that without beards, this world would be as pale and colorless as Chuck Norris’ cheeks when he shaves, and let these hirsute men of wisdom, innovation, and power lead the way through the snow-blanketed wilderness of our lives, chin-first. Sincerely,Anthony CieroMember of BOOBS (Bearded Organization Of Bearded Sensei)

In Defense of the Whiskered

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Ladies and Gentlemen of Nagano,

Al Gore never claimed to invent the Internet. Not enough people know that. The three-second sound clip that the media took and ran with was part of a much longer speech detailing the legislation that Gore helped enact to make the implementation of the internet as we know it today, possible. Marie Antoinette never told anyone to let her subjects eat cake. Jean-Jacques Rousseau attributed that quote to “an unnamed princess” in his biography, and most historians think he made up the anecdote entirely. Humphrey Bogart never said, “Play it again, Sam.” He said, “If she can stand it again, I can. Play it!” And like this eclectic mix of folk, I have lately found myself subject to egregious misquoting, based on out of context interpretations of one well-meaning statement.

On December 10th, 2010 I posted the following on Facebook:

“Gentlemen of Nagano Ken,

Winter is here. I know what’s going to happen next. I am writing to implore you, in the name of dignity itself, to stop any and all beard-growing competitions that you may be considering. These competitions break up families, guys.

Yours in Friendship (but not in Facial Hair),Molly Katherine Conner”

What has erupted since is a disagreement that has threatened the very core of Nagano ken, split-ting families apart and making men hesitant to pass one another on the street! This was the very opposite of my original intention. My original intention was not to discourage the use of beards themselves, but rather the haphazard beard growing competitions that occur among generation after generation of Nagano men each winter. I have only ever seen these competitions (and all beard growing competitions, home and abroad) end in a trail of broken dreams, clogged sinks, dulled razors, and very bored girlfriends.

I never said that I was anti-beard. I said that I was anti-beard growing competition. And the question that I would pose to Mr. Ciero is that if he finds beards so very sacred, and libel against them akin to pure blasphemy, why he supports such a superficial growth of them? Why would he encourage men to grow beards not for honor, but for the sake of peer pressure? I can’t think of a more shallow reason to don the facial hair that he claims is so dear to his heart.

In Defense of the WhiskeredA Gentlewoman’s Rebuttal

Beards Are Evil Twin Designators

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That being said...

Beards are classic indicators of evilness, and it is high time that we acknowledge the bulk of them for the crumb-catching, snot-collecting, makeout-ruining infestations that they are. I was going to keep this discussion purely in the realm of the actual world. But since Mr. Ciero wants to call in narrative examples, I can only respond in like kind. And while he my call upon heroes of old (heroes, I might add, that in addition to their heroic deeds are also famous for doing awful things to women and farm animals), let us never forget that we live in the present. And if media of the past fifty years has taught us any one thing about facial hair, it is this:

Beards and mustaches make you evil. Star Trek’s mirror universe has taught us this well enough, but there are plenty of other examples to pull from. I’ll use the ones that have already been referenced in pro-beard propaganda.

Chuck Norris? Tried to kill Bruce Lee.

Gilgamesh? Was such a jerk to his subjects that the gods sent Enkidu down to knock some sense into him. And he thanked them for it by completely abandoning his subjects to go pal around with the guy!

To Gilgamesh’s credit, almost all of the protagonists of ancient literature are jerks. And they’re all bearded. They’re all bearded jerks. Think about it.

Mr. Ciero has already helpfully pointed out one such individual corrupted by the beard – Westley. Yes, Westley, of that beloved childhood classic The Princess Bride. I can hear your outcry, friends, even as I type this. But think about it. First, let’s consider the matter on a purely ascetic level. I – alongside every woman that I have ever had this conversation with – prefer the Farm Boy look to the Dread Pirate Roberts ‘stash by far.

Next, let’s look at the personality shift that Westley went through wherein the hair on his face directly corresponded to the dickishness of his moves. We start off the movie with clean-shaven Westley. He works hard and loves Buttercup, separating from her not by choice but by financial circumstances. Flash forward five years later, wherein the now mustachioed Westley’s initial assumption is that his girlfriend, who has been mourning his death for half a decade and is now being forced to marry a spoiled prince who plans to murder her, is a gold digging hobag. But-tercup’s got no say in this whole engagement thing – the law of the land makes her the Prince’s property, and she’s got no husband around to protect her. Her fiancée is too busy playing pirate to drop a note saying that he isn’t dead. That is a dick move. Yes, Westley eventually goes on to save the day, but if he’d torn himself away from his beard-growing, sea-faring adventures a bit sooner and given his fiancée a heads up that he was alive and that she was morning needlessly, she wouldn’t have been on the market for Prince Humperdinck to snatch up in the first place.

Westley is just one in a long line of fictional characters whose emerging facial hair is also indicative of emerging jerkassness. While beards don’t always represent an evil twin, they are a direct visual indicator of a shift in a character’s development. When you see a previously clean-

shaven man start to grow a beard, something in their life has gone terribly wrong.

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A relative has died, they have been fired, or they are entering into a deep depression that will take ten episodes of a season or thirty minutes of a movie to climb out of.

If a friend around you starts to sprout facial hair, at best they are in the midst of some terrible personal tragedy and are now on a lonely journey of self-discovery. It makes for a good narra-tive, but a really depressing drinking buddy. At worst, they are not actually your friend but are instead an evil twin.

Which brings me back to one of the most pressing concerns about these winter beard-growing competitions: the threat of evil twins. If the men in Nagano go around growing beards arbi-trarily, how the hell are we supposed to tell them apart from their previously undiscovered evil twins? What follows is a visual breakdown of the horror that might occur, should fly-by-night beards and mustaches ravage our fair prefecture:

Meet Stephen Rogers. All around good guy. Puts in a full day’s work, loves his family, doesn’t make waves.

Oh, hey Stephen! I see you got yourself a fake mustache. That sure is funny. Anyway, can you help me repair my torn shoji? Great—

Okay, whatever Stephen. You are such a jerk with that mustache, but I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt since we’ve been friends for such a long time.

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Later, he murders me in my sleep. I don’t see it coming because I interpreted my friend’sactions as him having an off day, rather than the much more terrifying truth that he is an evil mustached twin.

I couldn’t have known. Everyone around me was growing facial hair, and I had just assumed that Stephen was too. Now this mustached guy is going to break Stephen’s stuff, insult his co-workers, and continue downloading music on Kazaa while everyone around him fails to notice

the funky smell of the real Stephen’s bloated corpse emanating from under the house.

But it doesn’t stop! He’s breaking guitars!

He’s on top of this kei car like some kind of angry monkey!

He’s downloading music off the internet using Kazaa!

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Evil twins. Would those of you considering throwing your chins into the beard-growing ring really leave the women (and men unable to grow beards) of this ken in such a vulnerable state? Where is the honor in that?

Yours in Vigilance,Molly Katherine Conner

P.S. It should be noted that those of you who wear beards year-round are off the hook – I al-ready know that you are the evil twin, and have taken the necessary precautions.

“I have a dream that my children will live in a nation where they will not be judged by the length of their beard, or the style of their mustache but by the content of their character, and the manliness they radiate through their whiskers.” I , Daniel Pierce, the designer of this magazine and slave worker to Molly, would like to add my 2 cents to this bristling debate. As a champion mustache grower since my college days, I have never had so much fun as when I dressed up as my hero, and all-around ladies man, Inigo Montoya. Without my mustache do you think I would have had the confidence to become who I am today? NO. Mustaches all around the world give otherwise shy and feminine look-ing men sex appeal and a reason to talk to women. Am I wrong in saying a swirly, fun-loving handlebar underneath someone’s nose makes you curious? Does a full, luscious beard not make you wonder, “what does that man keep in there?” (Except for Chuck Norris, who keeps a spare fist, we usually use them for spare change, and sometimes kittens.) As Tony mentioned in his piece, our beards and mustaches are useful tools in times of need, and a saving grace when someone needs a tickle. In winter, when it’s too cold to climb, my wife and fellow rock-climber uses my handlebars as a pull-up bar to stay in shape. I use it also to carry groceries when my hands are full, and for intimidation if I need to defend the beardless from bullies, or if my students get out of hand. I have to wonder, Molly, if Stephen’s evil twin murdered you in your sleep, how, if you’d be so kind, did you write your article? If your logic is flawed such as it is, how are we to believe anything you have to say about us inncocent bearded folk? Perhaps you have never had a beard to tickle you when you’ve been sad, or a heroic mustached man to save you from feminine “gurly men” (said in an Arnold voice) who probably stole your purse when you were younger to buy razors and men’s hair products. Here in Japan, where an average man spends more in salons than Justin Bieber, where they sell men’s pants tighter than Jocelyn Wildenstein’s face skin, we MEN need to hold on to our last bit of manliness. We need to fight the urge to contribute to Japan’s failing birthrate, and maintain our status as manly beings capable of making babies, like we were meant to do.

Daniel PierceMember/Co-founder of BOOBS (Bearded Organization Of Bearded Sensei)

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A while ago I found myself strolling along the Philosopher’s Walk in Kyoto, a long foot-path shaded by greenery accompanied by a small canal. Elenchus was with me. It was

just turning autumn, as I recall, and now and then a sudden gust would come along to pull the dead leaves from the branches and scatter them across the gentle ripples of the stream. I can’t remember what we had been talking about up to that point, but it was then that we saw Doxa of all people coming the other way. He called to us from a distance and hurried to meet us. He was a stocky, pinkish man and he shook my hand with his meaty grip as soon as he could. “It’s been a long time!” he said. Many years prior the three of us had been students in Osaka, studying abroad there. I was mostly focused on Japanese, Doxa was a business student, and Elenchus had been studying comparative religion. He came to Japan to study Buddhism, but he had since lost interest in religion—or maybe, he was still interested in the questions religion asks, but not so impressed with its answers. “When did you get back to Japan?” I asked. “Just yesterday, though it’s great I ran into you guys so soon!” Doxa replied. “It is, it is,” Elenchus said. “So, are you busy right now? Do you want to do some catching up? It’s been a least three years.” “I’d love to.” “Why don’t we sit down, then? Here, let’s go to one of these places.” Elenchus sug-gested, so we sat down at one of those small and overpriced coffee shops near the Walk and talked of where we’d been and what we’d done with our lives since we’d last seen each other, and the old days. “I remember that this guy,” Doxa said, wagging his finger at Elenchus, “was obsessed with Greek mythology. Always Apollo-this and Hera-that.” “It’s good to have a story to tell,” Elenchus said simply. “Let’s hear one, then, for old time’s sake.” “What kind?” “Whatever you want.” “How about one with action,” I suggested. Elenchus leaned back in his chair and cast his glance to the sky for a few seconds, and then said: “Alright, did I ever tell you the story of Typhon?” And Doxa: “It rings a bell, but go on.” “Long, long ago, when the world was still new, the Olympian gods found themselves the masters of the cosmos. Just before they had waged war on the Titan gods, their parents, and seized the universe from them, and just after that they battled the earth-born Giants. The world finally seemed at peace, but there was one last terrible challenge to face. The Earth, angry at

PROTREPTICUS

A Dialogue by Justin K. Ellis

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the deaths of the Giants, her offspring, brought forth Typhon, the last of her children. Typhon was a horrible beast. From the waist up he resembled a man, but from the waist down there was nothing but a jungle of serpentine coils; not one head he had, but a hundred like beasts, some like lions, others like eagles or snakes, all of them crying out with a hundred different voices. He was so tall that his head seemed to knock against the stars, and the wings proceeding from his back stretched from horizon to horizon. When the gods saw him they fled into Egypt, taking the forms of animals to hide themselves. Only Zeus, the youngest child of Cronus, stood his ground. “Zeus seethed with anger, and Olympus beneath his feet, the seas and the sky above, quaked with his rage as Typhon rolled on, spewing fire from each of his hundred mouths. Zeus gathered himself and leapt from the peak of Olympus, striking the monster with a single power-ful thunderbolt. Typhon was in an instant engulfed in flames, and Zeus hurled him into Tartarus, the deepest pit of Hades. Even today Typhon is the source of the fires that fuel the world’s vol-canoes. Zeus, having proven himself the most powerful being in all creation, became enthroned in heaven to rule all the universe, and does to this very day—so the story goes.” “So that’s how Zeus came to rule the world,” Doxa asked, “because he beat up a big monster?” “Among other things, yes, as far as the story goes.” “That’s not very lofty. I mean, it’s cool, but you’d think Zeus would have some more important place in the universe. It seems like he’s the king of the gods just because he’s stronger than everybody else.” And Elenchus said: “Indeed, and as poets like Hesiod tell us, Zeus is the most just of gods, so I suppose we’re meant to infer that might makes right, even up to the divine.” “That doesn’t seem right.” “You aren’t alone in thinking that. In fact, some sophisticated Greeks didn’t much care for this sort of story. Plato probably would have gotten rid of them altogether, if he could. I wonder, though, just what is it that’s supposed to govern the acts of a god—or our behavior, for that matter?” “I’ve often wondered about that myself—though I can’t believe it’s something like ‘might makes right’. At least, I hope not.” “I share your sentiments. Since we seems to have time, why don’t we explore this a little, if you want. But if you’re not interested, I guess we can stop here.”“No,” said Doxa, “you’ve picked my interest and I’d like to see where this takes us.”“So, shall we take as a hypothesis of sorts that there is something real about justice and injus-tice, or right and wrong in general?”“That sounds like a start.” “Let me ask you this then,” said Elenchus, “do you believe that whatever notion of right and wrong we may have come from God?” “To tell you the truth, no, I don’t,” Doxa replied. “I guess back in the day people really thought that you needed some transcendent person to make the rules and to tell us about them through

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g Eventsbooks or writing things on our hearts or whatever, but I don’t really believe that. I can’t really connect with that old stuff.”“No doubt. And here’s another problem for that view, an old one, as it were.”“What’s that?”“It’s a dilemma, and it goes like this: are things right (or wrong) because God says so, or does God say they’re right or wrong because they are? For example, is murder wrong just because God happens to say so, or does he tell us not to murder people because it’s actually wrong? If murder really is wrong and God’s just telling us about that, then he’s not the author of morality after all. On the other hand, if God’s say-so is the only thing that makes murder wrong, then it would appear morality is arbitrary, and if God had said otherwise, rape and murder would be virtues and charity and kindness could be vices.”“Well, I never thought about it that way, but I guess that puts God out of the picture. I’m not really sure I believe in God, actually.”“Putting that question aside for the time being, what are we left with? You said a moment ago that you did believe in a difference between right and wrong, so what do you think we should do? Where do we find value?”“Here’s what I think: we create value ourselves. It’s our actions as intelligent, free-willing hu-man beings that give things their value. For example, there’s nothing about baseball that makes it valuable in itself, but by my own valuing it becomes valuable.” “That’s a fine answer, Doxa, and one no doubt pregnant with ideas, but I see a problem.”

“What?”

“It’s the same dilemma we just met, I think, or the very image of it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Do we value things because they really are valuable, or do they somehow become valuable just because we value them? This second option seems to be what you’re aiming at, but I don’t see how we’re supposed to recover objectivity from that. It looks like we could just value things arbitrarily.”

“I see what you mean, but it wouldn’t have to be totally arbitrary, Elenchus.”

“Good! What have you got?”

“It’s pretty straightforward: People value things because they make us happy, because they give us pleasure.”

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riting“That is a clear and straightforward answer, and I certainly wouldn’t doubt that pleasure is some part of happiness, but it also worries me.”

“Worries you? I know it’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, but I can’t believe you’ve become such a curmudgeon that you’re afraid of pleasure.”

“It’s just this: pleasure is such a shifty and multiformed beast I’m worried about how we can pin it down and exact value from it. First, there are different pleasures for the mind, the spirit and the body, we might say. While there are innocent pleasures that only help us, there are others that just waste our time or even hurt us.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Besides, while I’m old fashioned enough to look for some objective base for right and wrong, even I’m not so crazy to think pleasure is anything but subjective.”

“That’s right; people have a thousand different ideas about what’s enjoyable.”

“And with all these different notions, this Hydra of pleasure, I wonder how we can come to a common ground about the good or value. There are people out there who would betray their companions and ruin friendships without regret and even pride, so long as it granted a night that pleased them. We wouldn’t call this good, though, would we?”

“Of course not!”

“So, pleasure, itself by itself, is not the source of value, as we reckon.”

“Apparently.”

“So where do we go from here?”“I think trying to define justice and the others in terms of pleasure was probably too abstract. Let me say this instead: right and justice come to us from our nature as animals, from evolution. Our moral sense comes from what is most likely to make us survive and reproduce, just like our other behavior—being able to tell the difference between the ‘us’ of our species or family and the ‘them’ of others and not attacking the ‘us,’ for example. And because we as animals are driven by pleasure and pain, it ought to factor in how we think about all this.”“Good, keep going.”“I still think pleasure is good, but this time I think we have an account of why we should worry about others and not just ourselves. It’s part of being the social animals we are that we ought to work for the pleasure of others. To do otherwise is contrary to our nature.”

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g“That’s an interesting approach, though I fear the old troubles with making goodness the same as pleasure are still with us. Yet I think there’s another problem. Just a moment ago you men-tioned what we ought to do, but I wonder, how do we get ought from is?”“What do you mean?”“Science tells us about how the physical world is. In the final analysis it tells us about particles with such-and-such charge and mass and spin and whatnot; it tells about how what is and how it is. But at no point does science come to tell how something ought to be. Science just describes the physical world by observation and experimentation; it doesn’t say how it should be.”“But what’s your point?”“We still have to ask just why we should do some things and not others. Why should we work for the greatest happiness? Why should we live in accordance with our nature? I don’t see how these questions and others can be answered with mere descriptions of how things happen to be. Besides, we can imagine a world where the physical constants are different—maybe the gravi-tational force is a little stronger, or electromagnetism works differently—but I don’t see what bearing this would have on, say, justice.”“So what are you getting at?”“I don’t think the physical properties of the world have that much with to do with what right and wrong are. Consequently, neither do the facts of biology.”“But the evolution of our behavior must have something to do with how we treat each other.”“I think you’re right, but look at it this way. Evolution has endowed us with brains able to tell us that 2+2=4, but our think that 2+2=4 isn’t what makes it true. If I’m on the right track, our ability to act moral isn’t the same as what it means to be moral. So now what?” “I really don’t know, Elenchus,” said Doxa. “Maybe we should give up on this search, even if we don’t want to. Maybe there really is no standard of right and wrong.” “Maybe, but let’s not surrender quite yet. I think I may see a way out of this labyrinth we’ve trapped ourselves in, even if it is a bit obscure.” “What?” “Maybe we have the duties we do just because that’s the way things are.” “That’s not very impressive.” “I realize it sounds dogmatic, but listen. We’ve seen that an objective ethic can’t come down to us from either God or nature, society or our own whims, so if we’re not going to fall into nihilism and relativism, we should at least consider it. Maybe right and wrong are sown into the fabric of reality just as the laws of mathematics and logic are, and we intuit the most basic ethical concepts just as we intuit axioms. ‘Two plus three equals five, and it couldn’t be otherwise; murder, all other things being equal, is wrong, and it couldn’t be otherwise.’ Some-thing like that we might take as a new hypothesis.” It was at this point that I cut in: “That is an interesting way of looking at it; if I’ve got you right, you mean that ethics should have some sort of family resemblance to math. Just as pure mathematics is removed from concrete and particular situations, so a pure theory of ethics

should lift itself above the accidents of how things happen to be and turn its attention

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ritingto the abstract and universal, to how things should be. Moreover, it should be necessary, not arbitrary, if it’s to be an ethic at all.” “That’s right,” replied Elenchus. “You grasp my point quite clearly. I can tell you’ve given this idea some thought yourself.” “I have,” I said, “but here’s the thing, you want ethical propositions to be like those of math and logic, but the truths of, say, algebra are tautologies; it’s a matter of absolute neces-sity that they be true. ‘Coldblooded murder is virtuous,’ could at least in principle be true, in as much as it doesn’t involve out-and-out logical contradiction.” “I think you’re right,” he said. “If it’s even possible that, say, murder could be good, then it can’t be on the same footing as the truths of mathematics.” “I worry at times that there isn’t any rational basis for morality, despite what we might hope for.” “Perhaps we were asking for too much.” Elenchus sat back and pondered this for a few moments, and glanced back up at the sky. I reflexively did the same, and saw a few patches of sun breaking through the clouds. Then he said: “Perhaps, however, we can make some progress.” “How?” I asked. “First, let’s ask, just what do we mean by ‘rational’?” “I’m not totally sure, to tell you the truth. I like to think I’m a rational person, and can think of examples of being rational, but now that you press me on a definition, I can’t seek to think of one.” “But would it have to do with beliefs, maybe?” “I think it would.” “And also evidence?” “That too… I think I’ve got it now. I call it being rational when you hold a belief thanks to some evidence or justification. A belief is rational when you have some reason for it. How does that strike you, Elenchus?” “That sounds good to me. Now, one more thing: if I give you some argument ‘P’ (it could be anything) and then give you proof of it, aren’t you compelled to believe P?” “I would have to, if I wanted to be rational.” “But isn’t this the same as saying you ought to believe P?” “You’re right!” “So far from it being irrational to talk about ought and should, we find that these no-tions are indispensable for reasoning at all…” “And if there’re grounds for keeping ought in general, then it seems reasonable to hang on to it in the case of ethics.” “With this in mind, then, where should we turn our attention? To theology, or sociol-ogy, or biology?” “No, you and Doxa ruled those out.” “Then where?”

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g “To just what we’ve been talking about all along, to justice and right and goodness, to what’s actually subject to definition—to the concepts themselves. If we’re to discuss ethics intelligently, we might start with them.” “You took the words right out of my mouth, my friend. If we can analyze these con-cepts and see how they relate to each other, then we just might make progress. But if we want to be loyal to our original hypothesis—that there is something objective at work in ethics—then I think we’ll have to investigate the nature of the concepts themselves: first, if they even exist, and if they do, if they’re thoughts or stand independently, and if they’re independent of our thoughts, if they exist in physical things or apart from them.” “And at this point,” said Doxa, “I’m going to bow out. Interesting as all this has been it’s getting a little heady for me.” “It’s just as well,” Elenchus replied. “It’s already getting close to dusk, and we should probably get going. Why don’t we keep talking over dinner?” “I’ve got plans, I’m afraid.” “Listen,” I said, “we’re going to do onsen this weekend, why don’t you come with?” “Sounds good to me. I’ll be in touch.” So we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. As Elenchus and I walked back to the station I could just make out the Sun setting behind the clouds. Elenchus said that he thought our discussion had been pretty incomplete, and that it deserved to have each point fleshed out and freed from the coils of confusion I thought so too.

Boarding BlissPlentiful, puffy and plowed.

Overcast, o2 and open mouthed.

Winter, wind whistling.

Darkly, dreadfully drifting.

Experience every extreme.

Ride, race, redream.by Richard Gomes

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additional winter linksLesson Repo: http://lessons.tfiaa.com

This is a relatively new site created by Dougal Graham and designed by your friendly Yomoyama designer, Daniel Pierce. Have a lesson that was reallysuccesful? Need a lesson that’s really successful? Upload or download lessons to your hearts content with Nagano’s own Lesson Repository! All you need to do is sign up and follow the instructions. Enjoy!

Snow Japan: http://www.snowjapan.com/

The gold standard for information about winter sports in Japan, with helpful slope guides, links, and an active message board.

Additionally, there are some great resources for winter sports archived right here on the website! Check out these the following two pieces, contributed last ski and snowboard season by Kate McDougall and Ben Raven:

Ski Season Prep 101: http://yomoyama.ajet.net/2010/02/ski-season-prep-101/

Ben’s Ski Guide to Nagano: http://yomoyama.ajet.net/2010/02/bens-ski-guide-to-nagano/