This is the second part of a dictionary of Japanese erotic vocabulary I have been compiling over the years. The left column has the term in kanji (pictographs) followed by the phonetic English spelling in parenthesis, with the English translation in the right column.

色男　(iro otoko) a paramour, a lady killer

色女　(iro onna) a concubine

色気　(iroke) sex appeal, sensuality

色気付く　(irokezu ku) arrive at puberty

色好み　(irogono mi)) sensuality, lust

色気違い　(irokichigai)      sex mania

色狂い　(irogurui / irokichigai)      sex mania

色町　(iromachi)      red-light district

色里　(irozato)         red-light district

色事　(irogoto)        love affair, love scene

色事師　(irogotoshi)           philanderer, lady killer

色話　(irobanashi)   love story; love talk

色敵　(irogataki)     love rival

色狂い　(irogurui)   libertinism, dissipation

裏返しにする　(uragaeshi ni suru)          go back to the same prostitute again

花魁　(oiran)                courtesan, high-class prostitute

男狂い　(otokogurui)         wantonness; running after men

男役　(otokoyaku)               woman impersonating a man

女食い　(onnakui)              a philanderer

女道楽　(onnadōraku)       sensual pleasures, debauchery

女の姿になる　(onna no sugata ni naru)             disguise oneself as a woman

女たらし　(onnatarashi)    a lady killer, a philanderer

花柳　(kanryū)         geisha girls, courtesans; red-light district

花柳界　(kanryūkai)                red-light district

花柳病　(kanryūbyō)                 venereal disease

官能的  (kan no teki) sensual

官能的快楽 (kan no teki kai raku) voluptuous pleasures

姦する (kan suru) rape; violate; have illicit intercourse

姦婦　(kanpu)          adulteress

姦淫　(kannin)         adultery

姦通　(kantsū)         adultery

姦通者　(kantsū)     adulteress

姦通罪　(kantsūzai)       crime of adultery

Sapporo is a very young city. Nevertheless, it spreads over 430 square miles, and is Japan’s third largest city in area and fifth in population. It is the center of politics, commerce and culture for the major northern island of Hokkaido, and it is the hub of communications for all domestic and international travelers to the region.

Hokkaido, which was once called Ezo, was originally inhabited by the indigenous Ainu people, whose footprint can be found on the island in many of the place names. There are indications that Japanese settlers arrived on Hokkaido in the 7th century to trade with the Ainu, but it was not until 1821 that the Tokugawa Shogunate established a trading post on the Ishikari River, near present-day Sapporo.

In 1855, the Shogunate officially annexed the whole of Hokkaido and established government offices at Hakodate, on the south coast of the island. Two years later, two families moved into the Sapporo area and became the first official residents of the region. Soon after, the government changed the name of the island from Ezo to Hokkaido and serious colonization began.

The government established the Kaitakushi, or Development Commission, to plan and develop the island’s resources. They decided to construct a capital for Hokkaido on the Ishikari Plain. Thus began the transformation of Sapporo from a small farming village into the major administrative center of Hokkaido. The Kaitakushi encouraged immigration by subsidizing transportation costs and providing food for settlers who were prepared to assist with defense preparations and development of the region.

The city planners created a green belt to divide the city into northern and southern portions. Today, Odori Park plays a major role in the seasonal events of the city by hosting major events such as the Sapporo Snow Festival, Cherry Blossom Viewing and the Sapporo Summer Festival.

Construction took place at a furious pace. The Kaitakushi office was completed in 1871, with other government buildings, such as the Old Hokkaido Government Building (Akarengo) going up around it in the northern part of the city. Meanwhile, south of Odori Park, the commercial and entertainment districts started to take shape.

Settlers arriving from Honshu were encouraged by the Kaitakushi to introduce Western production technology for capital-intensive farming and to establish lumber mills, breweries and mines. To facilitate the introduction of technology, Sapporo Agricultural College was established in 1876. In the same year, Kaitakushi Brewery, Japan’s first real beer brewery opened in Sapporo. The original Sapporo Brewery building is now home to the famous Sapporo Beer Garden.

In 1880, as the economy developed, based on raw materials and agriculture, Japan’s third railroad was constructed to link Sapporo with Otaru, a major port to the west. Sapporo prospered as the city oversaw the transportation of agricultural produce, such as wheat, potatoes, corn and asparagus, as well as raw materials like timber and coal. Gradually, the city replaced horse-drawn trolley cars with electric streetcars.

The Hokkaido Government was established in 1886, and it quickly set about encouraging private investment in the region. An influx of businessmen from Honshu, followed by immigrants looking for higher paying jobs in the new territories, saw the area’s population rise drastically from 1900 to 1920. Sapporo’s post-war history is one of rapid growth and development as well, bringing the population to over one million by 1970.

Sapporo appeared on the world stage in 1972, when the city hosted the 11th Winter Olympic Games. To accommodate the Games, Sapporo instigated a development program that included construction of its subway system, underground heating for roads, and some of the best winter sports facilities available, including the fabulous Okurayama Ski Jump.

Adding to its reputation as a sporting city, Sapporo was a venue for group games in the 2002 Korea/Japan World Cup. In preparation for this, the city constructed the Sapporo Dome, a multipurpose venue that is one of the most modern stadiums in the country.

Sapporo is unlike any other Japanese city. It has wide streets, parks and green belts, and its sporting facilities are second to none. In such a short time, Sapporo has grown from a trading post to a city that is known throughout the world.

“Who the hell does that fucking left-winger think she is?” said the prime minister, as he slumped into an armchair. “The trouble with these commies,” he continued, raising his right buttock off the chair to cut loose with a rasping fart,” is that they are all wind and no substance.”

“I hope that was only wind,” whispered Takeuchi, the prime minister’s private secretary, to a young colleague. “The last time he followed through with the substance, I had to take his pants to the cleaners.”

The prime minister settled back in his seat. “Who’s ever heard of a prime minister having to apologize for making a little joke?” he growled. “That’s the trouble with people today. No fucking sense of humor. Political correctness is a load of shite! Besides, it’s true. The horse did get an erection as she walked past. Millions of people saw it on television. And the horse had to be withdrawn from the race.”

“That the horse was withdrawn from the race,” said Takeuchi, is beyond dispute, Prime Minister, but I don’t recall noticing that it had an erection.

“I noticed it,” snapped the prime minister.

“Unfortunately, the video recording does not show the horse in a state of arousal,” responded Takeuchi.

“Videos can be doctored,” snarled the prime minister, his eyes practically on fire.

“But, Prime Minister,” said Takeuchi, “I was sitting next to you when the race came on TV. In fact, you even told me that you had word from a good source that the horse was going to win the race and that you had placed a bet on it. Besides, the horse was withdrawn from the race before the leader of the opposition walked past. And the official statement from the race track puts the withdrawal down to a leg injury.”

“Bollocks!” screamed the prime minister. “It was that frigging mini skirt that got the horse withdrawn. “Why, even Nancy practically got a hard on when she walked past—and he’s a puff!”

Takeuchi sighed. He knew that it was pointless to argue with the prime minister; so decided to get on with the business. “We have to resolve the situation with the female opposition member of parliament before it gets out of hand.”

“Bullshit!” growled the Prime Minister. “The woman must be an absolute fool if she thinks that she can take legal action against me unless I apologize publicly for making a little joke? He eased himself up and again farted violently. “She’ll have to prove that I said it.”

“But you did say it to at the press conference,” said Takeuchi.

“I was speaking off the record, so those bastards had no right to quote me.”

“But, Prime Minister,” said Takeuchi, “I’ve told you many times that if you speak off the record, you should make it very clear in advance. It’s no good saying it after you are quoted in the newspapers.”

“She shouldn’t be in politics if she can’t take a joke,” responded the Prime Minister. “And if she doesn’t like jokes, she shouldn’t have joined a party which is the laughing stock of the whole country. Socialism went out of style with the ridiculous mini skirt she wears—and that was twenty-five years ago.” He let go with another explosive fart.

“In any case, Prime Minister,” said Takeuchi, “I recommend that you be careful about what you say from now on.”

“Balls,” screamed the Prime Minister. “I’m the Prime Minister, so I can say any fucking thing I want to.”

“There is also the comment you made about her breasts. That got on the front pages, too.”

“I only said that they were great, pendulous things, and it’s true. They are huge. I wouldn’t mind if someone said that I had a whopping chopper. In fact, I would be very pleased. Nobody’s ever said it though. I’m not like Setoyama. People say that to him all the time, and they are not kidding. He’s got an incredible dick. Have you seen it?”

Takeuchi, who was a bureaucrat not a politician, did not answer, instead he changed the subject.

“I hate to bring this up, Prime Minister, but the opposition have called for a session of the Diet tomorrow to discuss the Jusen business. I think we should have a cabinet meeting to plan our strategy for this business.

The Prime Minister glared at Takeuchi. “It’s that bloody woman again,” he snarled. “First she accuses me of sexual harrassment, then she implies that I’ve been taking bribes.”

“I think you are overreacting, Prime Minister,” said Takeuchi. “She didn’t accuse you of taking bribes, at least not directly.”

“Like hell she didn’t. She said that there were certain member of the Diet guilty of taking kickbacks from big business, especially the construction industry. Then she asked me if I were happy in my new house.  If that is not an underhand accusation, I don’t know what is. Everybody knows that my new house was not a bribe, it was a birthday present from one of my best friends.”

“Who just happens to be the president of one of the largest construction companies in Japan,” said Takeuchi. “And one week after your birthday his company was awarded the contract to build the new government training center.”

“Whose fucking side are you on,” asked the Prime Minister, “mine or hers?”

“Yours, of course, Prime Minister.”

“You didn’t hear me threaten to sue her for her accusations, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” said Takeuchi. “But I heard you call her a horse-faced lesbian with a dick for a tongue. So did about five hundred others who were present in the Diet this morning.”

“Well, she is a lesbian. Everybody knows that.”

“I understand you logic, Prime Minister, but just because she is forty-eight years old and still single doesn’t mean that she’s a lesbian. Besides, last week you said that she had serviced the entire shadow cabinet after their Christmas party. There seems to be a contradiction there somewhere.”

The Prime Minister farted aggressively. “By the way, have you made reservations for the Yanagi tonight? I’m having a drink with Setoyama and Nancy.”

“Yes,” sighed Takeuchi. “I confirmed the reservation this morning. Would you like me to arrange for your driver to collect you when you are ready to go?” He got no answer, so he turned around. The prime minister was fast asleep.

This is the first part of a dictionary of Japanese erotic vocabulary
I have been compiling over the years. The left column has the
term in kanji (pictographs) followed by the phonetic English
spelling in parenthesis, with the English translation in the right
column.

秋の色 (aki no iro) sensuality, lust, sexual passion

遊女 (asobihime) harlot, prostitute

言い寄る (iiyoru) make (sexual) advances to a woman

淫心 (inshin) sexual passion

淫行 (inkō obscenity, harlotry

淫乱 (inran) debauchery, lewdness, lasciviousness

淫売 (inbai) prostitution

淫売婦 (inbaifu) prostitute

淫売宿 (inbaiyado) brothel

淫奔 (inpon) lewdness, lasciviousness

淫事 (inji) lascivious act

淫風 (inpū) lewd manners; immorality

淫書 (insho) pornographic book

淫婦 (inpu) harlot

淫欲 (inyoku) lust

淫猥 (inwai) indecency

淫楽 (inraku) carnal pleasure

淫蕩 (intō) dissipation, lewdness

淫慾 (inyoku) lust

淫靡 (inbi) impurity, lust

淫茎 (inkei) the penis

淫部 (inpu) pubic region, private parts

淫毛 (inmō) pubic hair

淫奔 (inpon) wantonness, lustfulness, lewdness

陰茎 (inkei) the penis

陰核 (inkaku) the clitoris

陰嚢 (innō) scrotum, testicles

]]> http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/10/04/japanese-english-erotic-vocaubulary/feed/ 0 chapan http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/04/02/politicians-puffs-and-pubic-wigs/ http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/04/02/politicians-puffs-and-pubic-wigs/#comments Wed, 02 Apr 2008 07:05:51 +0000 chapan http://chapan.wordpress.com/?p=56 ]]>

Chapter 3—Hair, There, and Everywhere

[This story is serialized so if you wish to read the chapters in order, please go to the categories: humour, nonsense, books, characters or Japan.]

By the time the elevator arrived at the fifteenth floor Mr. Horie was practically ecstatic. A quick telephone call to the company president was all it had taken to organize an impromptu meeting of all company executives and senior managers. Now they were all shuffling along to the executive board room, and he, Kenji Horie, was practically guaranteed a speedy promotion into an executive position.

In the executive directors’ room, Horie quickly introduced Yasuda and briefly told all present that their guest had a proposal that would rejuvenate the company. Everybody bowed. Yasuda flashed a blinding smile, swept a long strand of hair around his head and strode over to the table. He placed his briefcase on the table and stepped back. All eyes went to the case.

Yasuda’s smile took on a slight sleazy tone as he stepped up to the table,  opened the case, and threw a hairball into the middle of the table. The clock struck eleven. Every single man around the table stretched forward to get a closer look at the hairball. They all shot back in their seats when Yasuda started speaking.

“The merkin,” said Yasuda, pointing to the hairball, “has been stashed away in museum basements for too long. It’s time to bring it out of the dark and dank storerooms of history and put it where it belongs.” He paused and took a long swig of water. All eyes went back to the hairball. “And the merkin,” he continued, “belongs in the pants of every young woman in this country!”

Ono almost choked as he tried to stifle his laughter.

Horie thought he was hallucinating. I must be hearing things, he thought. What the hell is he talking about? He started to sweat. He noticed that Ono, who was standing by the door, was smirking. That bastard, he thought, he’s set me up. I’m in the shit. What the hell is this fucking madman going to say next? When Yasuda did start speaking again, Horie almost started crying.

“In Renaissance Italy merkins were extremely popular.” Yasuda’s voice sounded to Horie as if it were amplified. “In fact, they were the best selling fashion accessory throughout the 15^th and 16^th centuries.” Again Yasuda took a drink of water. “For practically two hundred years merkins were flying off the shelves. Merkin designers, developers and merchants were superstars of the era. They were some of the richest men in the world.”

Horie sneaked a glance at the company president. His face was blank, as was the face of every other director present. But Horie knew that behind the masks, they were all as confused as he was.

“The rebirth of the merkin should start here, in Japan,” said Yasuda. “Women today are more hygienic than they were in the seventeenth century.” He chuckled. “In those days the women had crabs here,” he said, vigorously scratching his crotch.

Horie amost fainted.

“They had crabs there,” continued Yasuda as he raised his left arm above his head and scratched under the armpit. “In fact,” he continued, “the dirty buggers had crabs everywhere.” He scratched his head with both hands, moved on to both armpits, and he finished off on his crotch. The directors, mouths hanging open, stared at Yasuda in disbelief at what they were witnessing.

Then the president coughed and looked at Horie, who followed the president’s eyes to the furry object and then on to Yasuda. He knew what was expected, and there was no way he could avoid it.

“You say it’s called a merkin,” said Horie.

Yasuda turned slowly to where the question had come from. He placed his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply, inflating himself like a poisonous blowfish. Ono felt like dancing. Horie was about to get a kick in the teeth and he, Ono, although vicariously, was about to deliver it.

“Of course it’s a merkin,” said Yasuda. “What does it look like? A fur frigging hat?

Horie almost choked. Around the table mouths dropped even further and expressions of shock and horror replaced those of astonishment.

“Er, no,” said Horie. “But what exactly is a merkin used for?”

The tension in the room started to rise as Yasuda focused on Horie. “A merkin,” he said at last, “is a pubic wig. What do you think it’s used for? Wiping your sweaty brow?” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and threw it at Horie. “That’s for wiping your brow.”

Instinctively, Horie took the handkerchief, wiped his brow and then continued. “I’ve never heard of a merkin before. Why would anyone want a pubic wig?”

“You’ve never heard of a merkin?” Yasuda was incredulous. “That’s why this company is going down the drain. If I were your boss, I would grab you by the short and curlies and drag you around the room until you wished you were wearing a merkin!” He clenched his fist at crotch height in Horie’s direction and skipped backwards miming the scene he had just described.

“The merkin,” said Yasuda as he leered at the young lady serving green tea, “enables even the most hirsute females to shave their private parts and maintain a canopy of modesty at the same time.” The young lady almost dropped the teapot. Yasuda continued. “Hairs can get stuck in your teeth. I’m sure you’ve all suffered this embarrassment before. But if there are no hairs around the object of attention, you eliminate the problem of having to dental floss a short and curly out of your teeth.”

The young lady turned quickly and hastily left the room. Yasuda paused while his greedy eyes followed her legs out of the room.

The company president coughed to attract Yasuda’s attention. “Mr. Horie is a little old fashioned,” he said. “Why don’t you explain the ….. er ….. merkin to him?”

Three minutes later, Yasuda’s laptop was set up and he was ready to begin his presentation. “The merkin,” he said enthusiastically, “was invented in Egypt toward the end of the Third Dynasty.” With a click of the mouse 2600 BC appeared on the screen.

“Merkins were first used by the pharaohs but eventually the custom was taken up by all well-born Egyptians. They achieved the highest popularity during the Twenty-first Dynasty, which was about 1000 BC.” Another mouse click produced a time-flow chart of Ancient Egypt.

“In fact,” said Yasuda, as he fished around in his briefcase, “this belonged to the royal lady Istemerken, wife of the High Priest Merkhenperre.” He threw a sorry-looking piece of matted fur onto the table. “It’s almost three thousand years old.”

One of the executives leant forward until he almost touched it with his nose. His nostrils flared and the pupils of his eyes seemed to dilate before he pulled back in horror.

“Merkins were popular in Persia by the middle of the 10th century BC. We know this from the works of Xenophon, the Greek writer, who described the shock he received the first time he saw one. He was in a brothel in Ecbatana, the capital of Media in Persia, where he was guest of Cyrus II, who was also called Cyrus the Great. After the gentlemen had consumed a great deal of wine, the dancing girls came in. Xenophon stood up to relieve himself but stumbled and as he fell he grabbed at one of the girls. Her merkin came off in his hand, and he fainted with shock. When he came to, he was still holding the merkin. The other guests were howling with laughter and Cyrus explained what had happened.

Greece 401 bc appeared on the screen and Yasuda continued. It wasn’t long after Xenophon arrived back from Persia that the merkin took off in Greece. Practically everyone wore a merkin. If you don’t believe me, take a good look at the genitals next time you see a Greek statue. There’s not a single pubic hair on any Greek statue. If that isn’t proof, then I don’t know what is.

The company president nodded in agreement with Yasuda and the other executives followed suit.

“Of course,” continued Yasuda, “the Spartans didn’t wear merkins, and we all know what happened to them, don’t we?” Everybody nodded. “They literally buggered themselves out of history. Spartan pederasty was legendary throughout the ancient world. It is a well-known fact that in all their battles, the Spartans never once managed to take any male prisoners. Their enemies all fought to the death. Mind you, we can’t blame them, can we?” Everybody shook their heads.

A crude image of a man bent over a table with a dozen men lined up behind him appeared on the screen. “That’s what would have happened to anyone foolish enough to let himself be captured by the Spartans. And they didn’t have Vaseline in those days!”

One of the executives winced, another turned crimson.

“The Romans conquered Greece in 146 bc and one of the first things they did was to start wearing merkins. In fact the Romans took the merkin to a new level,” continued Yasuda. “Messalina, the nymphomaniac wife of the Emperor Claudius, was known to have a whole wardrobe of merkins. She liked natural hair, and had pubic hair imported from all the fringes of the empire. She had black merkins made with hair shipped from India, flaxen and red haired merkins from Germany, as well as fair hair from Gaul. She was reported to have been meticulous in her selection when she went on her romps in brothels: one day she would pose as an Indian princess, the next as a slave from Germany.”

By now Horie was convinced that he had gone mad or had fallen asleep and was in the middle of a bizarre nightmare. He took his pen out of his pocked and stabbed himself in the leg. His scream distracted everyone temporarily; then they all focused their attention back on Yasuda.

“The Romans,” said Yasuda, “were notoriously cruel. But they were also ingenious, especially when it came to inventing excruciating punishments. And there was no Roman emperor with more imagination than Caligula, who was a drunken pervert. He used to murder his enemies by stuffing a merkin down their throats.” He paused to absorb the horror his words had induced, and he reacted with an obscene smile before continuing, slowly and deliberately. “Moreover, gentlemen, he never used a clean one. No, not Caligula! He would scour the brothels looking for the dirtiest and smelliest merkins he could find.”

Yasuda paused and a collective shudder when around the room. “Christianity was the downfall of the merkin,” continued Yasuda. “The Council of Constantinople in AD 692 issued an edict excommunicating Christians for wearing merkins, but this did not stamp them out: it only drove the wearers underground. In fact, as a result of this edict, a secret society sprung up, and it still exists today. It has rather a sinister reputation, unfortunately, for it is believed that this organization wields an extraordinary amount of political and economic influence. And now and again the ugly head of intolerance rears up and the members have suffered horrific persecution.”

Horie noticed the company president was fully focused on every word that Yasuda said. And he seemed to be nodding in agreement with the madman or he was on the verge of falling asleep, something he did in practically every meeting.

The next visual appeared. It was a visual of what looked like the beard of Leonardo da Vinci. “As I have already told you,” continued Yasuda, “the renaissance saw the second coming of the merkin—everybody wore one. This is the one worn by the greatest artist and scientist of the time.” He then rattled off the names of a dozen historical characters who had been patrons of the obsolete hairpiece.

Horie stared at the screen, totally bewildered about what he was seeing and hearing. It is peculiar, he thought to himself, that every merkin Yasuda displayed seemed to resemble the beard or moustache of the man who wore it. Nietzsche, Stalin, Hitler and Salvador Dali all wore merkins that resembled their moustaches, while the merkins worn by Confucius, Marx, Freud and Abraham Lincoln were all styled after their beards.

“But it is not only famous historical figures that can wear a merkin,” said Yasuda. “Anybody can, and everybody should. I’m wearing a merkin as I speak to you right now.” Then, to everyone’s surprise, he dropped his trousers, pulled off his merkin and threw it into the middle of the table beside the other two. Then, totally exhausted, he slumped into a chair and sighed.

For a split second there was a tangible silence, then, almost simultaneously, the entire management team stood up and started applauding wildly.

Yasuda was invited to lunch in Le Grand Coq, the exquisite French restaurant that was haunt of the aristocracy and corporate elite. The lunch was a boisterous affair, and the only topic of conversation was the merkin. That is until Horie finished his third glass of Chateau Neuf de Pape and, in the loudest possible voice, suddenly began talking about the female pudenda.

The restaurant fell silent; the head waiter tugged at his bow tie and looked nervously around at the other guests; Baron Ozeki, a distant relative of the Emperor, threw his knife and fork down and stormed out swearing never to come back; the cook came out of the kitchen to see what all the excitement was; and Keiko Ono giggled behind her hand while the her latest lover, the president of a large construction company stood up and threatened to smack Horie on the nose.

Yasuda took the ancient merkin out of his pocket and threw it across the room. A photographer from Good Morning Shinbun, the newspaper with the largest circulation in Japan, and an even larger reputation for scandal and smut, reached for his camera and snapped a shot just as the merkin landed on the chin of the irate executive. The photograph appeared on the front page the next morning with the caption “Van Dyke or Van Dick?”

The executive issued a summons against the newspaper for libel, but withdrew it when he discovered that the photographer also had a shot of him with his hand up the skirt of Keiko Ono during their lunch.

]]> http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/04/02/politicians-puffs-and-pubic-wigs/feed/ 0 chapan http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/03/19/pee-and-pubes-on-the-menu/ http://chapan.wordpress.com/2008/03/19/pee-and-pubes-on-the-menu/#comments Wed, 19 Mar 2008 08:28:13 +0000 chapan http://chapan.wordpress.com/?p=55 ]]>

Although the Japanese authorities turn a blind eye to most of the sexual establishments that openly flaunt the law—prostitution, for example, is illegal, but brothels operate over the country—the police in Osaka raided a cabaret club last December and arrested six of the employees and one male customer for indecent exposure. What one may asked prompted the police to take action in this case? Well, it would seem that a self-styled “sexual cabaret club” had ignored repeated warnings “for going too far”.

When the police entered the club they found the female employees, totally naked, servicing their male clients, who were in various stages of undress. One of the customers greeted the policemen by flashing his genitals at them, and for this act of defiance he was promptly arrested. The others, who were more discreet with their gentials, were just warned and released.

The club offered an exotic menu of sexual services to its hardcore regulars—and the service started at the door. On entering the club, the customer would be given a hot towel, which the hostess had first of all used to wipe her genitals, to wipe his face. He would then be served a drink of the hostess’s urine on the rocks—the hostess would insert the ice into her most intimate part before putting it into the glass. Next on the menu would be an array of snacks sprinkled with pubic hair.

After the food and drinks the real business would begin. Trousers would be lowered or removed entirely and the customer would choose his preferred sexual act from a list that featured hand and oral stimulation as well as penetration of either of the lower orifices. And this all took place in one room that could cater for up to twenty customers simultaneously.

The closure of one club is not going to make much of an impact on Japan’s most profitable industry—the sex trade—and it is not even going to drive the clubs underground. In fact, nobody would be surprised it the club were to open up again with an even more outrageous range of activities on the menu.

© Charles R. Pringle 2008

All rights reserved

While the city of Yokohama is a relatively recent phenomenon, the immediate area is a treasure chest of historical sites. These include the Otsuka and Saikachido sites dating from the Yayoi Period (300BC – 300AD), and Kamakura, the capital during the Kamakura Shogunate (1192 – 1333), which has a plethora of ancient temples and historical sites as well as the Kanazawa Bunko Library that was founded in 1275. The history of Yokohama itself, however, only started in the middle of the 19th century.

On July 8, 1853, a fleet of four American warships under the command of Commodore Matthew Perry arrived at Uraga, just south of Yokohama. Perry was carrying a letter from the President of the United States to the Emperor of Japan demanding that Japan open itself to international trade. After handing over the letter, Perry left Japan saying that he would be back one year later for an answer. Little did anyone realize that Perry’s visit would lead to the elevation of an obscure fishing village on the southwestern coast of Tokyo Bay into the second largest city in Japan. But that is exactly the effect it had.

At the time of Perry’s visit, Japan was under the control of the Tokugawa Shogunate, which had been established by Ieyasu Tokugawa after his victory in the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600. Ieyasu established his capital at Edo (present-day Tokyo) and Yokohama came under direct shogunal jurisdiction.

In 1636, the Shogunate introduced an edict forcing total isolation on the country. No one was allowed in (with the exception of a small group of Chinese and Dutch traders, who were confined to Dejima, an artificial island just off the coast from Nagasaki), and no one was allowed out. This policy was strictly enforced until Perry arrived. Although the Japanese were loath to open up their country to foreigners and dangerous foreign influence, the sight of Perry’s steam-driven warships, which the Japanese called kurofune, or “black ships,” startled them. They realized that they were technologically inferior to the Americans and that if it came to hostilities, they would be hard pushed to defend Edo against the powerful cannons on the American warships.

When Perry returned in 1854, the Japanese signed the Kanagawa Treaty opening two ports, Shimoda and Hakodate, to American ships. In 1858, the US-Japan Treaty of Amity was signed, opening up six ports to foreign trade, including Kanagawa. One year later, the trading rights for foreigners were transferred to Yokohama, a sleepy little fishing village at the time. Thus began the transformation that was to turn Yokohama into one of the most famous port cities in the world.

Yokohama was selected as the base for foreigners as it was far enough from Edo to prevent unnecessary contact with the foreigners, whom the Japanese called ketojin, or “hairy barbarians.” The settlement was surrounded by a moat and divided into two sections: kangai (outside the barrier) and kannai (inside the barrier). The foreigners were located in Kannai, which has since become the very heart of the city.

Relations between fanatic Japanese isolationists and foreign traders were tense. In the first year, five foreigners were murdered. Things came to a head in September 1862 when Charles Richardson, a British merchant, was hacked to death by the bodyguard of the daimyo, or “lord,” of Satsuma (now Kagoshima). Great Britain declared war on Satsuma and exacted retribution.

As the foreign traders flocked to Yokohama, the village was transformed into a hub of commercial activity and subsequent development. It grew in significance as a port in 1872 when the first railroad in Japan connected Yokohama with Shimbashi in Tokyo, and in 1889 when it was constituted as a city with an area of 5.5 square kilometers and a population of 116,193.

Yokohama has continued to grow ever since, despite two major disasters, one natural and one induced by man. On September 1, 1923, a major earthquake hit the Kanto Plain, measuring 7.9 in magnitude on the Japanese scale. Yokohama was practically obliterated by the seismic shocks, the devastating fires that swept through the city and the tsunami tidal wave that followed. Reconstruction efforts quickly restored the port and its function as a gateway to the nation. But in May 1945, as the Pacific Front of World War II moved to Japanese soil, most of the business areas and more than half of the port facilities were destroyed by American air raids. By 1952, the port was again reopened, this time with more modern shipping and railway facilities that established Yokohama as one of the world’s great commercial centers.

In 1985, when the population of Yokohama passed the three million mark, the city was already planning for the future. One of the most important projects in the city’s history was announced. This was the development of Minato Mirai 21. The idea behind this project was to create “an information city of the 21st century incorporating an international culture center that was active around the clock” and provide a “human environment surrounded by water, greenery and history.” A visit to this fascinating waterfront area will confirm the accuracy of that vision and just how far Yokohama has come since Perry’s Black Ships first sailed into Uraga Bay.

© Charles R. Pringle 2007

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The Japanese have never been shy or squeamish about sex. Modern Japanese have an ambivalent attitude toward the subject: on the one hand they feign shock and horror at the mention of sex; on the other hand pornography — soft and hardcore — is ubiquitous, and sexual establishments offering extensive menus are found throughout the country. It is hardly surprising then that shunga, the woodblock prints once considered mass-market erotica but now viewed as high art, originated in Japan.

Shunga, which translates as “images of spring,” evolved from matrimonial manuals for newlyweds called makura-ebon or “pillow books” that featured graphic images of foreplay and a gamut of sexual positions deemed essential to a successful marriage. In the 1680s, however, when advances in technology reduced the time and cost of producing woodblock prints, the focus of the erotic prints switched from one of education to one of titillation.

With this switch, a new name for the genre was coined. Shunga, as it became known, is a combination of two words: “shun” from “baishun” (“selling spring” — a euphemism for prostitution) and “ga” (picture). This term was chosen because most shunga dealt with the world of prostitution, a flourishing industry in Edo (now Tokyo) by the 17th century.

Edo’s population suffered an imbalance of the sexes — there were thousands of samurai or male vassals in the service of the shogun, or feudal lord, quartered in the city and very few available women — that greatly boosted demand for prostitution. This demand was met with the establishment of Yoshiwara, a twenty-acre brothel complex housing over 3,000 prostitutes. It was here that shunga was born.

Shunga prints were originally created to advertise the facilities in Yoshiwara, including the tea houses, restaurants and theaters, as well as the brothels. But the new art form quickly took on a life of its own, portraying every imaginable form of sexual activity from straight heterosexual acts through sodomy, pedophilia, bestiality and a wide range of fetishes. Hand scrolls and albums featuring shunga soon became popular, and the prints were enjoyed by both men and women of all ranks, from the very top of society to the bottom.

To Westerners, shunga prints were originally difficult to assimilate. The sexual acts in many of the prints are often grossly caricatured, with outrageously proportioned genitalia — perhaps because native Japanese religions practiced phallic worship — and extraordinary sexual positions. The subjects are frequently reduced to graphic icons with facial features that seldom vary.

The distinct lack of expression on the faces of the subjects, especially the women, is a characteristic of shunga. In the shunga The Masseur and the Girl, the woman featured is surely about to bite off more than she can chew, yet her face remains expressionless. Most women confronted with such a monstrous male organ would certainly appear surprised. The Older Women and the Young Man, however, is one of those rare prints in which the women do show expression, this time at the sight of the young man’s enormity. One of the women looks absolutely thrilled, while the other appears shocked.

Nakedness in itself was not considered erotic. Public nudity was a way of life for the Japanese — mixed bathing in public bathhouses was the norm — before the country opened up to the West and adopted many of the sexual repressions of the Victorians. Consequently, most of the figures in shunga are either clothed or half clothed, with only their genitalia exposed, a condition that was and still is considered highly stimulating by the Japanese.

In the restricted living spaces of old Japan — and to some extent, those of today — sexual activities were often semi public, so it is no surprise that group sex scenes also feature in shunga, as do scenes in which a couple are having sex in front of children. An exaggerated perspective of Japanese open-mindedness can be seen in At the River’s Edge, in which a group of people unashamedly pleasure each other.

Another common feature of shunga is the presence of a voyeur. In The Voyeur, the watcher is a woman and more than likely a younger prostitute observing the performance as part of her training. In The Cuckold, however, the man hiding under the futon to observe the tryst has a contorted facial expression that could mean he is masturbating, another common theme in shunga. The characters engaged in the sexual activity are usually blissfully unaware that they are under observation, no matter, as in the print titled Out of the Mosquito Net, how blatant the act of peeping is. An interesting twist on the role of the voyeur in shunga is the man in Unnoticed Affair. Hearing a noise in the room beneath, the man strains his ears and is surprised at the noises coming from below. “I’ll have to ask the wife,” he says to himself, “if she’s ever heard that sucking noise down there.”

Unlike countries bound by Christian ethics, Japan has never frowned on masturbation. It therefore comes as no surprise to find that self-stimulation frequently appears in shunga. Voyeurs peeping around a corner or through a space in the shoji (sliding screens) at a copulating couple are often masturbating. Women are often shown stimulating themselves while a man looks on, as in Man Watching Woman Masturbate, or a woman taking a man, often a younger than her, in hand, as in The Boy and the Older Woman.

In the creation of shunga, reality usually took backseat to artistic freedom. In Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife by the renowned ukiyoe artist Hokusai, an octopus — with the eyes of a lecherous man — is performing oral sex on an ecstatic woman. Female abalone divers, who dived for shellfish in the costal areas, were popular subjects in shunga, and were occasionally depicted pleasuring themselves with sea creatures such as a sea cucumber, an animal that, like the male penis, stiffens and ejects a jet of fluid when stroked.

Although there was no stigma attached to shunga — all the great Japanese woodblock artists produced them — the arrival of Commodore Perry in 1858 was the beginning of the end for this unique art form. A new form of morality was imposed on the country and shunga disappeared from sight. Fortunately, most of the prints were saved and now appear in museums and art books around the world. The exception is Japan, where, ironically, shunga is proscribed as pornographic.

© Charles R. Pringle 2007

All rights reserved

It was Darren’s first visit to Japan, and it had started off so well that he was practically delirious. The meeting with his client, contrary to his expectations, had been no more than a mere formality. In less than one hour the client had agreed to sign a contract giving Darren’s company the right to handle all of its PR in the European market. It was a contract worth an initial million dollars, and potentially many more to follow. Try as he might, Darren could not keep the smile off his face thinking about the bonus he would be getting.

Lunch with the general manager of his client company’s PR division and two young office ladies was a boisterous affair. They dined in a French restaurant in Akasaka and his hosts insisted that he drank wine. Throwing caution to the wind, Darren swilled his way through two bottles of red Burgundy, oblivious to the fact that the others at the table sipped one glass each.

Throughout the meal the questions kept coming and Darren felt good to be the center of such intense attention. He mentioned that it was his first visit to Japan and that he had three free days to explore the country before he returned home. He asked for tips on how to really appreciate Japanese culture.

It was the general manager who suggested an onsen (hot spring resort). Darren had no idea what an onsen was but, with the wine taking over his reasoning, he expressed the wish to visit one. The general manager excused himself from the table, went outside the restaurant and made a call on his mobile. He returned to say that he had arranged an overnight trip to an onsen in Tochigi-ken, and that they would be leaving at four o’clock the following afternoon, which was a Friday.

At three-thirty the next day, when he arrived at his client’s company to set out for the onsen, he was surprised to discover that he would be traveling in a group of eight. Besides himself, there was the general manager, his assistant and five young ladies. His trip to Japan, Darren thought, was becoming more like a trip to paradise. In fact, he had to pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming.

It was a three-hour drive to the onsen in the Toyota Hiace, and Darren enjoyed every minute of it. The general manager sat in the front with his assistant, who was the designated driver, while Darren and the five ladies shared the back. There seemed to be an endless supply of beer and snacks and from the minute they set off, the ladies kept Darren’s paper cup topped up. In fact, they even seemed to be competing for the pleasure of pouring his drinks.

By the time they arrived at the onsen and pulled into the ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) car park, Darren was feeling light headed. Nevertheless, Darren could handle his liquor so he managed to conceal this from the others. As soon as they checked into their rooms—the three men were sharing one, the ladies another—the general manager announced that there was time for a bath before dinner.

There were three baths, the general manager told him—one for ladies, one for gentlemen, and one shared by both ladies and gentlemen. He asked Darren which he preferred. Darren decided not to opt for the mixed bath in case it led to problems later; so, dressed in yukatas (light, casual kimono), the men and women went to their respective bathing areas. Eager to relish the whole Japan experience, Darren decided to ‘go native’ and do everything exactly as his hosts did. He watched the general manager cast aside his yukata and, covering his private parts with a small towel, go to the washing area, where he proceeded to scrub and shower himself with vigor. Darren did exactly the same. When the general manager was finished washing himself, he stood up, strode over to the steaming pool and stepped in without even testing the water. As he dropped to a sitting position, an expression of sheer bliss spread across his face. Darren, despite feeling a little self-conscious at his nakedness, decided to take the plunge. As he carefully moved over to the hot bath, concealing his private parts as he had seen the general manager do, he realized that everybody in the bath was staring at him. He decided to throw caution to the wind and plunge straight into the bubbling water. After all, he reasoned, if the general manager could do it so could he. How wrong he was! In practically one fluid movement, Darren stepped into the bath, screamed and jumped straight back out. He heard someone stifle a laugh and when he looked around everyone, except for the general manager was smiling.

He recovered from his embarrassment by making a joke, which the general manager quickly translated. Everybody laughed. Darren’s lower body was burning, so was his face. A few minutes later, however, he got back in—this time with a little more caution. Although he felt as if he were being boiled alive, he managed to stay in the water for a few minutes. By his fourth dip, Darren was starting to enjoy the experience. Suddenly there was an announcement, and most of the bathers got out and started washing themselves again. The general manager told Darren that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes, and that they would have to get out now or miss the meal.

Still a little embarrassed at being naked in a room with about twenty complete strangers, Darren kept his eyes down—unlike many of the others, some of whom were making no attempt to conceal their efforts to get a look at his private parts—as he dried himself and donned the yukata as quickly as possible. Perhaps things would have been different had he only looked around the changing room.

As soon as he entered the dining room, Darren knew that he was in trouble: there wasn’t a chair in sight. The spacious room was furnished in the traditional Japanese style of low tables with cushions for seats on a tatami (tightly-woven straw mats) floor. The room was partitioned with low screens to give each group—there were at least a dozen groups of various size—some semblance of their own space. The ladies were already seated and they waved the gentlemen over when they saw them. As he moved past three different groups to get to his table, Darren felt the eyes following his progress. Somebody shouted “Harroo,”and Darren turned and smiled at a red-faced middle-aged man who raised a beer glass. Everybody else at the table laughed. Three of the ladies were sitting at one side of the table, two at the other side with a space between them. They gestured for Darren to sit down in the space. The general manager and his subordinate took their places at the ends of the table. It was going to be difficult, Darren realized, to seat himself without exposing his private parts. Nevertheless, with a great deal of effort, he managed to sit down with embarrassing himself.

As the general manager sat down, his yukata swung open. Darren noticed that he was wearing striped underpants. For a split second Darren was stunned. He had not seen any underpants in the bathing area, so he had assumed that everyone was, like himself, naked under the yukata. His first thought was to excuse himself, rush up to his room and get into his underpants. Unfortunately, before he could move one of the ladies grabbed a bottle of Kirin and filled his glass. The general manager proposed a toast and Darren emptied his glass in one gulp. That set the pace for the rest of the meal. Before he could even put his glass down, another of the ladies filled it up. For the next thirty minutes Darren bent his elbow with the fluency of a gypsy fiddler while the others admired his “strong” drinking.

Darren was, in fact, a confident and competent beer drinker. When it came to stronger alcohol, however, he was not so sure of himself; but he would try anything. So, when the general manager called for sake, Darren accepted the challenge. And the ladies started pouring sake at the same speed they had been pouring the beer.

Before long the room started spinning and Darren began to feel unwell. He wasn’t sure if he were going to faint or throw up. He also needed to go to the toilet. Very carefully he managed to stand up, holding the front of his yukata securely closed. He tried to step sideways to pass the lady sitting to his right but his legs wouldn’t move. He started swaying backwards and forwards then he felt himself falling backwards. He bounced off a screen behind him and then crashed through it. For a split second the room fell silent; then it seemed to explode. Lying on the tatami (straw matting), conscious but unable to move, he heard ladies screaming and men roaring with laughter. Flashes from digital cameras and mobile phones came at him from all angles, and was surrounded by grinning strangers. He noticed that one of the girls in his group was covering her eyes with her hands. But the fingers were open and her eyes were focused on his exposed private parts. Then he passed out.

When he came to the next morning, to the sound of music followed by an announcement from a speaker outside his room, Darren found himself tucked into a futon. He vaguely remembered trying to get up from the table, but little of what had happened after that. The general manager told Darren that breakfast was being served and that they should hurry up otherwise they would miss it. A few minutes later, Darren threw some cold water on his face and followed the general manager down to the dining room. The reception he got when he entered the dining room surprised and shocked him. Spontaneously, everyone either burst out laughing or started applauding. One man jumped up and ran across to shake his hand. A group of four surrounded him, all flashing the peace sign, to have their photograph taken. Darren, totally perplexed, was desperately trying to figure out the reason for his sudden celebrity status when the general manager gestured for him to sit down.

After a gulp of hot green tea to lubricate his parched throat, Darren asked the general manager what all the fuss was about. The general manager looked at him incredulously and said, “Don’t you remember what happened last night?”

Darren shook his head, so the general manager continued. “You were sleeping on the floor over there for more than an hour. And you had no pants on, which we all found a little strange.”

Darren almost choked on his miso soup.

“Is it a custom in England to eat dinner without your pants?” asked the general manager, winking at one of the ladies.

Suddenly Darren remembered everything. He wished the he could disappear into a crack between the tatami. But that did not happen. Instead, one of the ladies poured him some more tea. Darren’s face turned even redder as he realized it was the lady who had given his genitals a thorough inspection through her open fingers.

He started to apologize, but the general manager cut him off. “There’s no need to apologize, Darren-san. In fact, we would all like to thank you for making this trip so memorable. I don’t think any of the guests here will ever forget last night. Nor will any of the staff. They all came to see you, even the cooks.”

Back in Tokyo Darren got one more surprise. He took the film from his camera to have it developed and when he returned a few hours later he discovered that six photos had not been printed. He asked to use the lightbox to look at the negatives of the six shots that had not been printed. To his astonishment, and that of the young lady in the shop, the six missing prints all featured shots of his private parts—and many of the diners in the restaurant. In one shot, Darren, his yukata hiked up around his waist, was surrounded by six grinning strangers, three of them women, flashing peace signs. In another, a man was holding his sexual organ with a pair of chopsticks while others howled with laughter.

Darren could hardly believe his eyes—nor could the young saleslady. He snatched the negatives from the lightbox, and dropped them on the floor. The young lady picked them up and gave him a very wide smile as she handed them to him. Darren quickly paid and left the shop.

He managed to avoid any more embarrassment on his last day in Tokyo, but he swore he would learn from his experience. He decided that the next time he “went native,” whether in Japan or anywhere else in the world, he would find out exactly what the natives did first.

© Charles R. Pringle 2007

All rights reserved

A small restaurant in the station complex at Shinkoiwa in north-east Tokyo has stopped serving a unique delicacy—noodles and rice dishes based on mouse curry. The tachigui restaurant (literally means “standing eating,” and is a small restaurant with a counter at which you stand and eat) served thirteen meals featuring this original dish before it discovered the mouse in the pot.

Apparently, on 13 March from 6.15 AM to about 8.30 AM the restaurant sold four bowls of curried soba or udon (different kinds of noodles), seven bowls of curried rice, and two curry set meals using the curry sauce in which an 8-centimeter-long mouse had been slowly simmering. The curry was made with meat, vegetables and a 3-kilo roux pack in a large pot before the restaurant opened, and had been selling well. As the cook added more roux to the pot and started stirring it, he noticed something that looked like a ball. When he removed it from the pot he discovered that it was a mouse.

Nobody knows how the mouse ended up in the pot but there are three theories: it was in the roux, it was in with the meat and vegetables, or it fell in while tasting the brew.

The restaurant stopped serving meals as soon as the mouse was discovered, and has apologized for any anxiety it may have caused. It has also offered to refund anyone who may have eaten any of the curry dishes. So far no one has complained about their meal.

© Charles R. Pringle 2007

All rights reserved