Cambodia is a country that is far from healing the wounds of its recent and violent past. People still leave in great fear that horrors similar to those of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge might one day befall them. Even younger generations born after the end of the genocidal regime carry this fear in their hearts and minds. And it is because of this fear that it is hard for Cambodians to give clear-cut opinions on just about anything, no matter trivial it might be.
In Cambodia everyone avoids talking about the Khmer Rouge or the war that followed the 1978 Vietnamese invasion. Nevertheless, a few days ago I had a brief and unexpected conversation with a gentleman that has always given me the impression of having an enormous self-confidence, the kind that is available only to those who have lived through extremely hard situations.
In a rather unusual moment of spontaneity, my acquaintance told me that the value of peace is truly understood only those who have lived in the jungle and from what it provides. Another man that was with us interrupted to note that my interlocutor had spent 16 years eating fruits and the occasional wild game in the jungle. As a matter of precaution I limited my response to an anodyne “it must have been a terrible and difficult time.” My acquaintance smiled and told me that he knew what I wanted to ask. He then told me that he spent all that time fighting against Pol Pot’s army.
Still playing cautious, I uttered that people who live in societies that have been at peace for a long time sometimes do not know how to value peace in a way that is not abstract. He laughed and said that it had not been the years of fighting that reminded him of the value of peace. Neither had the corpses nor the many moments of hunger he endured.
It was a friend of his who reminded him of the value of peace. One day, while they were on patrol, his partner stepped on an anti-personnel mine that tore a leg off. While his friend was undergoing surgery (or what could have passed for surgery in a war zone where doctors had less than the absolutely and minimally essential tools) and unconscious, my acquaintance worried about the severe depression his friend would fall into upon waking up to discover he had lost a leg.
My conversation partner told me that his friend became, after waking to find himself an amputee, filled with happiness. “How is that possible?” I asked before my acquaintance could continue his story. His friend was happy because he would no longer have to fight, because he would not have live anymore with the fear of being captured and tortured by the Khmer Rouge, who probably would have ensured he died a slow and painful death.
These powerful reasons were not, however, the main reason behind my acquaintance’s friend’s happiness. His happiness stemmed from knowing that his family would visit him to take him home.
A couple of weeks ago I had to make a photocopy of my passport. When I turned to the page containing my Japanese visa I realized that it had expired the day before. I had mistakenly assumed that it expired a couple of months later.
I went to the Japanese Immigration Bureau’s website to find out what documents I had to submit to renew my spouse visa (配偶者ビザ). Afterwards, I called the immigration office in Shinagawa to make sure the site was up to date and that there were no changes to the paperwork I had to present to the authorities.
When I explained to the officer that took my call that I had made a mistake because I had written down the wrong expiration date for my visa, she told me –in a polite, yet grave and terse tone– that it was urgent that I fix my situation at once since the expiration of my visa had made me subject to deportation. I replied that I understood and that it was my intention to renew my visa. The officer, with a certain tone of annoyance, emphasized that I had to take immediate action because my expired visa simply meant that I had no visa at all, which further meant that I was illegally in Japan, contravening its laws and thus in a “criminal situation.” She also told me that I had to furnish a letter that carefully explained why I had let my visa expire and why I deserved a new one.
While I was preparing all the documents required by the immigration bureau, I read several gaijin fora and postings on visa renewals and cases similar to mine. I was surprised to read that apparently in Japan it is not rare for a person with an expired spouse visa to get deported, regardless of how long he or she may have been married and any children he or she might have. Having a family does not change the fact that you are a guest in Japan, which reserves for itself the right to deny admission at any time.
The day I went to the bureau I put on my best nice guy face and made sure that my explanation letter was thoroughly apologetic and sang the praises of Japan. I had to line up twice at the immigration office. At the second counter I visited I had to wait some 20 minutes (of the 35 I spent on the whole) while immigration officers checked my documents and my odes to Japan and while I answered some redundant questions about my mistake/lapse and my enduring desire to have the honor and privilege of having a Japanese visa.
When I was done answering questions, a very polite officer asked me to wait. He returned with a sheet that was written, singled spaced, with a list of the gazillion documents they could ask for (there was no request for DNA samples). He asked me for certified copies of my most recent tax return and a transcript from the most recent educational institution I attended. I thought the second requirement was odd, but did not ask any questions about it (later I would find out that somehow good grades are a sign of being an upstanding citizen). Nevertheless, I did ask what was the maximum number of documents they ever request since the list was truly gargantuan. The officer replied that there are cases in which they ask for every document from that near-infinite list.
When my visa was finally ready (exactly on the day they had promised), I went Shinagawa again. While I was waiting for my ticket number to be called, I amused myself observing other gaijin. Fate would have it there would be an ugly westerner, who was furious because they when they called his number they returned his passport with a visa denial and telling him how many days he had to pack his bags.
Later there were two rather taciturn men waiting to be called. When they got their passports back they were so happy they began to jump, hug and kiss because their visas had been extended for three more years. I thought their reaction was a little bit over the top until they walked right past me, allowing me to see their Iranian passports. That brief moment definitely reminded me that simple things one takes for granted are considered a privilege by others, even a Japanese visa. As a result, I stopped looking at my situation as a comical case of absent-mindedness and decided to be glad I am no longer a criminal.
Three beautiful womenA few days ago I accidentally found the Beautiful Women Clock (美人時計： bijin-tokei). The site does not indicate what its objective is or why it was created. The only thing one knows is that every minute a different woman gives you the time.
The site belongs to a Public Relations firm. I sent them an e-mail asking what their goal is, but they replied with a generic message indicating they had received my message and that they might reply via e-mail.
Curiosity drove me to do some searching, but all I have been able to find, as of this writing, is that the Beautiful Women’s Clock is a joint project among several artists who supposedly want highlight the beauty of ordinary Japanese people. It remains to be seen if this is true; whenever I check the clock, I always see young women whose ages range between 18 and 28 years. Allegedly, there will also be a site that will highlight the handsomeness of ordinary men.
Regardless of whether the objective truly is to just appreciate the beauty of ordinary Japanese, I find this to be a very interesting idea, especially because large media conglomerates nowadays promote a global standardization of beauty that decidedly follows western ideals.
***
I harbor no doubts that this is so for (mainly) two reasons. First, a few months ago I read an interesting report on the recent successes of Japanese contestants in the Miss Universe pageant, as evidenced by the 2007 winner and the previous year’s first runner-up. According to the article, for a few years work has been ongoing to gain domestic prestige for Miss Universe Japan. In addition, the contest searches for women who are not only tall, but also of an appearance that would appeal to the West. That may be why the Japanese media, besides mentioning the 2007 win, paid little attention to the outcome of the event. As a side note, I still recall vividly how several Japanese friends, both male and female, told me at the time that they did not think the Miss Universe winner was especially pretty or interesting.
The second reason I owe to a friend who works in company that deals with the cosmetic and pharmaceutical sectors. This person told me, not long ago, that one of his struggles was to convince Japanese women that bigger breasts are better because women with a larger bosom are more beautiful and attractive. In this country, my friend has run into to obstacles. One of them (at least according to my friend), is the “god-damned legacy of Buddhism”, which discourages Japanese from having surgeries that are not absolutely essential. The other obstacle is harder to overcome. Because most Japanese women are small-breasted, the ones that are flat chested generally do not have any complexes about their “condition” since Japanese society still does not consider it as something that makes women unattractive.
***
Three beautiful women
Given the difficulty in convincing Japanese women to change their notions of beauty, my friend’s company and others are working on other fronts as well. The most important is perhaps convincing men that large-breasted women are not only better looking, but also hotter in bed. A corollary to this is that man who has by his side or seduces a buxom beauty is more of a man. It goes without saying that the idea is that if a big change in men’s taste is effected, then women will spend significant amounts of money in implants and related artifices. According to my friend, Japan is an embarrassing market in his business area because the sale of implants is simply laughable if you account for the purchasing power of Japanese women.
We live in a world in which too many women are afflicted with anorexia and bulimia. Because my friend has three small daughters, I asked him if he could sleep well a night and if he ever worried that any or all of his girls, upon becoming teenagers, would join what sometimes seems to be an ever larger number of young females who suffer from those ailments and others due to the pressure to have perfect bodies. My friend shrugged his shoulders and answered that parents are responsible for raising children who can survive in world that is not only tough, but sometimes cruel as well.
In view of the foregoing, and despite the fact that still I do not know the real motive behind the Beautiful Women Clock, today and for the time being, I applaud that site for highlighting the beauty of ordinary women. Rather than referring to ordinary women, the site administrator’s should perhaps address them as natural women.
