防災訓練 Neighborhood Disaster Training

It's called 防災訓練 

It's called Bosai Kunren.

The English translation is Emergency Training but in the tale I'm about to tell I think Disaster Training more apt.  It starts like this:

If still sleeping at the late morning hour of seven a.m. you wake to a gruff distorted voice. The voice blares through the neighborhood, like the whole neighborhood from houses way up the hill down to the ones nearer the main road. The voice comes from loudspeakers positioned up high on poles throughout the hood. I still believe them to be remnants of WWII. It's my own theory I've never actually asked anyone, but I've convinced myself they just found another use for the speakers they used to use to warn people that US warplanes were about to start dropping bombs. The voice is usually utterly unintelligible, or so it seems to me. Another theory is they find the biggest mumbler in the neighborhood, give him a pint of sake (rice wine) then turn him loose on the speaker to inform everyone for miles around of...

Well seems pretty much anything. It wasn't till after a few years here that I realized the apparent most common use of the neighborhood blaring speaker notice system is a lost old person. In the land of the largest number of centenarians per capita, in the culture in which the elderly stay in the family home and aren't trucked off to nursing homes at the same rate they are in the West, lost old people is a fairly common occurrence. I realized this once my Japanese got good enough to pick up words and phrases like height, age, colors and clothes. Then I put two and two together and "Ah-HA! It's a lost old person!" Basically if a senile senior goes out for bread at 6:00 in the morning and hasn't come home by 19:00 they inform everyone in the county via the distorted blaring speaker system. The speakers echo off of the hills, sound traveling quicker from one to the next so if your house is positioned equally between two of em then catching the message is nearly impossible. Or so it seems to me at least. My wife could likely understand what's being said but she appears to ignore the messages for the most part.

But back to Bosai kunren. It was today. As said if in the hood, and if by chance you didn't know it was today, then you knew after the speakers went off at seven a.m. Or at least you knew something was gonna happen and maybe guessed it was either an earthquake drill, Godzilla attack, or Mrs. Johnsonagazuki got lost when she went out to the porch to fetch the morning paper again.

Neighbors of each "kumi" or group of houses, assembled at eight a.m. The kumi we're in met with some other nearby kumis in the field behind the Sepia Court apartments. Once there there's the morning greetings and/or a few short speeches (opening ceremonies and speeches accompany every occasion and event in this land). Tents were set up and volunteer firemen, and perhaps a few regular full time ones as well, were there too to teach disaster skills. Junior high kids get assigned to the community center where they show how to distribute and cook the disaster food or to each kumi neighborhood group assembling area so firemen can use them to demonstrate how to put on splints and the like. Our oldest is a big seventh grader now. He lucked out and got to go to the community center. He didn't want lunch after it was all done. He said he was full of disaster food.

Shortly after eight a.m. everyone from our kumi--from our little group of a around twenty or so houses--went to the road over by the river. There we stood around in the hot sun, people sweating and saying things like "Atsui ne" (It's hot). Kids playing with ants in the middle of the road, volunteer firemen standing around hoses and nozzle in hand ready to go.

They called us all in close. Closer please. Closer. Everyone come around here.  Here was a manhole cover. Everyone knows the manhole cover because it's the same we open to connect the firehouse twice a year on neighborhood clean up day. But no matter. It's all part of the training so everyone gather around. The guy who likely lost at janken (rock paper scissors) that firemen was the one who showed everyone how to lift the manhole cover, then how to insert the up pipe contraption onto the pipe down in the hole. It was likely explained where to find that contraption, along with the hose and the special tool for turning on the water and such, but I missed all that and even so everyone knows that's in the hose case.

The hose cases are all painted red, stationed around the neighborhood on the side of the road. You can't miss them. Literally. I once ran to help an old guy who had heat stroke. I saw him fall while walking his dog down the stairs that led from the riverbank to the road. I went to help him up and tried to get him to go sit on the side of the road. He didn't take my advice. He broke away from me as I was helping him walk, telling me he was fine as he tried to make for home. His walking turned into a stumbling stagger, increasing in speed until running head first into one of those red hose cases on the side of the road. I tried to catch him I swear I did. You'd be amazed how fast an old guy with a little rat dog on a leash can stumble head first into a hose case. In any event he didn't get up again. I held his hat against the gash on his head and told a neighbor who came out to see what the BANG! was to call an ambulance. That's how we found out it was  heat stroke. Silly me I thought he'd downed a pint of sake and was on his way to inform us all there was a lost 103 year old in the neighborhood somewhere!

But enough about the hose cases. They're easy to find. That's all you need to know.

Okay so up pipe contraption thing this is how you insert it. Now you guys try. It's hotter'n shit. Nobody wants to try but a few of the oldest members do just the same. A few parents do it with their kids. That's reassuring. When the big quake hits don't you fret! Little six year old Taro already called dibs on manning the hose! In fairness I wanted to do it with our four year old girl child. Unfortunately her mother told her to stay inside since she was still a bit worn out from having a fever and barfing on her dad the day before. Oh well, next time!

After showing how to lift the manhole cover and insert the up pipe thingamajig they demonstrate then everyone, okay a handful rather, practice turning on the water and manning the nozzle. Then it's back to the meeting place behind Sepia Court apartments. Once back there we get cold tea to drink then people sit around talking as a fireman in the tent shows how to use various household objects to brace a junior high kid's pretend broken arm. It was about that time that I stealthily slipped away.  I can count on one hand the number of times I've stayed till the end. More like three fingers actually. Or two. It's sitting around in the hot sun talking. Call me a bad neighbor if you will but I've got a house full of kids and nephews (i.e. more kids) and other things to do. It's mostly retired folks who stay till the end anyhow I've noticed. It's good fun for them. I guess I'll wait to find out if I get to retire at 80 as planned. We'll see.

Later the "kumi cho" (group leader for the year) stopped by with disaster food for us. We thanked him. We put the disaster food in the cupboard, all the while hoping junior high kids end up eating it next year instead of us needing to eat it if a major quake or the like hits before then. If it does though and you happen to see TV footage of me and my Japanese neighbors all working together and helping each other--doing things often left for professional first responders to do in other countries-- now you know why.  In the land of the gods--the land of typhoons and floods and earthquakes and Godzilla attacks or worse--people are prepared. Everyone, from six year old Taro to 103 year old Mrs. Johnsonagazuki knows where the firehose is, how to connect it and turn it on and save the neighborhood.

Neighbors gathered ready to practice connecting the hose

Neighborhood mom watching her kid train to save our hood

Trusty local FD dude waiting for next volunteer

Meeting place with cold tea under one tent, disaster training under another and possibly Godzilla attack defense strategy being drawn up in yet another. Who knows! 

Flowing Noodles: A How To Guide

流しそうめん

First a little "nagashi somen" flowing noodles history.

Just kidding! I haven't the foggiest where or how it all began. I can say that, if you don't want to go to all the trouble of setting it up like I did and you're willing to throw down anywhere between 1,600 to  25,000 yen ($15 to $250) and are able to navigate a Japanese online shopping website then you can order your own nagashi somen contraption. Most of the noodle doohickeys I saw are genuine plastic, battery operated, almost certainly guaranteed to break in seven uses or less. This is just one example of the seeming countless kinds and designs available.

Or if you opt for doing it like I did (i.e. the old fashioned way from scratch) I've put together a step by step guide as to how you'd go about doing just that. Being the nice guy that I am I've included pictures for any who have an aversion to seeing various arrangements of the twenty six letters of the alphabet mixed in with some punctuation marks. 

Step 1
 Ask your neighbor if you can harvest a bamboo stalk from the nearby mountain that his family owns; the one that's filled with lots and lots of bamboo. (If no such neighbor exists then just go find a grove of bamboo and take your chances at cutting one down. As long as it's not on a nice temple grounds, tourist attraction, near the Emperor's Palace, etc., the locals here will likely just say "Ah it's another one of them crazy gaijin cutting bamboo" and leave you be.) 

Step 2
 Go to said mountain, find bamboo stalk suitable for flowing noodles, cut a long chunk of it and transport it home in/on a certified bamboo transportation vehicle. (e.g. My trusty mountain bike. Who's up for a little jousting?)

Bamboo stalk & bamboo transportation vehicle in the background

Step 3a
Don't listen to your wife who says the proper Japanese way to split the bamboo is with a "nata" (like a Japanese ax). You're an American dang it! Americans use power tools! Since you picked out a nice straight piece just get your younger boy child help you snap a line with your old chalkline, fire up the 7 1/4" worm drive saw and let'r rip! Cut that sucker right down the middle on one side and then split it with the nata because everyone knows it'll be easier to split a piece that long if one side's already cut.

Nata and rubber mallet. The optimal bamboo splitting tool team! 

Step 3b
 Admit that your wife was right upon realizing you're the only person who knew cutting one side down the center first would be better. Admit that that kind of knowing resulted in a bamboo splitting fail of epic proportions. Admit all of this while saying "Good gosh what's all this stuff in the middle of the bamboo? Holy cow look't that thing OMG that's a freak'n grub. Holy shmoley there's a whole gaggle of em! Quick boys give those things to the goldfish! (Goldfish in tank in the yard were extremely pleased with step 3b). 

Step 4
 After much deliberation; after scratching your head trying to figure out how to use this poorly split piece of bamboo that's been eaten to smithereens by an army of white grubs of some sort; after consulting wife; etc., return the total fail poorly split grub infested bamboo to bamboo slash pile on nearby mountain and choose far more carefully before cutting and bringing home another piece! 

Note the grub in the center of this shot. That's the same that the first total fail choice of bamboo was chuck full of. Take great care to check the rings and look for discoloration or small holes in bamboo stalk before selecting and cutting and bringing it home. It's worth the time to check very carefully, I can assure you!   

Step 5

After taking great care in the bamboo selection process, cutting it down, dragging it to a good place in the bamboo grove (an area with plenty of room to shoo away mosquitoes while cutting it down to the desired length) loading it up and pushing the new and improved more wisely selected bamboo stalk home on your bamboo transportation vehicle (still my mountain bike, only no jousting second piece was way too danged big and heavy just set it on seat and across handlebars and push home slowly as neighbors look on in curious amusement) after doing that split it the way your wife told you already! 

post cutting of second piece in the bamboo grove on the neighbor's mountain

Splitting second piece the way Japanese wife recommends                                                        

Second piece split this is Step 6: hollowing out the bamboo so noodles will flow freely. 

Step 6

Use a framing hammer, the nata, a rasp, and any other tool or thing that can be used as a tool that you think will work well to knock out the rings in the middle of the bamboo.

Step 7

Experiment with various objects readily available in the yard as you try to set up the two lengths of halved bamboo to create one long chute angled enough to allow water and noodles to flow down it.  As you can see I ended up going with the little girl's homemade swing set, the "I knew would find another use for that thing!" old homemade step we used when toilet training the young'ns, and a few short lengths of 4x4 posts. After doing this be sure to secure the pieces so they don't come apart or fall down once surrounded by scores of chopsticks wielding famished little children folk; use wires to secure a hose to the high end of the chute and set up a large bowl with a smaller strainer bowl inside of it at the far end (the latter will allow you to easily transport uncaught noodles from low to high end for a second, 3rd, 4th, 5th, etc., run down the chute)

Step 8

Nagashi somen flowing noodles stage one: Family and extended family edition with soon to return to chef job in Australia wife's cousin manning the BBQ (flowing noodles goes great with BBQ!) 

father-in-law feeding noodles into trough and wife's ever so cool chef cousin manning BBQ in background

All kids take turns feeding noodles into the chute

Flowing noodle family selfie :) 

Step 9

Flowing noodles blueberries and jelly beans night edition with Aussie neighbor & family and his visiting kinfolk from Australia. 

Step 10

Day 2: Flowing Noodles take 3: Wife's childhood friends and a bunch of our neighbors edition. Family with kids up the street, two, no make that three neighborhood obachans (older ladies) one of whom was big on BYON (bring your own noodles) I invited the neighbor who gifted us the bamboo as well. I don't know what everyone thought years ago upon learning that a gaijin (foreigner) was moving into the hood but I think it safe to say they're all cool with it now. It was just a nice lovely fun time all around, kids running amuck catching and munching down noodles and trying to catch tomatoes and grapes and jellybeans, moms and grandmas a smile'n and neighbors jabbering away. 

So I'm happy to say that what started as a total fail ended in learning how to do this flowing noodle action and then some--how to set it up from scratch and end up having a jolly ol time. One length of chute has since been cut down and turned into siding on the bike shelter I moved to the end of the shed but we might just hang on to the other length for a while in case the urge hits to do it again anytime soon. So if ya ever get to craving flowing noodles then do it yourself, order online, or if in these parts stop on by for some top notch flowing noodle action with us! 

直心是道場 Jikishin Kore Dojo: Martial Arts (Budo part II)

Jikishin Kore Dojo

I come straight home after teaching my last Monday class in Numazu nowadays. I've been doing that since this past spring--since the oldest boy entered junior high school. Up till then I'd go from my last class to the karate dojo on Monday nights. I'd meet him there, we'd train together in the "ippan" older kids and adult class then always stop for an ice cream on the drive home to Kannami. I knew it wouldn't last forever. I knew he'd stop doing karate when he started doing "bukatsu" club activity upon entering junior high school. I knew Inochi Mujo--Life is transience. I knew, I still know, that everything changes. I try to embrace it; to revel in it even. Doing as much back then reminded me to live those drives home for all they were worth.  And so Monday nights are different now. 

So nowadays I come straight home after teaching my last class in Numazu so that oldest boy isn't home alone for too long. I get in and we talk a bit or do this or that and then I get at the Monday night ritual of sorts that I've fallen into since the schedule change came about in spring. I change into gi pants and a T-shirt or gym shorts when it's so blazing hot and humid like it is tonight, grab my kata list off the shelf and go down to the tatami room. It's a tatami room most of the time. It's a classroom most weekday afternoons. And on Monday nights and other times when the urge hits and time permits, it's a dojo. 

KARATE KATA LIST

I miss going to Seiku Karate on Monday nights. I miss going to all the dojos I ever trained in all the way back to and including the wrestling rooms where it first all started for me. So many years gone by. Sometimes I feel as if I've lived through a few different lifetimes when looking back on it all. Through it all my heart has grown purer and transcended and adapted: it's become the perfect dojo that I spent years seeking only to find it within. Or so I think or believe or feel ever since first coming across the old bushido (martial arts) expression:

 Jikishin Kore Dojo 

直心是道場

A Pure Heart is a Dojo

I love that. Where's your dojo? It's right here. I carry it with me. It's all the dojos I've trained in over the years combined manifesting in me in the Here and Now. It's all the dojos, all the senseis and fellow practitioners and all I've gained from training in and with them--all the moves and techniques learned, all the power and technical skills and good character traits forged through the countless hours and years of training.

It began in those first few dojos, which were actually wrestling rooms. If not for all those years of wrestling, a powerful martial art in its own right. If not for wrestling I doubt I'd ever have become as interested in 武道budo (martial arts) as I have. I'll forever be grateful for having such great coaching and being a part of such an awesome team with such incredible guys, more than a few who became lifelong friends. Indeed, it was my attempt to fill the void I felt after wrestling ended that led me to step foot into my first karate dojo--The Rising Sun in Fresno, CA.


What great years of training I had there!
What great senseis I had and people I trained with there!
It was there that I was first introduced to Japanese martial arts as well as Muay Thai kickboxing. It was there that my dream to train in Japan was born and came to me even. So I have wrestling and The Rising Sun to thank for leading me to this path. Both remain such huge chunks of it and always will. For that I am grateful, as I believe it's done much to shape me into a better person and find the will to get up and keep moving after life kicked my ass a time or seven or seventy times seven. As I wrote in Budo part I it's so much more than physical, although the self-defense fighting skills aspect is inseparable just the same.

So that's where I'm at now. Monday night home training. And that's where it began, wrestling leading to karate at the Rising Sun. Everything between that went a little like this:

After leaving the Rising sun, after leaving life in the States and arriving in Japan, my first dojo here and the sole dojo I've remained training at since stepping foot inside a couple weeks after first arriving in the fall of 1998 is Nirayama Iaido dojo.

居合道 -- Iaido -- is the art of drawing the sword. I've trained in more than a few other dojos and arts here since then but when life gets too busy to go to more than one--when the class load gets to heavy, when family life gets too busy, when other activities I enjoy must be put on hold--Iaido remains the one I work the schedule around and continue on with. Iaido is the one actual, physical dojo where I've remained training under the watchful eye of a true master of a sensei during my entire time in Japan.  I lose myself in practices there now just as I did when I first began. Iai. Moving Zen. And while rank is far from the goal or purpose of training, it does feel good to have the hard work recorded. If all goes as planned just that will happen again this fall when I test for 6th dan Renshi, which I learned I'll be doing when Kojima Sensei told me as much a month or so ago.

I started karate soon after first arriving here as well. A Kyokushin karate dojo was the first I tried. It was good training but I felt a little more at home at Shumejuku Shotokan Karate dojo so it was there that I trained karate off and the most in the ensuing years. Then there was the kendo dojo at a Nichiren Buddhist Temple that I trained in for a while. Very interesting that was. I spent many an afternoon hour training judo with students of the junior high schools I taught at as well. Judo's a lot of fun, as is another art I came to love and enjoy training for quite a few years here--Aikido. I especially like the philosphy behind Aikido and have gotten much from studying the philosophy of the founder; Morie Ueashiba. I reached the rank of 2nd degree blackbelt while training there and someday when the kids are older hope to make it back to training in Aikido again.

When the boys were younger I first introduced them to martial arts at a Shorenji Kempo dojo that I trained in for a while, only to move them to Seiku Karate Kyokushin dojo in Numazu. After a month of watching I joined them there. The younger boy did it for a few years but never really got into it all that much. The oldest boy never was too crazy for it either but he stuck it out and we trained there together for just over six years. Alas life with work and three kids and all that goes with it is busy; the schedule wouldn't allow continuing training there after oldest boy started jr. high this spring.

So now it's back to the one I can't let go--the sole dojo I go to each week now is Iaido. Be that as it may, the countless hours of training in karate allows me to continue my training when and where ever I can--usually at home hitting the homemade heavybag and doing kata in the tatami room or training the fists and elbows on the makiwara (punching post of sorts) out in the yard, but also after climbing a nearby mountain or peddling to a nearby empty shrine or temple grounds. The latter are my favorite places to do kata. Not that my kata is any better there, but something about the change in scenery just resonates through the body. 

Still the true dojo--literally "place of the way"-- is on the inside. Strip all the ranks, trophies and medals and certificates; take it all away the dogis and hakamas and black belts and everything, and still every single hour of training, every mat burn and bruise or lesson learned after being taken down or hit or kicked or thrown, all the character built from getting back up again or repeating the technique a thousand times over trying to get it just a little better, it all remains on the inside. It's woven through and through in the spirit--embodied and beaten into the martial artist. And it goes well beyond the physical, as Gichin Funakoshi, the father of modern day karate, explains of karate--those who take pride only in the physical aspect of it are "playing around in the leaves and branches of a great tree, without the slightest concept of the trunk" The power and eventually even technique will fade with age, but the spirit and knowledge, the inner strength and fortitude, will continue growing till the last breath.

Thus that pure heart--the true dojo that I feel I'm finally catching glimpses of--it's that thing that brings me more in tune with Nature--with the Universe or God or Life or whatever you want to call it.  It's that thing on the inside and thus it's the dojo that goes with me. 

Unbeknownst to me at the time, starting wrestling when I was 10 yrs old was the beginning of this journey. Above is CWHS State Championship wrestling team that it was an honor to be a part of.

me competing with two of the greatest coaches of all time in the background--Coach Cowell and Coach Faria--two men who gave so much of themselves and taught me so much in life both on and off the mat. I'll forever be grateful for having had the opportunity to be coached by them.

Rising Sun Shotokan Karate Dojo with Sensei Cho (L) and Sensei Hartung (R) who  took over at the Rising Sun when Sensei Dow moved to open a new dojo near Carmel (Monterey). Like with Sensei Dow, I received so much from these two great men. In time I'll post a tribute to Sensei Hartung, who, sadly, passed away way before his time last year. I spoke with him by phone in the final month of his life: he remained my Sensei to the end showing how one faces the mystery of death with courage and even humor. He is greatly missed. I was also fortunate enough to learn a little Yammani-ryu from Sensei Cho (currently 4th dan if I remember correctly). He continues to train and teach in California

Together with Sensei Dow (L) the man who introduced
me to karate when I first stepped foot into
The Rising Sun in the early 90s. 

Testing for my Shodan (black belt) in Shotokan Karate at the Rising Sun summer rank test around 1995. Hangetsu kata blindfolded. Ugh!

Circa 2001, together with Sensei Cho and a mere handful of the many great people I had
the honor of training with at the Rising Sun

Shumejuku dojo in Shuzenji; the second karate dojo I trained at and the one I trained off and on at for years here in Japan.  Inamura Sensei is incredible I really enjoyed training there, though might say never did fully get used to switching from "old Shotokan" like we practiced at Rising Sun to JKA style shotokan. Still met a lot of awesome people, learned much and got in countless hours of great training at Shumejuku dojo.

Aikido 

合気道

Together with Yamagata Sensei--super neat guy he's forgotten more aikido than I'll ever know


Circa 2006 or 7ish group shot of Aikido dojo I'm holding my oldest boy center row

Testing for my 2dan -- second degree black belt

居合道

Iaido

Testing for my 6th dan

Nirayama Iaido Dojo -- the one dojo that I've remained training at religiously since first arriving in Japan in fall of 1998. Pictured here is Shibayama Sensei (L) Kojima Sensei (Center) and the late Ishizu Sensei (R

Kojima Sensei (8th dan ju hanshi) correcting my form, which is something that he has to do quite often! 

Ishizu Sensei (L), me, Kojima Sensei (R) at Nirayama Dojo circa 2001

Outside and inside views of Shibayama Sensei's Iaido dojo at a Ryokan in Shuzenji

Summer Seminar & day of Training

 IAIDO KATA LISTS IN ROMAJI AND JAPANESE

空手道

Kyokushin Karate

Second only to getting to do karate with my sons, entering a few full contact karate tournaments

was a highlight of training in Kyokushin. I'm on the right out on the mat in this shot. I never brought home a trophy but held my own and learned a few things so win win. Like mentioned above, although tournament is more sport than true budo there are things gained from it that one can carry on the inside--it's does have merit for building the dojo within.

A favorite shot of my wife paying respects to her ancestors in an old family home on her mom's side in Yamanashi. A pure heart is a dojo and a dojo is a place of the way -- Punching and kicking and the like is not always required to foster the true spirit that all Martial Arts are rooted in. My wife does not practice any form of budo but she has that spirit.
She shows it in her own way I'm always amazed when I catch glimpses of it in her. 

Slanted (Part II)

If interested in how this all came about you can read that story in 37,834 words or less in Slanted House Part I

This is the company we chose to do the heavy lifting. (It's all Japanese, but there are pictures!)

この会社は私たちの家を持ち上げるでしょう！

I was like a kid counting down the days to Christmas in anticipation of the start date to fix our slanted house. It was set for Monday, July 23 but Doh! A lady from the company arrived at our door on Friday the 20th and told it had to be pushed back to Aug 2nd. She'd driven all the way down from Chiba to speak with us and our neighbors. Our neighbors you say? Yes. Them too. It's a "WA" thing.  One must keep WA with their neigbhors. At least that's how I understand it based on 17 years here and what I learned from reading James Clavell's SHOGUN.  If you've read it you may recall reccuring references to "keeping the wa".

WA - 和 is "harmony".  The lady came down to speak with us and to go around and inform our neighbors that there'd be big trucks and workers around our house soon, which may inconvenience them. She apologized in advance for any inconvenience, noise, etc., and she handed out small gifts. It looked like she had towels in the box she was carrying. They were wrapped in white paper much like the move into a new neighborhood kinds of gifts that I wrote of.

Thus the big kid me's Christmas got postponed a bit but that's okay, it just gave me a few extra days to drive my wife crazy being sure everything was moved away from the house so the workers wouldn't have to tell us "We need to move this" or the like. I did enough remodels back in my framing days to know that making it easy on the workers makes for happy workers, and happy workers are more apt to say "Hey this guy's cool, do an extra good job!".

So I went about moving all the "engawa" decks I'd built outside every sliding glass door--four total--then of course I had to move the little girl's homemade swing set and also all of the little concrete and rock borders that I'd made to border the grass areas--I broke out pieces of those along with concrete steps and such that I had down in the narrow strip behind the house where much of the work was to be done.

The first couple shots below show the "back yard" side of the house, just outside the main living room sliding glass door. This is the place where the biggest deck I made sat.  It's about 8'x3' but I  purposely made it portable (two pieces base and top separable) when I rebuilt it a while back and glad I did it was no thing moving it. The distance between top of concrete and top of grass on far end is about how far the house needs to come up--just about 10 cm on that corner it's the second lowest point.  The other photo is a bamboo deck I made that I moved over against the bamboo fence so it'd be out of their way. I also did my best moving all the beach pebbles that I collected one bucket at a time and moved here from beach near my in-laws. I put them down around the faucet and knew they'd be digging there so filled pots with them and pushed the rest in a pile against the fence.

This next shot below is where I pushed the main deck, girl's swing set, BBQ and some other stuff over in the corner to get it out of their way. This shot was taken from the upstairs balcony at the end of their first day of work. The white gunnysacks are full of the earth they removed from first round of digging around the house; making space to insert jacks and injection pipes and such.

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Below is our house I added to it a bit with Photoshop--green spots are trees and shrubs brown blotches little garden. Their truck in next shots is parked in driveway next to the fence, the pool for drawing water is set up behind shed.

Most of the big lifting is in back between house and little canal with retaining wall

If you zoom in you can see how low each point is:

10 cm bottom right and 12 cm upper right are the worst spots.

This next map shows how much super ultra hard as nails quick drying Godzilla-proof concrete mix (my translation: not the patented name there) they'll be injected at each point. Basically those big ovals and circles will be huge chunks of concrete down under the house at various depths.

The estimate is 37,500 Liters total to do the job.

Still day one here's a shot of one of the hydraulic jacks down in the holes 

It's now Monday, August 6th I just got in from teaching morning classes to find the crew hard away at work now on day 4. According to the foreman (now inside the house checking progress with two lazar levels set up) the heavy lifting will come today and tomorrow, and none too soon since Typhoon 13 is due to hit this Wednesday! It's currently classified "strong" and is on a direct course for our kitchen table!  I hope they can get a lot more lifting done before it hits and it doesn't delay their progress too very much. 

Below are a few more views from around the house that I took during the first few days of work.

Injection pipe inserted center of our entryway. They use a grinder to cut angles on the insertion end so they can poke it down more easily. I think they inject water or some solution too to help force it underground. Once at the desired depth they start pumping the concrete, adding length to the back of the pipe as they go to go deeper.

Close up of one of the hydraulic jacks. These are used for stabilization and to assists the lifting but will later be removed

The step in our entryway has pulled away from the wall.
You can see the line from where the baseboard was originally on top of it.
Hopefully soonit'll be pushed back to original position with no gap. 

Looking down into the backyard from upstairs balcony.
There are two pumps in the pool, hoses go to the truck where material is fed into two hoppers then two hoses lead to the injection nozzle where water and material is mixed as it's injected, or so goes my best understanding of the process thus far at least. I spent hours pouring over documents in the packet they gave us along with the contract and good gosh it's chuck full-o difficult kanji! This whole ordeal has increased my motivation to become slightly less illiterate in the native tongue as well.

View of our driveway from upstairs bedroom window
truck and pallets of material.

My sole looking up out of the hole hydraulic jack selfie of this tale

Weeks before work started back when we signed the contract the company president was here. I took him out back and showed him how the concrete retaining wall had pushed out a good 2" to 3" when they did my neighbors house. Thus I was pleasantly surprised to see that they braced the shit out of the retaining wall behind our house before the pumping began. Now at day 4 those 4x4 timbers have some pressure on them and then some. Good idea! 

View from the street

Oldest boy child helping me inspect the work after day 2 or 3

View from upstairs window of my little man cave office room. You can see the long pipe inserted in the middle (click to enlarge photo) it's now all underground with a new length attached to it they went danged deep back there.

The foreman is inside the house most of today, lazar levels set up pink tape on wall is where he marks the progress.

Boys being boys gotta check out the truck they leave it here at night. Side note about that: My father-in-law came for day one of construction since my wife was out of town and I was gone at work. He showed them where we keep the hidden key if/when they ever need to get in while we're gone. I've left a few times and told the guy move whatever you need do what you need to do. They all leave thousands of dollars worth of tools lying against our house at night. I offered them space in the shed if they feared anyone stealing them.  Nah, that's so rare here we don't worry about that. It's nice. It's how things should be. Not yours? Don't take it! But of course climbing on it is a must! 

elapsed time...

I'm not sure how many days have passed since I wrote and published the above. That truck sat in our driveway for days and nights on end, as did the "swimming pool". Workers showed up at 8:00 every morning, eight the first few days then down to six for the main pumping and jacking and finally just a few for adjusting things like doors and the center of the living room floor.  

 Of course with any big construction work things will come up that I'm not so hot about. The need to replace the posts under the floor girder beams is one of those things. Above is the new adjustable posts that have recently been installed. Below is how it was--termite treated Japanese cypress posts tied together with true 1x4 cypress bracing. They removed all of that and put in the above, which I noticed only cost 398 yen a piece. How good can those be? Adjustable yes, but definitely not as strong as it was. The bottom picture there is one I took before the guy installed the new ones. I'm just in from teaching my sole morning class and have a good chunk of time before afternoon classes so today's project will be going down under the floor and reinstalling the original cypress posts alongside the adjustable ones and re-bracing it all, so it'll be double posted in the end. 

The way it was

After they pulled out all of the cypress posts under the girder beams

The way it is now after two trips down under the floor with hammer and skillsaw cutting posts to fit alongside the adjustable metal posts. This is the most recent shot after spending a few more hours down there yesterday (Aug 15) putting in the last few pots and bracing the hell out of it all. It's now at double super earthquake resistant floor status.

Self pat on my back note about work done under the floor. The foreman, who I ended up taking a liking to and got to know pretty well, he was the one who did all the inside work. I couldn't help but notice a hint of happy relief on his face when I showed him the door I'd installed under the stairs after he asked where the access point was. For all they do right, one thing aobut Japanese houses is access points, both under the floor and crawl holes in ceilings, aren't always so great. But for him, and again patting my own back thanks to old carpenter me, it was easy shmeasy Japanesey. Add to that the under the floor mobility machine I made and, while showing emotion isn't a huge trait of most Japanese, a shot of happy definitely lit up his face when I showed him the little 2' x 16" plank with small casters on that he could lie on and pull himself around under the floor to keep from having to crawl. 

"これを作りました。是非、使ってください"

"kore wo tsukurimashita. zehi tsukatte kudasai" (I made this by all means please use it) I told him. Yup that was a crowd pleaser for sure. As mentioned, If there's one thing I know from doing countless remodels in my framing days it's making it easier on the workers means the workers will be all "Hey this dude's cool. Do a good job damn it!"

While I'm telling about the workers another word or hundred is needed about them too. All in all they're a great crew, albeit not quite what I expected. Three of them had to have been well into their 70s if they were a day; I wouldn't be surprised to learn the one older guy I talked with the most is well into his 80s. They hauled hoses and carried big heavy sacks of concrete mix up to the platform to pour into the hoppers up on the back of the truck. The pumping and injecting part of the work is all done now but I imagine I'll hear ghosts of their voices drifting in from outside the windows for weeks if not years to come...

namba uone su-to-pu! (stop number one)

Namba tsu oke- desu (number two is okay)

Every day I'd take them things like chilled watermelon, cold cans of juice or salt candy. They'd accept it all gratefully with the customary "Itadaki-masu" before eating. And as said I took a liking to the foreman too. He was the youngest on the crew save for a couple young laborers, maybe early 30s if that I could relate to him somewhat thanks to being in his position myself to some degree back in my framing days. 

I was one of the cleaner cut guys on the crew back then, still had all my teeth and fingers and such (California framers are often a sordid lot) so I got the job of entering the house and talking with the customer on remodel jobs even before I was the most experienced or put in charge of the job. This guy knew his work; unlike myself back then he was likely a college or at least tech school grad who entered the company. Like myself back then he got put in charge of guys who'd been doing it far longer than he had. He showed them respect through, and from my outsider view they went far easier on each other than workers on the typical California framing crews do. (e.g. not once did I see a new guy get sent to the tool truck for toenails or bubble fluid for the level) And since he was in the house as much as he was after a while he got to asking about some pictures on the wall, like the ones of Yosemite--about where I came from and why I'm in Japan and the like. So he got to know me and I him. He wants to visit the States himself one day and now Yosemite has been added to the list of things he'd like to see. 

This first shot is a just about up to level view of the back of the house. Note how far the gas pipe has come up out of the ground. All of the rain gutter downpipes broke, as did the water pipe at the back corner, during the lifting. They repaired them all of course. And being my father's son--son of a guy who knows the value of things and isn't afraid or too proud to pick up something of value on the side of the road or ask for it--being that guy I didn't hesitate to ask "Are you going to throw away those 4x4s?" Knowing this culture and the fact that they can only haul so much to their next job (They were going up to Chiba after our place then all the way up to Hokkaido after that) I figured they'd just haul them to the dump, which it turned out was exactly what they were going to do. 

Thus I said "Oh please just leave them in my yard". Albeit already cut one would pay well over $100, likely closer to or more than $200, for that many 4x4s in this land and what the heck I'm paying for this so I'm keeping them! (As of this writing my main deck has already had the front three legs replaced before putting it back into place by the living room window) I also got a few sheets of plywood and of course told him just leave the termite treated cypress posts down under the floor don't you dare haul those off to the trash.  So here's the back view.

And since they finished back there I had to rebuild the bamboo planter that they had to bust the corner off of.  A couple years ago I learned the hard way that what everyone says of bamboo was true. It'll grow like the dickens and end up everywhere if allowed to do so, so I poured a little concrete planter against the retaining wall.  Then once the house was lifted in back I realized it needed to be taller as well so I built forms to pour more concrete on top of the original and rebuild the end they busted out.  

About those forms though, and this is another I know I'm my father's son and damned proud of it explanation. I didn't have any old wood to build the forms with and didn't want to go buy two new 1x4s at nearly $4 a piece to make it with, but as luck'd have it I recalled seeing that some idiots had illegally dumped some in a small stream alongside a dirt road not far off. I saw it when out for a walk with my daughter one day, so just peddled down there quick and climbed down the side of the little bridge, fighting mosquitos and spiders all the way, to get two of them.  They worked like magic for getting my forms built and afterwards I cut them up in disposable lengths per Japanese garbage rules and they went out with this morning's trash.  Done deal! 

You can see where they busted out the corner of the bamboo planter in the shot above. You can also see the worker at the end down there--one of the guys who was well into his 70's if not 80s and was, in the words of my oldest Great Brother, "As tough as a boiled owl!" 

This is the jimmy-rigged DIY new form made out of 1x4s I found that some ignorant pukes had dumped illegally in the stream nearby.

And below is the same stripped of the forms. Funny thing about that too. They had two types of super concrete, one of which had "5 seconds" (i.e. super quick drying) on the bag in kanji. When I got to digging, or re-digging where they'd filled in dirt around the foundation I dug up little bits of it that'd spilled. I guess it only hardens when it hits concrete since it was still a bit moist but man when I went to check the forms after pouring the new bamboo planter wall they were hotter'n the hinges on the gates of hell.  And hard too. It'd only been a couple hours but that puppy was set like stone. So I stripped off the forms only to find they were even hotter down below, though I'm not quite sure what exactly is hotter'n the hinges on the gates of hell but I tellya they were that hot. So I can only guess that merely mixing with little bits of that super five second harder'n nails concrete additive stuff sped up my bamboo planter building quite a bit. 

Then next shot below is after putting in some new stepping stones, some kinda super dirt that becomes hard like concrete and a few bags of rocks (yes, I bought bags of rocks!) but hey looks nice eh!   

Off the top of my head there are only about 47 more jobs to do now that the house is all sturdy and level so stay tuned for more newly un-slanted house renovation blog entries, and if you happen to cross paths with my wife tell her this is really important stuff we need to get all those little (and a few quite big) jobs done so just let her husband go to it he'll get around to folding the laundry in time I'm sure.  HAA!