A Mini Trip to Hakone on the Last Day of My Summer Vacation

My workplace gives us five days of summer vacation each year. This year didn’t go quite as planned, but I decided to use the last of it for a short escape to Hakone.

 

My workplace allows five days of summer vacation.

This summer, I had planned to visit my daughter in New York, where she’s on a temporary assignment, taking advantage of the Silver Week holidays.
But when my younger brother suddenly fell critically ill, the trip was no longer possible. I ended up taking only three days off before everything came to a halt.
Two days remained unused—one of which I took last Friday, and the last one was today.

The weather forecast called for heavy rain in the afternoon, and with another three-day weekend starting tomorrow, I didn’t feel like going far.
So I finally decided to visit Nicolai Bergmann Hakone Gardens, a place I’d long wanted to see.

As expected, the gardens were decked out for Halloween, with pumpkins of all sizes scattered across the spacious grounds.
It was colorful, cheerful, and beautifully arranged.

Ann was thrilled—she ran around excitedly, pulling me this way and that.
I somehow managed to calm her down long enough to take a few photos, though as always with animals, only one out of ten shots turned out usable.

Many other visitors had also brought their dogs, each taking pictures in their own way.

Since rain was expected from around two o’clock, we left just after noon.
On the way back, I stopped by Hiratsuka Seaside Terrace Park, which I noticed had just opened today while driving along the coast toward Hakone.

It’s apparently a local public facility operated by the city through a semi-public organization—a pleasant spot for residents.
Still, if the weather had been nice, I imagine the place would have been packed, and Route 134 would have been jammed once again.

Kamakura and Hiratsuka—both in Kanagawa, both nearby. Convenient and comforting.

Heavy rain is expected tonight.
Time to stay quietly at home and listen to it fall. 

 

You Don’t Have to Force Yourself to Go to School

The number of elementary and junior high school students who refuse to attend school in Japan has exceeded 350,000 — the highest ever recorded. Perhaps it’s time we reconsider what “education” really means.

 

More than 350,000 children in Japan are now classified as school refusers — the highest number ever recorded.

There are many ways to receive an education.
Some schools teach large groups together, while others focus on individualized instruction.
Sizes vary widely — from huge schools where you never share a class with the same student twice, to small ones where everyone stays together until graduation.

If the purpose is simply to impart knowledge, private tutoring is more than enough.
That’s how the children of nobles and royals were educated, after all.

School education is said to nurture social skills, communication, cooperation, responsibility, and independence through group life.
But how much of that goal is really being achieved today?

Experts say the surge in absenteeism is partly due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
Reduced contact with others during that period made reentering group life even more difficult.
Even now, many still wear masks that hide their faces — I myself barely remember what some of my colleagues look like below the eyes.

For children who have grown up with little social interaction, suddenly being told to “get along with everyone” is unrealistic.
When I was a child, parents sometimes dragged their kids to school by force — but those days are gone.
There’s no longer any need to go that far.

The pandemic has undoubtedly accelerated this shift.
Just as we began covering half our faces with masks, the rise of online tools has made physical presence unnecessary.

If the goal is simply to study, everything can be done remotely.
“Social skills” — that invisible concept — no longer justify going to school.
Study is concrete.
It produces measurable results.

There is no reason to attend school if it only makes you miserable.
Especially when even teachers can no longer be blindly trusted — with predators and eccentrics hiding in plain sight.

Should we treat truancy as a social problem, or as a sign of educational diversity?
Either way, society will continue to change rapidly.
Perhaps we should even find a new word to replace “futōkō,” which still implies something negative.

Still, if those raised in an age where not going to school is normal enter the workplace, I can’t help but worry — about the inevitable complaints, harassment claims, and misunderstandings that will follow.

Thoughts While Drifting in and Out of Sleep

 I woke up too early again this morning. Half awake, half dreaming, I found myself thinking about everything and nothing — from world politics to baseball, and eventually, about the day ahead.

 

 

As usual, I woke up once around four in the morning.

Since I get up at six, my body must already be preparing for that. On top of that, Anne climbed onto my blanket, making it nearly impossible to fall back asleep.

I tried the so-called “military sleep method” — relaxing every muscle and thinking of nothing — but my body refused to rest.

Even when I try to think of nothing, thoughts sneak in like air slipping through the tiny gap of plastic wrap over a cup.

So, I began thinking about what to write for today’s blog.

Yesterday’s news offered two major stories: President Trump’s visit to Japan, where he strengthened ties with Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, and the Los Angeles Dodgers’ dramatic 18-inning victory over the Toronto Blue Jays.

Since I wrote about President Trump yesterday, it might make sense to continue that topic — but his East Asia tour is still underway, and I’d rather wait until we see some progress, perhaps on the abduction issue.

As for baseball, while the headlines celebrate Shohei Ohtani’s brilliance, yesterday’s game also showed the Blue Jays at their finest. It feels a bit unfair to only praise the Dodgers.

Besides, Ohtani is pitching and hitting again today, and the World Series isn’t over yet.

Somewhere in the middle of all that thinking, I must have dozed off.

Anne, who had been lying on top of me, had curled up under the bed when I finally woke up.

 

GARDEN OF TSURUGAOKA SHRINE　KAMAKURA 

There’s no conference today, and I had planned to catch up on the paperwork piling on my desk — but I just remembered there’s a meeting scheduled.

And before I get to that, I have two difficult pathology cases waiting. I’d better diagnose them while my head is still clear.

Each will probably take about an hour, so there’s no time to take it slow.

 

Anne

 

 

A World — and Japan — Swayed by America

 President Donald Trump has arrived in Japan for the fourth time in six years. His visit comes amid shifting global tensions and renewed debate over protectionism and alliances.

President Donald Trump has arrived in Japan.

It is his fourth visit in six years — surprisingly frequent for an American president.

His previous visit took place during the administration of former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. This time, Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi, who has openly pledged to continue Abe’s political legacy, welcomes him. That may partly explain the timing of this visit.

Today, Trump is scheduled to visit the Yokosuka Naval Base. I was a bit concerned about traffic restrictions in KAMAKURA, but it seems he will be traveling by air, so there will likely be no major disruptions as there were during Barack Obama’s visit years ago.

It has already been ten months since Trump returned to the presidency. He has been quick to announce a series of new policies, among which the “high tariffs” have stirred much controversy. Yet, there have been no reports of large-scale protests or riots in the United States, suggesting that things are relatively stable for now. It is said that these tariffs have already been incorporated into the fiscal structure, making them difficult to roll back.

The ones suffering most from these policies are countries other than the United States — Japan included — as we face the reality of rising prices. Everything seems to cost more, or the quantity and quality have been reduced. Everyday pleasures are quietly disappearing. Most non-U.S. nations are probably in the same predicament.

If the United States continues to pursue even stronger protectionist policies, other countries will inevitably find themselves in an increasingly difficult position.

This, of course, reflects how deeply dependent the world has become on the United States. At the same time, it also shows how effectively America has drawn global wealth to itself. If other nations could truly unite, perhaps a counterbalance could emerge — but given how much of the world’s wealth is already concentrated in U.S. hands, that seems unlikely.

In the end, it appears that American dominance will continue for some time. That said, the United States doesn’t appear to be acting entirely unreasonably. For Japan, the only realistic path may be to continue living as a close ally — even if that sometimes means a kind of “tribute diplomacy.”

And before we complain about America, perhaps we should first correct what needs fixing within our own country.

Attending a Conference Is a Cheap Investment When You See It as a Place to Learn

 Another weekend lost to academic meetings. Yet, I keep telling myself — if I think of these conferences as an opportunity to learn, the cost is actually quite small.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　SEE of CLOUDS 

I attended another conference yesterday, which meant I had no real weekend to rest.
When I can’t relax on Saturday and Sunday, my mind stays wound up, and I sleep poorly. Then Monday comes, and I go straight into work, still tired.
The dry air from the conference hall’s air conditioning has also left my throat sore.

It was the domestic counterpart of the international conference held the day before, in the same venue and almost at the same hours.
Since it was a Japanese meeting, the presentations and discussions were, of course, in Japanese.
Slides and posters may be in English, but without Japanese discussion, it’s hard to grasp the finer points.

Conferences are, in many ways, troublesome things.
You pay the registration fee, spend hours preparing your presentation, and sometimes even find yourself organizing the meeting itself.
The money only goes out — in that sense, it’s a pure loss.
Of course, we do collect participation fees, but financially it barely breaks even, and the time we spend on it is unpaid.

Even so, if you think of a conference as a place to study, it becomes one of the cheapest investments you can make.
When I recall how much we used to spend on our children’s cram schools, the conference fee seems like nothing.

You listen to lectures and presentations prepared, at least to some degree, by competent people.
You exchange ideas and discussions.
Not everyone gets a chance to ask questions, but the opportunity is open to all.

And if you’re the one presenting, you study even more in preparation.
In that sense, a conference is undoubtedly a “participatory classroom.”
The cost of participation is a small price to pay.

Of course, not every presentation is excellent.
So I choose carefully, and if a session turns out dull, I quietly close my eyes for a moment — to rest, and to prepare for the next one.

 

There Should Be No Difference Between Humans and Animals

Reports of bear attacks keep appearing in the news.
It feels as if we humans have forgotten that we, too, are animals — only a little more clever, and perhaps too clever for our own good.

Bear attacks continue to occur across the country.
The alarming term “emergency hunting” has become common, as bears wandering into villages are being shot one after another.

It was reported that the stomachs of the culled bears were completely empty.
They had come down from the mountains in search of food, where the acorns had failed.
As the weather turns colder, we might wish they would hibernate soon, but that seems unlikely.
A hungry bear can hardly sleep peacefully.

If we could imagine how a bear feels, perhaps we could find ways to avoid frightening one another.
Yet the mind of a wild animal is far harder to understand than that of a pet dog.

Humans like to think we can understand animals’ feelings.
But this awareness is, in truth, quite recent.

According to Descartes’ theory of “animal machines,” animals possess no mind or spirit,
and thus cannot feel pain, emotions, or any form of mental suffering.
But of course, that cannot be true.

When I return home, my dog Ann wags her tail furiously in delight.
If that isn’t joy, what else could it be?　 

We speak of animal welfare as if it were universal,
yet in reality it applies only to a few favored species.
Animals raised for food are mostly left out of that circle.
Eels, for instance, are on the brink of extinction, and still we continue to catch them.
By the time species like otters or crested ibises disappeared, it was already too late —
and still, humanity does not turn back.
Perhaps we justify it by saying we cannot let those who make their living from eels go hungry.

After all, humans are animals too.
Where, then, is the real difference between us and the others?
There is none.
And yet, we fear what we do not understand.

Fragile and vulnerable, humans have long used “intelligence” to survive and to dominate other species.
But now, that very intelligence may have begun to run out of control.

Perhaps the bears are only reminding us of that.

 

My Academic Session or the World Series: Which Comes First?

A chilly, rainy day in Tokyo. While the World Series kicked off across the Pacific, I had my own kind of championship to attend—a small but meaningful international conference where I served as session chair.

It was a cold day, with a steady drizzle that made it easy to catch a cold if I wasn’t careful.
Even though it’s late October, I thought wearing a trench coat might be too much. Fortunately, my wife insisted, and she was right.

Autumn seems shorter these days. Japan feels less like a country of “four seasons” and more like just two—summer and winter.

 

I headed into Tokyo early in the morning for an international academic meeting.
“International” in name, but in reality it was a modest conference among Japan, China, and Korea—around seventy or eighty people gathered in the hall.
With online participants included, the total number was probably much higher.

I was assigned to chair one of the sessions, so I reviewed the program carefully on the train.
Still, switching suddenly into English is always challenging. Understanding alone took all my focus.

Out of curiosity, I had tried brushing up on a few phrases in Chinese and Korean using a language app, but “ni hao” and “annyeong hashimnikka” never came up.
Luckily, the discussion went lively enough that I didn’t need to speak much. Everything went smoothly in the end.

I even attempted a small academic joke—but it fell flat.
My pronunciation was probably to blame.

Meanwhile, today marked the opening game of the World Series.
It started at 9:00 a.m. Japan time—exactly when our conference began.
And when things were heating up around 10:30, I was right in the middle of my session, completely absorbed.

Funny how priorities sort themselves out in our minds without any conscious effort.

After my session ended, I finally checked my phone.
The Toronto Blue Jays had crushed the Los Angeles Dodgers, 11–4.
Snell was shelled early, and even Shohei Ohtani’s first World Series home run couldn’t save the day.

What Is Humanity Trading Away in the Name of “Progress”?

A quiet reflection on how technology shapes — and sometimes erodes — our sense of connection.

On my way to work the other morning, I boarded the hospital bus last.
A little boy, maybe around the age of entering elementary school, was sitting with a tablet in his hands, completely absorbed in a game.

The bus was somewhat crowded; a few elderly and disabled passengers were standing.
Of course, I didn’t expect the boy to give up his seat — after all, he was also on his way to the hospital.
Children should sit when riding buses or trains, for safety’s sake.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice how oblivious he seemed to the people around him.

In shopping malls, too, I often see toddlers in strollers staring at tablets handed to them by their parents.
And I wonder — what kind of adults will such children grow up to be?

 There was a time when these things — these gadgets — did not exist.

When I was in elementary and junior high school, I could sense everything happening around me.

Even while reading a book or a newspaper, I could feel who was standing, who was sitting, and who might need a seat.
If an elderly or disabled person was standing while I sat, I felt ashamed.

Then came the Walkman, closing off our ears.
And later, smartphones arrived and took away our eyes.

If one grows up immersed in a tablet from birth, will one ever truly feel the world around them?

Of course, I too, as an adult, often find myself trapped by these same gadgets, blind to the world beyond the screen.

When I think about it, I can’t help but wonder —
is this what we’ve traded for “progress”?

Politics Exists Because of Democracy

The freedom to disagree is what keeps democracy alive. 

 

This morning’s Asahi Shimbun editorials caught my eye.
One was titled “Japan’s First Female Prime Minister — The Ceiling Is Broken, but…”
The other, “Reducing the Number of Lawmakers — Concerns About Cutting Off Public Will.”

Both touched on key issues that led to the rise of Prime Minister Takaichi, which means my focus yesterday was not entirely misplaced.
In particular, the discussion about the Japan Innovation Party’s proposal to cut the number of Diet members helped me better understand what one of my long-time blogger friends had pointed out.
It finally made sense.

Everything has two sides.
Not in a negative sense, but simply because every matter is a coin with two faces.
A policy that seems good from one perspective may look disastrous from another.
When some parties go so far as to denounce this new administration as “the worst in history,” one can only imagine how divided the world of politics truly is.

Given that, politicians are remarkable people.
If a few critical comments on my blog already make me flustered, I cannot imagine enduring their world.

People say politics is all about results.
But a “result” is merely a landscape seen from someone’s vantage point — no one truly knows whether it is good or bad, or whether it reflects the will of the people as a whole.
Every policy follows its own path, spawning other consequences along the way.
And the final outcome often differs from what was originally intended.

Since I praised Prime Minister Takaichi for her clarity of stance, I too must be clear about mine — otherwise it would be cowardly.
So I will leave yesterday’s post as it is, and simply observe what follows.

Japanese democracy is, at its core, built on equality.
One person, one vote.
A blessed system in which each individual’s unique thoughts are connected to a single ballot.

The very fact that I can write openly about politics here is itself a gift of democracy.
I am deeply grateful for that — and determined to help preserve it.

Japan’s First Female Prime Minister: A Leader with Clear Convictions

 As Japan welcomes its first female prime minister in constitutional history, the nation seems to stand at a quiet turning point. Clarity of belief and authenticity in leadership—qualities long blurred in Japanese politics—may finally be returning to center stage.

I have a real headache today.
My blood pressure was high as well.

Whether it’s because the temperature suddenly dropped by nearly ten degrees in just a few days, or because of the low-pressure system bringing this rain, I can’t be sure. In any case, my body hasn’t yet adjusted to the cold. Unless I take care of my health, I’ll end up feeling unwell all season.

The first chicken hotpot of this season

Yesterday, Sanae Takaichi became Japan’s new prime minister.
Some say her political views are controversial, but compared with previous leaders who often lacked clear convictions, her stance is refreshingly straightforward. In parliamentary debates, we can now expect discussions rooted in principle rather than mere ambiguity—something that should make politics easier for the public to follow.

Above all, the fact that she is a woman matters greatly.
For younger generations of women, her rise to the highest office may spark the hope that they, too, can do it someday. What’s impressive is that she doesn’t try to act like a man—she remains herself, natural and composed.

It’s disappointing that only two women were appointed as cabinet ministers; six or so would have been ideal. But I suppose there are still many “reasons” behind such decisions. I can only hope those invisible barriers will soon disappear.

It is also notable that she does not come from a political dynasty.
That alone brings a sense of freshness. If her appointment helps people feel that politics is not a closed world, it will already have great significance.

If the Japan Innovation Party succeeds in reducing the number of parliamentary seats and advancing the “secondary capital” concept to strengthen Osaka, it could mark a genuine turning point for the country. Fewer seats would raise the value of each lawmaker, and a stronger Osaka could revitalize Japan as a whole. I support both ideas.

At this critical juncture for Japan’s future, the emergence of a leader who clearly shows her colors is a welcome change. I only hope that, unlike former Prime Minister Ishiba, she will not be crushed by the realities of politics, and that public trust in government can begin—however slightly—to be restored.

 

Wealth and the Endless Struggle for the Earth's Pie

From a quiet morning in Kamakura, a reflection on human desire, impermanence, and the limits of possession. 

 

Autumn has deepened all at once.

When I take in a deep breath of the fragrant osmanthus blossoms on a street corner, a calm settles over me.

Reading the follow-up reports about the jewel heist at the Louvre, I’m reminded that there will always be people who try to claim what should belong to all humankind.
Yet, no one can possess such things forever—at best, we merely gaze upon them during our brief time on Earth.

Someday—hopefully soon—the stolen treasures will see the light of day again.
Human life is finite, but treasures are not. In that sense, they are eternal.

Wealth may seem alluring to those who wish to monopolize it, but it exists only within the limits of life; once we die, it all comes to an end.
That applies not only to gold and jewels, but also to land and houses.
And on a larger scale, the same truth holds for nations and entire peoples.

The struggle over the small pie we call Earth continues.
Human activity keeps generating entropy, increasing disorder—but eventually, it too will fade.
It may take a long, long time, but that moment will surely come.

Or will humanity venture into the "infinite" universe, carrying this endless competition with it forever?

Even If the Sands of the Shore Run Out, the Breed of Thieves Will Never Die: “Thou Shalt Not Steal”

Sometimes, what keeps us awake at night is not only the anticipation of work the next morning,
but also the unease of living in a world where order can collapse so easily.
From cyberattacks that paralyze entire industries to audacious thefts from world-famous museums,
we are reminded that temptation and wrongdoing are never far from human nature.

This reflection began on a sleepless night — and ended with a question as old as humanity itself.

 

When I have work the next day, I often find myself unable to fall asleep.
I wake up several times during the night, check the clock each time, and drift back into a light slumber.
Continuous sleep would be ideal, of course, but as long as the total adds up to more than six hours, I call it good enough.

It’s Monday—the start of a new week—and yet here I am, writing about my sleepy night. Hardly the most inspiring way to begin the day, but it’s the truth.

This week, however, seems destined to begin with trouble.
The online retailer Askul has reportedly fallen victim to a ransomware attack, causing major disruptions in its communications system.
The idea that the flow of office supplies across Japan could grind to a halt was something I never imagined possible.
And with Asahi Breweries still struggling to recover from its own system failure, one wonders whether Japanese companies are being deliberately targeted.

Meanwhile, news from Paris: jewels have been stolen from the Louvre Museum.
The thieves used a lift truck parked right next to the building—an audacious, almost cinematic act of defiance.
I can only sympathize with the many tourists who found themselves locked out of the museum that day.

Why is it, I wonder, that evildoers appear one after another, as if from an endless supply?
All humans harbor small traces of ill will, yet most of us never act on them.
We are supposed to have a moral brake called conscience—but there are people for whom that brake simply doesn’t work.
Perhaps it’s because the boundary of what counts as “wrong” differs from person to person that some eventually cross the line into crime.

Moses, in the Ten Commandments, warned us: “Thou shalt not steal.”
It must be that stealing holds a certain allure for the human mind.
The Japanese outlaw Ishikawa Goemon, before being executed, is said to have written:

“Even if the sands of the shore run out, the breed of thieves will never die.”

Is the urge to take what belongs to others an inborn part of human nature?
Or is the act of stealing itself one of humanity’s most fundamental impulses?

We All Die Someday — But Never Know When

 

 

I attended the funeral of a relative.

He had been in long-term care, but his condition suddenly worsened, and he passed away.
He had always been a strong man who loved mountain climbing, so the news came as a shock.
Looking at his face in the coffin, I was reminded—people do die, inevitably.

On the way home from the funeral, I stopped by to see my younger brother.
He no longer had any monitors attached, and he looked calm, as if the critical condition he was in three weeks ago had never happened.
It seemed he might live another five or even ten years.

Then I turned my thoughts to myself.
Now that I’m past sixty, I know that the rest of my life is a kind of bonus, yet I can’t help wondering when my time will come.
Some people who seem healthy suddenly decline and die, while others who were thought to be near death recover.
We really never know when we’ll die—or how long we’ll keep living.

If we die with regrets, perhaps even finding peace in death becomes difficult.
Thinking that way, maybe “preparing to die” simply means living in such a way that we have no regrets.

Autumn Arrives at Last — and Shohei Ohtani Shines Again

 

Two large roses bloomed in my garden today.

It’s already mid-October, but it finally feels like real autumn has come.
In western Japan, they say summer days are still lingering, but this year’s heat was truly relentless.
It seems the weather will finally cool down next week — at last, the true autumn season begins.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t watch the Major League games yesterday or today because of work, but I heard Shohei Ohtani had another phenomenal performance for the Dodgers.
He pitched six scoreless innings and hit three home runs in four at-bats — a storyline almost too good to be true.

Even the news that Yamamoto threw a complete-game victory, or that Sasaki — who struggled early in the season — has come back as a strong closer, would each be dramatic enough on their own.
Yet Ohtani’s latest feat surpasses them all.

The World Series is just a week away — I can hardly wait.

Online Meetings — The Good, the Bad, and the Distance Between Us

Sometimes, even a small event in an ordinary day reveals how differently we each live our lives.
This reflection came to me after two long online meetings yesterday.

---

Yesterday, I had two online meetings.
Both were a bit demanding, and by the end, I was exhausted.

The great thing about online meetings is that people in distant places can discuss things face to face.
It’s one of the biggest changes brought about by the pandemic.

Of course, it’s not all good.
There used to be jokes about people wearing formal shirts on top and pajamas underneath — but in truth, you never really know what the other person’s situation is.
Even going to the bathroom requires an announcement.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom for a moment.”

That sort of thing feels oddly formal.

Being able to join from afar is convenient, but it also creates a kind of temperature gap.
Some, like me, join from the workplace; others, apparently, from their homes.

If you’re at work, you naturally have to think about how to get home.
Some people, like me, have a two-hour commute, while others live right next to the hospital.
Those lucky ones can talk on and on without worrying about the time.

When the time for the last bus from the hospital started to approach, the discussion was just heating up — but I had to leave.
I sent a message in the chat to let the moderator know I was logging off, but I had no idea if anyone noticed.
I simply left the note and signed out.

After the meeting, I cleaned up the room and locked up.
I managed to catch the second-to-last bus, but still didn’t get home until after eleven.

On the train back, I checked my email.
There it was:
“Here’s the handout from today’s meeting.”

Such energy.

That night, I didn’t try to continue any more work.
I took a bath, had a late dinner with my wife, and went to bed.
It helps, a little, that with age, I seem to need less sleep.

Don’t Blame Your Slump for What You Haven’t Done

Lately, I haven’t been feeling quite myself.

There’s so much that needs to be done, yet my hands just won’t move.
Even when I do get started, the results are sloppy—details missed, corners cut.

The other day, Sanae Takaichi, who was recently elected president of the Liberal Democratic Party, was criticized for saying, “I will work hard.”
If you are to carry the weight of Japan on your shoulders, that kind of resolve is exactly what’s required.
Still, saying it aloud was perhaps a political mistake.

The late Prime Minister Abe publicly acknowledged his illness,
but he never used it as an excuse.
That, I think, was the difference—and a remarkable one.
His ability to push himself, no matter what, deserves genuine respect.

I, too, must find ways to push myself forward.
My responsibilities may not compare to those of national leaders,
but when I think of each patient’s life,
I realize I must study harder, raise the quality of my diagnoses,
and contribute—however modestly—to the progress of medicine.

Too much work has piled up.
It reminds me of school days, of unfinished homework and looming exams.
Still, I can’t blame it on some vague sense of malaise.
The only way is to tackle each task carefully, one by one.

Time passes quickly.
No one will wait for me.

Japanese Success Abroad — Japan’s National Team Defeats Brazil 3–2

 

I never imagined that Japan’s national soccer team would actually beat Brazil.
And to do it with a score of 3–2 — that was no fluke, but a genuine, hard-fought victory.

I don’t know exactly how many people play soccer in Japan, but surely the number is smaller than in Brazil.
Perhaps this is the fruit of Japan’s well-organized youth development system.
I can’t help but think of the young soccer boys I often see on my way home from work.

Yesterday, the Dodgers — now with three Japanese players — also won their game.
In Major League Baseball, not only Ohtani, Yamamoto, and Sasaki, but several other Japanese-born players are performing brilliantly.
It’s truly gratifying to see that even Japan’s top-level players can hold their own on the world stage.

Baseball participation in Japan has been steadily declining.
Even so, I like to imagine that one day, one of those kids practicing early every weekend on the local elementary school field will make it to the big leagues.

Whether in soccer or baseball, more and more Japanese athletes are making their mark overseas.
It may not be that Japanese ability has suddenly risen, but rather that the barriers to going abroad have become lower.

A different place.
A different air to breathe.
That alone can change a person.
It broadens the mind and opens new perspectives.

Whether the destination is a developed country in the West or a growing middle-income nation, both offer chances for new experiences.
Some may stay and flourish there; others may return to Japan and build upon what they learned.

For athletes, a scout’s invitation may open the door.
For researchers, it’s rarely that simple.
I’ve heard that fewer young Japanese are studying abroad these days.

Investment in youth —
That, too, is a form of countermeasure against the declining birthrate.
I hope Japan will continue to expand opportunities for young people to study overseas, and to open new doors to the future.

The Release of Hostages by Hamas and Japan’s Abduction Victims

 

Thanks in part to the efforts of President Trump, hostages taken by Hamas have been released, and the fighting in the Gaza Strip has temporarily subsided.

Since Israel had been conducting unilateral attacks, one cannot help but wonder whether more lives might have been saved if Hamas had agreed to negotiations earlier. Yet the events have already passed, and I am in no position to comment on the complex circumstances behind them.

Watching the scenes of families rejoicing over the release of their loved ones, I could not help but think of the families of Japanese citizens abducted by North Korea.
They have endured decades of anguish, never giving up hope for the return of their loved ones — an ordeal that is truly heartbreaking.

Because of Japan’s wartime history, the government could not take direct military action to rescue them. There was a time when the families seemed close to reaching their relatives, but that faint thread of hope has now vanished into the darkness.

North Korea’s political system, resistant to all forms of international pressure, remains formidable. A breakthrough may be hard to find, yet all we can do is continue to hope — that someday, every one of them will come home.

Grumbling About Kamakura’s Traffic

 

I went out this morning for an errand and came back in the evening.

It’s the first day of a three-day weekend, and since the weather was gloomy, I thought the roads wouldn’t be that crowded. I was wrong.

People often say to me, “Kamakura must have terrible traffic.”
If you choose your time carefully, it’s manageable — but if you try to move around during the day, it’s tough.

Simply getting into Kamakura is a challenge.

Basically, there are only three routes:
from Tokyo or Yokohama, either via the Asahina Road or Kamakura Highway through Ōfuna;
and from the west, through the coastal road or from Fujisawa.
All of them get jammed.

The main roads are full of tour buses, and even the back roads are packed thanks to navigation apps sending drivers down every narrow street.

And on weekends, there are so many inexperienced drivers.
Not dangerously bad, perhaps — just slow and hesitant on Kamakura’s narrow, winding roads.

You find yourself muttering:
“Really? You’re turning now?”
“Come on, you could’ve pulled over there!”

And then, of course, the main street, Wakamiya Ōji, is clogged with airport vans and inbound tourists.

I suppose it’s my fault for driving during peak hours, but still — Kamakura traffic wasn’t this bad ten years ago.

Today, thanks to the rain, there were fewer cars and people.
If only sunny days were like this too… but tomorrow’s forecast is for clear skies, which means the streets will be overflowing again.

Just grumbling.

Peace for Gaza

 

The north wind from Typhoon No. 22 has swept away the last traces of summer, filling the air with the crispness of autumn.
Since the equinox, the tropical nights have vanished, and the lingering heat seems to have been carried off with the storm.
It feels like autumn has finally settled in—something to be quietly grateful for.

At last, there seems to be a faint glimmer of hope for an end to the conflict in Gaza.
It is still too early to say whether a complete ceasefire will be achieved, but the fact that Hamas is moving toward releasing hostages marks a significant step forward.

It is regrettable that Israel resorted to force in response to Hamas’s violence, but that chapter has already been written.
What truly matters now is how Israel will contribute to peace in the Middle East from this point on.
For countries that have recognized Palestine as a state, supporting Gaza’s reconstruction will be a moral responsibility—though many nations are facing economic and political hardship of their own.

Japan, too, is no longer as affluent as it once was, and lavish aid may not be realistic.
Even so, I hope Japan can continue to act in a way that reflects its dignity on the international stage.

The problems in the region are deeply rooted in religious and historical differences, and peace will not come easily.
Still, I pray that tranquility will return to the people of Gaza.

As a Japanese, I also wish that Japan could share with the world the ancient wisdom of Prince Shōtoku, who taught that “harmony is to be valued above all.”

In the Land Where Water Falls

 

Since last night, the rain has been falling steadily—by the time the morning commute rolled around, it had turned into a downpour.
It was the first time in a while that I needed to bring out my long umbrella.

With the autumn rains come heavier precipitation, and the looming threat of typhoons makes this season all the more unpredictable.
In recent years, rain has been far from gentle—more often than not, it arrives in disaster-level proportions.

That’s why I sincerely hope flood control and infrastructure measures are taken more seriously.
Despite the fact that we face these disasters almost every year, our responses are still reactive and delayed.
Perhaps that’s no surprise, given that a government official once advised a minister that “preparing for a once-in-a-millennium disaster is unnecessary.”

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Watching these torrential rains, it feels less like “rain is falling” and more like “water is pouring from the sky.”

It’s as if a god beyond the clouds is scattering enormous droplets, and year by year, those droplets seem to grow in size.
Maybe it's just a divine whim—but still, it wouldn’t hurt if they showed a little restraint.

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And yet, despite having such an abundance of water, this country lets most of it simply flow out to sea.
Whenever I see the dusty images from Palestine, I’m reminded of just how precious water truly is.

Recently, I read an article about how deserts are spreading in Romania.
There are places all over the world where water is in desperately short supply.

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Japan may not always remain a “water-rich nation.”
Perhaps the reason rain falls so frequently over these islands now is nothing more than a temporary climate pattern.

Being surrounded by seas on all sides and having endured water-related hardship in the past does not mean we can remain complacent.
We must not assume that abundance will last forever.

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The value of water is rising, and we now face the unsettling reality that even our water sources are being purchased by foreign entities.
Globalization has quietly seeped into all the things we once took for granted as inherently Japanese.

Now, more than ever, we must pay attention to the small things—because it’s in those details that what we need to protect may be quietly slipping away.