I spent the past two days at a conference in Osaka. The presentation went well, but just when I thought I could quietly coast toward retirement, another job was handed to me. Then came the familiar smell of Osaka’s famous pork buns on the Shinkansen home.
Yesterday and today, I was in Osaka for a conference.
To get to the venue, I had to walk through the underground passages of Umeda, one of Osaka’s busiest downtown districts, so I used my cane just to be safe.
In both Tokyo and Osaka, people seemed equally considerate toward someone walking with a cane, and I was able to get around fairly smoothly.
Still, Osaka was incredibly crowded.
Looking at all those people, it is hard to believe that Japan is heading into population decline. But of course, this is Tokyo and Osaka. The crowds in Japan’s two great metropolitan areas are hardly representative of the country as a whole.
It was only a small academic meeting, but I had prepared seriously and managed to give my presentation without trouble.
I finished almost exactly on time, although the discussion became rather lively afterward. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, I am not entirely sure.
At a small specialist meeting, most of the audience already knows the subject fairly well.
Even so, I try to make my presentations educational enough for younger colleagues while leaving some room for experienced specialists to join the discussion.
So when one of the senior people asks a question that is slightly off the mark, I cannot help feeling a little disappointed.
At my age, giving a presentation is increasingly like looking back over what I have learned through the years.
That was more or less how I approached this one, so I was fairly relaxed about it.
For an old pathologist nearing retirement, I thought that should be enough.
I had already served as the society’s executive secretary, and I had been hoping to keep a low profile from here on and somehow coast quietly to the finish line.
Then someone told me I should chair the meeting once again.
I declined as gently as I could.
Nevertheless, I somehow ended up being assigned to host the conference the year after next.
If someone senior tells you to do something, there is only so much you can do about it.
But being told to do it by people younger than you feels rather different.
I am not quite sure how to describe the feeling.
So, feeling slightly depressed about my newly assigned responsibility, I once again found myself in the crowded basement food halls of Hankyu Department Store in Umeda, buying souvenirs.
HORAI shop
An Osaka colleague had warned me:
“Be careful if you buy HORAI pork buns. They smell.”
HORAI is a famous Osaka chain best known for its butaman—large, steamed buns filled with seasoned pork.
I had been warned.
And yet, once again, I bought some.
Now, on the Shinkansen back home, the smell is drifting down from the luggage rack above my head.
Fortunately, so far, nobody seems to mind.
At least this is one thing I may still manage to get away with.
I failed to escape the next conference assignment, but I may yet escape responsibility for the smell of HORAI.
・・・
Vocabulary for Learners
coast to the finish line
To continue with as little extra effort or trouble as possible until something ends.
できるだけ余計な苦労をせずに最後まで乗り切ること。
keep a low profile
To avoid attracting attention or taking on a prominent role.
目立たず控えめにしていること。
off the mark
Not quite correct or relevant.
的外れな、少しずれている。
chair a meeting
To be responsible for organizing or leading a meeting or conference.
会議や学会を主催・運営する。
food hall
A department-store area where many kinds of prepared foods and specialties are sold.
デパートなどの食品売り場、デパ地下。
pork bun
A steamed bun filled with seasoned pork. In Osaka, these are often called butaman.
豚肉の餡を入れた蒸しパン。大阪では「豚まん」と呼ばれることが多い。
get away with something
To do something questionable or troublesome without suffering any consequences.
問題になりそうなことを、咎められずに切り抜ける。
No comments:
Post a Comment