Yokohama Quotes

Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve! Slap! Their palms hit the library door. * * * They opened the door and stepped in. They stopped. The library deeps lay waiting for them. Out in the world, not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather, anything might happen, always did. Listen! and you heard ten thousand people screaming so high only dogs feathered their ears. A million folk ran toting cannons, sharpening guillotines; Chinese, four abreast marched on forever. Invisible, silent, yes, but Jim and Will had the gift of ears and noses as well as the gift of tongues. This was a factory of spices from far countries. Here alien deserts slumbered. Up front was the desk where the nice old lady, Miss Watriss, purple-stamped your books, but down off away were Tibet and Antarctica, the Congo. There went Miss Wills, the other librarian, through Outer Mongolia, calmly toting fragments of Peiping and Yokohama and the Celebes.

The rickshaw was invented by an American missionary, Jonathan Scobie, who first used it to wheel his invalid wife through the streets of Yokohama, Japan, in 1869.

Saatnya angin berbau asin datang dari laut. Hari ini, aku akan bermain gekkin untukmu. Suara denting senar melebur bersama udara, meresap dalam panca indera. Terlihat seperti wewangian apakah nada-nada ini... Dengan terlahirnya lagu ini, keberadaanmu mendapatkan makna baru. Kalau bersedia, bernyanyilah bersamaku. Masih ada waktu sebelum gelap. Waktu yang paling indah.

On days like today, even if I see something that would make a good picture, I don't take it out of my pouch. I take my time as I walk... here, between the sky above and the earth below... Its rhythm follows the pace of my steps. A song emerges from my parted lips. As I look around at the world, out from myself, I continue walking. But I carried on my strange song and dance all the way home. I never took out my camera.

Along the way I stopped into a coffee shop. All around me normal, everyday city types were going about their normal, everyday affairs. Lovers were whispering to each other, businessmen were poring over spread sheets, college kids were planning their next ski trip and discussing the new Police album. We could have been in any city in Japan. Transplant this coffee shop scene to Yokohama or Fukuoka and nothing would seem out of place. In spite of which -- or, rather, all the more because -- here I was, sitting in this coffee shop, drinking my coffee, feeling a desperate loneliness. I alone was the outsider. I had no place here. Of course, by the same token, I couldn't really say I belonged to Tokyo and its coffee shops. But I had never felt this loneliness there. I could drink my coffee, read my book, pass the time of day without any special thought, all because I was part of the regular scenery. Here I had no ties to anyone. Fact is, I'd come to reclaim myself.

As the train pushed off for Yokohama, the POWs’ last sight of Naoetsu was a broken line of Japanese, the few civilian guards and camp staffers who had been kind to them, standing along the side of the track. Their hands were raised in salute.

That Seigo could go into geisha houses, accept luncheon invitations, drop in at the Club, see people off at Shimabashi, meet them at Yokohama, run out to Oiso to humor the elders—that he could put in his appearance at large gatherings from morning to evening without seeming either triumphant or dejected—this must be because he was thoroughly accustomed to this kind of life, thought Daisuke; it was probably like the jellyfish's floating in the sea and not finding it salty.

The military put up barricades around the areas of the cities where the infections broke out. That was the way the first Coldtowns were founded. Vampirism is an American problem, the BBC declared. But the next outbreak was in Hong Kong, then Yokohama, then Marseille, then Brecht, then Liverpool. After that, it spread across Europe like wildfire.

with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds, ascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix; and they started at once for Nagasaki and Yokohama. They reached their destination

When I lived on the Bluff in Yokohama I spend a good deal of my leisure in the company of foreign residents, at their banquets and balls. At close range I was not particularly struck by their whiteness, but from a distance I could distinguish them quite clearly from the Japanese. Among the Japanese were ladies who were dressed in gowns no less splendid than the foreigners’, and whose skin was whiter than theirs. Yet from across the room these ladies, even one alone, would stand out unmistakably from amongst a group of foreigners. For the Japanese complexion, no matter how white, is tinged by a slight cloudiness. These women were in no way reticent about powdering themselves. Every bit of exposed flesh—even their backs and arms—they covered with a thick coat of white. Still they could not efface the darkness that lay below their skin. It was as plainly visible as dirt at the bottom of a pool of pure water. Between the fingers, around the nostrils, on the nape of the neck, along the spine—about these places especially, dark, almost dirty, shadows gathered. But the skin of the Westerners, even those of a darker complexion, had a limpid glow. Nowhere were they tainted by this gray shadow. From the tops of their heads to the tips of their fingers the whiteness was pure and unadulterated. Thus it is that when one of us goes among a group of Westerners it is like a grimy stain on a sheet of white paper. The sight offends even our own eyes and leaves none too pleasant a feeling.

Mary is strapping on a rubber penis: “Steely Dan III from Yokohama,” she says, caressing the shaft. Milk spurts across the room... I tie him up, strip off his clothes with a razor and fuck him with SteelyDan I.

Omnidirectional peaceful diplomacy” is all very well for the present, but how useful will it be if an overextended United States does withdraw from its Asian commitments, or finds it impossible to protect the flow of oil from Arabia to Yokohama? How

Omnidirectional peaceful diplomacy” is all very well for the present, but how useful will it be if an overextended United States does withdraw from its Asian commitments, or finds it impossible to protect the flow of oil from Arabia to Yokohama? How useful if there is another Korean war? How useful if China begins to dominate the region? How

The two men dined alone. They ate parsley soup, whiting, roast veal, cabinet pudding; they drank whisky and soda. Lord Copper explained Nazism, Fascism and Communism; later, in his ghastly library, he outlined the situation in the Far East. “The Beast stands for strong mutually antagonistic governments everywhere,” he said. “Self-sufficiency at home, self-assertion abroad.” Mr. Salter’s side of the conversation was limited to expressions of assent. When Lord Copper was right, he said, “Definitely, Lord Copper”; when he was wrong, “Up to a point.” “Let me see, what’s the name of the place I mean? Capital of Japan? Yokohama, isn’t it?” “Up to a point, Lord Copper.” “And Hong Kong belongs to us, doesn’t it?” “Definitely, Lord Copper.

Yet when, one day, standing on the outskirts of Yokohama town, bristling with its display of modern miscellanies, I watched the sunset in your southern sea, and saw its peace and majesty among your pine-clad hills,—with the great Fujiyama growing faint against the golden horizon, like a god overcome with his own radiance,—the music of eternity welled up through the evening silence, and I felt that the sky and the earth and the lyrics of the dawn and the dayfall are with the poets and idealists, and not with the marketmen robustly contemptuous of all sentiment,—that, after the forgetfulness of his own divinity, man will remember again that heaven is always in touch with his world, which can never be abandoned for good to the hounding wolves of the modern era, scenting human blood and howling to the skies.

They opened the door and stepped in. They stopped. The library deeps waited for them. Out in the world, not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather, anything might happen, always did. Listen! and you heard ten thousand people screaming so high only dogs feathered their ears. A million folk ran toting cannons, sharpening guillotines; Chinese, four abreast, marched on forever. Invisible, silent, yes, but Jim and Will had the gift of ears and noses as well as the gift of tongues. This was a factory of spices from far countries. Here alien deserts slumbered. Up front was the desk where the nice old lady, Miss Watriss, purple-stamped your books, but down off away were Tibet and Antarctica, the Congo. There went Miss Wills, the other librarian, through Outer Mongolia, calmly toting fragments of Peiping and Yokohama and the Celebes.

From outside the shelter came children's voices. The shrill squeals brought the excitement of their unseen game into the opaque quiet of Setsuko's world and made her smile. "No war can go on forever. And human beings are the toughest creatures on earth, you know. There's no sense in being in a hurry to die. You MUST LIVE, whatever happens." Shoichi Wakui had squeezed her hand and told her this with an almost violent urgency, though his grasp was weak and his voice halting. Were those the Sugiwaras' children she could hear? The barber had had the presence of mind to rescue his kit when he fled through the flames of his burning shop, and now he was doing a brisk trade, seating his customers on cushions atop piled stones from the foundations. To house his family he'd put a lean-to against the railway embankment, barely enough to keep out the weather, but at least the children were no longer starving. Even in defeat the locally garrisoned soldiers all had some supplies of food, and while waiting to board trains for their hometowns from Yokohama Station they'd sit on the stone seat of the Sugawara Barbershop and have a good shave, leaving the children something to eat as payment. Setsuko no longer felt the rage that had overwhelmed her at the disbanding ceremony. If they had fought on home ground, one hundred million Japanese sworn to die before they would surrender, those children would have had to die too. Those young lives and spirits would have been extinguished in terror and pain and they wouldn't even have understood why. They have a right to go on living, and the strength to do it, Setsuko thought. For their sakes, if no one else's, I should rejoice that the war ended before an invasion reached the home front. Shoichi Wakui's words came back clearly: "Even when a war is lost, people's lives still go on." And Naomis, in the gray notebook: "Every war comes to an end, and when peace is restored Paris rises like a phoenix." But what about those who'd already died? It was agony to think of those who would not rise: the dead would be left where they fell at the ends of the earth while the living would come home with their knapsacks of clothing and food. Whether they had gone to the front or stayed at home, the people had staked their lives for country and Emperor, and after they had lost, the country and the Emperor were still there. Then what had it all meant? Adrift and floundering in despair, Setsuko slipped back into a restless sleep.

February 4–15: The couple visits holy places, Osaka, Mount Fuji, Yokohama, and the Izu Peninsula. Marilyn looks especially comfortable among a group of women dressed in traditional Japanese clothing. In some shots she wears a hat and a modestly cut suit. Marilyn accepts the Japanese emperor’s gift of a natural pearl necklace. In Korea to entertain the troops General John E. Hull invites Marilyn to entertain American troops in Korea. A disturbed DiMaggio opposes the invitation, but Marilyn accepts it. Marilyn writes photographer Bruno Bernard from Japan: “I’m so happy and in love. . . . I’ve decided for sure that it’ll be better if I only make one or two more films after I shoot There’s No Business Like Show Business and then retire to the simple good life of a housewife and, hopefully, mother. Joe wants a big family. He was real surprised when we were met at the airport by such gigantic crowds and press. He said he never saw so much excitement, not even when the Yankees won the World Series.

あとで、「あなたたち〹何がしたくて日本学〹へ入ったのですか？」と質問したところ、ほとんどの学生が「貿易関係」とか「経済に〹献できる

ここ〹オ〹ンダ、〹ーボルト・〹ウスの展示室の一室。 南ホ〹ント州、アムステルダムから電車で30 分弱のところにある、あの画家のレンブラント

性ゃポテン〹ャルについて、20 分間話しました。 目をらんらんと輝かせて…… のはず〹、あれッ。

日本の〹ーメン産業の規模〹どれくらいですか？」 「麺の〹麦粉は、どの国から輸入していますか？」 〹〹ッ？ど〹もこ〹も、〹ーメンの「おいしさ」や「食文化」といった人間の自然な 好奇心から発せられる質問（「パスタとどちらがおいしいですか？」とか。そんな単純な質問〹来な〹〹）〹らは〹ーく離れた「経済」よりのぜんぜーん予期して〹な〹った質問〹飛んできます。 あとで、「あなたたち〹何がしたくて日本学〹へ入ったのですか？」と質問したところ、ほとんどの学生が「貿易関係」とか「経済に〹献できること」と答えてくれたため、この質問の〹図に対する疑問〹解消できたのですが、そのときは奇妙に思ったのです。 そ〹、オ〹ンダ〹天然ガスくらいしか資源〹ない国です。国土〹狭く

The Japanese were fully aware of the U.S. Fleet doctrine to get underway in case of attack and to pass out to sea through Pearl Harbor's narrow entrance channel. To take full advantage of this eventuality the Japanese stationed five fleet submarines near the entrance and had about thirteen more submarines on patrol duty in other areas bordering Hawaii. These submarines left Yokohama on 11 November 1941 and sailed by different routes. Five of the large submarines carried midget submarines on their decks.

Yet he had to see, with his own eyes, what airpower did to Yokohama to understand LeMay, because what LeMay had been talking about in their conversation in China was outside the old general’s imagination. He had been taught back at West Point that soldiers fought soldiers and armies fought armies. A warrior of Stilwell’s generation was slow to understand that you could do this, as an American Army officer, if you wanted: you could take out entire cities. And then more. One after another.

るべきだったかもと思〹〹、も〹遅い 。話

That evening, when Noa did not call her, she realized that she had not given him her home number in Yokohama. In the morning, Hansu phoned her. Noa had shot himself a few minutes after she’d left his office.

Just about the only serious argument anyone tries to make in favor of diversity echoes Jonathan Alger, a lawyer who has argued before the Supreme Court in favor of racial preferences: “Corporations have to compete internationally,” he says, and “cross-cultural competency is a key skill in the work force.” This argument assumes that people get along best with people like themselves, that Koreans, for example, can do business most effectively with other Koreans. Presumably, if the United States has a large population of Koreans they will be a bridge between Korea and the United States. For that to work, however, Korean-Americans should not fully assimilate because if they do, they will lose the qualities that make them an asset. America should give up the ideal of Americanization that, in a few generations, made Englishmen, Dutchmen, Germans, Swedes, the Irish, and all other Europeans essentially indistinguishable. Do we really want to give up the idea of assimilation? Or should only racial minorities give up on assimilation? More to the point, is a diverse population really an advantage in trade or international affairs? Japan is one of the most racially homogeneous nations. It would be hard to find a country that so clearly practices the opposite of American-style diversity, but it is one of the most successful trading nations on earth. If diversity were a key advantage, Brazil, Indonesia, Sudan, Malaysia, and Lebanon would be world leaders in trade. Other great trading nations—Taiwan, Korea and China—are, if anything, even more closed and exclusionist than Japan. Germany is likewise a successful trading nation, but its trade surpluses cannot be attributed to cultural or racial diversity. Only since the 1960s has it had a large non-German minority of Turks who came as guest workers, and there is no evidence that Turks have helped Germany become more of a world presence or even a better trade partner with Turkey. The world’s consumers care about price and quality, not the race or nationality of the factory worker. American corporations boast about workforces that “look like America,” but they are often beaten in their own market by companies whose workforces look like Yokohama or Shanghai. If we really took seriously the idea that “cross-cultural competence” was crucially important, we would adjust the mix of immigrants accordingly. We might question the wisdom of Haitian immigration, for example, since Haiti is a small, poor country that is never likely to be an important trade partner. And do 32 million Mexican-Americans help our trade relations with the world—or even with Mexico? Canada is our number-one trading partner. Should we therefore encourage immigration from Canada? No one ever talks about immigration in these terms because at some level everyone understands that diversity has nothing to do with trade or influence in the world. The “cross-cultural competence” argument is artificial.

Public opinion nonetheless remained a formidable issue, and a Gallup poll taken in June revealed what advocates of modifying unconditional surrender were up against: 33 percent of respondents wanted to execute the emperor, 11 percent wanted him kept in prison for the rest of his life, 17 percent wanted a court to decide his fate, 9 percent wanted to exile him, 4 percent wanted to leave him alone because he was just a figurehead for the warlords, and 3 percent wanted to use him as a puppet to run Japan. The remainder, 23 percent, had no opinion. In short, 70 percent of participants chose an option that was unacceptable to the advocates of modification. The results were disappointing but not surprising. Grew and the other retentionists thought the poll proved only how uninformed most Americans were. They had a point. The same survey showed that only 54 percent of respondents got the emperor’s name correct. Answers included Hara Kari, Yokohama, and Fujiyama.

destiny by the throat and wring its neck. My Japanese name is Masaji Ishikawa, and my Korean name is Do Chan-sun. I was born (for the first time) in the neighborhood of Mizonokuchi in the city of Kawasaki, just south of Tokyo. It was my misfortune to be born between two worlds—to a Korean father and a Japanese mother. Mizonokuchi is an area of gently sloping hills that now grows crowded on the weekends with visitors from Tokyo and Yokohama seeking an escape from the city and some fresh air. But sixty years ago, when I was a child, it consisted of little more than a few farms, with irrigation canals that led from the Tama River running between them. Back then, the irrigation canals were used not just for farming but also for household tasks like laundry and washing dishes. As a boy, I spent long summer days playing in the canals. I’d

AFTER seeing Hong Kong with its wharfs crowded with dirty boats manned by still dirtier people, and its streets packed with a filthy crowd, Yokohama has a cleaned-up Sunday appearance.

The last few weeks had demonstrated that we were literally irreplaceable as workers, but any criminal incident turned the whole community into outlaws. A strange kind of outlaw: the bananas I had been unloading had been grown by Filipinos in Mindanao, transported on ships with Filipino crews, and handled by Filipinos in the docks of Yokohama. The only thing we didn't do with these outsize, uniform, intensely cultivated, tasteless fruit was eat them. We despised them. We used to mock the Japanese for eating them – the favorite fruit of monkeys! ("Underground in Japan")

after the Meiji Period, which lasted from 1869 to 1912, these persecuted artists led lives of bare subsistence in slums and narrow alleys. Struggling to elude the vigilant eyes of the government, which had outlawed tattooing, they kept their skills alive by creating works of art that could never be shown in public. The names that spring to mind are Horiuno I and II, followed by Horikane, Horikin, Horigoro, Horiyasu, and a couple of others. “Of course, no list of post-Meiji tattoo artists would be complete without the renowned Honcho the First. As you may know, he created a nationwide scandal in Japan in 1900 by committing ‘love suicide’ with a woman who was not his wife. Horicho had already left his mark on posterity, not just in Japan but overseas as well, by tattooing highly publicized dragons on the forearms of the English Duke of York, who became King George V, and the czarevitch of Russia, later Czar Nicholas II. At the time, Horicho’s was the only legal tattoo parlor left open in Yokohama. It was there—attracted, no doubt, by a sign that read ‘For Foreigners Only’—that both George and Nicholas got their dragons.

下松

ラーメン、山ブ〹ック〹ーメンなど、まだまだ紹介しきれていない場所もあり、これから