Why wait for marriage?

The same-sex marriage debate is, in part, about the separation of church and state. Should the government discriminate against some citizens simply because it offends others’ religious sensibilities? Or, formulated another way, how much should private morality be entwined with public policy?

This is well illustrated, of course, by folks like the town clerk in New York who resigned rather than perform gay marriages, which offend her religious convictions. (Whatever happened to “render unto Caesar…?”)

However, there’s another aspect to the private morality/public policy question that puzzles me. The media talks about the legalization of same-sex marriage as heralding a surge in gay weddings. Marriage licenses and civil marriages, I understand. But weddings? Are people really not getting married if the state doesn’t sanction it? Are we really acquiescing to second-class status? Has the wedding industry really been ignoring this market segment?

I’m not arguing civil marriage does not matter; of course it does. It matters a lot. That’s precisely why celebrating your union before your family and community, in defiance of a government that tries to render it invisible, is a radical, transformative, and liberating act.

“Tea!”

Imagine that you’re sitting at home, having a leisurely cup of tea with your friends and catching up on local gossip. All of a sudden, two foreigners politely barge into your living room, sit down, and awkwardly demand some tea using a series of weird-sounding words and funny gestures. After you’ve served them some tea, and thrown in some biscuits for good measure, they seem to want to pay you. You refuse payment, and they politely leave bowing and thanking you profusely.

This isn’t exactly what happened to us, but it felt that way when we stopped at one of the many tea houses that dot Inari, a mountain dedicated to the eponymous Shinto deity of fertility and rice. The mountain is laced with paths marked by distinctive, bright orange torii, donated by the faithful. We quickly wandered off the main path and into some of the smaller alcoves and hidden shrines, and it is there, in the sleepy tea-stop that was just getting started for the day, that we had the first of several cups of tea that day on the mountain.

The numerous shrines and temples are not limited to the tourist sites like this particular mountain; they actually pervade Kyoto. It is not uncommon to see personal shrines in front of some houses, bigger shrines or temples occupying full house lots, or even historic shrines, plaques and all, wedged between glitzy modern department stores in a very lit and lively downtown shopping area. These places are not just for show: shoppers, tourists, and pilgrims will stop, set down their bags, and pay their respects to the deities by clapping, bowing, ringing a bell, and praying.

It is quite fascinating to watch the devotion of the faithful, to regard the opulence and beauty of these religiously inspired structures and statues, and to consider the time and resources that are used by religious observances. Not that the West can’t hold its own here, mind you, but this is a good reminder of how universal the religious drive is.

Dawn in the Land of the Rising Sun

We’ve been in Japan three days now, and my initial impression is this: it is both as foreign as and yet more familiar than I expected. Among the surprises:

  • So far in our Tokyo and Kyoto experiences, there is practically no public WiFi. If you’re lucky and happen to be passing near a rare store with open WiFi, you can get on for a bit using the weak signal. I had read that the Japanese have been relying very much on cell phones for a while and thus have been slow to embrace WiFi for getting on the web, but the reality of how utterly rare it is (and also, how I’ve come to rely on it to get around as a modern-day tourist) didn’t sink in until I got here. From what we could figure out in a couple of stores, mobile phone or portable hotspot rentals are charged by the month but require a contract lasting anywhere from three months to two years. We have not figured out how to get around this. We were lucky to be able to get a wired connection at our hotel in Tokyo.

  • I find it dissonant that, in a culture that is often fashion-conscious and tradition-oriented, facemasks are so ubiquitous. In Tokyo, about a fourth to a third of the people seemed to be wearing facemasks; in Kyoto, much less. I’ll be curious about the countryside once we start biking. Facemasks appear to be part of the national concern with cleanliness . Some studies suggest they may work, though I have to wonder how much of it is simply group identification: “I think of myself as the type of person who wears facemasks” (the same way that I act and think of myself as a Seattle eco-do-gooder). Particularly amusing facemask wearers are the occasional smoker or takeout-coffee-drinker.

  • Speaking of smokers, it’s been a while since I’ve been in a culture where people smoke in eating establishments. In all fairness, smoking is not quite as prevalent as in some other places (such as France), and there seem to be some rules about where one can smoke on the sidewalks.

  • So far, there have been more English signs than I expected (especially in Kyoto). Some of the translations are humorous, but the message (usually) gets across. On the flip side, a surprising number of people (well, store workers and shop-keepers, I should say) know little or no English.

  • Biking on the left side of the road will take some getting used to. Right now it’s a very conscious process confusion to look and walk where I’m supposed to.

The delights:

  • Fresh sushi and riceballs and all sorts of hot, cold, and mysterious packaged foods in convenience stores everywhere! It’s true! And the fresh food is quite good!

  • People have been very friendly and helpful and used to dealing with tourists, even if they themselves don’t speak English

  • The best advice I got was to study katakana, the Japanese syllabary that is used for imported foreign words. I can recognize the symbols (what else would you do on the long plane flight but cram a foreign alphabet?) and am thrilled every time I can not only sound out a word, but also figure out what the similar-sounding English equivalent is. It would be cool if by the end of the trip I could be reading katakana rapidly, because at the moment….well, I’m not.

  • The bullet train is fast. And punctual.

  • People are on their cellphones constantly, mostly texting and browsing. They text as they walk, they text as they ride the subway, they text as they wait—but I haven’t seen texting and driving. Not everyone has their head in their phone, but certainly the majority of people I’ve seen in Tokyo. In Kyoto, this is a less prevalent.

The earthquake and nuclear disaster affected some things in Tokyo: many museums are closed; there is very little non-sparkling mineral water in stores; and the city is obviously not as lit up as it normally is (if things get back to normal by the time we fly back, I’d love to compare!). That’s pretty much it, aside from the fact that tourism is down nationally. Our hosts in Kyoto had almost everyone cancel, even though nothing here is disrupted, from what I’ve seen and read.

Next: assembling our bikes, which were just delivered, and preparing to pedal!

Stories of Your Life: And Others

Some time ago, I picked up a sci-fi rag at the office and enjoyed Ted Chiang’s “The Merchant and the Alchemist’s Gate.” I looked up this intriguing author, who lives in the Seattle area, and quickly borrowed from the library Stories of Your Life: And Others. This collection does not disappoint! The stories are eclectic in their subject matter and form, but all very deftly emphasize the “speculative” in spec-fic.

I am now on the lookout for The Lifecycle of Software Objects, which I expect will be just as good!

The Luck Factor

Magician-turned-psychologist Richard Wiseman examines what makes people’s lives “lucky” or “unlucky” in his book The Luck Factor. In essence, “lucky” people are open to new experiences, listen to their intuitions, focus on the good things that could and did happen and the bad things that didn’t, and persevere in the face of setbacks. Nothing terribly surprising, but certainly a very useful reminder of how preparing for and reacting properly to the chance events creates the serendipity that can change our lives.

Check out my summary of the book below or the official website.