Haguro-san’s National Treasure Five Story Pagoda is famously shiraki (白木), literally ‘white wood’, what we would call in English ‘blank’ or ‘unvarnished’. Even after more than 650 years in brutal snow country, the tower famously still has zero paint, varnish, or unnecessary embellishments.

This is entirely on purpose.

Ask any local guide and they’ll give you the standard line ‘it was left unpainted to blend into the surrounding cedar forest.’

Cool story bro.

Or, as I like to say:

amateur.

I mean, that would make sense if the tower wasn’t built 200 years before the cedar forest was planted.

But still.

What if I told you the real reason the pagoda lacks any pigment could be political? What if I told you that leaving the massive timber structure unpainted was a 29-metre (95.1 ft.) middle finger to establishment?

Because it may well have been.

To understand this, you have to understand where we live in Japan: Literally ‘east north’, Tohoku is the north-east part of Honshu, Japan’s main island. Otherwise known as ‘bum-fuck nowhere’, ‘where the fuck is that’, or ’the deep north’, Tohoku covers 30% of Japan’s main island of Honshu.

And yet, the whole region more often than not fails to get a mention in many an ‘ultimate’ or ‘best’ Japan itinerary1.

I sound bitter.

I’m not bitter.

In fact, it’s the opposite.

I really really don’t want this area to turn into Kyoto. We don’t need your kind around here, and all that. (It’s one reason why Yamabushido has such a rigorous vetting process). Plus, I think anyone reading this newsletter is sophisticated enough to want the same.

Anyway, these ‘ultimate Japan itineraries’ aren’t exactly wrong to discount Tohoku. Well, if they were using a map that is more than 1,000 years old, that would make sense.

You see, 1,000 years ago, Tohoku was not part of Japan. In those days Tohoku was full of Emishi, Ebisu, or Ezo. Or, as those fools from the capital at the time Kyoto (or Nara) say,

‘barbarians’.

Either way, despite being on the same island in an island country, Tohoku never used to be a part of Japan. What with their “culture” and “green” tea, it took those dudes from Kyoto a looooong time to conquer this place. Like four hundred years long (to do a proper job, at least. See here).

The Emishi had been in “Japan” much longer than that. Like 10,000-15,000 years longer. It got so bad for the imperial court they had to invent a brand new military title just for the guy sent to take them over: Sei’i Taishogun, which literally translates to “Great General Who Subdues the Barbarians (referring to the Emishi, not the people in Kyoto)”.

Or in English:

Shogun.

So, what does this have to do with a centuries-old, 95-foot, 1-and-23/32-inch2 unpainted tower on Haguro-san?

Oh yeah. About that.

Purposely not using varnish or paint was on purpose.

Called shu, or vermilion in English, you may have noticed many temples and shrines in Japan are painted a specific shade of red. Why? Red represents the yang element of fire that acts as a spiritual shield against the cold, dark forces of yin.

In case you didn’t realise, yin and yang are concepts from China, part of the Taoist and Chinese Five Elements philosophy. Basically, fire is pure yang energy associated with light, warmth, and life. For the punks in Kyoto and Nara, painting things this way was a spiritual firewall to ward off evil.

Plus they had the funds to do it too.

Cool story bro.

Very cool indeed.

Now, to be fair, unpainted wood isn’t unique to Haguro-san. Not in the slightest. Shinto shrines, like Ise Jingu, were always built shiraki to honour the spirit of the wood.

But when Buddhism rolled in from China, the Japanese imperial court in Kyoto decided that “proper” spiritual architecture required slathering everything in bright, imported Chinese red. The yamabushi of Haguro were not having a bar of it. When it came to choosing which shade of red to paint the five story pagoda, the Haguro yamabushi were like ‘we don’t need your patent-pending state-approved Chinese vermilion lacquer to connect with nature’.

And so the Yamabushi of Haguro-san did what the people of Tohoku have always done: ignored the capital, backed their own mountains, and raw-dogged a National Treasure.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 17 to 23, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. A Good Coincidence

2. Real World Data

3. Dealing in Nows

4. Live With What You’ve Got

5. The Nerve of the Situation

6. Under the Bright Lights

7. It’s all Progress

Japan’s Final Boss, Bank Edition: Lord of The Passbook

An old man, old enough to be Father Time, wearing a green visor and a beaming smile leans back in his chair. Careful not to wrinkle his oversized suit, he reaches under his desk, picks something up, and places two items on top before he says:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be? The plastic cling wrap? Or the pocket tissues?”

“We’ll take the plastic wrap, thanks.” Says the mother.

“But the tissues have a cute picture on them! I want the tissues!” Yells the girl.

“Alright, alright, if you say so.”

And the girl was right. The tissues did have a cute picture on them; a cartoon picture of a jolly old man, similar to the one behind the desk.

My head turns to the woman on the other side of our table. “So you want to open a bank account? Fill this out.” She slides over a small slip of paper and a pen.

Before moving to Japan I thought it was a technological utopia, like a real-life Blade Runner.

How wrong I was.

Thinking ‘in New Zealand, we have computers for this’, I take the pen and write my full name, including both of my middle names, in English, then add the phonetic Japanese Katakana characters above.

Next up: my address. My supervisor shows me my new address, all in complex Kanji characters of course. There’s no crossing out. There’s no white-out. This is Japan. Precision is everything. Let’s just say my Japanese practice to date gets a real workout.

Three agonising attempts later and I’m finally done. Even if that means each time I screw up the lady has to give a polite bow and scurry to the back to get me another sheet. All the while I’m sitting there thinking ‘in New Zealand, we have computers for this’.

When I eventually get it right the lady says, full of relief, “now stamp your stamp here, and we’re almost done”.

“What about the Internet banking?” I ask, perplexed.

“Oh, you won’t need that. But you will need this.”

On the blue tray on the counter she delicately places a pristine bank card and passbook, the small booklets used to record transactions (in case you’ve forgotten).

I hold the passbook in both hands and examine it. My name is printed on it already, well, except for my second middle name.

“We had to write that by hand, it wouldn’t fit on our digital system.”

My second middle name is just my dad’s middle name. Obviously his legacy is irrelevant to the Japanese banks. But a passbook to record my transactions? I haven’t seen one of these since primary school! Is this some kind of joke? This is 2010 after all. Right? Where’s my internet banking?

But before I can protest the lady pipes up:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be? The plastic cling wrap? Or the pocket tissues?”

Fast forward 16 years.

I opened an SBI Securities account in 2015. Now, in 2026, I am trying to link this account to their new “NeoBank” sister bank, where I just made a new account. If I can link these two banks, I no longer have to manually send money to SBI, I can just deposit it into NeoBank at any ATM at any conbini in Japan and it’s available for investing.

Thankfully, NeoBank is a modern bank. No handwritten forms this time. However, modern banks in Japan have one fatal flaw; legacy banks. The kinds run by old dudes in green visors. In other words, when I try to link NeoBank with SBI, I hit a pretty major snag.

Much like Yamagata Bank, SBI only allows 15 to 20 half-width characters, spaces included. On their system my name is truncated, Dad’s middle name be damned. On the other hand, since NeoBank is a modern bank, my full name fits, Dad’s middle name and all.

But, and you knew there was a but, for these two systems to match, the names have to match character for character.

In other words, since I have a four-word name instead of a normal Japanese four-Kanji name,

“Computer says no.”

Being the smartarse I am, I try fixing the problem by adding my second middle name on SBI’s side, but I hit a brick wall. That character limit is a hard limit that hasn’t been updated in the past ten years. I try the reverse on NeoBank by getting rid of my second middle name. However, since that won’t match my Residence Card (alien registration card1),

“Computer says no.”

Put simply, this bank managed to anger not just any yamabushi, but the Kiwi yamabushi. So much so, I try to give them a call. But since NeoBank is a modern bank, I can’t just call them and complain. I have to book a time for them to call me just so I can complain.

Enter Tsucho Jinja

Despite all the information I gave them on the booking form, the first pleb didn’t know what was coming. They had to get their supervisor on. I had to remind them that a person with the same Residence Card and My Number Card (social security card) numbers is probably the same person. They somehow agreed and agreed to update their system on the backend.

Triumphant, I lean back in my chair, and as soon as I do my phone starts ringing.

“Buntingu Timoshee?”

“Ah, yep?”

“The limo is outside.”

Limo? I didn’t ask for this. I look outside the window and sure enough there is a black limo and a woman standing outside, the same woman who helped me open my bank account 16 years ago.

We arrive at Yamagata Bank’s Amarume branch, and the lady leads me towards the ATM.

“Put in the original card”.

I ruffle through my pockets and pull my Yamagata Bank card out of my wallet, the very same card I was given all those years ago. The next second, the ATM pops open like a refrigerator door and reveals a long dark tunnel lit with lanterns. We follow the tunnel for a few minutes and come out at giant opening in the middle of a sprawling forest of tall, skinny trees. Right there in front of us lie giant torii gates adorned with the characters 通帳神社 ‘Tsucho Jinja’ (Passbook Shrine).

As is custom, we bow before entering the torii, and follow the steps up to the shrine building at the top. The bifold doors give a long, slow creak as we pull them out towards us and walk inside.

The walls are covered in books, but at the back there is a giant round mirror. Beneath the mirror an old man is crouched down behind a desk trying to find something.

“Sir?” The bank lady clears her throat and says softly. “Sir?” Louder this time.

The man’s green visor falls off as he spins around.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice you. Please, have a seat.”

I take a seat on the tatami as instructed.

“Thank you for your dedication navigating the Japanese banking system over all these years. I am Tsucho-no-Mikoto, the Kami of Passbooks. You have proven your worth in appeasing me, and you shall be rewarded commensurate to your sacrifice.”

The old man leans back in his chair. Careful not to wrinkle his oversized suit, he reaches under his desk, picks something up, and places two items on top before he says:

“Congratulations. Now, which will it be?”

The Truth

The First Section: up to ‘Fast forward 16 years’

• The handwriting part where I got it wrong three times and the lady had to get me new sheets is true. As is the part about my handwritten name on the passbook. Everything else in that section is basically a fabrication.

• I ended up getting Internet Banking with Yamagata Bank in 2015. It was a huge hassle involving sending physical letters back and forth. Part of the reason of switching to NeoBank is to stop using this bank.

The Second Section: ‘Fast forward 16 years’ to ‘Enter Tsucho Jinja’

• 100% true!

The Third Section: ‘Enter Tsucho Jinja’ onwards

• 100% fake! I still haven’t gotten the phone call! I don’t know whether I can fix this problem or not!

• Oh, the card still working part is true!

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 10 to 16, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. A Healthy Dose of Not Giving a F

2. First Finish

3. Your Best Work is Always Ahead of you

4. The Right Metric

5. Emerging Unscathed isn’t the aim

6. Everything I can to Change it

7. When Otherwise Ain’t an Option

‘Continue street.’

Or my personal favourite:

‘Hid est.’

Forget my wedding or the births of my children, Wednesday was the happiest day of my life.

And, if I’m being perfectly honest, simultaneously the scariest day too.

Get this:

I was heading to Yuza. I love driving to Yuza. You can basically stare at Chokai-san the whole way there, a mountain that gives the Fooj a run for its money.

I was going somewhere unfamiliar so I asked Google Maps for directions. However, instead of the usual:

’Turn left’,

‘Continue straight’, and

‘Head east’,

I got:

‘Turn lift’,

‘Continue street’, and

‘Hid est’.

My first thought was, WTAF,

since when does Google speak my language?!

I was in heaven! What a revelation! This is better than the last day of yamabushi training! ‘Chuffed as’ doesn’t even begin to described how chuffed as I was.

Finally, my phone had gone and done it. For the first time in my life it spoke a language that truly felt like home. For the first time in my life, well, besides when I talk to my sister I guess1, my phone had used Standard New Zealand English.

Because, as anyone from a country not big enough to be acknowledged by big tech would tell you, this never happens.

None of this ‘English (US)’, ‘English (UK)’, or if we’re feeling lucky ‘English (Australia)’ being the only options bullshit.

Actual Kiwi English. With the ‘fush’ and the ‘chups’ and the ‘chur’ and the ‘bru’ and everything else.

But why does this even matter?

When I first got to Japan in 2010, people (let’s be honest, it was just the Americans2) had real trouble understanding me. I had to adjust the way I spoke to get someone to pass me my ‘flip flops’ (jandals) or a glass of warder (wai).

I needed to escape all the trauma the American words had caused, things like your ‘all y’all’s, ‘bangs’, ‘bleachers’, and ‘cracker jacks’. Whatever they are. I honestly don’t know what cracker jacks are, or why you would want them at a cricket match for that matter…

Speaking of, our Australian cuzzies aren’t much better. Whenever I go there everyone insists on calling me ‘Tem’3. I’m not ‘Tem’. That honour belongs to another Kiwi. You know, Dr. Hone Ropata, or the seemingly more well-known ‘Jango Fett’, ‘Boba Fett’ or ‘Clone Troopers’. I actually fooled a fellow Kiwi into thinking I was Australian with this. He just looked at me and said, ‘as in Temuera?’

But the worst part was when Apple brought out Siri. Even now if I don’t put on my best mid-western American accent, voice prompts on my iPhone simply will not work. If I want my phone to check the weather I practically have to unhinge my jaw and yell:

“Did all y’all cut your bangs under the bleachers with them cracker jacks or what?”4

My accent trauma got so bad I got a Masters of Applied Linguistics where I literally learned the how and why of teaching English pronunciation. Let’s just say you probably don’t want to be teaching standard New Zealand English. It’s so bad I tell my students not to copy it whenever it appears in the wild.

I mean, I don’t know about you, but I don’t want my students walking around saying ’wop wops’, ‘jandals’, and ‘yous guys’ (‘all y’all’ isn’t any better). Could you imagine little Hanako or Taro walking around saying ‘yeah, nah’ when asked a question, or adding ‘bru’ or ‘ay’ to the end of every sentence with an upwards inflection to boot?

Which leads us to the question: how did my phone know I was a Kiwi?

I don’t remember changing any settings. And I’m pretty sure my daughters didn’t ‘accidentally’ do it either.

The truth, it appears, is much more existential.

I had heard Google was working on getting the pronunciation of indigenous place names correct, with Māori names getting special attention, even the longest place name on earth: Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu (a little north-est of Te Awa Kairangi).

It sounds like this:

My first theory was that I had put ‘English (Aotearoa)’ somewhere in my Google settings and they had finally released these voiceovers. But then I remembered: That’s impossible. Google is an American company. America doesn’t think New Zealand exists5.

And you know what, I was half-right: Google Maps did indeed bring out a New Zealand accented voice and correct pronunciation of Maori names (suck it, David Seymour).

This is probably why:

But the second part to the answer, the ‘why me?’ part was much creepier.

After some very vigorous (Google Gemini) research, it turns out that because I first registered my Google account in Te Awa Kairangi, Aotearoa, some 20 odd years ago, Google Maps placed me in the ‘this guy is from Aotearoa, specifically Te Awa Kairangi, let’s give him some straight up proper as English’ category.

So the past 16 years of me trying to mask my accent have been for nothing. I got great jaw definition just asking about the weather, got an MA in Applied Linguistics, and even changed the ‘i’ sound in my name to Australian (shudders) so I could escape the clutches of the algorithm.

But yeah, nah. Try all you want ay. Escape to the other side of the world for all I care. Hide in the wop wops and become a literal mountain monk (yamabushi). Google’s still gonna get you ay bru.

Chur.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for July 3 to July 9, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Who’s Winning?

2. Change the Fans

3. The Purest Form of Wisdom

4. The Next Ten

5. Focusing on the now is the Medicine

6. The Same Momentum

7. How Prepared can you be?

Here is Japan’s weirdest vending machine, notice anything?

How about now?

At the bottom right of the products on display, in a ボス・マート Bosu Mato ‘Boss Mart’ section, it has Yoguretto and Hai remon (High lemon?), whatever they are, protein bars, Ginza Rusk, potato chips, cookies, and cup noodles.

In a vending machine.

Japanese innovation at its finest!

And you know what, this machine pulled a Penn and Teller; it fooled me.

Twice.

But first:

The Great KitKat Illusion of 2005

The first time a Japanese vending machine tricked me was waaaaay back in 2005. It was during my first time in the country, a Japanese class trip. The trip that made me fall in love with the country and the moment I decided to live here1.

But the vending machine, oh man, I remember it vividly, for such an insignificant event.

We were heading back to central Hiroshima from Miyajima and waiting at a train station when something in the vending machine caught my eye:

The KitKat Symbol!

In a vending machine!

Yes, one of those chocolate things Japan decided shouldn’t be chocolate.

I saw it and thought ‘this must be a trick. Japan has KitKat drinks’?

Wow. Such advanced.

I bought one expecting a can of chocolatey goodness in liquid form. However, what I got was very much not in liquid form.

It was a jar with a removable lid, and two KitKat bars inside.

Japanese innovation at its finest!

Still yum though, I couldn’t really complain.

Which brings me to the vending machine in question.

This one:

The one at Yu Town, an onsen (hot spring) facility in Tsuruoka.

AKA the location of:

The Great Onsen Heist of 2026

After getting out of the bath I was feeling a little peckish and I noticed the protein bars. I recalled my time in Hiroshima and thought, ‘awesome, it will probably be one or two of those bars in a jar with a removable lid’.

How wrong I was!

I put the money in, pushed the button, and then,

nothing.

At all.

Nothing happened.

The machine stole my money!

Or so I thought.

So, I tried again, I put in more money.

And the same thing happened!

Nothing!

I stood back in bewilderment and thought to myself; should I put in another coin? Should I scream out in rage? Should I call a member of the staff?

I did what any normal Japanese person would do: I voiced my concern to anyone around me willing to listen:

「あれ、出てこないなぁ」 Are, detekonai na. ‘That’s odd, nothing’s coming out’

To which an old lady sitting nearby said: ‘oh, I shall call a staff member’.

And just as she proclaimed the custom yoisho and heaved herself out of her seat I noticed it.

In fact, it’s very possible that you have noticed it too. I mean, I’ve shown you that photo twice already.

Here it is again:

Look at what’s there on the right side of the machine. I can see cup noodles, potato chips, some cookies…

That’s right, you pay using the vending machine, and then pick up the product from the shelf next to it.2

Japanese innovation at its finest.

Like those honesty boxes in the countryside, and an example of how high trust Japan is. Also, I guess, a very easy way to trick an unsuspecting (and hungry) yamabushi.3

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 26 to July 2, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Building The Engine

2. Tails Up

3. Snail’s Pace

4. Back at The Starting Line

5. Tight Corners

6. The Rest is Wit

7. The Power of Your Ideas x Your Ability to Share Them

“Buntingu Timoshee”.

“Ah, hai”.

I was led into a bright room with a what looked like a dentist's chair in the centre, a doctor at a computer, and a few people in scrubs standing around seemingly preoccupied but with gleaming eyes that followed my every move. The doctor was sitting half-looking at his computer, half waiting in anticipation for the patient with the foreign name.

I take a seat, and say to the doc, in Japanese:

”I’ve had problems with my sinuses these past few months. My left nostril and ear especially, and especially when I wake up. I went to another doctor, a few times now, but the problems kept coming back. So I’ve come to you.”

And then it happened.

I mean, I was half-expecting it, what with it being my first time in this clinic and all. But even as a 15-years-a-gaijin, it can still be a shock to the system:

“Nihongo Ojozu Desu ne” (Your Japanese is very good!)

I got Nihongo Jozued. Again.

I mean, to be fair, my Japanese has to be pretty good. What have I been speaking these past 20-odd years? The people around me seem to understand me.

And so they should.

I mean, I’ve interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi.

At least I think I have…

But still, after my second Nihongo Jozu for the week (I’m aiming for the trifecta), I made a grave mistake.

I gave the stock reply:

“Iya iya, mada mada desu”. (No, no, I’m not there yet! Not even close!)

Now, when you reach the stage of actually being Nihongo Jozu, you know the first thing to do is deny it. You know that if you say “hai, so desu”, people think you’re not actually Nihongo Jozu, and you are, in fact,

a smug asshole.

In other words, in Japanese culture, when someone compliments you, accepting the compliment at face value creates asymmetry. Asymmetry ruins the social harmony, the so-called Wa. Declining the compliment puts you all on a level playing field, right where you want to be.

Coincidentally, this is also where Nihongo Jozu’s cousin Ohashi Jozu (you are good at using chopsticks) resides. To which the only acceptable reply is: ‘you should see how I handle a fork, let alone a spoon!’

Both of these compliments (if you want to call them that) stem from the same thing: automated cultural scripts.

But, after a few years in Japan, and after being Nihongo Jozued a few thousand times, I realised something:

Nihongo Jozu is, in a way, a litmus test.

Just not in the way you think.

A few years back I was in Tokyo to meet a friend, a friend whose Japanese ability stopped at arigato. Yes, an arigato sans gozaimasu.

Now, you already know what’s coming. I don’t even need to say it. But let’s just say that when you’ve been learning a language for, I don’t know, 20-odd years, interpreted for Gold-medal-winning Olympic champions, local mayors, book authors, magazine reporters, not to mention countless master yamabushi, and then someone fresh off the Narita Express says but one word, a word sans gozaimasu, and the gets the exact same compliment, well, it’s only natural you start to question the compliment’s legitimacy.

Until you don’t.

Stay with me here.

When I said Nihongo Jozu was a litmus test, I meant that it’s a binary code, not a performance review. They aren’t grading your fluency. Not in the slightest. (Unless, of course, the Nihongo Jozu is decorated with a honto ni. In which case, congratulations, you’ve officially crossed into mythical territory!).

Nihongo Jozu is a simple ‘can you function in Japanese?’ versus ‘this guy has zero clue’. This is the same whether you are interpreting the philosophy of the mountains or simply dropping a lonely arigato not knowing it should probably have its best friend gozaimasu too.

You see, to a Japanese person, a foreign face screams: “English test incoming!” However, this tension is alleviated the instant a single Japanese syllable is uttered. ‘Nihongo Jozu’ isn’t praise. It simply means “thank you for making me relive my 15 years of torturous English vocabulary and grammar study while simultaneously taking away any worry I had of actually having to, Kami forbid, use the language!”.

And that’s it.

That’s why you shouldn’t get angry at someone else getting the same compliment for something they learned in a guidebook that you spent 20-odd-years trying to master. (I still distinctly remember practicing how to say arigato gozaimasu over and over, it is so much longer than its English equivalent!).

So why, then, was my stock reply to Nihongo Jozu by my doctor a mistake? Why was it a mistake to deny my Japanese ability?

Well, because the doctor took it literally.

Despite hearing me explain my symptoms in (ahem) flawless Japanese, and knowing full well that I could understand his Japanese, not to mention going so far as to compliment me on my Japanese, he insisted on speaking in English.

And not good English either. Good enough to understand, sure. But probably not passable for an English examination.

The funny thing is though, there was a clear moment I started to not understand his English, and not because of his accent. No, it was because he started to use medical terminology I couldn’t understand.

Which, to be honest, is actually much better in Japanese.

Case in point:

If you say ‘sinusitis’ in English, you know it’s something to do with your sinuses, right? Like your nose and stuff. But if you say it in Japanese, 副鼻腔炎 Fukubikuen, ‘auxiliary nose cavity inflammation’, the meaning is much clearer. I mean, I didn’t realise we had an auxiliary nose cavity, let alone inflammation of which is sinusitis.

So, I had to stop the doctor and say “Nihongo demo daijobu desu yo” (you can tell me in Japanese), to which he replied:

“I can speak English”.

Yes. Yes you can. Ok. Have it your way. But your English is too good, and I don’t mean that as a compliment!

Bonus

1. I have a white British friend who has a Japanese wife. Whenever the cashier (inevitably) only looks and talks at his wife, he stops them and says, in fluent Japanese, “Sumimasen ga, kanojo wa nihongo ga hanasemasen” (Excuse me, but she doesn’t speak Japanese).

2. I actually wrote about this exact topic 3 years ago!

3. Here’s a really good (short) video on this topic, but make sure you watch to the end! Those Kyoto people get me every time!!!

   https://youtube.com/shorts/oCOCc0105eA?si=qabWRRO2Ld7_IFfU

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 19 to 25, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Selfless. Honest. Honourable.

2. The Controllables

3. The Yellow Light

4. Trust The System

5. Start With Emotion

6. Somebody not Anybody

7. Two Eggs

Last time we established that around the year 740AD a monk named Gyoki had an encounter with purple haze, and came up with the name for the mountain in the middle of Tendo, Tendo-zan: ‘Heavenly Children’. We also established that the townspeople got sick of the name Tendo-zan, and gave it another name: Maizuru-yama, ‘Dancing Crane’.

Is that all?

Far from it.

Except, there was a period when nothing noteworthy happened for like, oh, 600 years or so.

Wow. Much Peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

The Nanboku-cho period, quite literally the Northern and Southern Courts period between 1336 and 1392, was the bloody and chaotic warm-up to the Sengoku Jidai, AKA The Warring States Period.

Why was it so bloody?

Well, because for these 60-odd years, Japan essentially had two emperors at the exact same time.

Two.

The Northern Court led and heavily backed by the military might of the Ashikaga Shogunate in Kyoto.

And, you guessed it, The Southern Court, rebel imperial loyalists led by Emperor Go-Daigo. Emperor Go-Daigo grabbed the sacred imperial treasures, fled to the southern Yoshino mountains, and declared themselves the only legitimate rulers. It wouldn’t be until the Meiji Period (1868-1912) that the legitimate emperor would take the power back.

But what does this have to do with Maizuru-yama?

Well, feeling the tide against them, the Southern Court sent an elite royal faction north to Ou, the current Tohoku region, to open up a brutal second front. Key amongst them was a young rogue prince called Kitabatake Akishige. In the mid-1350s, Kitabatake and his guerrilla fighters pushed deep into the Yamagata basin and came across Maizuru-yama (then known as Tendo-zan). He took one look at the mountain and thought:

Jackpot!

‘Screw the fact this mountain has been a spiritual stronghold for the better part of a millennium, these vertical slopes are such a tactical blessing it would be criminal not to take advantage of them.

And so Kitabatake did.

They quickly set up the first fortifications on Maizuru-yama, and with the support of the locals, and also the warrior monks of Yamadera, yes that Yamadera, defended it against the Northern Court.

For the next twenty years!

In which time the locals affectionately gave Kitabatake the name “Tendo-Maru”, akin to ‘The Boy Prince of Tendo” (this is also where that suffix of -maru for ships in Japan comes from (not Tendo-Maru specifically)).

Twenty years is a long time to hold out, so you would assume The Northern Court were kind of useless?

I mean, they kind of were.

Even though at around the same time, they set up shop just south of Tendo in Yamagata City. Specifically, in 1356, a dude from The Shiba Clan (themselves a branch of the Ashikaga Clan), named Shiba Kaneyori, was sent into the Yamagata basin with the specific task of fighting against the Southern Court. Around 1360 Kaneyori set up base in Yamagata Castle, the castle that eventually became “The Castle of The Mist”, something I touch on here,

and also here:

Now, if you’ve followed my work for a while, you undoubtedly have heard of the Mogami River. Basically, this river was the reason for the area that would become Yamagata Prefecture prospering during the Edo period specifically. Eventually becoming home to (by far the) richest family in all of Japan, The Honma Family, who literally live down the road from me in Sakata (seriously, I’ve met one of the descendants).

Anyway, for the longest time I thought that the Mogami River was named after this Mogami Clan.

It turns out I could not have been more wrong!

It turns out it was the exact opposite.

Around the time Shiba Kaneyori and co. set up shop in Yamagata Castle, they also took on the name of the river and became the Mogami Clan.

Because why wouldn’t you?

I mean, the characters for Mogami, 最上, quite literally mean ‘The Most Superior’.

You quite literally cannot get any better.

Except, they couldn’t quite get the better of Tendo-maru.

At first, at least.

Enter Shiba Kaneyori’s grandson Mogami Yorinao. Who was born a Shiba. But at this exact time was actually named Satomi Yorinao. In 1356, Yorinao was sent to be adopted into the childless Satomi Clan in the northern flatlands of the Yamagata basin, just to the northwest of Maizuru-yama.

For the next twenty-odd years, Yorinao lived in a lowland manor house called Naryu-Tate, from where he called the shots under the Satomi banner. (Naryu-Tate was located here, and is currently a tiny rural Shinto shrine called Ryūzu Gongen / O-Kokuzō Shrine (大虚空蔵神社 / 龍頭権現)).

Now, Yorinao was no idiot. And was actually quite the strategist. There were three main stages in his takeover of Maizuru-yama:

1. Convincing the locals to become loyal to him instead

Using his power at the helm of the Satomi Clan, the clan that held the land around Maizuru-yama, Yorinao used local diplomacy and tax incentives to sway the peasantry to his side. He made it clear that backing a dying Southern Court cause meant perpetual war, while backing his new Northern-supported administration meant peace and stability.

And, basically overnight, Tendo-maru’s intelligence network and food supplies dried up.

2. Stopping the Spiritual Pipeline

Besides the peasantry, Tendo-maru was receiving assistance from the warrior monks of nearby Yamadera, who were themselves stern supporters of the Southern Court. They also had immense wealth, knew many secret mountain trails, and had massive stockpiles of supplies. Shiba Kaneyori and his grandson Yorinao set up patrols around Maizuru-yama to stop these monks moving grain, weapons, or medicine into the mountain fortress.

A strategy that worked really well!

3. The Cold Realisation and Midnight Flight

When winter came around, sometime in the mid-1370s (with records saying sometime between 1372 and 1374), Tendo-maru’s forces were depleted, starving, and entirely cut off from the world.

Yorinao purposely left the northern mountain passes slightly open for Tendo-maru to escape. If he didn’t, what with being a Samurai and everything, Tendo-maru would have fought to the bitter end and taken half of Yorinao’s army with him. Give a samurai an open back door, and they will choose survival.

Give them no choice, and they will take half your men with them to hell.

Anyway, Tendo-Maru saw the writing on the wall, and under the cover of darkness took his remaining loyalists up north to Aomori, where his aristocratic bloodline survived…

Wow. Such Peaceful.

So, in 1375, Mogami Yorinao took Maizuru-yama as his own, and promptly built on what Tendo-maru had done to turn the mountain into a mountain castle.

Just in case.

What with the coming Sengoku Jidai and all that…

Luckily, Maizuru-yama is what you would call ‘perfect yamajiro mountain castle material’. The mountain is in the peculiar shape of a giant ‘C’. Plus, there are three distinct peaks: the central, eastern, and western.

Yorinao would be like:

‘If one were to fall, we could just move our army to the next, and we’d still be able to shoot the enemy from above.’

And then there are the ridges of Maizuru-yama, the ones covered in purple haze from last time. Well, these ridges were prime for carving using hand tools in a technique called Kirigishi (literally ‘cutting cliffs’) to create vertical drops enemies cannot climb.

Lastly, the mountain could also be dug to form moats using a technique called Horikiri (literally ‘moat cutting’) to create paths that lead to bottlenecks where enemies could be easily ambushed from above.

And so they went ahead and did all that.

In the meantime, to lock down his victory and prove loyalty to the locals, Yorinao dropped the Shiba, Satomi, and Mogami ties all at once. Then, he took on the name of the town that had already taken on the (original) name of the mountain. In doing so, Yorinao entered his final form: Tendo Yorinao.

And then they stood in their castle waiting for enemy forces to attack. And waited.

And waited.

Until absolutely nothing happened.

And just how long did the just-in-case castle have to wait to see some action?

202 years!

But that’s a story for next time.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 12 to 18, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. One Hundred to One

2. One Extra Point

3. When the Oven is Warm

4. For the Right Person

5. Put Your Trust in The Mountains

6. It’s Time

7. Not Built For It? Build For It.

Last week I shared what I guess would be a bit of a teaser, although I never intended for that. Well, think of this as the first part of the teaser, Maizuru-Yama in Tendo City, the next mountain on my 100 Famous Mountains of Yamagata Project (#37?). Basically, I wanted to share a report of my climb up the mountain, but I found out the mountain was much, much, more than I had anticipated.

Not Maizuru, though.

Maizuru-yama is a mountain in the middle of Tendo City, Yamagata Prefecture.‘Mai’ means dance, and Zuru is the voiced tsuru, so technically it should be dzuru, for crane, but who has time for that. In other words, Maizuru-yama is ‘Dancing Crane Mountain’. A very descriptive and poetic name, but not very original. This isn’t the only instance of ‘Dancing Crane’ in Japan, far from it:

Notably, there is Maizuru City on the northern coast of Kyoto prefecture, named after a samurai castle and because the shape of the bay resembles two cranes in flight. ‘Maizuru’ also appears as a nickname for two different fortresses: Kōfu castle in Yamanashi, and Fukuoka castle in Kyushu, for example. In those cases, the dancing crane refers to the brilliant white walls of the castles. What makes Maizuru-yama in Tendo City so special is that it is named for the ridges of the mountains themselves, something completely natural for once.

No, today I’m interested in the origin of the word ‘Tendo’ written 天童, a real odd one.

Personally, I love the shape of these Kanji; I think they balance each other perfectly. But the truly interesting thing is the namesake.

Why?

天 ‘ten’ means heaven.

童 ‘dō’ (elongated ‘o’) means juvenile, or simply ‘child’.

Heavenly Juvenile?!

Or, I guess, ‘heavenly child or children’.

Like a child who does what they’re told? Where do I get one of those?

Tendo. Apparently.

Alas, the heavenly part of Tendo doesn’t have anything to do with children behaving well.

It is entirely about where they came from:

Heaven.

Where else?

Legend has it that around 1200 years ago (oddly specific), a Buddhist monk by the name of Gyoki (cool name) climbed all the way to the summit of Maizuru-yama to pray. Which, and I’ve been there, isn’t as tough as it sounds to reach.

As he was chanting Buddhist chants (what else? not the first time something happened simply because of chanting), some mysterious music started playing in the distance. Next minute, the sky appeared to tear apart in the centre, and two dancing celestial beings came down leaving behind a wake of purple haze, a la Jimi Hendrix.

Their names?

Goei Doji, and Makatsu Doji (notice the ‘do’?, it’s the same one). These two children then proclaimed to Gyoki:

“We are messengers of Jizaiten Buddha (AKA Kangiten). You, noble monk, are the Great Bodhisattva of this peak. You must build a sacred hall here, and pray for the salvation of all sentient beings”.

And as soon as they said that, they vanished (just like the perfect child). But not before the purple haze sank into the soil of the mountain, leaving it more sacred than it already was.

Not one to take fate lightly, Gyoki marked the exact spot at the summit where the two deities touched the earth by planting a Zelkova tree, oh, and I guess some cherry blossoms too. He then named the peak after the two deities: ‘Tendo-zan’ ‘Heavenly Children Mountain’. Not long after, one of Gyoki’s disciples, Kigen, built Tendo-Den (Tendo shrine) at the summit of the mountain to honour the heavenly children.

The community that grew around the base of the mountain over the following years took the same name. Soon the whole area, rather than the mountain alone, also took the name. Tendo mountain in Tendo city (or town, it became a city in 1958) was a bit tedious for the townspeople, so they gave the mountain the new (as we have already established, unoriginal) name Maizuru-Yama, after the way its ridges droop down resembling a dancing crane.

Technically, the mountain is still known as Tendo-zan. At the very least, it is now ‘Tendo Park’, and there is a Tendo Jinja at the base that preserves the exact spot of the legend. Except it doesn’t, because the exact spot of the legend was at the summit where the Zelkova and the original Tendo-den stood.

Because, what happened was,

Politics!

And War!

Don’t worry, I won’t bore you like George Lucas in the prequels, I hope. During the warring states period, despite the sacred nature of Maizuru-yama, it was seen as the perfect location for a mountain castle.

Because of course it is. Those beautiful ridges aren’t just the wings of a crane, they’re also a self-defence masterpiece! (more on that next time)

Before it was Tendo city, it was the Tendo clan, and the Tendo clan had to defend themselves from, well, civil war! So they turned Maizuru-yama into a castle. And having a shrine at the summit of the mountain castle like that was seen as a security risk. So they did what they always do, moved it to the base of the mountain, the location of the current Tendo Jinja.

And so, the grand naming loop was complete: the heavenly children gave their name to the mountain, the mountain gave its name to the town, the town stole the name completely, and the locals looked up at the empty ridges, saw a crane taking flight, and named it Dancing Crane Mountain.

Where the heavenly children come from.

What happens if you chant Buddhist chants?

Sources (Japanese):

https://www.uraken.net/chimei/yamagata.html

http://www.ikechang.com/history/name0.htm

https://www.city.tendo.yamagata.jp/municipal/machidukuri/hayawakari.pdf

Daily Yamabushi Posts for June 5 to 11, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. On a Whim

2. Playful but Intellectual

3. The Foggy Path

4. Can’t Pin Me Down

5. Taking Up Bandwidth

6. The Highest Mountain

7. Your Best Work

I would have passed Maizuru-yama at least 50 or so times over the years. It just stands there, a mound of greenery in the middle of Tendo city, reminding me of Shinobu-yama in Fukushima City. As a castle mountain, it is also similar in story to Shiro-yama in neighbouring Yamagata City. Except, this mountain is responsible for Tendo city producing 95% (!) of the Shogi chess pieces in Japan. Can’t say that about many other mountains…

Anyway, here are some photos I took of the mountain, one from April, more from the weekend:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for May 29 to June 4, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. The Fall

2. It’s a Start

3. Feed The Machine First

4. Try Me

5. On The Horizon

6. Temporary Permanence

7. In and Out

Daily Yamabushi Posts for May 22 to 28, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. Don’t Forget Your Homework

2. The First Step

3. 90 Percent is Only Halfway

4. It’s All Discipline

5. The First Step Again

6. A Cost or a Price?

7. Over Generous is Not Generous

It started off very briefly.

I parked my car at the local Toichiya supermarket1, the one right next to northern Japan’s biggest Muji store.

And I was met with quite a shock:

A lizard person.

In the flesh.

Only, I didn’t know it at the time.

At first, naturally, I thought it was an invader on my Japan territory. As a 15-years-a-gaijin I have to protect my turf at all costs. I mean, a website I made was quoted on National Geographic. If that doesn’t scream ‘I own you’, I don’t know what would.

However, when I judgingly looked at their bag it read:

Walmart.

False alarm. He’s a harmless lizard person. He’s not a threat at all. He’s already failed Foreigner-Living-in-Japan 101: The bag has to be Muji or some other famous Japanese brand.

That, or a bag with weird English on it.

Like this one:

Then I watched the lizard person walk over to another, lizarder person. Probably the wife.

Now there are two of them!

But then it got worse.

My fixation on that Walmart bag had completely blinded me to my surroundings.

There weren’t just two of them.

There were hundreds!

And then it hit me:

Today was a cruise ship day.

The lizard people had arrived in Sakata en masse in a massive multi-million dollar ship (they get angry if you call it a boat).

We can feel immune to the inbound tourism in Sakata all we want, until the lizard people start their invasion, in more ways than one.

Despite record numbers of foreign visitors to these shores I was yet to be inconvenienced, not even in the slightest. We are relatively sheltered up here in lonely old Sakata, leat alone Tohoku. We hardly see any non-Japanese people. And the stats back that up too. Us 1.6%ers2 have to maintain our reputation somehow.

This in spite of one of the shortest flights from Haneda, which I’m gathering most tourists to Japan don’t even think about. In other words, it’s still pretty hard to get here from a place like Tokyo. You’re looking at at least 5 hours by train, or a boat ride (ship ride?) on the Sea of Japan, for example.

Hardly welcoming.

That, and the fact that we don’t register on anyone’s radar, well, besides National Geographic, I guess, has meant that I have felt immune to all those stories of tourists acting up, and the Japanese response.

Until yesterday.

There I was, about to line up at the aforementioned Muji trying to purchase a 590-yen bottle of decaf coffee mixer, yes we coffee-addicted yamabushi also have our vices.

I thought to myself, ’it’s just one item, I’ll be out in a jiffy’.

How wrong I was.

I headed to the checkouts and noticed a small line, nothing too bad. The attendant asked the person in front of me something, and they pointed to the line to say ’I’m lining up here’. I had only ever bought anything from this Muji once or twice and had forgotten that the view of the self-service checkouts was completely blocked off by a giant pillar. So I patiently joined the line awaiting instructions from the staff, like any kami-fearing person would.

The person in front of me said something to the person in front of them in Mandarin3. ‘Must be Chinese. Or, statistically speaking, Taiwanese’ I thought to myself as I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

All the while checking my watch and trying to look past the pillar to see if anyone had left the self-service checkouts.

Nope. Not yet. Must be some big purchases.

Until, probably 2-3 minutes later, a Japanese couple lined up behind me.

The attendant turned to them and said ‘are you wanting to purchase things duty free?’

‘Excuse me?’ Said the man.

‘You know, duty free. Without tax.’

‘I don’t even know what that means.’

‘Oh, I see. Then you can go ahead to the self-service checkouts’.

To which I promptly butted in, in my flawless Japanese4: ‘I’m not buying anything duty free.’

‘Oh, I see. My apologies. Go right ahead.’

Your apologies indeed!!!

That was the exact moment I realised there was a self-service checkout a mere metre away just behind a small wall in front of the pillar. And let me tell you, that self-service checkout got a real workout. I pushed those buttons so fast you could see smoke.

The thing is though, people travel thousands of kilometres by ship, one of the slowest forms of transport, just to buy the exact same minimalist cardboard boxes they can get in Tokyo, London, or New York. All the while they pass by the home of Japan’s once richest family, their guest villa, Japan’s best ramen, and also Peter Coffee, arguably Sakata’s best brew.

The lizard brain at work. It knows no bounds.

I just wish it wouldn’t infect the staff at north Japan’s biggest Muji too.

My thoughts on this are that it just comes with the territory. It’s shoganai, and I just have to uketamo.5

It could certainly be much worse than waiting for a few minutes unnecessarily, and things like this are only going to increase (like the people at the conbinis who treat me like I’m five).

By coming in with a stance of uketamo, I feel I’ve already solved half the issue anyway.

But still.

Shibas gotta sheeb.

Tourists gotta tourist.

Cogs gotta cog.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for May 15 to 21, 2026

Here are my Daily Yamabushi posts for the past week. Get more Daily Yamabushi posts at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. Discover more Japan essays and daily insights in the Kiwi Yamabushi Substack Archive, or follow my writing over on Medium.com.

1. It’s a Privilege to Serve You

2. What’s in Front of You

3. A Walk Through The Park

4. Can’t? Or won’t?

5. No Initiative. Just Desire.

6. What Would Master Hoshino do?

7. What Needs Doing

However, it is well and truly not anymore.

Because now the building looks like this:

At least they had the decency to clean it up. Many places don’t. Although that has clearly been changing. I guess that’s the Japanese 6x Tax loophole for residential properties coming to an end. In the past, properties with a structure still on them received a massive tax break. Knocking the house down meant the plot was reclassified as “empty”, and that came with a tax bill sometimes 6x higher than when a building was on it… ouch.

Or not.

Until now, that is.

does a deep dive on this, highly recommend reading it, but the lowdown is this (from Gemini):

• If a house has broken windows, cracked walls, or completely overgrown jungle-like weeds, it gets flagged.

• If the owner ignores the local government’s warnings to clean it up, they lose their residential tax break immediately.

The Penalty: An Overnight 4x to 6x Tax Hike

Once a property is officially hit with a “recommendation” for poor management, the tax discount vanishes. The owner’s property tax jumps by roughly 4 to 6 times the following year—even though the house is still standing.

In more depth:

Real Gaijin

Japan’s Vacant Home Crackdown: How New Inheritance Laws Are Forcing a Reckoning

Read more

3 months ago · 21 likes · 14 comments · Mark Kennedy

This plot was commercial, I assume, so it’s a bit different, but still! That view!

I’ve noticed a huge uptick in the number of buildings being taken down. I’m in two minds about it because many of the buildings are really cool looking. But then again, they’re also abandoned. They much be a real hassle to live next to for starters. I guess I need to get my fix of abandoned building porn while I can. Get my camera out and get a few photos, in other words.

Anyway…

This photo was taken in the same spot :)

What a good boy!

Related:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for May 8 to 14, 2026

Daily Yamabushi posts for May 8 to 14, 2026.

More Daily Yamabushi at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. See all Japan Deep Dives here.

1. Something to Cringe At

2. The People Behind It

3. More Important Things

4. Find The Rhythm

5. Better? Or Just Different?

6. Maybe You’re Trying Too Hard?

7. The Sun Will Still Rise

Well, I’m thrilled to let you know that were there was once an empty plot of gravel, there is now a police box. Then just down the road where there was once a police box, there is now an empty plot of gravel (I wish I could make this stuff up). And, what was once a whisky bar covered in ivy, is now just a whisky bar. Which looks quite cool, to be honest, see below for more.

Sakata’s Strip

Further (Required) Reading:

I have since read the book mentioned in this post, and admittedly I cried a few times. I’m working on a write-up now, but it’s not quite ready yet. Something for you to look forward to.

Daily Yamabushi Posts for May 1 to 7, 2026

Daily Yamabushi posts for May 1 to 7, 2026.

More Daily Yamabushi at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. See all Japan Deep Dives here.

1. Gratitude Comes First

2. By the Book, by the Balls.

3. As Permanent as a Mountain

4. When the Going Gets Tough

5. All Out Attack

6. Think it Only Temporary

7. Show Your Work. Do Your Work.

I mean, how could you not?

It’s like, a fake castle office building thing? Who knows? Amarume never really had that much clout. It was stuck between the actual castles of Tsuruoka, Matsuyama, Sakata (Kamegasaki), and one in southern Karikawa.

Anyway, even now I don’t know what that part of the building was for, but the part with the triangular windows to the right there was an indoor swimming pool I frequented, because of course it was, and on the ground floor (1st floor in Japan), there was a bank and a supermarket,

because of course there was.

Well, the building has been empty for at least a few years now, apparently it wasn’t earthquake safe, and it appears they are finally taking it apart:

Amarume will never be the same again.

Further (Required) Reading:

Daily Yamabushi Posts for April 24 to 30, 2026

Daily Yamabushi posts for April 24 to 30, 2026.

Remember, you can read a whole month’s worth of Daily Yamabushi at timbunting.com/daily-yamabushi. See all Japan Deep Dives here.

1. Stop Doing Stuff. Start Doing Stuff Instead.

2. Pause. Disengage. Calm Down.

3. Nothing But Roadblocks.

4. Ice Cream.

5. A Place of Practice

6. Some Things Change

7. Something To Do

Ten years ago my Dad died. It was completely out of the blue, the doctor was surprised,

and so were we.

Then, a friend sent me a podcast episode with Brene Brown on it. It was the Tim Ferriss podcast. To be honest, I don’t remember much about the episode at all, just that it was about grief.

It’s weird how …

Read more

In 2005, Martha Stewart, yes that Martha Stewart, organised a meeting of the Martha Stewarts of the world. She wanted the Guinness world record for the most people of the same name in the same room.

And you know what?

She got it!

164 Martha Stewarts got together in the same room and set a new Guinness World Record.

N…

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I’ve been quietl…

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I can still clearly remember the phrase I used to learn relative pronouns in Japanese way back in high school:

相撲をする猿

sumo wo suru saru

The sumo-wrestling monkey.

There…

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I’m visiting Te Awa Kairangi and Pukeatua with my family and yesterday we had a rather auspicious encounter. We were out near Te Papa, the national museum of Aotearoa, and I saw a Māori elder in passing. They had one hand wrapped firmly over the top of a light-coloured wooden cane, and the other clasping something rather peculiar:

A pūtātara.

A conch.

But …

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