Possessed by plum spirits －梅酒梅の悪霊に憑りつかれること－

A student of mine recently gave me some plum wine which her mother made.  I had tried plum wine before, but I had never tried the alcohol-soaked plums which are left after the drink is made.  My student gave me these two, and they tasted really odd, but nice.

She said that when she was a child her mother also used to make the plum wine.  And her mother gave her the alcohol-soaked plums to eat.  “My face became flushed and I got drowsy,” she said.  Don’t eat too many, or you’ll be possessed by the plum spirits!

As I have been enjoying plums, I thought I would retell a Native-American folk tale I remember reading, which concerns plums.

Fox and the plums:

Fox was walking, deep in thought, when he came to a pond.  He looked into the pond and saw some beautiful plums.

“Those plums look lovely,” he said to himself.  “I’ll stop thinking for a while and enjoy eating these plums.”

So he dipped his head towards the water and tried to bite off a plum.  But, of course, the plums he saw were just a reflection in the water.  So the water got up his nose and Fox coughed and spluttered.  When he had recovered he tried again, but the same thing happened and he coughed and spluttered without tasting the plums.  Again and again he tried, but each time the water got into his nose.

Disheartened and exhausted from trying in vain to get the plums, Fox lay down on the bank next to the pond and fell asleep.  While he was asleep, some ants came along and, thinking that Fox was dead, ate out one of his eyes.  The eye they ate happened to be the one on the side nearest the pond.  So when Fox awoke he could not see the plums.

Fox walked away, looking for the plums.  Eventually he walked in a circle.  He came back to the pond.  But this time he looked up and saw the plum tree.

Fox really wanted to eat these plums since he had made such an effort over them.  So he pulled out his one remaining eye and threw it at the plums hanging above him in order to make a plum fall from the tree.

Whether or not the eye hit the plum and made it fall I do not know.  But Fox was now blind and helpless.  And the ants came again and climbed into Fox’s empty eye-sockets, and killed him, and enjoyed a fine meal.

*

I’m not sure what the moral of that story is.  If the plums are alcohol-soaked, perhaps the moral is: Enjoy the tasty plums if you can, but be careful not to become too attached to them.  Alcohol will make your face flushed, and make you drowsy, and make you stop thinking, and make you sacrifice more and more to get it.

That’s quite a dark thought.  I had better have a nice glass of plum wine to calm myself down.

Vocabulary:

(alcohol-)soaked – of a solid object, such as a tissue or cloth, to be filled with a liquid, such as alcohol

flushed – of skin, to be red; for the blood to be visible just beneath the skin

drowsy – sleepy, especially after drinking alcohol or taking medicine

spirits – 1. Strong alcohol – 2. ghosts

to splutter – to make a series of violent choking or spitting sounds

disheartened – disappointed and without confidence

in vain – unsuccessfully; without getting a positive result

happened to be – was by chance

Drinking with despair and Dickens －絶望とディケンズと共にお酒を飲むこと－

I recently read a brilliant short story by Charles Dickens.  It is dark but very funny.  I would like to share it, so I have shortened it and made the language simpler to help non-native speakers.  If you feel deep despair, Dickens recommends enjoying a long smoke and a moderate drink, and trying to laugh at the ridiculousness of life.

An edited extract from, “The Baron of Grogzwig,” by Charles Dickens:

Long ago, in a castle in Germany, there was a rich, happy baron.  He loved hunting boars and bears in the forests around his castle, and drinking with his friends.

But as he grew older he grew a little tired of hunting and drinking, and decided to get married.  After marriage, his wife soon had a child.  She had one more each year and in time the baron had 13 children.  He had no more time for hunting or drinking with his friends.  And having to pay to maintain so many children, he found that he was no longer rich.  He began to despair over his lost freedom, and his lack of money.

“I don’t see what is to be done,” said the baron.  “I think I’ll kill myself.”  This was a bright idea.

The baron took out an old hunting knife and, having sharpened it on his boot, he put it to his throat.  But he stopped his hand when he heard a sudden loud screaming coming from the upstairs nursery where his children were playing.

“If I had been a bachelor,” said the baron, sighing, “I might have done it fifty times over without being interrupted!”

The baron called his servant and asked him to put a flask of wine and a large pipe of tobacco in a quiet little room in the castle.  In half an hour the servant had done this.

The baron strode to the room.  The bottle and pipe were ready, in front of a warm fire.  On the whole, the place looked very comfortable.

The baron locked the door.  “I’ll smoke a last pipe,” he said, “And then I’ll be off.”

So, putting the knife on the table, and drinking a good measure of wine, the baron threw himself back in his chair, stretched his legs out before the fire, and puffed away.

He thought about a great many things – about his present troubles, and past days as a bachelor, and his friends who had long since disappeared.  His mind was running upon bears and boars when, while draining his glass, he raised his eyes and saw with astonishment that he was not alone.

On the opposite side of the fire there sat a hideous, wrinkled figure, with deeply sunken eyes and a face like death.  He wore the clothes that men wear to the grave.  He took no notice of the baron, but was intently eyeing the fire.

“Hello!” said the baron, stamping his foot to attract his attention.

“Hello,” replied the stranger, moving his eyes towards the baron, but not his face.  “What now?”

“What now?” replied the baron, not frightened by his strange, dull voice and eyes.  “I shall ask that question.  How did you get in here?”

“Through the door,” replied the figure.”

“What are you?” said the baron.

“A man,” replied the figure.

“I don’t believe it!” said the baron.

“Disbelieve it then,” said the figure.

“I will,” returned the baron.

The figure looked at the bold baron for some time, and then said, familiarly, “There’s no fooling you, I see.  I’m not a man.”

“What are you then?” asked the baron.

“A genius,” replied the figure.

“You don’t look much like one,” returned the baron, scornfully.

“I am the genius of despair and suicide,” said the creature.  “Now you know me!”  With these words the creature turned and faced the baron, as if preparing for a talk.  “Now,” said the figure, glancing at the hunting knife, “Are you ready for me?”

“Not quite,” returned the baron.  “I must finish this pipe first.”

“Hurry up then,” said the figure.

“You seem in a hurry!” said the baron.

“Why yes, I am,” answered the figure.  “There are many people waiting for me in England and France just now, and my time is a good deal taken up.”

“Do you drink?” said the baron, touching the wine bottle with his pipe.

“Nine times out of ten and then, very hard,” replied the figure.

“Never in moderation?” asked the baron.

“Never,” replied the figure with a shudder.  “That makes people cheerful.”  The figure looked at the baron.  “Be as quick as you can, will you?  There’s a man with too much money and free time who wants me now.”

“He’s going to kill himself because he has too much money?” exclaimed the baron, very amused.  “Ha ha!  That’s a good one!”  This was the first time the baron had laughed for a long time.

And the figure vanished.

Vocabulary:

moderate – a reasonable amount; not too much and not too little

a baron – a kind of noble; a Lord

a boar - a kind of wild pig

a bachelor – a single, unmarried man

to drain one’s glass – to drink all of the liquid in one’s glass

hideous – horrible; terrible-looking

to fool someone – to successfully lie to someone; to make someone believe something incorrect

to vanish – to disappear

How you feel when it rains cheese sandwiches －雨のようにチーズサンドが天から降ったら、どう思うか－

For several years I have mostly been eating cheese sandwiches for lunch.  I don’t have much time to prepare lunch between lessons and I can’t really be bothered cooking and cleaning dishes twice in one day.  So a cheese sandwich is a very easy way to fill my stomach.  I don’t add any butter, or vegetables.  It’s not a cheese and butter sandwich, or a cheese and pickle sandwich, or a cheese and tomato sandwich.  It’s a cheese sandwich.

But last week I found myself thinking about making lunch, and sighing.  “Oh God, not another cheese sandwich,” I thought.  I searched for some tuna fish, but couldn’t find any.  I looked in the fridge for some tofu, but there was a tofu-sized empty spot on the shelf.  I looked for some soup, but the cupboard was bare.

My 2,000^th cheese sandwich stared at me, ugly and cold and unwelcoming, and I had no choice but to accept it.  I ate the cheese sandwich, and then a packet of natto to help me forget the taste.

My sudden realisation that I hated cheese sandwiches reminded me of a story from the Bible.  The Israelites had been slaves in Egypt.  But they listened to the advice of Moses and escaped into the desert.  When they arrived there was little to eat and the people complained to Moses, “When we were in Egypt we had fish and bread and vegetables to eat.  Why have you taken us here where there is nothing to eat?  Are we to starve here?”

God heard their complaints and caused cheese sandwiches to fall from Heaven.  They then ate the cheese sandwiches every day for forty years until they reached a new homeland.  I’ll bet that they felt the same way about cheese sandwiches that I do!

Well, no, not really.  It wasn’t cheese sandwiches in the Bible story.  It actually says that it rained manna from Heaven.  Manna was a kind of wafer made with honey.

I have been making more of an effort to vary my lunch diet recently.  When I have time, I make the evening’s dinner salad at lunchtime, and eat some of it with my lunch.  I always have kimchi in the fridge to eat as a side dish.  And I found out where my wife had hidden the tuna fish.  The cheese sandwich rainy season is over.

Vocabulary:

can’t be bothered (doing something) – feel that it is not worth the effort or are too lazy to do something

to sigh - to let out a long deep breath, expressing an emotion such as disappointment

bare – empty; having no objects on it

to vary one’s diet – to eat different kinds of food, not just the same thing or few things

Does Amazon know me better than my mother does? – Being scared by book recommendations －アマゾンは母よりも僕を知っているか？おすすめの本でおびえること－

My mother often complains that I never seem to read the books she recommends.  “Have you read that suspense novel I sent you which is set in Japan?”

“No Mum, not yet.  I’ve been, uh... busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

”Reading other books.”

Maybe she doesn’t quite understand the kind of books I like.  Maybe it’s not that.  Maybe I prefer to stumble across great books rather than be pushed towards them.  That way, reading them feels like an unexpected luxury, not a chore.

In any case, satisfying someone with a book recommendation is difficult.  My mother has seen what I have been reading since I was reading Spot the Dog – “See Spot.  Spot runs.  See Spot run.”  If even she has difficulty knowing what I would like to read, then how can Amazon do it?

I wrote a little last week about Audible, an Amazon company, and their book recommendations to me.  It made me think about how they collect data on their users in order to recommend books to them.

For instance, just before my son was born, Audible sent me recommendations for books about parenting – Tips for a new father, How to raise children, etc.  How did they know that I might be interested in such books?  I had never read any books about parenting before, I hadn’t added any to my Audible wish-list, and I hadn’t searched their database for books about parenting.  They must have gotten the data from a purchase I made on Amazon.  My wife ordered some baby nappies or other baby-related items from my Amazon account.  And suddenly Audible, a separate company owned by Amazon, knows that I might be interested in books about parenting.  Isn’t that a little bit scary?

I found three different lists of recommended books that Audible has suggested to me.  They were:

Recommendations, based on your previous purchases;

Recommendations for you inspired by your wish-list;

And Recommendations inspired by your searches.

Be careful what you buy, and even what you search for on Amazon.  They’re watching carefully!

And don’t think that it is just a computer which is making a profile of you.  The computers are operated by humans.  And if you annoy those humans enough, they can use that collected data against you.

In December 2017 it was revealed that a British man had gotten very strange book recommendations from Amazon.  He had complained to Amazon’s help desk about a package delivery.  Then on the same day he got five emails from Amazon with recommendations for books about death and suicide.  Their titles included, “Death,” “Follow you home,” and “Suicide’s an option.”  Amazon later confirmed that an employee had misused the customer’s data and had sent the emails.  They offered the customer a 50 pound gift token as compensation.

Audible’s book recommendations for me were not very helpful.  They included a lot of books I have already read, but didn’t buy on Amazon.  They also recommended Harry Potter.  I’ve no idea why.  Maybe they know that I haven’t bought it, and think that anyone who hasn’t read that book is a fool.  Or maybe when you put all of the collected data on me into a computer programme, it adds up to Harry Potter.

I think I’ll read that suspense novel set in Japan instead.  Thanks, Mum.

Vocabulary:

to stumble across – to find by chance

a chore – a bothersome task; something you have to do

a purchase – the act of buying something

a nappy – something worn by babies because they cannot yet use a toilet

to be inspired by something – to get creative ideas from something

to annoy someone – to make someone slightly angry

to use something against someone – to use something as a tool to harm someone

to misuse – to use something incorrectly or improperly