Items tagged with: japan
„Japanische Zeugen sprechen von einem #Flugzeug…“ „Die japanische staatliche Nachrichtenagentur #NHK hat bekannt gegeben, dass die Arbeiter des Tankers vor der Explosion ein Flugzeug gesehen haben, das auf den Tanker zu flog . Die Vereinigten Staaten machen die Schuld an den Tanker angriffen auf den Iran fest. #Teheran bestreitet die Anschuldigung.“
Brennende Schiffe vor dem Iran – eine neue #Tonkin-Kriegslüge der #USA
Hormus-Tanker-Bilder widerlegen Anschuldigungen der USA
In dem oben verlinkten englischsprachigen Bericht der japanischen öffentlich-rechtlichen Rundfunkanstalt NHK, in dem aber nicht direkt von einem Flugzeug gesprochen wird, wie es in der Überschrift des eingangs verlinkten Artikels gesagt wird, heißt es:
#Iran #krieg #propaganda #drohne #japan
#tokyocameraclub #東京カメラ部 #Japan #Photo #写真 #日本 #Photograph #Photography
'We think it's cute': the Tokyo husband and wife who match outfits | Cities | The Guardian https://www.theguardian.com/cities/2019/jun/15/we-think-its-cute-the-tokyo-husband-and-wife-who-match-outfits
Over-sized Buddha heads sticking above tree lines are not the sort of thing a man should see upon opening his eyes after a night on the town. It unsettled me in a vague, Nietzschean sort of way.
Yet there he was, staring serenely through the sliding glass door to my third floor hotel balcony, the trees giving him an unkempt goatee.
My mouth was bone parched, tasted of stale whiskey and cigars. I blinked, rubbed my eyes. My head hurt. Dim images of the previous night drifted through the dense fog of hangover. Karaoke bars. Sake. Lots of sake. I was in the outskirts of Tokyo.
A soft knock sounded at the door. I looked down, checked my attire. Minus a shirt but still wearing trousers and one sock. The best I could do. "Enter" I croaked.
The lock clicked. A young Japanese woman wearing a black maid's uniform pushed the door open with a service cart. I sat up in bed cross-legged. My temples pounded in protest.
"Your breakfast, Sir." She stopped the cart before the room's only table, began placing items on its surface.
"Could you hand me the water, dear?"
I snatched the bottle of chilled spring water from her hand, cracked it open, guzzled like a man dying of thirst until it was empty.
"Do you require anything else, Sir?" She'd finished setting table,
"Nothing you're able to provide, dear. You're very kind. Thank you."
She bowed, guided her cart back into the hallway and quietly closed the door.
The water had helped. But there was a pot of green tea on the table. I needed it. Carefully, gingerly, I unfolded my legs and slid to the bed's edge. Then I stood and wobbled over to the table, plopped in a chair facing the balcony door.
I pushed the plate of nori, pickled plums and steamed rice to the far side of the table. The faint smell of jasmine reached my nose as I poured the tea. I took a sip, breathed deeply. Heaven.
The Buddha was still watching. Changing locations in the room had caused his goatee to vanish. Now his serene visage was clean shaven. I took another sip of tea, felt its goodness begin to take effect.
I wondered what Siddhartha Gautama would make of that huge stone effigy of himself. Would he be flattered? Horrified? Indifferent? A man discovered how to still his mind through meditation. He never claimed mysticism. He simply said he had found a way to inner peace through meditation and self discipline. A middle way between sensual indulgence and severe asceticism. Yet within months of his death followers were attributing all sorts of magical deeds to him. From that sprang Buddhism followed by the inevitable fracturing into separate sects.
I poured another cup, eyed the plums. No, better not.
I bet Yeshua would be horrified. "Love one another" had morphed into "do it or burn in hell forever" and an endless number of bickering factions.
The sun slipped behind the hotel. The Buddha's face lost its glow, darkened into a dull burnished gray. The telephone on the table in front of me rang.
Sir, we have an article of your clothing at the front desk. Would you like someone to bring it to your room?"
"What is it?"
I looked down at the tan sock on my left foot. "What color is it?"
"A light cream or tan, sir."
"Where'd you find it?"
"In the lobby. The night clerk said you discarded it when you returned to the hotel."
I scanned the floor around the bed. "Did you find any shoes?"
"No, sir. Only the sock."
"Um, okay, yes, please bring it."
"Very well, sir."
I hung up, dialed Bob's room.
"It's me. Listen, we need to swing by a men's clothing store first thing."
"I need to buy some shoes."
"What's wrong with the pair you have?"
"Nothing. I just don't know where they are. Be ready in an hour, okay?"
I hung up, finished the tea. Shadows played across the Buddha's face. He appeared to be winking.
#writers #writing #literature #Tokyo #Japan
When the ice ages were at their peak and the sea levels were at their lowest, some parts of Japan were connected to the Asian landmass by land bridges which allowed big-game hunters to become the first modern humans to set foot there (full page upgrade):
#history #historyfiles #japan #palaeolithic