31 mars, 2011
19 mars, 2011
A seed of hope!
Amid Shortages, a Surplus of Hope
By RYU MURAKAMI, Yokohama, Japan
Published: March 16, 2011 in International Herald Tribune
I SET out from my home in the port city of Yokohama early in the afternoon last Friday, and shortly before 3 p.m. I checked into my hotel in the Shinjuku neighborhood of Tokyo. I usually spend three or four days a week there to write, gather material and take care of other business.
The earthquake hit just as I entered my room. Thinking I might end up trapped beneath rubble, I grabbed a container of water, a carton of cookies and a bottle of brandy and dived beneath the sturdily built writing desk. Now that I think about it, I don’t suppose there would have been time to savor a last taste of brandy if the 30-story hotel had fallen down around me. But taking even this much of a countermeasure kept sheer panic at bay.
Before long an emergency announcement came over the P.A. system: “This hotel is constructed to be absolutely earthquake-proof. There is no danger of the building collapsing. Please do not attempt to leave the hotel.” This was repeated several times. At first I wondered if it was true. Wasn’t the management merely trying to keep people calm?
And it was then that, without really thinking about it, I adopted my fundamental stance toward this disaster: For the present, at least, I would trust the words of people and organizations with better information and more knowledge of the situation than I. I decided to believe the building wouldn’t fall. And it didn’t.
The Japanese are often said to abide faithfully by the rules of the “group” and to be adept at forming cooperative systems in the face of great adversity. That would be hard to deny today. Valiant rescue and relief efforts continue nonstop, and no looting has been reported.
Away from the eyes of the group, however, we also have a tendency to behave egoistically — almost as if in rebellion. And we are experiencing that too: Necessities like rice and water and bread have disappeared from supermarkets and convenience stores. Gas stations are out of fuel. There is panic buying and hoarding. Loyalty to the group is being tested.
At present, though, our greatest concern is the crisis at the nuclear reactors in Fukushima. There is a mass of confused and conflicting information. Some say the situation is worse than Three Mile Island, but not as bad as Chernobyl; others say that winds carrying radioactive iodine are headed for Tokyo, and that everyone should remain indoors and eat lots of kelp, which contains plenty of safe iodine, which helps prevent the absorbtion of the radioactive element. An American friend advised me to flee to western Japan.
Some people are leaving Tokyo, but most remain. “I have to work,” some say. “I have my friends here, and my pets.” Others reason, “Even if it becomes a Chernobyl-class catastrophe, Fukushima is 170 miles from Tokyo.”
My parents are in western Japan, in Kyushu, but I don’t plan to flee there. I want to remain here, side by side with my family and friends and all the victims of the disaster. I want to somehow lend them courage, just as they are lending courage to me.
And, for now, I want to continue the stance I took in my hotel room: I will trust the words of better-informed people and organizations, especially scientists, doctors and engineers whom I read online. Their opinions and judgments do not receive wide news coverage. But the information is objective and accurate, and I trust it more than anything else I hear.
Ten years ago I wrote a novel in which a middle-school student, delivering a speech before Parliament, says: “This country has everything. You can find whatever you want here. The only thing you can’t find is hope.”
One might say the opposite today: evacuation centers are facing serious shortages of food, water and medicine; there are shortages of goods and power in the Tokyo area as well. Our way of life is threatened, and the government and utility companies have not responded adequately.
But for all we’ve lost, hope is in fact one thing we Japanese have regained. The great earthquake and tsunami have robbed us of many lives and resources. But we who were so intoxicated with our own prosperity have once again planted the seed of hope. So I choose to believe.
Ryu Murakami is the author of “Popular Hits of the Showa Era.” This article was translated by Ralph F. McCarthy from the Japanese.
By RYU MURAKAMI, Yokohama, Japan
Published: March 16, 2011 in International Herald Tribune
I SET out from my home in the port city of Yokohama early in the afternoon last Friday, and shortly before 3 p.m. I checked into my hotel in the Shinjuku neighborhood of Tokyo. I usually spend three or four days a week there to write, gather material and take care of other business.
The earthquake hit just as I entered my room. Thinking I might end up trapped beneath rubble, I grabbed a container of water, a carton of cookies and a bottle of brandy and dived beneath the sturdily built writing desk. Now that I think about it, I don’t suppose there would have been time to savor a last taste of brandy if the 30-story hotel had fallen down around me. But taking even this much of a countermeasure kept sheer panic at bay.
Before long an emergency announcement came over the P.A. system: “This hotel is constructed to be absolutely earthquake-proof. There is no danger of the building collapsing. Please do not attempt to leave the hotel.” This was repeated several times. At first I wondered if it was true. Wasn’t the management merely trying to keep people calm?
And it was then that, without really thinking about it, I adopted my fundamental stance toward this disaster: For the present, at least, I would trust the words of people and organizations with better information and more knowledge of the situation than I. I decided to believe the building wouldn’t fall. And it didn’t.
The Japanese are often said to abide faithfully by the rules of the “group” and to be adept at forming cooperative systems in the face of great adversity. That would be hard to deny today. Valiant rescue and relief efforts continue nonstop, and no looting has been reported.
Away from the eyes of the group, however, we also have a tendency to behave egoistically — almost as if in rebellion. And we are experiencing that too: Necessities like rice and water and bread have disappeared from supermarkets and convenience stores. Gas stations are out of fuel. There is panic buying and hoarding. Loyalty to the group is being tested.
At present, though, our greatest concern is the crisis at the nuclear reactors in Fukushima. There is a mass of confused and conflicting information. Some say the situation is worse than Three Mile Island, but not as bad as Chernobyl; others say that winds carrying radioactive iodine are headed for Tokyo, and that everyone should remain indoors and eat lots of kelp, which contains plenty of safe iodine, which helps prevent the absorbtion of the radioactive element. An American friend advised me to flee to western Japan.
Some people are leaving Tokyo, but most remain. “I have to work,” some say. “I have my friends here, and my pets.” Others reason, “Even if it becomes a Chernobyl-class catastrophe, Fukushima is 170 miles from Tokyo.”
My parents are in western Japan, in Kyushu, but I don’t plan to flee there. I want to remain here, side by side with my family and friends and all the victims of the disaster. I want to somehow lend them courage, just as they are lending courage to me.
And, for now, I want to continue the stance I took in my hotel room: I will trust the words of better-informed people and organizations, especially scientists, doctors and engineers whom I read online. Their opinions and judgments do not receive wide news coverage. But the information is objective and accurate, and I trust it more than anything else I hear.
Ten years ago I wrote a novel in which a middle-school student, delivering a speech before Parliament, says: “This country has everything. You can find whatever you want here. The only thing you can’t find is hope.”
One might say the opposite today: evacuation centers are facing serious shortages of food, water and medicine; there are shortages of goods and power in the Tokyo area as well. Our way of life is threatened, and the government and utility companies have not responded adequately.
But for all we’ve lost, hope is in fact one thing we Japanese have regained. The great earthquake and tsunami have robbed us of many lives and resources. But we who were so intoxicated with our own prosperity have once again planted the seed of hope. So I choose to believe.
Ryu Murakami is the author of “Popular Hits of the Showa Era.” This article was translated by Ralph F. McCarthy from the Japanese.
13 mars, 2011
40 years with Starbucks
Alla har vi druckit kaffe på Starbucks. Om det verkligen bör kallas kaffe kan diskuteras. Faktum är att Starbucks startade i Seattle med målet att faktiskt leverera bra kaffe men som idag för tankarna kaffedrink med olika smaksatser. En välskriven artikel med företagets CEO finns att läsa här.
Jag levde inte 1971 men att Starbucks har förändrat kaffekulturen världen över kan ingen säga emot. Starbucks etablerade sig här i Sverige så sent som i februari förra året. Varför kan man fråga sig. I Sverige hade vi vår fikakultur på pinnstolar men med Starbucks så vidareutvecklades denna. Starbucks hade en idé om att kombinera take-away kaffe med att sitta en längre tid. Stora soffor, fåtöljer och wi-fi ledde till att kaféerna blev ett socialt centrum där man möttes och jag undrar om inte det är ett av de vinnande recepten. Mer sofistikerat än Mcdonalds men samtidigt så känt att alla vet vad som finns. Take-away kulturen var däremot ny i Sverige men Starbucks kom inte hit utan efter att avvaktat hade kopior startats - Waynes Coffee (1994), Espresso House(1996, Coffeehouse by George (1997). Kaffetrenden har sedan dess förändrats och till det bättre. Priset på kaffe har däremot ökat och idag tycker vi inte att det är konstigt att betala 36 kronor för en Grande Frappochino.
Starbucks med nästan 17000 kafféer i 50 länder är imponerande. Trots detta har de haft ett antal dåliga år med stängningar. För att kunna expandera på nya marknader (läs Asien) har de även beslutat att ta bort Coffee från Starbucks Coffee och att förändra loggan. Personligen har jag aldrig fallit för någon av deras loggor och har aldrig förstått de som köper massa merchandise från Starbucks.
12 mars, 2011
11 mars, 2011
Audiovisuellt
Idag besökte jag KB och tala om den lycka som infann sig då jag upptäckte att ombyggnaden var färdig. Nu har det öppnat en avdelning som heter Audiovisuella medier där man kan studera film, tv, radio och musik från arkiven! Nu är allt samlat i Humlegården och 8 st uppspelnings platser finns tillgängliga.
Helt klart värt ett besök!
01 mars, 2011
Tuesday Poem #13
Dagsmeja.
Morgonluften avlämnade sina brev med frimärken som
glödde.
Snön lyste och alla bördor lättade - ett kilo vägde 700 gram
inte mer.
Solen fanns högt över isen flygande på stället både varm
och kall.
Vinden gick fram sakta som om den sköt en barnvagn
framför sig.
Familjerna fick ut, de såg öppen himmel för första gången
på länge.
Vi befann oss i första kapitlet av en mycket stark berättelse.
Solskenet fastnade på alla pälsmössor som frömjöl på
humlorna
och solskenet fastnade på namnet VINTER och satt kvar
där tills vintern var över.
Ett stilleben av timmerstockar på snön gjord mig tankfull.
Jag frågade dem:
"Följer Ni med till min barndom?" De svarade "ja".
Inne blad snåren hördes ett mummel av ord på ett nytt
språk:
vokalerna var blå himmel och konsonanterna var svarta
kvistar och det talade så sakta över snön.
Men reaplanet nigande i sitt dåns kjolar
fick tystnaden på jorden att växa i styrka.
-Tranströmer
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