“My dad was a soldier, so from four to six years old I lived in Kanagawa. I have good memories from Japan, so I always wanted to come back. Three years ago I went back to college to study Japanese. I hope to do business in Japan in the future.”
I got used to saying this in Japanese — so much so that I needed to slow it down or risk making people think my Japanese was actually good. It was a concise explanation but sufficient because the rest was easily extrapolated: I don’t look like a weeb because I’m not one. I am a strange relic of American imperialism — born around the bursting of Japan’s economic bubble but before the boom of anime. The only remaining question people had was the same as I get in the States: “Why Yamanashi?”
“I don’t like big cities.”
People are nicer in the country. Kinder, helpful, selfless. That’s why I’ve never left Iowa — Iowa is all country, even the cities. Even if it is a political mess right now, you can still tell which planes at the airport are going back to Iowa because the people are nice. I still believe that.
Ms. Fanny is the Japanese point of contact between Des Moines and Kofu City’s sister city program. She’s fluent in English, Japanese, and French. I emailed her and said my partner and I had interest in visiting Kofu this summer for a couple of months but needed access to a 24-hour coworking space or would end up working out of coffee shops and doing international video calls from a hotel room at 2:00 a.m.
You never know how these things will go. You send an email into the abyss with low hopes and no expectations.
Mr. Kanai runs Innovation Base Soie, the only 24-hour coworking space in Kofu. I learned he built it for Mrs. Ishibashi who started her own marketing agency around the same time as me, but by the time he finished it, she had already outgrown the place. It sits on the same property as Silk Garden, the other subsidiary he manages that provides student housing for the nearby college. It’s hard to draw a line between the two because many facilities are shared, and that is by design. It’s why we could sleep, eat, work, and work out all at the same place.
“Two months isn’t a long time, so I’m going to introduce you to many people,” he said.
On Friday of the week we arrived he had organized a dinner party with local entrepreneurs, some from the coworking space, others from nearby, and everyone did a short pitch to explain their business. Schoomy uses microcomputers to get kids interested in STEM. Mentemo is a vetted directory for mechanics and automotive shops. Evergrow is a digital marketing agency focused on local lead generation.
This was supposed to be scary, but it feels like home. The rigid Japanese business culture my instructors warned me about isn’t here. These are startups.
“What was Mr. Sato saying about Bill Gates?” I asked Mr. Kanai as we rested outside of the sauna before another round of onsen-sauna conditioning.
“He was making a joke that they are friends.”
Mr. Sato is a farmer. Mr. Kanai got the college kids around Silk Garden to help out around his farm by bribing them with barbeque and “the opportunity to practice English with [us]” as one of them said, but they were just being nice about the latter. Even if we hadn’t met on his farm though, I’d know he’s a farmer. He’s got the same demeanor as our farmers in Iowa who bring their own cups to Casey’s and drink their coffee like cowboys before I’ve gone to bed yet. I like those guys, but they don’t always like me.
“He said ‘aitsu’, so I was worried he doesn’t like Americans.”
“Aitsu” can be derogatory, but it can also just be familiar speech — apparently it has the nuance of “that guy”.
“Oh, you like that guy?”
“That guy and I go way back.”
Same thing, different meanings.
Mr. Kanai said Bill Gates has been buying up farmland in Japan. He doesn’t know how Mr. Sato feels, but wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t like him. I said Bill Gates is doing the same thing in the U.S. and I know some people don’t like him for it.
Mr. Toda is an investor in 13 businesses and currently runs four of his own. His businesses cover industries as far apart as energy and graphic design. He couldn’t make it to pitch night but his team presented on his behalf. They help other businesses and entrepreneurs go from idea to actual product. He’s still in his 30s.
“What advice do you have for me so this trip doesn’t become just a fun trip I took to Japan one summer?”
“Well, in Japan, introductions are important…”
I knew this, but it’s nice to hear out loud. Before I left, I told my buddy Shinya I was worried that if I didn’t get an introduction, this trip would end up being nothing more than a nice vacation. He agreed but said that wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. It’s my first trip. I have time.
“…and Mr. Kanai knows and is introducing you to many people.”
All I have to do is take advantage of the opportunities he’s giving me.
Mr. Ota works in the same department of the Kofu City government as Ms. Fanny. He came to the pitch night in a black suit, as Japanese businessmen do. His natural speech is fast and educated, which is hard to understand but exciting to be around because it makes me feel smarter by osmosis. The same is true when he speaks English.
He invited me to go with him to an onsen, but not one of the swanky ones. If Japan had Casey’s, some of the guys there would bring their own cups and drink their coffee like cowboys. We went in the natural hot spring included in but physically outside of the building. I asked Mr. Ota his thoughts on Japanese immigration.
“Japan can do more to be accommodating for foreigners and minorities, like for example, the LGBT community,” he said.
Japan is the only country in the G7 where gay marriage is still illegal. My business partner said it when he visited — socially, Japan today feels like 1960s America.
I mentioned how Japan and the United States are in a similar position demographically with birth rates, but the U.S. population continues to grow due to immigration and for that reason, social security looks less dire. It causes all sorts of other problems because our cultures can’t get along, but the books look better. I asked what he thought older Japanese thought of this. He said a word in Japanese I didn’t understand, wrestled with a few English words, then settled on the closest he knew.
“Fade away,” he said.
A little later when we got out of the sauna, an older Japanese man took notice of me and started talking with Mr. Ota. He said I was visiting as a part of the sister city program with America, but that was all I understood before the echoes made their conversation too difficult to understand. When they had a small break, I asked for a synopsis. He said the man said America and Japan have fundamentally different beliefs that impact immigration policy: In America all people are equal; in Japan, some have greater contributions to society, and they prioritize them first. I didn’t disagree.
The man and Mr. Ota talked a little longer with a couple more indications towards me, so when they finished up I asked for one more summary.
“He feels like he’s fading away,” Mr. Ota said.
Mr. Yuma tried six other businesses before finding success with KEIPE, his company that specializes in helping people with various disabilities find gainful employment. Under KEIPE he operates a daycare, a soup and kombucha shop, an e-commerce store, a web design company, and so on. From what I can tell he looks to be doing as much as Mr. Toda, just with more structural flexibility.
Mr. Kanai invited Mr. Yuma to the coworking space to introduce us to each other. I told Mr. Yuma I wanted to do business in Japan.
“But I don’t think my Japanese is good enough yet.”
He didn’t say anything, and I appreciated that. He then said he had just started studying English about three months ago, waking up early to do three hours a day. It shows. He’d be fine in America. But he also studied it in grade school.
That’s the thing nobody tells you about Japanese. They all say it’s hard, but nobody can sufficiently convey how hard it is. You study three hours a day for three years and your reward is having some naked old guy at the public bath say your existence makes him feel like he’s fading away, and you’re still not fluent enough to comprehend that information firsthand.
“You can do business Japan,” Mr. Yuma said ten minutes or so later, long after the topic had changed but with it still on his mind. “We would help you. The people here, like me and Mr. Kanai. We would help you.”
Some people make it all worth it.
Mr. Ohara is an architect. Well, technically he runs an architecture business and employs architects. His father made a construction business that he changed to an architecture company when he took over, but he doesn’t have a license. He’s “A manager of architects,” he jokes in English.
Mr. Gaku who worked as an interpreter for some of the previously mentioned meetings also works for Mr. Ohara, and he offered to introduce me and visit one of their recent projects. It’s a renovation — something so unique Mr. Ohara has gotten publicity and even been on radio shows to talk about it.
“People from ancient times knew where to build houses safe from earthquakes,” he told me outside of the renovation site. I hadn’t been to this part of town yet. The nearby homes were the nicest I had seen.
As we went inside, Mr. Gaku explained how the property was split into a modern home where people currently live and some of the older buildings still in progress. He pointed to a part of the wall made with ornate decoration and said how old it was.
“It’s older than Jesus,” I said.
The mountainside, currently being used for agriculture, was part of the property too. As Mr. Ohara pointed to a loom, he explained that his goal for the place was to make a self-sufficient community. Japan imports much of its food, and the war between Russia and Ukraine has some Japanese worried about the food supply. I asked why not use it instead to focus on some sort of export in pursuit of bringing back Japan’s glory days.
“Japan may never get back to what it was, but that might not be a bad thing,” he said.