Part 7 (1/2)

The first night in the business hotel, I dreamed about Harue. In the dream, she had gotten divorced and was living in Boston, but she was coming to visit me in San Francisco so we could get married. In reality, she was still married to a j.a.panese man she had met in Manhattan, and they were living in Tokyo with their two-year-old daughter. I woke up sweating, even though the air conditioner was on full blast.

It was nine thirty in the morning, but because of the jet lag, I was still exhausted. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains, making it impossible to go back to sleep, so I got out of bed and dragged myself into the shower. I bent my head, not only so that it didn't hit the ceiling, but also to get my hair under the nozzle, which was fixed at the height of my chest. As the water hit my belly, I thought about my ”visiting Nissin” outfit.

The Go Forth Go Forth hosts rarely got dressed up, but I had planned the outfit before leaving San Francisco. Gray slacks, blue Banana Republic dress s.h.i.+rt, black shoes, belt. No tie or jacket. The last part was due to Zen's influence. He had left our company a few months after I did, and under the tutelage of a management coach (a man we had hired at our company), Zen started his own management-coaching business in j.a.pan. He believed that the nonconformity of not wearing ties or jackets projected power, and he called his look ”Silicon Valley style.” I was arriving without an appointment, so a little Silicon Valley style couldn't hurt. hosts rarely got dressed up, but I had planned the outfit before leaving San Francisco. Gray slacks, blue Banana Republic dress s.h.i.+rt, black shoes, belt. No tie or jacket. The last part was due to Zen's influence. He had left our company a few months after I did, and under the tutelage of a management coach (a man we had hired at our company), Zen started his own management-coaching business in j.a.pan. He believed that the nonconformity of not wearing ties or jackets projected power, and he called his look ”Silicon Valley style.” I was arriving without an appointment, so a little Silicon Valley style couldn't hurt.

At a 7-Eleven near my hotel, I bought a bottle of iced tea and two nori-encased rice b.a.l.l.s stuffed with umebos.h.i.+ umebos.h.i.+ (pickled plum). While in the store, I spotted packages of GooTa, a premium Nissin line that boasts high-quality, vacuum-packed toppings and goes for three dollars a serving. There were other ramen brands, but the Nissin products seemed to stand out, as if the packaging were screaming, ”I am a great bowl of instant ramen!” Near the 7-Eleven, I spotted a small park, where I sat down on a bench to eat my breakfast and thought again about what I would say when I got to Nissin. (pickled plum). While in the store, I spotted packages of GooTa, a premium Nissin line that boasts high-quality, vacuum-packed toppings and goes for three dollars a serving. There were other ramen brands, but the Nissin products seemed to stand out, as if the packaging were screaming, ”I am a great bowl of instant ramen!” Near the 7-Eleven, I spotted a small park, where I sat down on a bench to eat my breakfast and thought again about what I would say when I got to Nissin.

On Go Forth Go Forth, the hosts usually just screamed what they wanted upon arriving at their destinations, but they traveled with a film crew that could provide at least a modic.u.m of protection. The male host once screamed, ”I wanna see for myself the strength of Chinese martial arts movie star Yuan Biao!” and when he spotted Biao about to enter a building, he ran toward him, waving a large paper fan. The male host is overweight and has no formal martial arts training, so it was easy for Biao and his two friends to subdue the host and secure him in a headlock. They repeatedly punched the host in the stomach until the Go Forth Go Forth director came out from behind the camera and explained what was going on. I imagined screaming, ”I wanna meet Momof.u.ku Ando so I can figure out why I've never been able to sustain a long-term, committed relations.h.i.+p!” But I was a journalist who wrote stories about j.a.pan, so my livelihood depended on getting in and out of the country. I didn't want to do anything that could compromise my ability to obtain a visa. director came out from behind the camera and explained what was going on. I imagined screaming, ”I wanna meet Momof.u.ku Ando so I can figure out why I've never been able to sustain a long-term, committed relations.h.i.+p!” But I was a journalist who wrote stories about j.a.pan, so my livelihood depended on getting in and out of the country. I didn't want to do anything that could compromise my ability to obtain a visa.

The Nikkei Business Nikkei Business article quoted Ando saying that he played golf every week on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. It was a Wednesday, so I had to find something to do before lunchtime. I boarded a subway train bound for Osaka's Naniwa district and followed the signs. I arrived at eleven o'clock, just as the doors were opening. article quoted Ando saying that he played golf every week on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. It was a Wednesday, so I had to find something to do before lunchtime. I boarded a subway train bound for Osaka's Naniwa district and followed the signs. I arrived at eleven o'clock, just as the doors were opening.

It was officially called Namco Gyoza Stadium, Namco being the name of a large j.a.panese video game company (known best as the developer of Pac-Man). The stadium was housed inside Namco City, a multistory video game arcade. Ascending a series of escalators to Namco City's third floor, I entered what looked like the central square of a traditional j.a.panese village. It was a village, however, in which all of the storefronts were outlets of gyoza restaurants. Outside each shop, employees screamed the praises of their gyoza, doing their best to entice customers. ”Get your juicy, garlicky gyoza right here!” A bulletin board in the middle of the square, next to a fake wooden footbridge, encouraged patrons to vote for their favorite gyoza; it also showed the previous day's voting results, broken down into male favorites and female favorites. I bought a three-piece set from Pao, the top male favorite, and ate it on a picnic table in the middle of the stadium. Pao's employees were screaming that their dumplings were made from beef, not pork, and that they packed extra beef jus. Sure enough, when I took a bite, some jus squirted onto my pants. An exhibit on the wall outlined the history of gyoza, which, like ramen, originated in China and became popular in j.a.pan after World War II. A chart listed the ratios of soy sauce to vinegar commonly found in gyoza dipping sauces in different regions of j.a.pan:

People often ask me what fascinates me about j.a.pan, and for a long time I never knew how to explain it. Here it is, though, in a nutsh.e.l.l: There's a Gyoza Stadium on the third floor of a video game arcade called Namco City, and a chart on the wall lists the ratios of soy sauce to vinegar found in gyoza dipping sauces in different regions of the country.

I dabbed the jus stain with a wet napkin and rode the subway back to New Osaka Station. From there it was a short, sweaty walk to Nissin's Osaka headquarters.

A VERY BRIEF HISTORY OF MOMOf.u.kU ANDO, PART 7 : THE HUNGER STRIKE

Although he had endured physical torture, Ando always maintained that the most difficult thing about military prison was the food. Meals consisted of little more than boiled barley and pickles, and the dishes were covered in a layer of filth. A self-described clean freak of more than average means, he refused to eat.

Soon, however, he noticed how the other inmates' eyes sparkled at the sight of his untouched food. This, he wrote, affected him deeply.

I felt that I had glimpsed the true nature of humanity at a very deep level. I didn't feel sorry for these people, or that they should be ashamed.This is difficult to explain, but when I began thinking that way, something changed in my soul. I became able to eat prison food that until then I was unable to eat. I drank stale-looking water from dirty gla.s.ses with no hesitation.Humans fill their minds with silly notions, so we often blind ourselves to reality. Had I not been conditioned to think otherwise, I would have seen the prison food and said, ”It's covered in flies and maggots, but so what? Food is food.” And I would have eaten it without thinking twice. In order to survive, humans must be able to change their thinking. Anyone who cannot do so has simply never suffered the truly awful things in this world. To me, this was an unexpected revelation. Why is it that such discoveries await when we face our horrors? Why is it that humans perform above their normal abilities in such situations? Perhaps it is because we are forced to abandon every idea that is no longer serving us.

The building was around fifteen stories high, its exterior covered in smooth olive-green tiles. It was probably constructed in the 1970s. Apart from the kanji characters for ”Nissin Food Products” and Nissin's bowl-shaped logo near the top, the structure could just as easily have housed an insurance company. At street level, a gray slate walkway led to two red marble steps.

As I walked up the steps, the gla.s.s doors in front of me parted automatically.

The lobby stretched the full dimensions of the building, its floor comprised of the same red marble as the steps. The wall opposite the entrance was all gla.s.s; through it, I could see a rock garden and small koi pond. In the center of the lobby, two Greek-style sculptures, chiseled from what appeared to be white marble, stood on three-foot-high pedestals. I approached the sculptures and, for a minute or so, lingered between them. The one on my left depicted a naked man (Dionysus?) with his arms around two naked women whose joyful expressions hinted at the planning of, or winding down from, a menage a trois. The sculpture on my right showed two men. One was curled up in agony, while the other hovered above, twisting the first man's arm.

It's hard to believe this now, but I stood between the sculptures completely oblivious to the symbolism.

”Can I help you?”

The voice belonged to an old man sitting behind a reception desk. He wore an armband with the kanji for security guard security guard, which made me think again of Go Forth Go Forth. Security personnel were always foiling the hosts' plans. During the taping of ”I wanna be a street vendor and serve yakitori to the mayor of Tokyo!” a member of the production crew was taken into police custody outside City Hall.

”I would like to meet Momof.u.ku Ando,” I said calmly.

The security guard picked up a telephone and dialed a number. There was a long pause.

”There's a foreigner at the front desk who says he wants to meet the chairman.”

Another pause.

”Hai hai.”

The security guard hung up the phone.

”Please proceed to the twelfth floor.”

I couldn't believe it had gone so smoothly! Maybe people showed up all the time wanting to meet Momof.u.ku Ando, and it was someone's job to greet them. The security guard even wrote out a name tag with my name in katakana-the second j.a.panese syllabary. Katakana symbols are like hiragana ones, except that they're used mostly for spelling onomatopoeia expressions and transliterating foreign words.

I affixed the name tag to my s.h.i.+rt and walked past the guard's desk. When I got to the bank of elevators, there was another sculpture, this one a bronze of Ando himself. It depicted the noodle inventor in a graduation-style cap and gown that, according to a plaque, commemorated an honorary PhD that he had received, in 1996, from Ritsumeikan University. Entering an open elevator, I pressed the b.u.t.ton for the twelfth floor. The elevator doors closed, and when they opened again, a young woman was standing in front of me. She wore a gray skirt and a white blouse.

”Welcome to Nissin Food Products,” she said, bowing.

I bowed back, and the woman led me from the elevator into a small room. Ah, the small room near the elevator. bowed back, and the woman led me from the elevator into a small room. Ah, the small room near the elevator.

When interviewing executives for magazine articles in the United States, I would often be led through mazes of cubicles on the way to s.p.a.cious corner offices where the interviews took place. These walkthroughs offered valuable clues about what was going on in a company. Were people hard at work? Did they seem happy? At a troubled investment bank, for instance, I once spied a manager whaling away on a punching bag that hung by his desk. In j.a.pan, though, executives almost always came out to meet me in small rooms near the elevators. It was the physical manifestation of keeping outsiders on the outside.

The small room near the elevator at Nissin was furnished with an expensive sofa and two comfortable-looking chairs. A photograph on the wall of Ando in a red gown and black mortarboard was presumably taken the day he received the honorary doctorate from Ritsumeikan University. Surveying the layout of the sofa and chairs, I knew that I was supposed to sit on the sofa. That's because it was the farthest piece of furniture from the door. j.a.panese business etiquette dictates that when you visit a company, you take the seat farthest from the door because the person nearest the door controls the exit, and therefore holds the power. I was showing up without an appointment, without a jacket, and without a tie. I thought about flaunting the seating protocol as well, but I didn't have the guts.

I sat down on the sofa.

”Would you like some coffee or tea?” the young woman asked.

Sweat had stained an area on my b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt near my solar plexus.

”How about iced tea?” I said.

The woman bowed again, and told me to wait. Five minutes later, a tall, thin man entered the room. He looked around twenty-eight years old and wore a crisp white s.h.i.+rt and a plain green tie. I stood up and he bowed, holding out his business card. He spoke in j.a.panese.

”I am Yamazaki. Welcome to Nissin.”

This was the man who had stopped returning my e-mails.

”Thank you,” I said. ”I am Raskin.”

I thought about apologizing for showing up without an appointment, but decided not to mention it. I did apologize, however, for not having business cards. It was proper that I hadn't brought any because I was on vacation, but in j.a.pan, it was always good to start by apologizing about something.

Yamazaki apologized in return.

”Osaka is very hot and humid now. I'm sorry you have to endure that.”

The young woman returned with a gla.s.s of iced oolong tea, placing it deliberately on the table in front of me. She bowed and left the room again.

”It really is hot,” I agreed. ”Yesterday I stood for, like, ten minutes under an air-conditioning vent in New Osaka Station.”