A (more) local perspective: Kanagawa Prefectural Fisheries Technology Center


On the morning of April 17th I left Tokyo and took a train 1.5 hours roughly south and then a bus for another ~30 minutes even further south until I reached the island of Jogashima. Thus began a 2-week placement with the Kanagawa Prefectural Fisheries Technology Center. Up until this point, most of my fisheries education for the year had been from the national perspective.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. My Japanese still hadn’t improved to the level of being fully conversational, so I knew I was asking a lot to show up on their doorstep (yes, they were expecting me). But once again, my conservative expectations were blown out of the metaphorical water by the gracious, welcoming and informative staff of my host organizations in Japan.

The staff of the Center took the time to educate me about the local fisheries, and the work the Center does to support the local fisheries, such as provide detailed sea-surface temperature maps, raise larval fish and juvenile scallops for stock enhancement, and track the stock level and health of certain fisheries (e.g.. kinmedai). I was particularly impressed by the investment in staff who’s job it is to reach out to the local fishermen to make sure their needs are being met and to keep a finger on the pulse of the concerns, needs, successes, and general attitudes of local fishers.

I started to upload a few photos to illustrate my two weeks with the Center, but remembered that I gave a pretty comprehensive talk at the end of my stay. I’ve uploaded the slides here, with extra explanations in the captions.


Located in the scenic area of Misaki (in Miura-shi), on Joga Island (Jogashima), the Center supports the local fishing communities in Kanagawa Prefecture.  Misaki is one of the 10 tuna markets in Japan, and once hosted a much larger tuna fleet. Now the local fisheries are mostly shirasu, techiami (set nets), saba (mackerel) and sazae (sea snail).


There are two other Centers in Kanagawa-ken, besides the one I visited. There are three ships, with one dedicated to enforcement.


An FCA is a local fishery cooperative. This is how coastal fishermen are organized throughout Japan. A techiami is a set net.


When I was there, it was Kanagawa-ken’s turn to draw the detailed sea-surface temperature (SST) maps for the 6-prefecture group. On clear days the satellite data provide fairly accurate SSTs, but on cloudy days, the Center will take the SST data reported from dozens (hundreds?) of ships and buoys (photo on top left) and use that information to draw (top right) contours for predicted SST. This happens daily and is a public service for local fishermen. Toida-san was the scientist drawing the maps for Kanagawa-ken. 


Resource scientists Takeuchi-san and Kusano-san routinely collect life history data from kinmedai (a very tasty fish we call the splendid alfonso). I learned a lot about extracting otoliths while I was in Japan (otoliths are the ear bones that are used to determine the age of the fish).


These top two slides are microscope pictures (courtesy of my iphone) of two kinmedai otoliths. The dark bands indicate the age of the fish, but I don’t think we were certain that day if these fish were 2 years old or not. The bottom picture is of a scale of a mackerel (saba). These can also be used for aging but it is “muzukashii”, or difficult.


One of the main fisheries in Kanagawa-ken is the shirasu (whitebait) fishery. This is made up of the fry (juveniles) of sardines, anchovy, herring and ayu. I got to try my hand at identifying each species; the trick to telling them apart has to do with fin placement and jaw structure.


The next slides have to do with ‘saibai’ or fish cultivation (for stocking) and then the Misaki fish market.


The Center has extensive experience raising flounder for stocking in the ocean. They are bred to have distinctive color patterns so they can be id’d as artificially reared when later caught in the wild.


Nakamura-san holding (I believe) rockfish eggs. I hope he reads this slide and corrects me if I am wrong. On the right is a cute little juvenile rockfish.


The large abalone on the left is natural and the abalone on the right (green bit of shell at top) was cultured at the Center and released into the ocean around the size in the back right photo.


The Center is conducting experiments on what wavelength of light is best for the rearing of marbled sole (makogarei).


The nostril of a spontaneous (natural) red sea bream on the left, and the nostril of an artificial (raised and released) sea bream on the right. The spontaneous nostril has two holes, but the nostril of the raised fish had a merged nostril hole. This is used to tell the types apart when they come to market (and so scientists can do accurate assessments). 


The next 30 slides are of the various fish Nakamura-san picked up and showed me on our tour of the Misaki fish market. My alternative title “Nakamura-san’s hands” was because they showed up in nearly every photo as I was being taught how many different fish are brought into that market. The diversity reflects the type of fishing that is prominent there (set nets). A few slides are from the smalled market on Jogashima. Stay tuned for the slides at the end – this is the fishermen outreach that I found particularly impressive.



Takao-san 高尾山

On a day I needed to clear my head, I decided to visit Mount Takao (or, Takaosan). Just outside of Tokyo, it’s a popular escape-the-city destination. At the bottom of the mountain, just outside the train station is a very nice onsen where you can rest your weary feet (and rest of your body).


The weft and warp of Japanese society

One of the best characterizations of the fundamental differences between living in Japan, and living in America, that I’ve heard, came from Diet Member Kikawada Hitoshi-sensei. I was working with his office for 3 weeks, and during my welcome dinner the conversation turned to our two culture’s approach to information flow and communication. Of everyone at the table, he was the only other person to have spent significant time in the United States (he did his Master’s degree at the University of Maryland).


Kikawada Hitoshi sensei and his staff

He thought for a minute, and then explained to his staff that when he was a student in the US he always had to check his bank account to make sure that the bank hadn’t made a mistake. That sometimes they did make mistakes, and if that happened, it was his responsibility to find it and make sure it got corrected. He said he’d found several errors in his account during his time in the US.

His staff were shocked.

But I imagine, if you’re American, your response to the above scenario was something along the lines of, “Oh well, yeah. That happens. I wish it wasn’t that way, but …no one is perfect.”

Whereas in Japan, perfection is expected. Institutions are trustworthy. You don’t have to question the bank. The trains run on time. If someone says something, they have a good reason. Being able to count on things going according to plan is …incredibly relaxing. But for an American, it is sometimes completely disorienting. Because the flip side to trusting your institutions, is that information is doled out sparingly. Often, for the benefit of the peace-of-mind of the consumer/citizen, the details are glossed over. It’s covered! Why are you worried?

We’re worried, because in America, you need to be in charge of all the information, all the time. The responsibility lies with you. You the citizen; you the consumer; you the litigant. You must know what is happening with all things even remotely in your sphere. It is what we expect.

So when you pluck someone from the American way of doing things, and plop them in the middle of a society that trusts their institutions, it’s not just another culture, it’s like learning how to breathe underwater.

Where. Is. My. Information.

I mean, it’s awesome. It’s just very, very confusing.


So, if we were to compare the social fabric of America and Japan, America might be considered a loosely knit sweater; Japan, a tightly woven silk. There are gaps between the threads of the American sweater; it might be a little lumpy; it’s a little uneven; but it wears well after many washings, and keeps you warm. A snag is an isolated problem with a few threads, and can be easily mended.

Processed with Snapseed.

On the other hand, the Japanese silk is strong, even, and beautiful. The fabric drapes elegantly, each thread perfectly in line with the next. There is symmetry and balance. But a snag, a disruption, an irregularity, has far-reaching consequences to the overall fabric. No one wants to be the snag.

This is all to say that there is an inter-dependence in Japan that doesn’t exist on the same level in America. Our loosely-knit society allows for irregularities, departures from the norm, and quite a bit of chaos.

During another conversation, much more recently, I was asked if Americans trusted their government. My initial reaction was a half scoff, half snort. (snoff?) But the answer, I think, is both yes and no.

I think we, at least more often than not, still trust the intent upon which our institutions are built. We (want to) believe the foundation is still solid. But we are skeptics. And we are very skeptical of the structures build on top of these foundations. We are skeptical of our fellow citizens, and our leaders. We don’t necessarily trust them. So we challenge them. All the time. This is part of who we are. The sweater has to be made of sturdy stuff because it is being yanked and pulled and twisted into all sorts of contortions, every single day. And we have a great faith that it won’t disintegrate in our hands. That we can’t actually pull it apart. That this is currently being tested, is morbidly, horrifyingly, fascinating.

IMG_4907To be able to speak about Japan in this context is way beyond my level of expertise, but I do think the weave of society, the fabric itself, is designed differently. There is a subtlety and uniform understanding about certain things. The trust in institutions isn’t flawless, but it’s close. This shared concept of the way things should be would all start to unravel if too many new ideas were introduced all at once. If too many threads of varying thickness and strength came into the weave, it would introduce too much uncertainty, and the beautiful, lofty, serene (if customer)/ insanely stressful (if employee) way of life would start to falter. I think this is why many Japanese citizens are not overly enthusiastic about welcoming large numbers of immigrants. Too many mismatched pieces of thread. Too much potential for their whole approach to life to break down.

I don’t know what the right answer is, or if there even is one, …but I get it. I understand the fear, and the wish to preserve the social fabric as it is.

A week on Mukojima



Shun-san, Deguchi-san and Isono-san on Mukojima.

I’ve spent the last 10 months teasing apart some of the differences and similarities between Japan and the US.  And while there are many things that set the two countries apart, one striking similarity is the zealousness of conservation biologists, particularly those who work out in the field. A field biologist is a field biologist is a field biologist, regardless of where they are born and raised. It’s a case of convergent evolution, with maybe some selection for personality types predisposed to appreciate playing in the mud.

In early September, representatives from many of my placements over the coming year gathered at the office of the National Personnel Authority in Tokyo. Since the fellowship focuses on federal agencies, there were a lot of suits.

I was in a suit. My fellow Fellows were all in suits. And a majority of the agency representatives were in suits. And then there was one man sitting in the front row, more casually dressed, snazzy glasses, slightly bemused, …definitely not impressed by the suits. This was Dr. Tomohiro Deguchi of the Yamashina Institute for Ornithology. A field biologist.

For more than 10 years, Dr. Deguchi-san’s main mission has been the reintroduction of short-tailed albatross to a remote, protected island. He, and his research partners, are essentially saving this critically endangered species. As I’m writing this, I realize he could easily have belonged in the book Last Chance to See by Douglas Adams and Mark Carwardine.

Suits, are not his style.


Deguchi-san in his natural environment. He is in the lower left of the frame.

Between February 20th– March 5th I had the great fortune to work with the Yamashina Institute for Ornithology, which included two days of introduction to the research done by the Institute from their headquarters office in Abiko, to spending a week at the remote, uninhabited island of Mukojima.

Mud was involved. But so was the incomparable opportunity to camp on this protected island and participate in field observations of this new colony of short-tailed albatross.

Background: I’m going to skip over many of the details here, but short-tailed albatross (アホウドリ , or ahoudori in Japanese), were hunted to near extinction in the 1800s. During surveys in 1939 and 1949 there wasn’t a single short-tail albatross found. They reappeared on the Torishima (Bird Island) in 1951 and on the Senkaku Islands in 1971. Since then the population has increased to approximately 3500 animals, mostly on Torishima (there might be around 350 animals on the Senkaku Islands but because of political tensions, surveys have been impossible there). The big problem here is that Torishima, the main, almost only, breeding location for this endangered species, is under threat of a volcanic eruption.

Life history details: Albatross are long-lived birds who spend the first 4-5 years of their lives at sea. Let that sink in for a minute. They then return to their area of their birth to find a mating partner and breed. From that point forward they spend their summers and autumn feeding in the northern latitudes, and return to (usually) their exact breeding area in the winter and summer to mate (with the same mate; they are monogamous) and raise chicks. It is believed that they imprint on their geographic location very early, which meant that if researchers wanted to expand the short-tail albatross range to include areas not under political dispute or risk of volcanic eruption, they had to do it at an early life stage.

Enter Deguchi-san and team. Between 2008-2012 they translocated a total of 70 chicks by helicopter from Torishima to the uninhabited and volcanically inert, Mukojima. This effort took place after two years of test relocations with less endangered species with similar life history habits (Laysan albatross chicks were translocated from Sand Island to Kauai, and black-footed albatross chicks were moved from Nakodojima to Mukojima).

The short-tail albatross translocations to Mukojima were a success, with 99% of the chicks fledging. The next test would be to see whether the adults returned to Mukojima after their 4-5 years at sea, and then to see whether they would mate and successfully rear chicks there (Deguchi et al., 2013).

In 2011 the first Mukojima raised chick, Y-01, returned to Mukojima. He paired with a female (raised in the wild) and they laid their first egg in 2012. Two more eggs were laid in subsequent years, and then in the fourth year a chick hatched and successfully fledged (yay!). Another translocated bird (Y11) paired with a non-translocated albatross and hatched a chick on neighboring Nakoudojima. (Deguchi et al. 2016).

Then, in 2016 Y01 and his mate had another chick on Mukojima, Y76, who I got to watch through binoculars and long-range scope in February. This was the fourth short-tail chick to hatch on Mukojima and neighboring islands. I felt a particular affinity for this chick who has the same number as my birth year. I plan to follow his/her success through life.

Another exciting event was the sighting of M170 who is the daughter of Y11 referred to above. Since M170 was reared on Nakoudojima it was meaningful for her to show up in Mukojima, giving rise to hopes that she might decide to mate and raise her chicks there instead (thereby growing and giving strength to this new colony).

I will let the photo essay below tell more of the story of my week on Mukojima.



To get to the Ogasawara Archipelago requires a 24-hour ferry ride from Tokyo to Chichijima. I made some friends. Chichijima (Father Island) and neighboring Hahajima (Mother Island) are home to a lot of young people who have sought a simpler life, with closer ties to nature. I can respect that. I can envy that.



Dr. Okamoto-san (of Ogasawara Whale Watching Association, red jacket) and a team of researchers from Hokkaido University under Dr. Mitani-san (brown sweatshirt).


Chichijima. Just beautiful.


But Chichijima was not our destination. We were headed to Mukojima, which required a 3 hour journey by chartered fishing boat. (A fishing boat, I might add, with an exceptional captain. Extremely safety conscious and capable of piloting us back through some nasty seas when we needed to get back to Chichijima to catch the ferry. I don’t remember his name, but I was impressed.)


First view of Mukojima (on the left)…


…and the wildlife.


This was taken from a small zodiac as we ferried to the beach. The captain had to get back to Chichijima that night because the following day was his wife’s birthday.


The camp. There are two groups that regularly camp on the island. The albatross researchers from Yamashina, and seasonal workers hired by the Tokyo Metropolitan government to remove invasive species.  This is the Yamashina camp. No one else is normally allowed on the island.


On the first night we headed up to the study site to check on the albatross and deliver some basic equipment. It’s about a 30 minute commute (by foot) from the campsite to the study site. Because of the island’s protected status we’re allowed to only walk along the path from the camp to the study site. But as you’ll see in the next photos, that’s plenty.


Mukojima means groom, or husband, island. In the distance is Yomejima, or bride or wife island. In between is Nakoudojima, where M170 was hatched. Nakoudojima is ‘matchmaker island’.


One of the sights along the ‘commute’. One afternoon I stopped and counted at least five groups of humpback whales within just 5 minutes from this spot.


A pair of black-footed albatross. They were frequently close by the trail.


The two specs on the ridge are Isono-san and Lena-san. During WWII the trees on Mukojima were used for target practice by war ships and the remaining were killed off by goats, so the island is mostly barren which gives it a spartan, moorish feeling.


Back at camp, Deguchi-san and Shun-san are cooking. In theory we took turns cooking, but I think Lena and I benefitted from more nights where we just tried to help or stay out of the way. There were 5 of us in the camp. Deguchi-san, Shun-san (ex-dive instructor who had spent time in Fiji, Guam and Australia and who has now settled in Chichijima and is a superb field guy), Isono-san (who has worked with Deguchi-san several times and is an experienced field biologist having worked all over the world and now is based in Hahajima), Lena (a German biologist who has been living in Japan this past year to work on her Japanese), and myself.


Dinner by headlamp.



Here is another view of the study site. In the lower right you see the field observation ‘station’, where two people would set up with scope, binoculars, camera and data sheets. We’d record every 15 minutes how many of each species were present. First we’d count any short-tailed albatross, then black-footed, and finally any Laysan. A majority of the white birds you see in that photo are 55 large fiberglass decoys. The decoys and a looped recording of albatross calls are meant to help attract other short-tailed albatross to the colony.


A closer view of the study site. From left to right are Lena-san, Isono-san, Deguchi-san, and Shun-san.  Normally there would only be two people on shift. There are three, 3-hour shifts per day, and observations are conducted each year from November to March.


Isono-san headed back to camp.


Black-footed albatross chick and adult.


A little interspecies communication. Black-footed albatross on left. Laysan albatross on the right.

water jugs

Everything has to be carried in, including drinking water.


The path to the beach.


Clear waters, but the beaches are still plagued by trash that washes up with every tide.




Deguchi et al., 2016. Translocation and hand-rearing result in short-tailed albatrosses returning to breed in the Ogasawara Islands 80 years after extirpation. Animal Conservation.

Deguchi et al., 2013. Translocation and hand-rearing of the short-tailed albatross Phoebastria albatrus: early indicators of success for species conservation and island restoration. Oryx 48(2), 195-203.




Three days in Beijing

I just spent three full days in Beijing. Incredible history, art, culture, food, and humanity; a bit overshadowed by the air quality, but that was part of the experience too. Am hoping to get around to recording more of my thoughts later, but in the meantime, here are the pictures.




View from Mount Inasa

From February 1-3rd, the 21st class of Mansfield Fellows traveled to Nagasaki on a trip sponsored by both the National Personnel Authority and the City of Nagasaki.  We had a behind-the-scenes tour of the airport, a sobering and moving visit to the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum, the Peace Park, the Nagasaki Museum of History and Culture, Dejima where the Dutch traders lived, Mount Inasa, Glover Garden, Oura Church, and Urakami Cathedral. We also paid a courtesy visit to the Mayor of Nagasaki, Tomihisa Taue-sensei.


In 1955, ten years after the dropping of the atomic bomb, Louis W. Hill Jr., grandson of Minnesota railroad baron James J. Hill, reached out to the city of Nagasaki to create the first sister city relationship between American and Japanese cities. On December 7th, 1955 Nagasaki and St. Paul became sister cities.



Mayor Taue and yours truly. Photo by Michael Fletcher. 


Peace Park: the elevated right hand points to the threat of nuclear weapons, and the outstretched left hand symbolizes tranquility and world peace.

I was born in St. Paul and spent the first 10 years of my life there (only to move a short distance away). I remember visiting the James J Hill house, now registered as a National Historic Landmark. During the holidays, actors would dress in period costume to give tours and bring us back in time. Little could I imagine that many years later I would be in the office of the Mayor of Nagasaki, shaking his hand in recognition of the bond between his city and my hometown, that Mr. Hill’s grandson helped bring about.

For 218 years, starting in the 1630’s, Japan was closed to the world through a policy called “sakoku“, a policy of national isolation. All trade was banned, except for one single port: Nagasaki. I’m piecing this history together very quickly after a 3-day trip and consulting some websites, so please do your own investigation into this fascinating history. I believe all trade had to be conducted at Dejima, an island in the port of Nagasaki, which was created specifically for this purpose.


Oura Church

We were also fortunate to be visiting Nagasaki during the Lantern Festival, which is held during the Chinese New Year.




Beginning Japanese Breakdown

Beginning Japanese Breakdown: both a break-down of very basic Japanese grammar points, and what my brain is currently undergoing.

Before I begin this post, I want to just state that I have a great respect for, and fascination with, the Japanese language. I’m enjoying learning, and look forward to the day, faaaaaaaaarrrr faaaaarrrr in the future, when I am more comfortable speaking it on a daily basis. I think I wrote before, that my fellow fellows and I have been taking intensive language classes for the past 6 weeks.   It’s been a humbling, and overwhelming (though enjoyable) experience.  I tried below, to give you a little taste of what the past 6 weeks have been like, and also try to put what I’ve learned into my own words.


Today we’re going to talk about verbs.

Verbs: どうし

Japanese verbs can do a lot more than English verbs. They’re more …verby. Or at least they can look a lot different while doing many of the same things. Think of a verb as a paper doll with different outfits to wear. English verbs have a slightly limited closet. They can wear present form, past form, and infinitive, and maaaaybe a few others. I write. I wrote. I am writing. To modify it further we need additional words, sort of like paper …accessories: I will write. I want to write. I didn’t write. I won’t write. But, it’s mostly write, write, write.

Japanese verbs, on the other hand, have a lot more going on with their wardrobe. Japanese verbs have options.


Take かく(kaku): the dictionary form of “to write”


Kaku = to write (dictionary form, present positive plain form)

Kaita = wrote (positive past tense plain form, also the -ta form)

Kakanai = don’t/won’t write (present negative plain form, also the -nai form)

Kakanakatta = didn’t write (past negative plain form)

Kakimasu = write (positive present tense polite form, also known as the –masu form)

Kakimasen = don’t/won’t write (present, negative, polite form)

Kakimashita = wrote (past, polite)

Kakimasendeshita = didn’t write (past, negative, polite)

Kaimashou = let’s write (polite)

Kakaimasenka = would you like to write? (polite)

Kakitai = want to write (-tai form)

Kakitakunaidesu = don’t want to write (-tai form)

Kaite = writing (-te form)


And then the forms I haven’t learned yet:







So far that’s 18 different outfits that “kaku” could wear. And you still have to remember that it’s kaku.

Now, just so you don’t think that this brimming closet means that Japanese verbs have done away with accessories. But it’s essential that the accessory matches the overall outfit. So, if today, kaku is expressing itself as kaite, you could add:

The –masu form of imasu to show a state of being: kaite imasu is “I am writing”

Or you could add “mo ii desu ka” to ask if something is okay to do

Or you could add “wa ikemasen” to express prohibition (e.g. you can’t …do such and such)

Or add “kudasai” to indicate a request to do something


Or if kaku is wearing the –nai form (take kakanai: present negative plain form and drop the nai, to get kaka), you could also add:

~naide kudasai, as in “kakanai de kudasai” to indicate that one shouldn’t write (please don’t write)

Or ~ “nakerebanarimasen” to mean you must do something

Or ~ “nakutemoiidesu” to mean it is okay to do something


Alright, that is just two examples of the groups of modifiers, or ‘accessories’ that exist for different verb forms, and I’m boring myself, so let’s move on to verb characterization.

You may have observed the above list of 18 outfits and deduced that some simple rules could be followed for conjugating these verbs into their different forms. Fool! You forget that Japanese is a ninja language. And verbs fall into 3 different groups. Let me introduce you to the groups:

Group I: う(u)-verbs, otherwise known as the verbs whose –masu form roots end in い (i)

Group II: る (ru)- verbs, otherwise known as the verbs whose –masu form roots end in え (e) , except for those whose roots end inい but don’t get along with Group I so want to hang out in Group II (eg. mimasu, imasu, okimasu, karimasu, orimasu, abimasu, dekimasu).

And then there’s Group III: I call these the ‘take-your-rules-and-shove-it’ verbs. They include: kimasu (kuru) and shimasu (suru).

Groups I, II and III all follow slightly different rules when conjugating into the different forms, and then of course there are the exception verbs (arimasu, ikimasu and others).

You may have noticed that there is both a plain form and a polite form. The -masu form, which is the polite form, and should be used in formal situations and when addressing anyone who’s social stature is the same or greater than yours, except of course, for when you shouldn’t use it, which turns out to be a lot of the time. (For example: sentences describing one’s thoughts, or what someone said, will combine both the plain form (the thought or quote) with the polite form of “think” or “said”. )

Also, the –masu (ます) form root is what is used to conjugate the verbs into the –te (て) form and the –tai (たい) form, the –nai (ない) form and the -ta (た) form, also known as the plain form, which you can use alone with friends, or in combination sentences with the polite form in polite company when speaking in quotations or modifying a noun (with a verb, because that happens).

ときどきアメリカじんは かなをよむ ことが できませんから、これはロマンジで かきました。





Firehose で にほんご を のんでいます

Nihonglish. That’s what I’m calling my new conglomeration of Japanese and English as I start to cobble together new bits of Japanese and find that I’m forgetting some simple English vocab and grammar. My intent had been to write here about the process of language learning, and what I’ve learned so far from our 6 weeks of intensive Japanese classes. And I will just have to save that for later, but for now I will say that it feels like trying to drink from a firehose.  My sentence above might be correct, …and it might not be.

The literal translation is “I am drinking Japanese by firehose”.  (and the で should maybe be a から)。It probably doesn’t make any sense in Japanese, but that’s a fair reflection of where I’m at.   I commented to a friend that when speaking Japanese I felt like I was the equivalent of a 3-year old, asking “why?” “why?” “doushite?” all the time. She responded that after only 7 weeks, I was aging quickly. I thought about that, and even though I did have some time invested in language classes before arriving, during my first week my language abilities were infantile. I was reduced to what felt like babbling different consonant-vowel combinations that I knew were Japanese, and just hoped I was producing coherent, inoffensive words.

So yes, 3, if it’s even that, feels like an accomplishment.

My head is too full of grammar and vocab (though it refuses to behave when needed) to write more here. I’m all atangle in ‘tango’ and ‘bunpo’, but here are some にほんでとったしゃしんです。



Eihei-ji: the main training temple of Sōtō Zen. Fukui Prefecture. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eihei-ji



Ishizaki Houtou Omatsuri on the Noto Peninsula. http://mcha-jp.com/13467


From Senmaida: A Thousand Rice Paddies in Shiroyone http://senmaida.wajima-kankou.jp/en/

Mansfield Fellowship (i.e. ‘why am I in Japan?’)

It was a pleasant November afternoon in Washington DC when 16 strangers took the elevator to the 11th floor and gathered expectantly just outside the lobby of 1156 15th Street NW, Suite 1105. We were all ‘suited up’ and looking around at each other, Hunger Games style, trying to make pleasant conversation. We had all made it to the interview stage of the selection process for the Mike Mansfield Fellowship, and now just had to survive the group interview. Only ten of the 16 would be selected, hence the slightly awkward evaluation of everyone standing genially in the circle. I looked around the group and thought “oh boy, I might be out of my league,” but so I expect, did most everyone else.

What followed was a bizarrely stressful group interview. As we entered the DC office of The Maureen and Mike Mansfield Foundation we were each assigned to one of two tables. Whatever meager alliances had been formed in the lobby were dashed. We were then given a number of written scenarios to choose from as a group, and then 30 minutes to discuss and work through how our group would respond. Cooperatively. As we discussed the scenarios and debated our potential responses to each point, the selection panel walked around with clipboards and listened in to our discussion, scribbling away and nodding occasionally.

Then we presented our conclusions in front of the room (both groups chose the same scenario: awkward!), made a brief round of thank yous and good-byes, and that was it. Thank you for your time. You’re free to go. You’ll hear from us soon.

And what were we vying for so pleasantly? A chance to spend a year in Japan, embed in agencies, organizations and companies close to our given specialties, further our Japanese skills, and, hopefully, help to increase the cooperation and understanding between Japan and the United States. I had been a Japan-o-phile for years, so this was a dream opportunity. Fortunately my agency also valued the chance to build bridges between Japan’s sister agencies and our own, and endorsed my application.*

The panel wasted no time, and on Monday morning I received an e-mail saying I’d been selected. Soon an e-mail went out introducing the entire group of 10, the 21st class of Mansfield Fellows, and we began organizing our first happy hour (thank you Jocelyn!).


MFP21 during our March orientation in DC with Ben Self and three members of the Mansfield staff

We are a diverse group career-wise, with the following agencies represented: NOAA, NASA, FDA, SEC, Department of Labor, FAA, Air Force, State Department (2), and FERC (Federal Energy Regulatory Commission).

The first week in Japan was spent in Tokyo with orientation meetings and working with housing realtors and furniture lessors, setting up what will be home for 10 months. Then we took the shinkansen to Kanazawa in the Ishikawa Prefecture. We’re spending 7 weeks here, taking language classes at the Ishikawa Foundation for International Exchange and participating in homestays. We are also undergoing a crash-course in Japanese culture, and have had a tour of a national garden (Kenrokuen), a pottery class, a calligraphy class, a visit to a local elementary school, and an audience with the Governor of Ishikawa. Tomorrow we’re doing seal engraving (no, not the animal, the name sign).


What started as 10 strangers sussing one another out in the hallway of a DC office building is now a pretty tight-knit group of people who genuinely enjoy one another’s company. Two of our group are expecting the imminent arrival of the(ir) next generation, and so aren’t able to join in the Kanazawa portion of the Fellowship, but they have visited once and we look forward to seeing them and their families soon! While my main goal during this year is to foster relationships with our Japanese colleagues, I’m also continuously impressed by the other fellows and hope to learn a lot from them in the coming year. I’ll also say that while we differ in specialties, I think we are fairly similar in our drive and motivation. And when you take 10 over-achievers and place us in a situation where we lose a degree of autonomy, it leads to repeated …‘learning moments’, and a good deal of bonding.



When we return to Tokyo we’ll have another week of orientation, this time for our ten months of placements, and then the work begins! (…or continues).  My placement schedule is as follows:

Fisheries Research Agency (8 weeks)

National Research Institute of Far Seas Fisheries (5 weeks)

Fisheries Agency, Resources Management Division (MAFF) (9 weeks)

Zengyoren, Japan Fisheries Cooperatives (9 days)

Yamashina Institute for Ornithology (2 weeks, including a trip to Ogasawara)

Nature Conservation Society (2 weeks)

Diet (4 weeks)

Kanagawa Prefecture Fisheries Technology Center (2 weeks)

Tokyo University of Marine Science (1 month)

Ministry of the Environment (1 week)

University of Tokyo (2 weeks)


I think I’ll sleep sometime in the fall of 2017.


*The Mansfield Fellowship is only offered to federal employees.


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