Disco Fever

It’s possible that you don’t think of me as any kind of disco dancer. And you’d mostly be right. I’m pretty sure I never went to a disco in the United States. But… when in Japan you end up doing all kinds of things that you might never do in your bokoku. Of course this is mostly because you’re in a atarashii country which has new things to do, places to visit, foods to try etc. But just as my first lesson at Japanese cooking school involved (surprisingly) hamburgers, there was a time in my life that involved a disco. Both the hamburger and the disco were Japanese takes on Western stuff.

For those of you who know Kyoto, would you believe me if I said there had been a disco in Pontochō? Pontochō is that lovely little lane downtown that houses the kind of restaurants and exclusive bars that we think geisha and maiko frequent. Some places require an introduction and if you need to look at nedan, you’re in the wrong area of town.

Yet, in the late 1970’s there was indeed a disco not-so-hidden in a lower level of a Pontochō establishment. It was called Samantha. Or, in Japanese Samansa. They had a large collection of soul music and their focus was on Black musicians. It was a quirky kind of place but it did indeed have a small dance floor.. A friend of mine found it and we became jōrenkyaku there. Most of the time it was filled with single men. It was the first time I ever saw people dancing without partners. It was freeing. Lucy and I would often get out on the floor and dance with abandon.

I have no idea what the cover charge was because we never paid. In fact, we rarely paid when we went out in the evening. Even a raggedly hippie girl like me was enough of a bonus for any shop that they’d welcome us with open arms, and men would ply us with nomimono with few expectations. We were mezurashii and we soaked it all up. We were young and just loving it. Of course now we know that what we experienced was white privilege. But at the time we didn’t think twice about it. The scarcity of young foreign women worked in our favor. Looking back on this I feel like we definitely took advantage, but this was also a prosperous time in Japan and –okay, I should stop making kōjitsu. We had a blast.

I have no idea what happened to Samansa and how long it lasted. I moved to Tokyo while it was still popular and in Tokyo I’d sometimes find myself in the discos of Roppongi which were notorious in the 1980s. While there were many more gaikokujin in Tokyo, including military and rich expats, I still don’t remember ever paying to get into a disco. Privilege…. and I bet cute models are still reaping those benefits.

bokoku – 母国　mother country
atarashii – 新しい　new
geisha – 芸者　Honestly, if you don’t know what a geisha is, why are you even reading this?
maiko – 舞妓　apprentice geisha and you.should.know.this.
nedan – 値段　price
jōrenkyaku – 常連客　regular customer. When you live in Japan you want a few places where they know you. It helps you feel at home there.
nomimono – 飲み物　drink. At a bar it usually refers to alcohol of course, but it includes any kind of drink and is used broadly.
mezurashii – 珍しい　rare, unusual
kōjitsu – 口実　excuse
gaikokujin – 外国人　foreigner

Kōenji

Oh lordy. My old neighborhood is now a hipster place. It’s turning up on lists of cool neighborhoods or hidden gems or ”places to discover.”

I moved to Kōenji in 1983. I would take the Chuo Line from Shinjuku Station and it took about fifteen minutes. You’d get off the train and have a choice between the minami and kita exits. Mine was the south exit. From there I’d walk ten minutes or so through an old shōtengai. I loved that walk. It’s worth saying that the shōtengai extended all the way to a subway station of the same name. And there was another shōtengai on the north side. If you like shōtengai, you were all set.

As I would walk home, I’d see a futon store to my right where I’d often browse looking for new covers for my zabuton. Next to that store and on the second floor was a restaurant that served fried rice with an ebi furai on top of it and a dab of curry. It’s a great combination that I’ve rarely seen elsewhere.

*I was surprised to find a photo of my old apartment building on the internet. Though it looks nice from the outside, it was dark and damp inside.*

On the right side I’d pass a few pharmacies and small grocers. Eventually I’d pass a kōen on the right that was featured in the novel 1Q84 by Murakami Haruki. It’s always a quiet thrill when you unexpectedly encounter a place you know in a shōsetsu.

From there, things got seedier. Kōenji, for some reason, was where many bar hostesses and other creatures of the night chose to live. There were a few jazz coffee shops, and some good oden spots. But what really proved to me that this was indeed the home of the tattered butterflies of the night was the public bath. And it was simple. Unlike any other public bath I’d been to, this one stayed open until 1 AM. Every other bath I’d ever been to—be it in Kyoto or Tokyo—closed at 11 PM.

I’d sometimes go right before closing and join the raucous group of women hanging out there. I never really chatted with them. I usually came with the guy I’d end up marrying and I didn’t linger or try to make friends. We’d meet outside after bathing on our respective sides of the bath and then go eat some oden.

Checking the internet now, I see that our bath had been around since 1929! I’m very happy to see it is still open and still open until 1 AM. I guess there are still some things that do not change!

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minami – 南　south
kita – 北　north
shōtengai – 商店街　shopping street
zabuton – 座布団　floor cushion
ebi furai – エビフライ　fried shrimp
kōen – 公園　park (the kind children play at)
shōsetsu – 小説　novel
oden – おでん a type of food that is sold by street venders and in bars (it practically cries out for beer) and now in 7-11 and other stores. It has an unmistakable smell to it due to the fish products it uses. A lot of non-Japanese fail to see the charm of it. But in the winter, before many homes had heat, it was a great way to warm up before returning to a stone cold room.

A Consultation

In America as well as Japan someone might idly ask you, “So, what are you cooking for dinner tonight?” I often ask this of my own musume, curious to know what she’s feeding my beloved mago and also curious to know what local foods she might be eating. In Japan, my neighbors often answered with “Reizōko to sōdan shimasu.”

I get the meaning, but it still makes me smile. You could translate that literally as “I will have a consultation with my refrigerator.” This is especially meaningful at the end of the month before a gekkyū rolls in. And it also is a good way to ensure that you don’t end up with rotting vegetables or oniku past its prime.

I think there are two ways to grocery shop. In America, where people shop less frequently than in Japan, my friends often make up a menu plan for the week and then buy based on what is needed to prepare these dishes. I’ve tried doing that, but I cannot. I also can’t shop just once a week, or heaven forbid, once every two weeks.

When I was living in Japan most people shopped for food daily or once every couple of days. Many women my age still do it that way. Food shops are conveniently located near train stations so you could come home from work or school and buy what you needed for yūhan on the way home. My homestay mother went to the same local shōtengai daily to shop. Why? Why daily?

One reason is that Japanese homes are small and thus storage, be it reizōko or pantry is very limited. Think of the kind of refrigerator that you might find in a dorm room. Now they sell bigger ones, but they are still narrow and are simply taller. But I believe many women are still shopping daily or three times or more a week. This is because you want to see what is shinsen, what is in season, what is on sale and what simply looks good. In theory one should always be eating with the seasons and that is reflected in both food and tableware. It’s a lovely way to cook and eat. There’s not a Japanese alive who couldn’t tell you what month bamboo is in season and what fish is eaten in the autumn. The closest we have to any of this would be a pumpkin spice latte. (I cringe.)

It’s the end of the month today and I did indeed consult with my refrigerator. Plenty of carrots, so I pulled some chikuwa from the freezer and made a stir-fry with soy sauce and sugar. What else? Oh, this is embarrassing. But I had some sad looking broccoli and a lot of celery. A knob of ginger appeared and I always have miso.

So I cut the celery into small pieces, zapped the broccoli, and sautéd both vegetables with the ginger in sesame oil, adding miso and mirin to make a sauce. Not bad! But I now have two very rich dishes so I’ll add rice (already cooking in my suihanki) and daikon pickles—and cut up some fruit to eat along with it. Oshimai!

There’s enough left over for tomorrow at which point I’ll cook up a dashimaki to go along with it.

And…it would not be at all out of character to see me thanking my refrigerator for this gochisō!

musume – 娘 daughter
mago – 孫 grandchild
reizōko – 冷蔵庫 refrigerator
to – と particle and or with
sōdan shimasu – 相談します to consult or to confer with, adding shimasu makes it a verb
gekkyū – 月給 monthly salary
oniku – お肉 meat
yūhan -夕飯 dinner. You can also call dinner bangohan. Maybe this is like supper and dinner?
shōtengai – 商店街 shopping street
shinsen – 新鮮 fresh
chikuwa – 竹輪. a tube shaped fish paste product. It’s cheap and easily found in Japan. And it tastes better than it sounds. Unfortunately, in America I can only get a frozen version.
suihanki – 炊飯器 rice cooker
Oshimai – お仕舞い Finished! Done! You could also use it to say “I call time.”
dashimaki – だし巻き a Japanese rolled omelette made with dashi.
gochisō -ごちそう a feast. Used to praise food not just for a real feast.

You’ll Never Find It

I’m a big fan of SMS and the internet. The ability to make connections, quickly find jōhō and verify old memories is invaluable to me. Thank you, world, for inventing such a great tool. I use it daily.

*This isn’t it. But it might look like this. Just less fancy, though!*

There’s a little resutoran near the Heian Shrine in Kyoto. Let’s call it S Restaurant. It’s an old style eatery that serves a setto breakfast and a wide variety of ippin ryōri during the day. You never know what you might find, be it a dish of Japanese poteto sarada, kitsune soba, hamburger with catsup spaghetti or ebi furai. It’s that type of restaurant that puts dishes out on a table or shelf and you can choose what you want on top of what you order. Nothing “extra” here. Plain old good food, but nothing gourmet, mind you.

S Restaurant does not have a website. It doesn’t have a facebook page or Instagram. It does have a denwa bango, but they don’t take reservations. It’s a neighborhood kind of place despite being near one of the top sightseeing spots.

You can’t pay with a credit card or your phone or any other way other than genkin. There’s no parking lot. Children are welcome, though. But it is what is known as a taishū shokudo. There used to be many of these in Kyoto, very similar to the cheap dives that catered to students—students who are now frequenting cafes and Starbucks.

So, how are you going to find S Restaurant? First off, you won’t find anything written in English about it (I checked). If you don’t speak or read Japanese and you walk by it, trust me, there’s no welcome sign for you. You have to do the work; learn the language.

Thanks to the internet, now anybody can become a Japan tsū. If you can’t read Japanese, presto… use Google translate and years of Japanese study become unnecessary. We live in the era of short cuts, instant gratification and instant expertise.

In 2016 I was astonished to see the multilingual signage in Kyoto. No more wondering about the history of a jinja or a street name’s pronunciation. Easy peasy. A wonderful boon to tourists. But for serious students of Japanese perhaps it might make them lazy since everything is done for them. I hope I’m wrong. Surely they are still huddled under their kotatsu memorizing kanji for hours upon hours. No?

So, I still think it is worth taking the time and making the effort to learn the language if you really want to know Japan. Or as they say, it’s not the destination, but the journey to get there. But hey, I’m just a grumpy old lady! Meanwhile, S Restaurant continues much the way it always has, hopefully never to be found in an article entitled “Top Ten Quaint Eateries of Kyoto.”

jōhō – 情報 information
resutoran – レストラン　restaurant
setto – セット　set, as in set menu
ippin ryōri -　一品料理　 à la carte items
poteto sarada – ポテトサラダ　potato salad (the Japanese version of the Western version of it)
kitsune soba – 狐そば　a kind of soba dish with seasoned deep-fried tofu. One of the cheapest items on a menu.
ebi furai – エビフライ　fried shrimp
denwa bango – 電話番号　telephone number. Literally telephone + number
genkin – 現金　cash
taishū shokudo -　大衆食堂　 literally a “restaurant for the masses.” It describes the type of eatery that is simple, cheap, filling, unpretentious, and with no surprises. They seem to be few and far between these days.
tsū – 通　an expert or connoisseur. Often used as a suffix to indicate a subject one has expertise in.
jinja – 神社　Shinto shrine
kotatsu – 炬燵 a low table combined with a special futon that is used as a heating device

Happy New Year

Akemashite Omedetō Gozaimasu. (2023 is the Year of the Rabbit)

That’s how you say Happy New Year in Japan. But unlike in America where we start saying it near the end of the year, you can’t use this expression until the second the clock hits midnight. If you’re watching Japanese tv, then that’s the moment you’ll see the announcers bow and say this. Until this moment, what you can say is “Yoi otoshi o” which means Have a good year.

My first Oshōgatsu in Japan was in 1976. I was with my boyfriend and a group of Japanese people. Everyone was drinking. I think we were in Gion. It was a nigiyaka group and nobody noticed that the clock had struck midnight until about twenty minutes later. Quite different from what I was accustomed to.

My boyfriend had claimed that I’d have to move in with him during these holidays. He and my homestay program had claimed that nothing would be open for a week. I was living in a tiny room with no cooking facilities other than the ability to boil water. The shelf outside my window functioned as a reizōko. (The whole room could have done that since there was no heat.) The thing is, I didn’t believe that everything would be shut down. Maybe on January 1, but surely a few shops or gurosarii would open the next day.

*Example of a sign announcing hours for end and beginning of the year*

Nowadays they do. But in Kyoto in 1976 every shop really was shuttered and had pieces of paper on it announcing closure until January 7th or even later. The shrines and temples were bustling but normal life had stopped. There was a reason why women were cooking boxes full of food. Would they really last seven days? Actually, no, but three days was definitely possible. I found that out in later years when I prepared the osechi ryōri myself. We’d be thoroughly sick of these boxes as they’d be brought out for all three meals, but we made it through snacking on osenbei and mikan.

Almost everyone would gather round to watch the NHK Kohaku Song Show. This year was the 73rd year of broadcasting it. I think it gets worse every year, but people my age are simply bound to say that. But the tradition of families gathering together to watch it as they did in years past seems likely to fade out. Still, though, it is some of the most incredible staging you’ll ever see. Check out Youtube for some clips. Or watch this as an example:

Akemashite Omedetō Gozaimasu – 明けましておめでとうございます　”Happy New Year” or literally, “Congratulations on the opening [of the year]. Isn’t used until the clock strikes midnight and the new year arrives.
Yoi otoshi o – 良いお年を　”Have a good year.” This is used at the end of December to people that you think you won’t see again until the next year arrives.
Oshōgatsu – お正月　New Year’s
nigiyaka – 賑やか　lively, merry
reizōko – 冷蔵庫　refrigerator
gurosarii – グロサリー　grocery store. There is a more Japanese word for this, but I think even this is old; so many shop at a suupaa now.
osechi ryōri – お節料理　New Year’s food, aka “the boxes.” Google it.
osenbei – お煎餅　rice crackers
mikan – みかん　Japanese tangerines. So so good!

Three O’Clock

In the early 1980s I was working for a kaisha that provided English learning materials and lessons for Japanese speakers. I was teaching classes but I was also responsible for writing an original lesson for each weekly class. In order to do this, I’d work in their small jimusho in Ebisu alongside the department responsible for this. I hear that Ebisu is now known as a trendy area, but back then it was kind of a nothing-burger. There were five of us who worked there. Or rather they worked there full time and I came in twice a week.

They were a fun bunch of people. They all spoke some eigo having studied abroad at a time when it is less common than it is now. They were all interested in getting to know gaikokujin but were very relaxed about it. Gender roles were not especially important in that office and the men were fine with serving ocha along with the women. Our desks were arranged in a way that made conversation easy. And best of all was our osanji.

This was not a new concept to me. In fact, coincidentally, growing up, in my own home we called our snack “the three o’clock.” Note that sanji means three o’clock and in this case it takes the honofific ‘o.’ And it was serious business in that office.

Sometime between 2:30 and 3:00 PM someone, possibly our kachō, would say, “Osanji ni shimasho ka?” or “Kyō no osanji wa?” And then someone else would mention that we had cookies that a guest had brought the day before or that we had mikan someone had brought from home. But most of the time someone would head next door to the department store basement to buy some treats. Cake was a favorite of course.

When it was my turn I’d agonize over the many choices, how much I should spend, whether I was taking too long to decide, and if a variety or the same for everyone was a better idea. And then I’d make my request and get a beautifully wrapped box to take back to the jimusho.

The osanji is really a lovely idea. We’d all put down are work and talk about the news, our lives, the season, or anything else. It helped us bond, I guess you’d say. And it helped set the rhythm of our day as well.

kaisha – 会社　company, business
jimusho – 事務所　office (in a company or other place of work)
eigo – 英語　English (language)
gaikokujin – 外国人　foreigner, non-Japanese
ocha – お茶　tea, or more specifically Japanese tea
osanji – お三時　the honorable three o’clock, i.e. snack time
kachō – 課長　department head of a company
Osanji ni shimasho ka – お三時にしましょうか。　”Shall we take a break and have a snack?”
Kyō no osanji wa? – 今日のおさん時は？”What are we having for a snack today?”
mikan – みかん　Japanese tangerine

Japanese Christmas

I struggle to write about kurisumasu in Japan. What else can I possibly add to the multitude of articles already written about it? Gaikokujin new to Christmas in Japan first get an inkling of differences when the notorious kurisumasu kēki start to appear in bakeries. Each year they become more glamorous though “traditionally” they are white decoration cakes with ichigo. And “traditionally” they are eaten on Christmas Eve along with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken because everyone knows that the tradition dictates one have chicken for dinner. It’s been that way for oh so long now. (Since 1974 according to this accounting.)

Perhaps a little less known is that Christmas Eve is for romance and the pressure is on for couples. I’ll leave it at that.

It is unknown how Santa delivers presents since there are no chimneys in Japanese homes. I’l leave that at that as well. Not to mention that old chestnut about how a woman is like a Christmas cake on the day after Christmas. (Google it if you’re interested.)

I do remember my first Christmas in Japan which would have been in 1976. It was a Saturday and as I hadn’t been downtown in a while, I thought I’d go look in shop windows since I presumed everything would be shut down. I hopped on a basu and was shocked to find that downtown was bustling. On Christmas Day! In America, at that time, everything would have been closed except a few chūka ryōriya restaurants and maybe the movie theaters. But in Japan… gasp… it seemed like any other Saturday! How could that be? The cultural shock was immense for me. And that was my first introduction to what it was like living in a non-Christian country. I have to admit it was tanoshii for a Jewish girl! Japan was where I first ate panettone, in fact. A little bakery that I frequented in Tokyo was where I first had it and I still search for panettone that tastes as good as that one did to me. Alas.

And I went on to really appreciate the secular Christmas in Japan. In 1976 it was just another day but since then Christmas gets bigger and brighter in Japan. I imagine it might be offensive for true Christians, but the quirkiness of how it is celebrated and the beautiful decorations warm my heart. And I imagine that they find some of the real spirit of Christmas through college Messiah sings and kyōkai activities. But for me I’ll always remember the joy of a Japanese Christmas and the feeling of, for once, not being an outsider to a holiday that wasn’t mine.

kurisumasu – クリスマス Christmas
Gaikokujin – 外国人 foreigner, i.e. non-Japanese
ichigo – 苺 strawberry (ies)
basu – バス bus
chūka ryōriya – 中華料理屋 Chinese restaurant. Note that there are other ways to say this.
tanoshii – 楽しい pleasant, enjoyable or fun
kyōkai – 教会 [Christian]church

Brrrrrr

They say that in the summer you should think of cold or scary things to keep you cool. Perhaps a ghost story to make you shiver deliciously. Or in these more modern times, you can try going to sleep with the sounds of water dashing down a mountain taki.

To keep myself cool, I go back to the omoide of a very cold winter’s day in January. I’ve woken up and am already shivering in my small apartment which has no central heat and indeed no space heater either. And no hot shower or even a bath at all. It’s 1979 and I’m living at the foot of the mountains in northern Kyoto.

It’s the first week of January and my local sentō has odd hours due to the New Year’s holiday. This morning they have asaburo. This is a rare event since usually the sentō is open from around 3 PM until 11 PM. I’ve never done asaburo before but I’m desperate to warm up. But first I have to get there. I reluctantly crawl out of the futon and get dressed.

The area is rural and has some magnificent old farmhouses. No doubt they all have their own baths and the local sentō is quite a walk away. Snow had been falling and it’s a quiet morning. Peaceful and beautiful–and cold.

I walk out of my apartment building, turn right and head down our tiny street to the intersection of three tiny streets. One leads to Midorogaike. One leads to a bus stop, and the one I need to take leads to Kamigamo Jinja after meandering for some minutes. It’s still very quiet as I pass our tiny grocery that is good for milk and bread. They won’t be opening today since it is still the New Year’s holiday. The road is covered with snow, as are the trees and roofs. It’s a quiet winter wonderland and I’m the only one out.

After walking for about seven minutes, I come to the block that houses a few shops. I breathe in deeply as it seems the soba shop is preparing dashi. There is simply no smell like it. Even today, the smell of dashi brings me right back to this street. The buildings are all old here; I could be back in the Meiji Jidai with this scenery. Maybe even the Edo Jidai. The appearance of a samurai would not be at all jarring.

And after I walk past the soba shop, I’ve come to the bath. And… snap. As soon as I enter the changing area, I feel the warmth from the steamy water.

And I need to stop reminiscing right here because this is all about conjuring up COLD memories this morning. Oops.

taki – 滝 waterfall
omoide – 思い出 memory or memories. A word that is used very often in Japan as omoide are considered very precious.
sentō – 銭湯 public bath. I will probably talk a lot about it in this blog because it was my life for many many years.
asaburo – 朝風呂 a bath taken in the morning. Traditionally, baths are always in the evening. With the advent of shower heads, the idea of a morning shower was introduced… and at first seemed a little bold. Like, why would you need a morning shower if you had bathed at night? So, when the public bath had asaburo during the week of New Year’s it was very special and different.
Midorogaike – 深泥池 The name of a pond in Northern Kyoto, but also serves as the name of the area around it. It literally means ‘deep muddy pond.’ Rents were a bit lower there because it was a hangout for ghosts. Really. But it was a nice place to live!
Kamigamo Jinja – 上賀茂神社 A very famous shrine in the northern section of Kyoto. You could google it.
dashi – だし a Japanese broth used for miso soup and other cooking. You can buy instant or make your own. If you walk through the streets early in the morning or right before dinner time, you can sometimes smell it cooking. There are so many kinds, but the smell evokes pure deliciousness for me.
Meiji Jidai – 明治時代 The Meiji Era (1868-1912) By the way, this is an utterly fascinating era since it is when Western culture started to be more prominent in Japan.
Edo Jidai – 江戸時代 The Edo Era (1603-1868)
samurai – 侍 I can’t even. You know this. Okay, warrior. Did you really not know this?!

Hamburger

After some number of years in Japan, I got engaged to a Japanese man. It was bound to happen since I was past the kurisumasu kēki age already. Let me explain. There used to be a saying–and I’m hoping it isn’t popular anymore–that neither women nor kurisumasu kēki (which is eaten on Christmas Eve in Japan) are any good after the 24th. Indeed, the questions come thick and furious when you reach that age. But at 27, I was finally engaged.

This was the impetus for me to find a cooking school. I had learned to cook on the fly and wanted to be better. Of course, any lessons would be in nihongo, but I figured I could follow. Which was wrong because cooking requires a whole new vocabulary.

I went to enroll at Tsuji Cooking School (now called the Tsuji Culinary Institute). I was living in Tokyo at the time, but this school had originated in Osaka so I figured the recipes would be more to my taste. Of course I planned to enroll in a Japanese cooking class, i.e. not Western or Chinese. Alas, that would not be permitted until I took a fundamental class. So I reluctantly entered the basic class along with a group of other future brides-in-training.

Readers, imagine my chagrin when the very first lesson was on how to cook a hamubāgu! What the heck… anyone could do that, right? No. This was a Japanese hamburger. Here are the steps involved that I still remember to this day:

Mince an onion. To do this, cut it in half and then thinly slice it, leaving it connected. Then turn and continue thinly slicing. (An illustration would help….)
Take a slice of white bread and soak it in milk (this makes a filler for it).
Sauté the onions gently. Let cool.
Mix the onions with the hikiniku (probably a mixture of ground pork and beef).
Gently squeeze the bread and tear it up. Add to the ground meat.
Form patties with a kubomi in one side.
Heat cooking oil and put in the patties with the kubomi side down. Flip when charred and then cook until juices run clear when pressing with a fork.
Make the sauce. (Yes, there is a sauce!) As far as I remember, you mix equal parts catsup, tonkatsu sauce and cream to create it. I might be wrong about the cream.
Put on plate with glazed ninjin and a green vegetable so it all looks pretty (color coordination).
No bun. Eat with knife and fork!

And I hate to admit it… but it was delicious!

kurisumasu kēki – クリスマスケーキ Christmas cake. Back in the 1970s Japanese people assumed that we Americans all ate this on Christmas Eve. And were surprised when we had no clue about this cake. They are still wildly popular and you cannot have Christmas Eve without one.
nihongo – 日本語 Japanese language
hamubāgu – ハムバーグ hamburger. There are a few words for hamburger depending on how it is served.
hikiniku – 挽肉 ground meat. Pork was cheaper than beef when I lived in Japan and a burger was always a mix of the two or even all ground pork.
kubomi – 窪み an indent in something
ninjin – 人参 carrots