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Authors: Ichiro Kawasaki
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which could afford to spend so much money on these trips did not pay its personnel enough to maintain a more decent standard of living. She also wondered if the extravagant expense-account spending of the company was not responsible for the pitifully small pay which her husband was now getting. The more Alice pondered on the matter, the more baffled she became. Surely something was wrong somewhere.
Saburo continued to play golf, which he insisted was more of a duty than relaxation. One Sunday he was to leave home at the unearthly hour of 4:30 A.M. to join in a tournament of his colleagues.
"Saburo, can't you stay home once in a while on Sunday to help clean up our apartment?" Alice said fretfully; lately she was having moments of irritation because of her approaching childbirth.
"I have to join in tomorrow's competition, as our director is offering a trophy. I cannot very well ignore it as I have to stay in the good graces of the director."
"And why must you leave so early in the morning? You are crazy," Alice exclaim ed.
"The Nikko Highway is very crowded. It takes a good part of two hours just to get to the golf course, even under normal conditions. Besides, the course is so crowded on Sundays that we have to start playing as soon as the day breaks."
Hearing his explanation, Alice, rather than being angry, pitied Saburo for his relentless struggle to get ahead in this overpopulated country.
Spring in Japan is a most delightful season. Saburo went on a weekend trip to Minakami Hotspring, some eighty miles north of Tokyo, with his colleagues of the foodstuff section. This was one of those semi-annual recreation trips organized and subsidized by the company.
The Japanese are inordinately fond of organized group activity. The trip affords the salaried worker relaxation from harsh daily routine and the management encourages such trips, as they foster camaraderie and theoretically promote a sense of dedication to the company.
The Japanese inn where the group stayed overnight stood on the top of a cliff, at the foot of which rapid mountain streams rolled in torrents of white foam. Surrounding mountains with tall cypress trees and new green leaves were superbly beautiful. Mountains and woodlands, rivers and valleys all were small in scale compared with those of other countries. But this very daintiness added much to the picturesqueness of the scenery, with the result that the whole place looked like a miniature landscape garden.
Saburo went into a communal hotspring bath. The pool was large, much like an indoor swimming pool, and hot water was constantly welling up and overflowing. Immersing himself in this hotspring pool, Saburo forgot all his worldly cares and found himself in an exhilarated mood.
After the bath he changed into a yukata, a cotton robe, and sat on the veranda alone to contemplate the deepening evening twilight. In the valley down below, mist was now gathering, which sent up delightfully cool, moist air. The faint contour of the mountain in front was gradually disappearing into the darkness.
Dinner was again a group affair. It was held in a big hall, whose floor was covered with immaculate tatami matting on which everyone sat more or less informally, with legs either outstretched or crossed. The section chief took the place of honor, followed by twenty men and girls in the order of their rank in the office. It was as though the whole section had temporarily migrated to a resort setting; the group did not have the look of carefree individual vacationers. They had all changed into loose cotton kimonos. The meal was brought on a black lacquered tray to each of the participants.
They drank beer and sake, many of them way beyond their normal capacities, with the result that some were quite intoxicated. They all became hilarious, at last forgetting the grinding daily routine of office life.
Then one boy started his favorite stunt of shedding one garment after another, at the urging of his female colleagues,
Saburo continued to play golf, which he insisted was more of a duty than relaxation. One Sunday he was to leave home at the unearthly hour of 4:30 A.M. to join in a tournament of his colleagues.
"Saburo, can't you stay home once in a while on Sunday to help clean up our apartment?" Alice said fretfully; lately she was having moments of irritation because of her approaching childbirth.
"I have to join in tomorrow's competition, as our director is offering a trophy. I cannot very well ignore it as I have to stay in the good graces of the director."
"And why must you leave so early in the morning? You are crazy," Alice exclaim ed.
"The Nikko Highway is very crowded. It takes a good part of two hours just to get to the golf course, even under normal conditions. Besides, the course is so crowded on Sundays that we have to start playing as soon as the day breaks."
Hearing his explanation, Alice, rather than being angry, pitied Saburo for his relentless struggle to get ahead in this overpopulated country.
Spring in Japan is a most delightful season. Saburo went on a weekend trip to Minakami Hotspring, some eighty miles north of Tokyo, with his colleagues of the foodstuff section. This was one of those semi-annual recreation trips organized and subsidized by the company.
The Japanese are inordinately fond of organized group activity. The trip affords the salaried worker relaxation from harsh daily routine and the management encourages such trips, as they foster camaraderie and theoretically promote a sense of dedication to the company.
The Japanese inn where the group stayed overnight stood on the top of a cliff, at the foot of which rapid mountain streams rolled in torrents of white foam. Surrounding mountains with tall cypress trees and new green leaves were superbly beautiful. Mountains and woodlands, rivers and valleys all were small in scale compared with those of other countries. But this very daintiness added much to the picturesqueness of the scenery, with the result that the whole place looked like a miniature landscape garden.
Saburo went into a communal hotspring bath. The pool was large, much like an indoor swimming pool, and hot water was constantly welling up and overflowing. Immersing himself in this hotspring pool, Saburo forgot all his worldly cares and found himself in an exhilarated mood.
After the bath he changed into a yukata, a cotton robe, and sat on the veranda alone to contemplate the deepening evening twilight. In the valley down below, mist was now gathering, which sent up delightfully cool, moist air. The faint contour of the mountain in front was gradually disappearing into the darkness.
Dinner was again a group affair. It was held in a big hall, whose floor was covered with immaculate tatami matting on which everyone sat more or less informally, with legs either outstretched or crossed. The section chief took the place of honor, followed by twenty men and girls in the order of their rank in the office. It was as though the whole section had temporarily migrated to a resort setting; the group did not have the look of carefree individual vacationers. They had all changed into loose cotton kimonos. The meal was brought on a black lacquered tray to each of the participants.
They drank beer and sake, many of them way beyond their normal capacities, with the result that some were quite intoxicated. They all became hilarious, at last forgetting the grinding daily routine of office life.
Then one boy started his favorite stunt of shedding one garment after another, at the urging of his female colleagues,
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