Okinawa, Japan's closest thing to effortless perfection

I thought I would revisit my trip to Japan and discuss a region of the country I visited that I particularly liked.  The region in question is the archipelago province of Okinawa.  As you will see, it was my favourite region of the regions I visited on account of the people there being almost as naturally fabulous as in France.

Okinawa is a province (prefecture) of Japan with a colourful history.  Anecdotally, I have heard that it received more Chinese influence than other Japanese provinces, given its proximity.  The area was pivotal during WWII (a quarter of the population was killed in the 1945 Battle of Okinawa) and to this day, the Americans maintain bases on the archipelago (3/4 of American bases in Japan are in this province).  This is a source of controversy, given various sexual assaults that have been perpetrated by American soldiers against local women (if American soldiers are as fat as the rest of the American population, no wonder rape seems like the only option to them).

Being an archipelago province, Okinawa has very little in the way of railways: - as far as I know, the monorail linking the airport to the centre of the city of Naha is the only one.  I personally think monorails are generally a rubbish way of doing things when it comes to railway technology, given that the ride is less comfortable, they use less common technology (driving up the price), they don't corner so well etc.  The only advantage I can think of is that the flyovers needed to support them aren't so wide.  I am aware that the island also has at least 13 airports: - a necessity, when you consider that the archipelago stretches over 1,000km.

The islands stretch in a gradual fashion from being not far from the coast of the Japanese island of Kyushu to, at the the furthest extremity, not far from the coast of Taiwan.  I was informed that the island of Ishigaki was the major inhabited island that was furthest south and so decided to visit there as well as Okinawa.  According to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishigaki,_Okinawa#Climate , the climate seems to be borderline tropical: - I recall that for a climate to be defined as tropical, all the monthly average temperatures need to be above 18 degrees celcius.  With the January average temperature being 17.7, the island's climate falls short of being classed as tropical by 0.3 degrees celcius.  I loved the tropical weather and vegetation on the island.  Once I accumulate enough money from sales of my magazine, I plan to buy some homes in other areas of the world: - Japan is one place I plan to buy some, with the island of Ishigaki or its environs being one place.

Naha, the prefecture's capital, is a reasonably major metropolis, even if it isn't as major as Tokyo and it isn't as stylish as Paris and Marseille.

The archipelago produces some lovely and cute pottery.  I nearly filled up my suitcases with the stuff and it looks pretty in my cabinets in my homes in Paris and Marseille.

On account of the rich history, there are some beautiful historical buildings to see, such as the Gusuku ruins.

And Shuri castle in Naha.  If taxes in France weren't so high, I think I would probably buy a castle like this in Japan or construct a replica if it turned out none were for sale.

Anyway, though these aspects of Okinawa are lovely, one thing I must move onto is why I think the Okinawans are almost as naturally fabulous as we French.  Okinawa, though unfortunately succumbing to the influences of the USA with its fast food emanating from its military bases, was previously famous for having the highest life expectancy in the world on account of the extremely good eating habits.  Although the gastronomy isn't quite as stylish as in France, it was absolutely delicious.  Probably the most famous dish is chanpuru, whose main ingredients are normally tofu, bitter melon, eggs and sliced pork or Spam (as for me personally, I dislike American cuisine and steer clear of Spam).

Another famous dish is Okinawa Soba.  If anyone here is yuppie enough to be gluten intolerant, you should note that Okinawa Soba is not made with buckwheat like normal Japanese soba noodles.  It is just that it has been known as Okinawa Soba for so long, that a dispensation has been given to allow the Okinawans to continue referring to them that way, even though they are made with wheat rather than buckwheat and they more closely resemble udon noodles.

One noteworthy feature of Okinawan cuisine is the fact that it doesn't use much fish, even though the island is an archipelago.  Given the tropical climate, it was traditionally not very easy to store fish and the mountainous climate made transportation from the sea difficult.  As a result, pork became a staple of the local cuisine rather than fish.  Jews and Muslims may not like this situation, but past life expectancy figures for the island speak for themselves.  A Frenchwoman is so effortlessly perfect that she doesn't feel the need to abstain from any foods, so long as they aren't unnatural (e.g. margarine) or excessively sweet, (e.g. cupcakes): - both of these food types are characteristic of less stylish people.

However, what I just adore about Okinawa is the commitment of the inhabitants to dainty eating.  There is a famous Confucian saying which goes 腹八分, or in a transliterated form, "hara hachi bu", which translates roughly as "eat until you are 8/10 full".  This avoids stretching the stomach and French women are also aware that if one eats slowly and daintily, one can feel full by the end of the meal, as one's stomach receptors take time to respond to say that they have received enough.  The Wikipedia article about hara hachi bu claims that the Okinawans are the only people who deliberately practice calorie restriction at a societal level.  I'm not sure what to make of this claim: - I suppose I would say that French women are so effortlessly perfect that they can feel full without needing to artificially practice calorie restriction.  However, whatever the reason, one can look at the people of Okinawa and see how incredibly skinny they are: - 18 to 22 is a typical Body Mass Index for them.  Healthy living is traditionally very well integrated into daily life there, as one can see in the video below.

It would be quite fun to have competitions with these people to see who can feel full on the smallest amount of food, but then such a competition would be impractical, given the difficulty in ascertaining whether or not someone is telling the truth: - anyone could just fake it!  However, I have to concede that Okinawa is probably the only place in the world that has anything whatsoever that French women, in their effortless perfection, can learn from.  The only problem I can see with life here is people succumbing to American lifestyle habits and obesity consequently rising.  It is also noteworthy that Okinawa no longer has the highest life expectancy in Japan: - from what I have seen, Nagano seems to be top or nearly top of tables these days.  The prefecture of Nagano also has an advantage that Okinawa doesn't have: - a Shinkansen line known as the Nagano Shinkansen.

Maybe I will visit the prefecture of Nagano next time I visit Japan, but for now, I am delighted to have spent time in a place outside of France where people know how to eat properly, are lovely and thin and actually have something to teach us effortlessly perfect French women.

My visit to Strasbourg, the capital of Alsatia

Over the summer, my magazine had a very quiet time, due to the lack of fashion-related announcements (things will pick up, now that autumn is arriving).  As a result, I decided to take an additional holiday for a few days.  My destination of choice was Strasbourg.  I have a few friends living in Strasbourg who I wanted to catch up with.

I decided to go there by train, as I wanted to see the new LGV Rhine-Rhône high-speed railway line: - most of my rail travel is spent travelling between Marseille and Paris and occasionally London (unfortunately).  I hadn't yet experienced the relatively new LGV Rhine-Rhône high-speed line.

Like the LGV Est that runs between Paris and Baudrecourt (going approximately 2/3 of the way to Strasbourg), the operating speed is 320km/h: - as impossibly perfect as we French are, we haven't yet found an engineering solution to the problem of the track ballast disintegrating at speeds and the generally enormous maintenance outlay if one runs trains in service at speeds above 320km/h.  It is possible to run trains at 320km/h on conventional rails, but so far, Japan (an almost perfect country, but still not up there with France) is the only other nation where this is done at the time of writing.

The journey there took quite a while (6h08m to be precise), given that not all of the Marseille-Strasbourg route is high speed and there were a large number of intermediate stops (Avignon TGV, Valence TGV, Lyon Part Dieu, Bourg-en-Bresse, Lons-Le-Saunier, Besançon-Viotte, Belfort-Montbéliard TGV, Mulhouse Ville and Colmar).  I wasn't in a hurry though, as a Frenchwoman likes to slowly unwind and savour her holidays: - American acquaintances tell me that people often don't take all their annual leave because they fear people usurping their jobs if they spend more than a week away.  Such an idea is alien to a Frenchwoman, being effortlessly fabulous at her job.

I recall seeing a few noteworthy new sights along the route, such as the Savoureuse viaduct that the train travelled across, which I believe is near Belfort-Montbéliard station.

After the long and relaxing journey, I also enjoyed the sight of Strasbourg's central station, with its glass exterior combining with the older structure to make a very nice hybrid of old and new.

As mentioned in a previous posting, I enjoy the taste of Kouglof, a local delicacy.  As I keep saying, bumpkins like desserts to be as sweet as possible, whereas stylish people like desserts to be only as sweet as they need to be to cleanse the palate of the previous course.  Kouglof is one such dessert that accomplishes this.  I have seen American and British business colleagues bite into it and their faces screw up, as they were expecting something disgustingly sweet and they find the taste almost savoury.  Well, I could have told them that it was a brioche rather than a cake in advance, but I enjoy such opportunities to gloat about how sophisticated I am for not liking the taste of overly sweet desserts!  MDR.

The city has history in buckets.  Some people au fait with this subject may be aware that John Calvin (who was born in Noyon in Picardie) preached at four different churches in the city.

It is also the home of the European Parliament building.

I don't follow politics much (except when they are talking about raising or lowering taxes), but I gather the European parliament has some MEPs who are some very funny jokers, including Nigel Farage, who comes from the unsophisticated nation that is my mother's homeland.  Below is a video of his famous "BBBBBBBBBBAFFLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" speech after he was informed that the EU was the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.

Strasbourg is also home to the European Court of Human Rights.  I wonder if I might be able to take any cases there that concern the enormously high rates of tax we have to pay in France?  I heard an American tried going to some constitutional court to challenge the government's right to impose income tax.  Maybe we French should take a similar case to the European Court of Human Rights?

A Frenchwoman likes to walk everywhere and I found out that the German city of Kehl was on the other side of the Rhine and a short walk away.

Germany is a far less sophisticated nation than France and there are loads of fatties that appear to drink a gallon of lager every evening.  However, it is sometimes necessary to go abroad to appreciate one's own country.  In any case, Kehl is a fairly pretty city, with its tower (the Weißtannenturm) that one can walk up (a Frenchwoman likes walking up stairs and hates taking the lift) and get a good view of the scenery for miles around from.

All in all, I had a very lovely holiday.  The weather wasn't as warm as Marseille, there weren't swathes of lavender fields nearby, there weren't people sipping pastis everywhere and it generally wasn't as fabulous as Marseille generally, but it is lovely to go to different places and see different things sometimes.  I wouldn't appreciate Marseille so much if there weren't this diversity of other French cities to see.

If any Brits are reading this, it is easy to reach Strasbourg by train (Eurostar, changing at Lille or Paris) and it will be even easier once the second phase of the LGV Est is complete (it will then be 1h50m from Paris).  It will gradually feel closer and closer to Marseille as the other parts of the LGV Rhine-Rhône are completed (it is anyone's guess when this will happen, given that François Hollande has delayed several lines on account of having messed up the economy).

All in all, I had a lovely time, but it was such a great feeling getting back to Marseille.  The train enters the Tunnel de Marseille shortly after Aix-en-Provence and it is lovely to come out of that tunnel and be greeted with the sight of Marseille again.  As the old saying goes, there's no place like home.

An unpatriotic chef

In recent years, British celeb chef Jamie Oliver has been in the news for his dislike of his own country.

There were two main areas that he discussed.  One was the working ethos of his fellow Brits.  He claimed that British youngsters don't work very hard and are wet between the ears, with parents phoning in for 23-year olds saying they are too tired to do a 48-hour week.  He claimed that in his twenties, 80-100 hours was the norm.  My comment is that a Frenchwoman knows that a 35-hour week is quite enough to get one's work done.  He said, "I've never experienced such a wet generation.  Meanwhile I've got bullet-proof, rock-solid Polish and Lithuanians who are tough and work hard."

A Frenchwoman is effortlessly perfect and she works efficiently to get her work done in 35 hours per week.  So therefore, if Jamie Oliver worked 80-100 hour weeks, he probably wasn't very efficient.  An efficient and competent worker should have no need to work longer than his/her contracted hours.  In Britain, my fashion magazine employers would scowl at me for leaving on time, insinuating that I wasn't committed to my job, even though I got twice as much done as the people who worked twice as long as me.  Lots of them were just pretending to be working and looking busy, rather than producing things: - a Frenchwoman has much more important things to do than pretending to be working or staying in useless post-5PM meetings, such as scouring the local markets for the choicest ingredients with the best flavour.  What is it like working at my fashion magazine?  I scowl at my workers if they stay past normal closing time!  MDR.

However, it is the second main subject he covered that caught my attention.  Jamie Oliver's words were as follows: -
"I meet people who say, “You don't understand what it's like.” I just want to hug them and teleport them to the Sicilian street cleaner who has 25 mussels, 10 cherry tomatoes, and a packet of spaghetti for 60 pence, and knocks out the most amazing pasta. You go to Italy or Spain and they eat well on not much money. We've missed out on that in Britain, somehow."

Now, a stylish Frenchwoman like me is sure to agree with this.  I know that it is possible in most places to buy the food items he mentioned for the price he mentioned.  Even in Monaco, this is probably possible or nearly so, given that there is a branch of Carrefour in the country.  As for me personally, I can't verify whether or not it is possible to buy the items mentioned at the price mentioned.  As my regular readers will know, my mentality for shopping is buying the best at whatever cost.  I'm the bee's knees: - nothing but the best will do for me!  It is probably possible to buy these things at that price, but they wouldn't be of the highest quality.

Mind you, I do agree with the things Jamie Oliver says about the immense stupidity of British people.  When I was a fashion journalist, I was given the task of writing a fake rags-to-riches story about a fashion designer who had come from a pikey household with a single mother and a child eating chips and cheese from a styrofoam container in front of a huge television like the one described by Jamie Oliver.  The fashion designer had actually come from a boho chic household with parents who were very knowledgeable about sartorial matters (not a very common household type in Britain), but my editor demanded that I write a fake rags-to-riches story, because hey, the truth doesn't sell as many magazines as a sensationalist lie.  We visited a chav home, having bribed them with £50 to participate in this blatant lie.  The photographers took photos of the mother with her brood of various different skin tones (indicating the low likelihood that any of them had a father in common) sitting in front of the large television watching reality TV (the word "reality" is a bit misleading), occasionally punctuating this with video games.  The children and the mother were eating burger and chips, cheese and chips, battered sausage and chips, battered Mars bars etc.  Yeek!  The mother was a big fat ugly chav and the house reeked of the fast food and I spoke with this woman to discuss what sort of lies we would tell about how this stylish designer grew up in this impoverished situation, but rose above it.

We wrote the article, published it and got away with it, but I must say, this article is still a huge stain on my conscience.  I kept trying to tell the editor that we should follow my mother's example of openly repudiating our background if we dislike it, rather than telling lies about it.  Apart from the fact that my mother did not emigrate early enough to acquire a native-level competency of French and therefore makes idiomatic errors in her French and doesn't have a French accent, she is pretty much as French as possible: - she only eats very dainty portions of the best quality food, she refuses to take the lift if the destination is less than 10 floors away, she walks wherever she is able and she is therefore effortlessly thin in spite of all the children she has had (I'll do an article on the tax system in France favouring "familles nombreuses" another time).

Anyway, this visit to a chav British household, apart from scarring my conscience, left me psychologically scarred for life, lol.  People might accuse me of being supercilious, but I just can't stand being in the presence of such disgusting people.  Even French people just above the breadline have more class than this.  In an earlier post, I linked to an article by Cécile Delarue where she talked about how an elderly widowed Frenchwoman with a limited income who grows her own fruit and vegetables will eat well and not waste food, knowing how much effort it takes to produce it this way.  Being an impeccably stylish French woman, I go for the best quality at whatever price, but if one has been stupid and lazy in life and therefore does not have money to burn like me, it is still possible to eat very well.

Some British right-wingers would respond to Jamie Oliver's sentiments by saying, "If you don't like our glorious homeland, don't let the door hit you on your way out".  My response would be similar: - if you hate Britain, your severely un-stylish homeland, do what my mother did: - emigrate to France and surround yourself with lots of stylish French people.