To many Europeans the United States of America is a wide and vast country filled with beautiful varying landscapes, a blending of ethnicities, and nationalities.  If one liked nature one could well love the USA, but when it comes to architecture and
 buildings, even the French who have gained the infamous reputation of all things are not shushed when it comes deriding the strip malls, and unimpressive building in America.  There are no ruined keeps, centuries old castles, monasteries, cathedrals, government offices, royal apartments, or pre revolution prisons in America.  There were no kings to build the Palace de Versailles, no St. Francis for the building of the  basilica of Assisi.
 

But as an American, I am proud of the small homes, the wood cabins, the glass skyscrapers, and the patches of trailer homes.  This time in Chiba has made me aware of the luxury of space.  Which leads to why I have tried and failed to come to appreciate, like or view without prejudice the concrete forest that I have lived within these past twelve months.  I deliberately mention park, because the real jungle is thirty minutes away by express train.  Chiba with its smoke stacks, high rises that looks more akin to some futuristic prison complex than apartment complex, twisting streets, and multi-family homes that are built within the span of four weeks scares me.

I grew up playing in the front or the backyard. 
My students, however, many do not live in their own separate houses and those that do most likely have little or no yards.  In Europe and in some places in America, it's customary to look at a building and admire its color, its size, the uniqueness of the windows, the daringness of of its style.  San Francisco for example has wonderful houses built on a hill. 

There is nothing like that in Chiba.  There are no lawns to admire, trees to provide shade, the skyline towards the sea is dotted with smokestacks, and large manufacturing companies.  The main library built with a maximum of glass and concrete has a waterfall inside and many trees inside not outside.  This is not the place to inspire, this is a city to house an ever growing population.

On a windless day the scent of burning covers the city as smog clouds the air.  Small parks dot neighborhoods.  If there is space, they are out in the open with grass, benches, merry-go-rounds and swings.  Some other are tucked under train tracks. 

New homes and apartment buildings which are being built only come in two shades, dark and darker.  The burning of garbage, large diesel trucks, and the smelting of steel along with other by products of the industrial age (which by the way never went out of style of here) gives rises to a black soot that covers everything here.  My apartment building for example has changed colors because of it.  It took only one month after cleaning for the grooves in my windows to build up a layer of soot.

One of the most well-known symbols of Japan is the crane.  The black, red and white birds are monogamous and can live to be up to 25-30 years.  In Japan they symbolize fidelity, good luck and longevity. This is why Japanese cranes or their colors (black, red and white) are familiar motifs at wedding ceremonies, on laquerware, kimono designs, and screen paintings.  But don't be mistaken.  Unless you travel into the middle of Japan during a specific morning of a specific season you'll never see one.  The only real crane are either demolishing an old tin house or building a ten to twenty story labyrinth like complex of apartment villages.

When I get home to America, I will sit with my friends and commiserate over the new shopping complex where there used to be trees, the gas station on old vacant lot that was always littered with campaign posters.  No matter how much change comes to the city of Chattanooga, no
 matter how much technology and progress transform my life and the world around me, the trees in my backyard will be there, the grass in the front yard will need to be cut and I will be content.