The road that passes through the thick forest is a concrete road. At best, bicycles pass each other; cars do not pass. Currently, both sides of the road are adorned with wild orchids. During the twilight hours, while walking there, I can hear the buzzing of bees. Their wings are small, and their bodies are petite, so it seems to be Japanese honeybees. The widely raised honeybee species globally for honey production is the ‘Western honeybee.’ Japanese honeybees have a weaker ability to gather honey, so most of the bees gathering nectar from flowers like yaburans in Japan are indeed Japanese honeybees. However, Japanese honeybees are originally native to Japan and have played a significant role in Japanese agriculture since ancient times. Speaking of which, the bees congregating on the wild orchids are covered in pollen all over their bodies.
Today, October 5, we received news of the first snowfall on Mount Fuji. It is three days later than average and five days later than last year. The earliest record to date is August 9, 2008, and the latest record is October 26, 2016. Last year (2022), it was observed on September 30. In addition, the first snowfall cap of the season was yesterday, on the 4th, at Mt. Asahidake in the Daisetsuzan Mountains in Hokkaido, and the snowfall cap of Mt. Fuji is second. By the way, the first snowfall cap on Mount Fuji is observed by the Kofu Local Meteorological Observatory in Yamanashi Prefecture. The condition for the first snowfall cap is that the area around the summit is seen to be white from the Kofu Local Meteorological Observatory after the average daily temperature is the highest day of the year. Even if the first snow is observed earlier in Mishima or Kawaguchiko, that day will not be the first snowfall cap. Because Kofu is further away from Mount Fuji than Mishima or Kawaguchiko, and there is a high possibility that Mount Fuji will be obscured by clouds in between, the day of the first snowfall cap on Mount Fuji tends to be later than the first snow. There have been many times in the past when the first snow and first snowfall cap on Mount Fuji have differed. Today, unfortunately, the sky was cloudy, but the sight of Mount Fuji’s snow-capped peak on a clear day is beautiful and clearly tells us the arrival of autumn and the subsequent arrival of winter.
It is now the “mizu hajimete karuru” (water begins to dry up) period of the autumnal equinox. This means that it is the time to drain the water from the rice fields and begin harvesting the rice. It’s about the time that the higanbana (the spider lilies) that were blooming in the ridges also wither. However, the higanbana that are blooming in the hedges along the sidewalks are in full bloom. It seems that this is the case everywhere in Japan. Higanbana will not bloom unless the temperature is below 25 degrees Celsius. Since the time of the equinox, it has been a series of hot days and summer days. The temperature has started to drop below 25 degrees Celsius in the morning and evening in the past week. This must have been the condition for the higanbana to bloom, and they have bloomed two weeks late. As this high temperature phenomenon is likely to continue every year, we need to find a new higanbana. And we need to give a new name to the current higanbana. We might as well change the calendars and seasonal almanacs that we have been using to something completely new.
The recipients of this year’s Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine, who made significant contributions to the development of the COVID-19 vaccine, are Katalin Karikó and Drew Weissman. I believe their award is timely. The Nobel Prize selection committee states that “their discoveries were essential for the development of effective mRNA vaccines against the novel coronavirus, which began in early 2020.” Vaccine development, which typically takes several years to a decade, was achieved in less than a year using the methods they discovered, an unprecedented speed. Their contributions are immeasurable. Without the development of these mRNA vaccines, the current pandemic could have brought about a disaster on par with or even greater than the pandemic of 100 years ago. For reference, the previous pandemic infected approximately a quarter of the world’s population at the time, estimated to be around 500 million people, with a death toll estimated between 17 and 50 million. In comparison, it is estimated that the total number of people infected with the new coronavirus has reached 676.57 million, or one-twelfth of the world’s population, and the number of deaths has reached 6.88 million.
I had been curious about Sanma, the epitome of autumn flavors. When this season’s Sanma fishing began in August, it was initially disappointing, with catches expected to be at the same low level as the record-low year of 22 years ago. In mid-August, the first Sanma catch in Hokkaido was small, weighing only around 125 grams, and despite being considered ceremonial, it fetched a record high price of 200,000 yen per kilogram or 25,000 yen per fish. Looking back, the peak of Sanma fishing was around 575,000 tons in 1958, but it has been steadily declining since then, dropping below 18,000 tons in 22 years, a mere 1/32 of the peak amount. With such a decline, it seemed like this year’s Sanma would command prices akin to eel. However, from early September onwards, catches gradually improved. The volume of Sanma entering the Tokyo Toyosu Market was nearly triple that of the previous year, the size of the fish had grown, and retail prices had dropped by 30% compared to the previous year, making it more affordable. So, I had the opportunity to enjoy Sanma for the first time this year.
In 1876, shortly after the Meiji Restoration, Japan, in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of American independence, sent numerous carpenters to the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition. On a vast site that rivaled those of advanced countries at the time, Japan constructed a dedicated pavilion showcasing Japanese architecture. There, they exhibited a wide range of Japanese products with the aim of promoting exports and earning foreign currency. Japan’s exhibits garnered significant interest and acclaim, rapidly elevating Japan’s reputation, even though it had been considered a backward nation. A reporter from the New York Herald went so far as to write, ‘Why should we call Japan a nation still in the process of civilization when it surpasses France in bronze products and silk, and leads the world in woodworking, furniture, and ceramics?’ Among the exhibits, there was kudzu, which became extremely popular at the exposition. The kudzu plant, with its beautiful flowers, was not only visually appealing but also a favorite food for cattle and horses. Being a leguminous plant, kudzu had symbiotic bacteria in its roots that improved soil quality, and its roots and vines also helped stabilize the edges of fields and roads. As a result, it quickly spread throughout the United States. However, the vitality and reproductive ability of Kudzu became a disaster, and after that, “Kudzu” came to be referred to as “Vine that ate the South” and “Green monster”, and was also listed as one of the “World’s 100 Worst Invasive Alien Species”.
1876年、アメリカ独立100周年を記念して開催されたフィラデルフィア万国博覧会に、明治維新間もない日本は多数の大工を派遣し、当時の先進国に見劣りしないほどの広大な敷地に日本家屋の専用パビリオンを建てました。そこには、輸出振興と外貨獲得を図るための日本のあらゆる産品が展示されました。そして日本の出展物は後進国と見なされていた日本への関心と評価を一気に高めました。『ニューヨーク・ヘラルド』紙の記者は、「ブロンズ製品や絹ではフランスに優り、木工、家具陶磁器で世界に冠たる日本をなぜ文明途上と呼べるだろうか」と言う記事まで書きました。 その出展物の中にクズがありました。博覧会では大人気になりました。花が美しいうえに、飼料として牛や馬の大好物。マメ科植物なので根に共生するバクテリアが土壌を改良し、さらに根やつるが畑や道路の周縁を固めてくれるというわけで、瞬くうちに全米に広がりました。 しかし、クズの生命力と繁殖力が災いし、その後、「kudzu」は「Vine that ate the South(南部を食べてしまったツル)」とか「green monster」と言われる様になり、「世界の侵略的外来種ワースト100」にも指定される様にもなりました。
On July 20, 1969, the American lunar module Apollo 11, named ‘Eagle,’ landed on the moon. Captain Neil Armstrong left the first human footprint on the lunar surface, followed by the lunar module pilot Buzz Aldrin, who left the second footprint. This event took place 54 years ago. Apollo 11 became the name associated with the historic mission that successfully landed humanity on the moon for the first time, leaving an indelible mark in history. During the late 1950s to the early 1960s, the United States and the Soviet Union were in the midst of the Cold War. In the midst of this rivalry, on October 4, 1957, the Soviet Union launched the world’s first artificial satellite, Sputnik 1, shocking the world and particularly the United States. In response, the United States initiated “the Mercury program” to put humans into Earth’s orbit. However, on April 12, 1961, amid these efforts, the Soviet Union successfully launched Yuri Gagarin into Earth’s orbit aboard Vostok 1, marking the world’s first human orbit. It was another blow to the wounded pride of Americans who had been shocked by the Sputnik moment. Apollo 11 was the event that allowed the United States to catch up with and surpass the Soviet Union. Reflecting on this while gazing at the Mid-Autumn Festival’s full moon, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment about the self-rihteous decline of Russia, which had once played a pioneering role in humanity’s journey.
Today is the day of the Mid-Autumn Festival, known for the ‘Harvest Moon.’ The term ‘Harvest Moon’ refers to the moon visible on the night of the 15th day of the eighth month in the lunar calendar. This year coincides with a full moon, but it’s important to note that the Harvest Moon may not always align with a full moon. The Harvest Moon is a calendrical concept, while a full moon is an astronomical one. The tradition of celebrating the Harvest Moon is said to have been transmitted from China during the Heian period. In Japan, the Harvest Moon is associated with agricultural rituals and prayers for a bountiful harvest, often offering sweet potatoes (Satsumaimo), hence the nickname ‘Imo-meigetsu’ (Sweet Potato Harvest Moon). Recently, when it comes to decorations for the Harvest Moon, the image of ‘tsukimi dangos’ (moon-viewing dumplings) and susuki (pampas grass) is quite prevalent, symbolizing susuki as rice ears. However, due to this year’s extreme heat, susuki hasn’t grown well, and instead, the suirens (lotus flowers), which are in full bloom during the summer, seem to take center stage as decorations for this year’s Harvest Moon celebration. So, this year’s Harvest Moon might be adorned with tsukimi dangos and suirens.
Nowadays, chatbot AI (generative AI) seems to be the darling of the times. In November of last year, Microsoft released ChatGPT to the public, sparking worldwide interest. ChatGPT, an AI capable of engaging in natural language conversations with extreme human-likeness, has shown its power even on search engines. Within two months of its launch, it reached 100 million users, and its user base has been steadily increasing since. Google, which previously held a dominant position in the search engine market, couldn’t hide its sense of urgency. Falling behind by six months, in May of this year, Google introduced a similar chatbot AI called “Bard” for use in Japan, setting the stage for an intense competition between ChatGPT and Bard in gaining users. Today, we attempted to translate Matsuo Basho’s haiku “古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音 (Huruike ya Kawazu tobikomu Mizu no oto)” using ChatGPT and Bard. ChatGPT translated it as “An old pond… a frog leaps in, water’s sound,” while Bard translated it as “Old pond, a frog jumps in, the sound of water.” This haiku is not only one of the most well-known works of Basho but is also considered the haiku that established the Basho style of haikai. It has given rise to profound interpretations and legends surrounding the seemingly ordinary event of a frog leaping into water and the sound it makes. Even ChatGPT and Bard appear to have had difficulty capturing its essence. By the way, Donald Keene, a leading figure in the study of Japanese literature among Americans, translated it as “The ancient pond A frog leaps in The sound of the water,” and there doesn’t seem to be a significant difference in meaning. Haiku, being the world’s shortest form of poetry, is challenging even for Donald Keene to translate accurately, as the goal is to evoke a shared sense of the scene. So, it’s no surprise that ChatGPT and Bard found it challenging as well. However, generative AI is still in its early stages, and we look forward to its future development.
今やチャット型のAI(生成AI)が時代の寵児といった感があります。昨年11月にMicrosoftがChatGPTを一般公開し、全世界的な話題になりました。極めて人間的かつ、自然な言葉で質疑応答ができるチャット型のAIは検索サイトでも威力を発揮し、開始2ヶ月で利用者数が1億人に達し、その後増加の一途を辿っています。それまで検索サイトでは優位の位置にあったGoogleは焦りの色を隠せず、遅れること6か月、今年の5月に同じチャット型のAI「Bard」を日本でも利用可能にし、今やChatGPTとBardの熾烈な利用者獲得競争が繰り広げられています。 そこで今日はChatGPTとBardを使って、松尾芭蕉の俳句「古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音」の英訳を試みてみました。ChatGPTは「An old pond… a frog leaps in, water’s sound」と訳し、Bardは「Old pond, a frog jumps in, the sound of water」と訳しました。この句は芭蕉の作品中でもっとも知られているだけでなく、芭蕉が蕉風俳諧を確立した句とされており、「蛙が水に飛び込む」そして「その水音が聞こえる」というありふれた事象に深遠な解釈や伝説も生んだ句です。さすがのChatGPTもBardも訳しきれなかったようです。 ちなみに米国人で、日本文学研究の第一人者であるドナルド・キーンは「The ancient pond A frog leaps in The sound of the water」と訳していて大差がないように思えます。俳句という世界最短の詩で、情景を共感し合うこと自体がドナルド・キーンをしても難しいのですから、ChatGPTもBardも翻訳しずらいのも無理のない話です。 しかし、生成AIはまだ著に着いたばかりです。これからの発展が楽しみです。
Next to the stone lantern standing on the approach, Hosenka flowers are blooming. Perhaps startled by the water sprinkled on the cobblestones, the fruits burst open, and Hosenka seeds scattered around. I had heard that Hosenka fruits burst upon touch, but witnessing them burst due to sprinkled water was a stroke of luck. It’s now the season for Hosenka fruits to burst open. The red Hosenka has been used by girls since ancient times to dye their nails, earning it the alternate names “Tsumakurenai” and “Tsumabeni” (nail rouge). According to tradition, if the color remains on the nails until the first snowfall, it signifies that love will bloom. Its language of flowers, “Do not touch me,” carries deep meaning as well. Moreover, the stories surrounding trumpet creeper, such as its connection to the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake and the “Korean massacre,” make it a topic that never ceases to be discussed.