YKK

Back in March of 1987, I was in the northern part of Honshū, the middle island of the Japanese chain, teaching a yoga seminar organized by my friends Jean and William. We were in the mountains, where there were  beautiful villages looking like something out of an Ukiyo-ye print, with traditional houses and striking scenery. 

When the seminar was over, we traveled by train back to Tokyo, down the remote western side of the island. I was horrified by the fact that  the ancient Japanese sensibility of beauty in nature seemed to be completely absent. Instead of honoring the beauty of nature, every sign of human effort seemed to indicate the necessity to control it. Every river was completely encased in a concrete viaduct. There were no trees.

The railroad ran between a desolate beach, littered with giant cement "jacks" designed to hold back the sea, the motorway and an endless  row of ten story high featureless concrete buildings with a large "YKK" sign at the end of each one. William,  a font of knowledge of things both major and trivial, asked us if any of us knew what YKK was. We didn't. "You probably have something on right now with those letters on it", he said.

We all searched fruitlessly, shook our heads, and gave up. He pointed out that the buildings were dormitories for hundreds of workers who lived in cheerless surroundings, far from any sign of civilization, in order to make zippers! Sure enough, each of us was wearing at least one garment with a zipper with YKK on the pull tab. I imagine if you look through your closets, everyone reading this probably has at least one such garment also. Perhaps you are wearing one right now. 

Japan is a country of striking contrasts.