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About Business Class Podcast

This podcast shares research insights and experience based information from the host's career as entrepreneur and educator.

Million Miles Entry#4: Yanaka Ginza-Tokyo’s Retro Heart

Taken from Sunset Srairs

Before going back to Tokyo this year, I reviewed our 2014 travel plan and realized I had missed a few places, including Yanaka Ginza, a shotengai (commercial district) established around 1892, the Meiji period, with small local shops catering to nearby residents. Determined not to overlook it again, I made sure to visit this time capsule.

A month before heading to Tokyo, a long-time family friend who had known me since I was a toddler and my mom’s college friend, Tita Ditas, visited Manila and had lunch with us. She has been in Tokyo for decades and currently teaches English to her senior Japanese neighbors in her condominium in, drumroll please, Yanaka! She promised to spend the day with us, showing us her community, treating us to authentic Japanese food, and introducing us to her friends.

After dropping Iuri off at DisneySea, Ingrid and I took the train to Nippori Station. What should have been a 40-minute journey took more than an hour because Google Maps wasn’t working well. However, getting lost in an unfamiliar city like Tokyo is always a welcome adventure for us. This reminded me of something I read from Paul Theroux: “Getting lost is the essence of travel”. It is in getting lost that you find yourself. You discover what captures your attention, learn to handle unexpected situations, and become more aware and mindful of your new surroundings.

We reached Nippori Station just before noon, where Tita Ditas was waiting under the North Exit sign, wearing a hat and a leopard print dress, on her phone trying to call me. The weather outside the station was sunny yet cool, quite pleasant for someone from the Philippines. She carried a thin Victorian umbrella adorned with lace, protecting herself and Ingrid from UV rays. As we walked toward Yanaka Street, she told us that aside from the shopping street, which is famous for its retro vibe and small shops, Yanaka is also known for its seven temples, which are just a few meters apart. I mused that if these were churches, Visita Iglesia would be so much easier.

Tita Ditas resides just a short five-minute walk from Yanaka Sunset Stairs, which descend to the bustling shops below. Much like an Ajuma from a Korean drama, she frequents the bazaar to catch up with her shop owner friends and while away the afternoon. On each visit, she crosses a bridge offering views of several train tracks, where Tokyo Shinkansen trains speed by, though the sight is hindered by a tall chicken wire fence erected to prevent any potential jumpers.

The first store we visited was the cat shop, or neko shop, a small store selling only cat-related items: cat magnets, cat shirts, cat pens, cat papers, cat playing cards—cat everything. But we didn’t stay long because it was time for lunch. We promised the shopkeeper we would return before leaving, and we did.

There is a reason for the cat-themed shops in the area. Tita Ditas explained that Yanaka is also known as Cat Town because of the many stray cats, though their numbers have sadly diminished over time.

Lunch was at Fujiya, a small restaurant that can house a maximum of 14 people. It is operated by a husband who is the chef, his wife as the waitress, and his centenarian mother as the dishwasher. Along the bar were local tourists taking photos of their food, clearly enjoying it as much as we did. The Gindara was perfect—soft like butter when poked with chopsticks, silky smooth in texture, and not overly fishy. Ingrid enjoyed it immensely as it was her order. I had raw fish served in a bento box which I enjoyed too but wished I ordered the Gindara.

Over lunch, our conversation turned to how the Japanese men are when it comes to relationships. I mentioned that Japan’s population is aging, with many young people not wanting to marry, and many dying alone, which is sad. Tita Ditas opined that many Japanese are independent and fine being by themselves, they also find contentment in being alone. That is the frame of mind they learned from Shintoism and Buddhism. So, if I thought they were sad, they were actually not. The shoe shopkeeper shared the same perspective. Later that day, while in the shoe store, I offered to carry Tita Ditas’s bag, but she declined. She and the shopkeeper conversed in Japanese, and Tita Ditas explained to her what I was trying to do. The shopkeeper remarked that such gestures are uncommon in Japan. I was grateful not only for the lunch but also for this new insight into Japanese culture.

After a short stop at a small trinket shop, we had dessert at Waguriya. I was told that on weekends, the lines can be long, and waiting can last up to an hour or more. Fortunately, we got a seat immediately. They are famous for their Mont Blanc dessert, which I find hard to describe. On top is a sweet chestnut cream sitting on melon-flavored shaved ice. Skeptical about the combination, I was pleasantly surprised—it was just what I needed on a sunny day. Others around us, including the group across and the couple beside us, also seemed to enjoy it.

While Ingrid and Tita Ditas were shopping or window shopping, I went for coffee at Career Cafe, just beside the shop where they were. Soon they joined me. I had initially targeted another place, but it was not due to open for another 40 minutes. The ground floor seated up to six people, with more seating upstairs. Around the small shop were display shelves. Yoshimi, the female owner, in her thirties, is entrepreneurial; she rents out the shelves for businesses to display their products and runs an agency that provides waitstaff to restaurants in Tokyo.

Yanaka’s magic comes from its locals buying in small stores and chatting with shop owners, creating a nostalgic small-town charm. Before leaving, we explored a little more, checked out some temples, found Himitsudo, a Kakigori place that makes their ice from Mount Fuji water, and admired more cat merchandise. I couldn’t help but notice open lots and ongoing renovations. What used to be a small traditional market is transforming into larger, modern businesses. Yanaka is slowly losing its old-world charm as it gentrifies. I wondered if Kazuo Ishiguro had Yanaka in mind when he wrote: “I saw a new world coming rapidly. More scientific, efficient, yes. More cures for the old sicknesses. Very good. But a harsh, cruel world. And I saw a little girl, her eyes tightly closed, holding to her breast the old kind world, one that she knew in her heart could not remain, and she was holding it and pleading, never to let her go.” He may not be referring to Yanaka when he wrote those words but I am sure this sentiment resonates with those who have lived in the area for decades.

On the way back, Ingrid and I changed trains at Yurakucho. Yet again, we found ourselves disoriented while trying to locate the entrance to the other line, in another intriguing area characterized by towering modern malls, lively pachinko bars, and cozy hole-in-the-wall diners. This time, however, we realized we had moved from the old world to the new.

Million Miles Entry #3: Stationery Safari in Tokyo

When Ingrid and I were planning this Japan trip, we decided to visit stationery stores more than food spots and famous sites, as we had already explored many of those on previous trips to Japan.

Japan is known for its technology—the Shinkansen, Walkman, robots, and more—but less so for its paper products. As a pen and paper enthusiast, I can say they have some of the best stationery products in the world, if not the best.

Their papers are smooth and hold ink well, even if the paper is thin, preventing liquid from penetrating through. I even use some of their notebooks for watercolor painting. Their fountain pens are also excellent; the higher-end ones are crafted by masters, making it feel like holding a work of art in your hand.

The challenge in visiting different stores wasn’t the distance but the self-control needed to avoid buying everything I liked. Somehow, I was successful in keeping my wallet in my pocket most of the time.

The first stationery store we visited was Itoya in Ginza, just a few minutes’ walk or 2-3 blocks from our hotel. We didn’t rush to the store; we had plenty of time. We enjoyed the stores along the way, including a camera store, the Nissan showroom, and the window displays at Mitsukoshi.

The first thing you notice as you approach Itoya is the paperclip logo and the brand name. As soon as you enter, you’re greeted by a variety of items—pens, papers, notebooks, fans, bags, and more. But we were there for the fountain pens, which are on the third floor.

A narrow escalator led us to the third floor, where a low display showcased expensive fountain pens from brands like Pelikan, Namiki, Platinum, Parker, and Waterman. Around the display were a few people browsing, testing, and dreaming of owning a ¥400k fountain pen. There were also fountain pen inks from various brands.

Ingrid and I were a bit sad because the store carried fewer Namiki Nippon Art pens compared to my last visit in 2017 when I bought my Namiki. I heard from a Singaporean seller that the company will stop producing that model.

One particular customer caught my eye—a young Japanese mom with a baby, less than a year old, strapped to her chest. The mother was drooping while testing a pen, and the baby, with his head almost touching the display glass, looked at me innocently, not knowing what was happening.

We spent a few minutes looking through the pens, checking for anything we wanted. Luckily, nothing called my name, so my wallet was safe.

Traveler’s Factory is another brand worth mentioning. We visited two branches on different days, one in Marunouchi and one in Nakameguro.

Google showed us that Traveler’s Factory has a branch in Tokyo Station in Marunouchi, so we headed there. However, we felt a bit helpless because the shop’s address was in Japanese. Instead of translating it, we went to the information desk.

A nice lady who spoke and understood English directed us to the basement of Tokyo Station. The station itself is worth visiting for its Victorian architecture and numerous shops. One interesting sight outside the building was a shoeshine man with waiting patrons—a rare sight in Manila.

We left the building, walked a few steps, and reached the basement stairs. There were plenty of people and shops, but we remembered the directions. The shop is just a few meters from the bottom of the stairs to the left.

The shop isn’t big, maybe just 20 square meters, but it’s full of travel-related items—notebooks, refills, pens, cameras, stamps, and stamping stations.

We browsed, checked out nice items, and absorbed the shop’s atmosphere, inhaling the smell of leather and observing like-minded people. Ingrid and I were just happy to be there, experiencing the products, trying out the stamps, and enjoying the travel-vibe environment.

The other shop we visited the day after the Tokyo Station branch is located in Nakameguro, just 30 minutes from Higashi-Ginza Station. The shop is only a 5-minute walk from Nakameguro Station.

I liked this branch because it is located in a residential neighborhood, away from the busy city and numerous people. It had a more relaxed atmosphere with no rush, allowing us to find our zen moment.

When we got there, we had to line up and wait for a few minutes because the small store, slightly bigger than the Tokyo Station branch, was at full capacity. Only 10 people could fit in the store at any given time.

Those who left the store looked happy and excited to open their bags, eager to start writing in their new journals.

Like the other branch, this store was full of travel items, but it had a higher ceiling to showcase a few more items that the other shop didn’t carry, such as different pouch models, Swiss knife covers, and refreshments.

There were many nice items in that store—little trinkets costing only a few hundred pesos—but if you mindlessly put whatever you want in your basket, the total will amount to 5 digits.

Kakimori is another store in a neighborhood area in Kuramae, about a 30-minute subway ride from Ginza. From the station, it took us another 10 minutes to reach Kakimori on a straight path. You won’t feel the 10-minute walk because there are different small artisan shops along the way, some crafting leather bags and others showcasing independent fashion labels.

The Kakimori store is spacious and well-lit, with stationeries from their own brand and others lining the walls. But the most distinct feature of their store is that you can create your own notebooks. A side wall is dedicated to covers and papers for you to choose from. You then bring the items to the huge middle isle with big machines and around 3-4 people to assemble the notebook. At the end of the store is a workshop space, and on the second floor is a studio where you can customize your ink color by appointment.

The last store worth mentioning is Sailor Ancora in Ginza. Like Kakimori, you can customize items here, but instead of notebooks, you create your own pen.

Sailor Ancora can be found alongside high-end shops in Ginza, but the price of the customized pens won’t burn a hole in your wallet unless you choose a more expensive model. My pen only cost me less than 2000 pesos.

If you are indecisive, I caution you because there are at least five colors to choose from for each pen part, from nib to butt. You might end up buying more than one or spend at least 2 hours or more choosing.

We visited many other stores, like Tag Stationery in Asakusa, Loft Shibuya, Starbucks Reserve (which sells Traveler’s Notebooks), Maruzen, and other small independent stationery stores in different areas. However, the ones mentioned above are worth visiting for their variety, novelty, experience, and inventory size.

Japan is big on stationery, not just high-tech items. Even today, the Japanese still use Hanko or personal stamps for formal contracts and banking. Although the Japanese government has limited the use of the stamp, it will take time before stationery goes out of fashion in Japan. The next time you visit Japan, drop by a stationery store, get yourself a nice pen and paper, and experience the joy of putting your thoughts into words using works of art.

For Ingrid and I, eight days of exploring Tokyo’s stationery stores were never enough. But we are grateful that we were able to experience and see great craftsmanship in a world of mass-produced items.

Influence thrives in the space of personal relationships

Influence hinges upon relationships. This is my message to the attendees of my Effective Communications workshop at a multinational company in Batangas.

To illustrate, I used these pens as my visual aid. I told them the following story:

You see, my first encounter with a fountain pen was when I was 8 years old. I rummaged through my late father’s office drawer and found a fountain pen that would not write.

In his eagerness to give me the pen, he flushed and cleaned it. Unfortunately, I lost or destroyed it. It was a Parker 51 vacumatic.

When he passed away, he left a nice Charriol Ballpen which I used for some time. It is now nowhere to be found. I’m careless with these little objects.

Though he never had a collection of pens, he was curious about pens, guns, lighters, and desired nice gentlemen’s implements.

Somehow, his presence affected my interest in pens. Like him, I never really got serious about collecting pens. When I say serious, I mean acquiring 4 pens a month.

I have a couple, though, which I bought after college, one for signing a business contract in Singapore and another out of curiosity. But that’s it.

It was Ingrid who rekindled my interest in pens. I have bought a few pieces here and there, mostly to prevent myself from having sleepless nights doing online research.

My takeaway here is this: the people we are close to, those we have relationships with, can strongly influence us, directly or indirectly. Their presence alone is enough to sway our decisions.

Now, I believe that effective communication hinges upon the establishment of rapport between the communicator and their audience, for only through such rapport can one hope to create meaningful change.

Parker 51 and Opus88 demo

Some thoughts on reunion

A few days ago, on March 9, we celebrated our 25th anniversary as graduates of the University of Asia and the Pacific. The event included a mass and dinner, attended by 40 of my batchmates, along with approximately 12 officials and faculty members of the school. Additionally, there was a school tour showcasing the new developments, followed by a short and lively program that contributed to the cheerful atmosphere of the evening. Dr. Villegas, the premier economist of the Philippines, delivered a message on our role in advancing the country to its first-world status, culminating in a rendition of a song from “The Sound of Music.”

The reunion was not difficult to organize. Last January, during a dinner with my college classmates, I realized that we had been out of college for 25 years. Wanting to seize the opportunity to gather my other schoolmates, I reached out to our alumni office and assisted in the planning process.

Reuniting with long-time friends is always a joy. It’s both fun and challenging to reconnect with individuals you never interacted with in college, especially when you struggle to recall their names. I even had to ask a friend for the name of another batchmate after exchanging greetings and shaking hands.

Though several officials gave brief speeches, it was Father Soria’s words that left a lasting impression on me. He expressed his enjoyment in teaching EM students due to their positive outlook on life, noting that for them, failure is merely another step toward success.

Many of my batchmates have achieved success in their respective industries. While they provide a valuable network, it’s the relationships forged that truly imbue meaning into reunions. After all, whether present or absent, we are all brothers and sisters raised with the same set of values.

Speaking of values, one that resonates strongly is the concept of making work holy.

CFM Reflection #1: Obedience in today’s society

*This article is a reflection for our Christian Family Movement fellowship

I am reflecting on the question whether obedience has a positive or negative connotation in today’s society.

During the pandemic, my wife and I watched a few Asian dramas and Western films from Netflix and Viu. After watching several films, I couldn’t help but compare the values portrayed. In Asian dramas, there were many scenes where children would listen to their elders, while in Western films, parents and grandparents were often portrayed as annoying and inconvenient. In one scene from an Asian drama, the protagonist couldn’t go on a date because her mother asked her to look after her grandmother, while in the American movie, the teenager couldn’t have cared less. These films convey a clear message about how obedience and disobedience are practiced in certain cultures, which led to me express to my wife my disappointment. I’m not vilifying certain cultures, but some social practices can break societies and families.

Doubt towards traditional values is not only happening in media but also in institutions like traditional and conservative schools. I have observed that in most institutions much importance is given to cognitive development, skills and post-modern values at the expense of the interior dimension. There are also those in religious circles, who are progressive, and are open to modern social values that undermine obedience to divine authority. I remember that in one mass, less than a month after the desecration of Our Father, a priest called for the acceptance of those who are different from us. Short of saying, to love is to be open minded, accept and tolerate certain groups who assert their values. But then, GK Chesterton said, when we are too open minded, our brain spills.

Our society today sees obedience from the negative light. I dare say that our country’s exposure to Western media and institutions with modern western values has shaped the way we view obedience. Whenever we hear the word “obedience,” the phrase “submission to authority” comes to mind. So, when we are asked to submit, we often feel that we are surrendering our freedom to an authority figure whom we perceive as immoral, flawed, and greedy; why follow authority when many of them are unclean? But on the other hand, obedience is music to the ears of those in power who seek compliance from others.

As a son, spouse, and parent I grapple with the delicate balance between obedience and freedom. As a parent, I expect my child to obey my wishes, but in doing so, it can sometimes make them feel as though I am encroaching on their freedom. I know because I felt this way, too, as a teenager. As a spouse and son to my parents, I often want to assert my will because the ability to do as I please feels like the ultimate expression of freedom.

In essence, I desire obedience from others, but I, with free will, can choose whether to follow or not. This complex interplay between freedom and obedience can make it quite tricky to navigate. So how do we reconcile this conundrum between freedom and obedience?

True freedom and obedience are not mutually exclusive. We do not lose our freedom when we obey; in fact, obedience to God’s authority and to human authority with the right moral sense liberate us from the bondage of worldly passions, thus leading us to happiness. True freedom or Christian freedom involves making choices that align with what is good and taking responsibility for our actions. On the other hand, worldly freedom, one that is rooted in disobedience, gives the illusion of control and power as we are able to choose anything and everything we desire, even actions that go against moral principles. As a consequence of our disobedience, we violate our own freedom and become prisoners of our passions.

Here is what is propose: to embrace obedience and willingly submit to authority, we must perceive freedom as a force for growth, maturity in truth, and one that finds its fullest expression when directed towards God. Such a perspective encourages us to prioritize obedience over disobedience. In this view, obedience becomes compliance.

Indeed, obedience presents its challenges, particularly when it necessitates a battle between our passions and what is inherently right. The Catechism of the Catholic Church underscores the need for preparedness to make sacrifices, exercise discernment, and undergo proper formation to succeed in obedience. To navigate this path effectively, humility must be our guiding stance.

I am not advocating for blind obedience, as history has shown the negative consequences of such blind allegiance. Instead, I advocate for obedience rooted in Christian freedom, that is submitting ourselves with all humility to God’s will; because we know that if our freedom is to be used for good, then obedience to God’s will follows naturally.

In doing so, we unlock a bonus, for obedience to God’s commandments yields profound blessings. Honoring our parents promises us a long life, while compliance with earthly authorities ensures they serve with joy rather than sorrow, an advantage that ultimately benefits us. And in our pursuit of God’s kingdom, grounded in righteousness and obedience to His laws, we discover a source of enduring blessings.

The complex interplay between freedom and obedience remains a challenge to navigate. However, by redefining our concept of freedom, focusing on the moral compass, and embracing obedience as a path to liberation, we can find harmony between these seemingly opposing forces. It is in this balance, guided by humility and Christian freedom, that we discover a path to genuine obedience that enriches our lives and deepens our connection with a higher purpose.