I will always feel at least partly responsible for the bursting of the Japanese asset-price bubble in the 1990s, and for the “lost decade” – since expanded to two decades – that followed.
It’s just that, at the very height of Japan’s post-war boom, in 1988, I won an all-expenses paid trip to the country, courtesy of its foreign ministry. It was the prize in an annual essay competition held throughout the EU. And it’s no exaggeration to say that, in my life to date then, it was the most exciting thing that had happened.
I was at the time a humble and poorly-paid civil servant, who had never travelled further than the limits of an Interrail pass. So it was rather dizzying to be flown, first to Paris, to join 25 others from around Europe, and then on to Tokyo, business-class, with JAL.
But not only were the flights and accommodation pre-paid – get this – our hosts also gave us spending money: a whopping 252,000 yen each. And although that probably sounds like more than it is, it was still a lot in 1988. For me, about six weeks’ salary, after tax.
Of course Japan was, and is, an expensive country. Left to ourselves, we would have spent the money easily. But that’s the thing: we were rarely left to ourselves. Most of the trip involved a frantic schedule of arranged events, all gratis. There was little opportunity for spending.
Our hosts called it a “study tour”, not a holiday. And sure enough, they were determined to educate us about every aspect of Japanese life. Or at least the aspects that reflected well on the country, which back then was most things.
A typical day might include, say, a dawn visit to the Tokyo fish market, followed by a trip to a Shinto shrine, then lunch somewhere, then a tour of a museum, or an architectural showpiece, or castle, and after that a banquet.
There was a lot of sake involved too. But among the other bits I remember, we spent an evening at the Kabuki theatre. We took part in a tea ceremony. We toured a factory near Mount Fuji. And we visited a farm.
There was a trip on the Bullet Train – between Osaka and Kyoto – as well. But we also took an internal JAL flight, down to the southern island of Kyushu, where we were each allocated to a different family for a weekend, so we could get a view of Japanese home life too.
Naturally, the families also overwhelmed us with hospitality. In my case, this involved a weird but pleasant night in a bar, where my host and I were outnumbered by female attendants – modern-day geishas, I suppose – who poured drinks, made conversation, laughed charmingly at our jokes, and got up every so often to sing.
Not only did they sing, they invited us to sing with them. So, standing in front of a strange-looking machine that played music and displayed lyrics, I performed Bridge Over Troubled Waters, horrendously, and recorded later in my diary that this exotic ritual was something called “karioki” (sic), as yet unheard of in Europe.
There were only two or three evenings left free. On one of these, abandoned by our guide, we sought out an authentic Japanese restaurant, off the tourist trail. It proved so authentic, indeed, that nobody there had a word of English.
But this too proved memorable, because one of our number claimed to have studied basic Japanese. And for those who didn’t like raw fish, he ordered what he assured everyone were “steaks”. They were, as it happened: large, red, tuna steaks, as uncooked as the ones at the fish market.
On another free afternoon, towards the end, I went shopping for souvenirs. It was like being rich as I lavished thousands of yen on friends and family. Despite which, I still brought half the spending money back to Ireland.
This was the autumn of 1988. The Nikkei index reached an all-time high a year later. Thereafter, the bubble burst, and Japan has since endured 20 years of relative austerity, which – alas for those of you hoping to apply – eventually claimed even the essay competition.
The end of the long tunnel may now be in sight, however. I see (Business supplement, Monday) that the new Japanese government has broken with global orthodoxy by trying to “reflate” its way out of stagnation, and that Paul Krugman, at least, thinks the plan will work. I sincerely hope he’s right. The guilt is crippling me.