TOKYO, Japan - U.S. President Barack Obama landed in Tokyo, Japan, on Friday in his first stop of his Asian tour. The White House press corps jumped into action, watching the president’s every move. Not in person, mind you, but on TV monitors.

CNN’s Ed Henry and Dan Lothian report on U.S. President Barack Obama’s arrival in Japan.

Due to security and agreed-upon pool arrangements, one camera shoots the landing and a pool reporter informs the rest of the White House reporters. It’s an unusual sensation sitting next to fellow correspondents watching pool TV and then reporting what they’ve seen on their TV channels.

I’m sitting next to CNN White House correspondents Ed Henry and Dan Lothian. They do this every day, following the president’s every move, his every word. How they report the news has the potential to affect governments around the world and the citizens of those governments. 

The White House pool is a smooth system - there’s barely been a hiccup today. There won’t be very much face-to-face time with either President Obama or Prime Minister Yukio Hatoyama, but there will be electronic eyes tracking every move.

TOKYO, Japan – When Hideki Matsui lifted up the trophy for the World Series Most Valuable Player (MVP) award, it was a moment felt deeply by Masanori Murakami. Murakami was the first Japanese player brought in to play for the San Francisco Giants in 1964.

Hideki Matsui celebrates with the World Series MVP trophy at Yankee Stadium on November 4, 2009.

He wasn't just the first Japanese, he was also the first Asian to enter the American sport. This was before Japan's emergence on the global stage and less than 20 years after World War II.

Murakami didn't have the million dollar contracts, the interpreters or the kind crowds. "I envy those young players," Murakami said. "It was much tougher for me. I faced a lot of discrimination."

That is an understatement. Murakami, ever polite and humble as an elder Japanese gentleman, doesn't like to talk about those fearful times, when he was badgered on the San Francisco Giants bus by his own teammates.

The public was even worse - the FBI was alerted due to death threats against Murakami and his manager.

Forty-five years later, Matsui is a national hero, both in Japan and in the U.S. He's joined by Major League Baseball giants Daisuke Matsuzaka and Ichiro Suzuki.

"Japan and the U.S. are like brothers now," Murakami said. These brothers now toast their new hero and celebrate his accomplishment in the World Series. But for Murakami, it's beyond celebration. It is a triumph.

TOKYO, Japan - There’s nothing like buzz to get your product selling, especially in Tokyo.

The Japanese love what’s hot, hip and new. Microsoft, launching Windows 7 after a troubled reception here for Vista, decided to pair up with Burger King for some cross promotion.

Burger King, for its part, could use some buzz itself. The king of whoppers has a fraction of the market share and revenue that McDonald’s boasts. McDonald’s, in the recession and slow recovery in Japan, has seen record profit levels as frugal diners lean to the US$1 menu.

Hence, the Windows 7 Whopper was born. It’s really just a whopper with seven patties. Yes, 7.

For one week, the Windows 7 Whopper is available at all of Japan’s Burger Kings for the low price of 777 yen, equivalent to about US$9.

That’s a heck of a deal for beef in Japan, which is usually much more expensive. But like any good promotion, only a limited few get to partake of the gut bomb.

Every day this week, the first 30 diners at every Burger King gets the deal. After that, you have to pay double for the Windows 7 Whopper.

In the Kanda neighborhood in Tokyo, the manager tells me the first 30 burgers sold out in two hours. But I still managed to meet two guys who decided to pay double just to partake of the promotional event. They ate, and ate, and ate. One man finished - the other cried uncle.

I couldn’t resist: I had to try it. I ate, and ate, and ate. I found out mid-monster-burger that I’d be eating approximately 2100 calories, more than I usually eat in one full day. I’ve won hot dog and ice cream eating contests, but this looked like a task too tough to finish. But as my cameraman disparaged my eating abilities, I trudged on and polished it off.

Will the publicity stunt work? Hard to say. The buzz got our cameras there and my guard down long enough to eat one monster burger. But as Microsoft’s much hyped Vista proved, there has to be follow through for buzz to translate into customer satisfaction.

SEOUL, South Korea - One look at young fashion designer Ha Sang Beg and you know what he's about: Color, comfort and couture. But you have to talk to him before you understand what makes him different from his predecessors: His address.

Designer Ha Sang Beg hopes his designs will go global.

"I choose Korea as my headquarter," says Ha, his second language of English draped with a British lilt from his years studying in the UK. "I'm Korean and I feel comfortable in Korea. There is lot of merit in Korea."

He's not alone. Flip through the latest fashion magazines and you'll find a new breed of designers, who are attempting to make a global mark from Seoul.

"That's exciting to see," says Vogue Korea's Kwangho Shin. Shin says young talent used to leave Seoul and work from established fashion cities like London or New York. But this generation feels differently about their home country and the possibility of success from home.

"It concerns me as to how long it will last," says Shin. "Our challenge is digging up new talent and supporting their skills."

Seoul has focused on developing its automotive and high tech sector, and more recently, green technology. But fashion has been the forte of neighbors Tokyo and Hong Kong, who have more successfully built the business ties with the global fashion world. Shin says if Korea wants to keep up and coming talent like Beg at home, it needs to offer more.

Korea's government, trying to do that, named the fashion industry as one of the six new-growth power industries for the country, calling its goal the globalization of Seoul fashion. In this week's Seoul Fashion Week, the government worked with the industry to create not just a show, but a business event with the goal of becoming "World Fashion City, Seoul."

Ha hopes his government succeeds in building enough of an infrastructure to keep him busy at home. He predicts he's about to hit his global stride and hopes to take his country's image with him. "I'm still warming up, rather than going for it," he says. "My stage is warming up, just before running."

TOKYO, Japan — Shoichi Nakagawa burst onto the global stage in an embarrassing, and memorable way. He appeared to be drunk at the G7 news conference in Rome, Italy, falling asleep as reporters questioned the world leaders. He apologized for his behavior, but denied it was the result of heavy drinking.

A man delivers flowers to Nakagawa’s home.

But that behavior led to his resignation as finance minister and multiple jokes told through Japan, including a downloadable mobile phone game where players win by keeping the apparently drunk finance minister awake.

That may have been a shocking event to world viewers, but in Japan, what followed in the election was far more stunning. Nakagawa lost in the August 30 general election, marking the collapse of what had been dubbed the “Nakagawa Kingdom.” That name came from the strong electoral power base built by his father. Supporters cried in Nakagawa’s arms on election night and pledged to fight in the next election. Nakagawa appeared calm and respectful.

But privately, former Chief Cabinet Secretary Takeo Kawamura surmised the loss was far more shocking. Kawamura, to reporters in Tokyo, said Nakagawa may have been both physically and mentally exhausted due to the shock of losing in the election.

Police have no ruling yet on the cause of Nakagawa’s death. But at age 56, he is one year younger than his father was when he died. Nakagawa himself entered politics after his father’s death, which was ruled a suicide.

As word spread through Tokyo, old political friends lined up outside Nakagawa’s home to mark the sad passing. To them, Nakagawa still had a future with domestic politics, but both that and his life were cut short before their time.

Christopher Savoie's case is playing out dramatically over the airwaves and in the blogosphere - an American man with sole legal custody of his young children, jailed in Japan for trying to bring his abducted children back to the U.S.

But if you're Japanese, you've never heard of Savoie, because the story hasn't been on a newscast or in the newspapers.

Based in Tokyo, among our first calls was to the local press in Fukuoka. The newspaper told us "This isn't news." When we asked if they would cover it because of the growing international interest, the paper flatly said, "No."

That response is a window into the Japanese mindset of the privacy of the home, and helps explain the cultural and legal clash in which Savoie is trapped.

Invading into the domicile is considered taboo, where issues like domestic violence and child abuse still culturally remain private matters.

Japanese family law follows suit, hesitant to order families to recognize joint custody. It prefers to obey the cultural norm of the woman having primary custody, which often means the father never has any contact with the children. That would be unthinkable in a U.S. court, which sees joint custody as a matter of course in divorce.

The Americans I've interviewed in this story say they're flabbergasted by Japan's archaic and rigid laws. But in this culture, there's no discussion about it. They don't even consider it news.

TOKYO, Japan - Miyuki Hatoyama is unlike any first lady to hit Japan: A divorcee, a former actress, and an outspoken woman who demands equality from her husband.

Local media call the soon-to-be premier 'the alien,' but it’s his wife who is making out of this world comments.

It’s the “outspoken” part that is generating some unusual press for the soon-to-be Prime Minister of Japan.

In a book called “Very Strange Things I’ve Encountered," Hatoyama indeed writes a very strange thing.

“While my body was asleep, I think my soul rode on a triangular-shaped UFO and went to Venus. It was a very beautiful place, and it was very green.”

In an interview on a Japanese talk show, Hatoyama makes another unearthly claim, saying she “eats” the sun.

“Like this, like this,” she said, gesturing as if eating something from the sky. “It makes me feel good and my husband does it too.”

Hatoyama also claims that she knew actor Tom Cruise. Not in this life, but in a prior life.

“I know Tom Cruise was Japanese in a previous life. I know that I was with him in the previous life. So, when I meet him and say, ‘Long time no see,’ he will understand what I mean. Isn’t it cool?”

These comments might be brushed off as an eccentric ex-actor’s musings if she didn’t have the ear of the most powerful man in the world’s second largest economy.

The DPJ, led by Yukio Hatoyama, pledges to shake up Japan’s politics, from economics to international relations.

Japan, for now, appears more amused than alarmed. While the Western press rants on about the odd ramblings of Mrs. Hatoyama, the Japanese press is brushing off the comments as peculiar but harmless.

Comments in YouTube under the clips from the Japanese talk show were divided, between people writing Mrs. Hatoyama was “crazy” to “who cares?”

Ex-Ministry of Foreign Affairs official Tomohiko Taniguichi calls the first lady “fun for now.”

“It’s actually helping her husband’s popularity,” says Taniguichi. “Whether a first lady who believes in UFOs affects world policies - we just have to wait and see.”

What do you make of Mrs. Hatoyama's comments?

DALLAS, Texas - You don't go out golfing with the guys without a fair amount of trash talk about each other's bad shots. Even the golfer who just pulled off the impossible doesn't get a fair pass today.

"Ouch," says one of Y.E. Yang's buddies, holding up his fingers an inch apart, as Yang missed a putt on the 12th. Yang flashes him a sideways grin, as if to say he'll get him back on the 13th. Yang is playing with his buddies before our interview, squeezing in time with friends before the media interviews today. We drove up in surprise to see Yang playing, and to our greater surprise, he welcomed us to follow him around.

"Make my friends nervous," he joked to me.

You'd never know by watching these guys joke that YE Yang has just pulled off a historic, and life changing, win last week.

Ranked 110th in the world, Yang faced off with Tiger Woods in the final round of the PGA Championship. The number one-ranked Woods had never lost when entering the final round as the leader, until Yang beat him in one of the sport's greatest upsets, pulling off a feat no other golfer in the world has ever done.

"It will bring peace to the Koreas," joked one of his buddies. Maybe not, but that win catapulted the 37 year old to stratospheric heights of hero-worship in South Korea and across Asia. Yang's victory at the PGA made him the world's first player from Asia to win a major championship, putting a more global face on a sport dominated by Europeans and Americans. Since that win, the relatively unknown golf player has been thrust onto the global stage, chased by international media (we literally chased him onto the golf course today). He even got a personal call from South Korea's president.

Not bad for a kid from a farming family of 8, who couldn't afford to step on a golf course growing up. Yang didn't have the silver spoon background that many golfers have. He taught himself to play at age 19, old by golf standards, hitting balls after-hours at the driving range where he worked. He learned how to grip a club and swing, he tells me, from instructional videos by Jack Nicklaus. Yang never dreamed he'd ever face off with the great Tiger Woods, whom he'd watched on TV for years.

"I woke up that morning and didn't expect to win," Yang said, talking about the final round of the PGA Championship. "So I had this calm in my heart."

That calm helped Yang not crack in the final round, as thousands of spectators watched on the green and millions around the world. But what was notable on that day was how Yang appeared playful, even waving to the live TV camera, as he walked on the fairway of the 15th hole.

"We all saw him smiling throughout the back nine, having fun." said Brian Mogg, Yang's swing coach. "That's the kind of guy he is at all times and it was cool to watch his personality come out, under the heat of playing with Tiger. He's been in some ways, maybe fortunate not to have the spoiled upbringing that many golfers have had and he's been able to have the perspective of, it's a game."

Watching Yang play with his friends on this Dallas, Texas golf course, you can see that love of the game is obvious. Yang later tells me that he hopes to never face off with Tiger again, because he's not sure he'd win again. You get the sense that while wins at the PGA level are important, this game with friends is just as important - and at the heart of why Yang managed to accomplish what no other golfer in the world could.

What gives Taro's history away is not a look in his eye or the shuffle in his walk. It's the slashes across his wrist, wounds that one year after his suicide attempt appear to still be healing. He pulled up his sleeve to show me, saying he still thinks about killing himself as the job offers never come.

Aokigahara Forest near the base of Mount Fuji.

"I'd lost my identity," 46-year-old Taro said, explaining how he'd been fired from his job as a driver for an iron manufacturing company.In Japan, where your job is your identity, that made him worthless in his own eyes. Taro had heard about Aokigahara Forest, known in Japan as the suicide forest. He decided to go there and disappear into the sea of trees.

He wandered for days, waiting for death to come. But the cuts into his wrist weren't deep enough and the weather not quite harsh enough. He eventually stumbled into some bushes, dehydrated, starved and suffering from frostbite on his toes. He would eventually lose some of the toes because of that frostbite. He would have died, had a hiker not stumbled across his nearly dead body. The hiker called paramedics and the police.

The hospitals didn't want to take him, Taro explained. Since he had no job and was homeless, he kept getting rejected. The police finally connected Taro with a credit counseling organization that found him a hospital that would treat his injuries.

For four months, Taro stayed in the hospital. When he was well enough to leave, the same credit counseling agency found him a shelter where he could live and try to look for work. So far, he hasn't found a job - a challenge in Japan's deepening recession.

There's not a lot of help for people like us, Taro says. By us, he means the unemployed and the bankrupt. Taro believes as Japan's corporations cut tens of thousands of workers, most of them temporary workers who already are considered the working poor, the suicide problem will escalate.

National statistics show that's indeed the case; January 2009 saw a 15 percent increase in successful suicides from January 2008.

Japan also has a cultural history that embraces suicide. Seppuku is a form of Japanese ritual suicide originally reserved only for samurai. Seppuku was part of the samurai honor code, where warriors killed themselves rather than fall into the hands of their enemies or for reasons that shamed them. It's a notion that still persists in a culture that doesn't adhere to a religious notion of spending an eternity in hell if you commit suicide.

Taro says he still thinks about suicide but that the will to live is stronger, for now. What would erase those thoughts, he says, is a job.

TOKYO, Japan - As a reporter, I often meet someone whose story stays with me long after the interview is over and I've filed my story. Such was the case of my interview with Hidefumi Ito, a 54-year-old unemployed man whom I met six months ago.

Hidefumi Ito sits in his net room, a cheap and efficient option for Japan's growing unemployed.

Ito had agreed to do an interview from his "net room," a rental room the size of a closet. The room costs the equivalent of US $20 for 24 hours and has two essential job seeking items: a computer and internet hook-up.

The space was so small that Ito and I sat cross-legged in the room, taking up the whole area. My cameraman had to open the door and shoot into the room. What struck me at first is that all of Ito's possessions - just a few items of clothing – filled the room. Then he began to share his story.

Often talking through choked tears, Ito spoke candidly and at length, describing how his upper-class life had slipped away so quickly. He was an art gallery director, selling high-priced items to the richest people in the world. The economic recession quickly killed the business and his job. Ito lived in a five-bedroom house and owned two cars, an incredible level of financial wealth in space-starved Japan. He lost his home in months to bankruptcy. Disgraced, his wife divorced him and now his three children won't speak to him, Ito says.

Ito took what he had left and stayed with friends as long as he could, before turning to the net rooms. These rooms, he told me, were a cheap and efficient option for someone like him.

There are a lot of people like Ito in Tokyo. Tsukasa, the company that created these net rooms, says it's running at 100 percent occupancy at all of its buildings. Tsukasa's general manager, Koji Kawamata, says the company is currently building more of the rooms but struggling to keep up with demand. Because of the number of people who need these rooms in Japan's recession, it led to a job for Ito.

Tsukasa, impressed with Ito's ability to communicate with us and his determination to find work, hired him as a custodian. The job is not glamorous. For eight hours a day, he scrubs toilets and makes beds for a monthly salary of US $1600. Tsukasa is giving him a deal on a small apartment so his take-home salary ends up being closer to US $1400 a month.

But having any sort of job has meant a significant turnaround for Ito's life. Talking to him again six months after our first meeting, he did say he continues to grieve for what he once had. But now he can think about life beyond unemployment. He hopes to start his own business someday utilizing his managing skills. Ito considers himself lucky because he never had to live for weeks at a time on the streets, as do the growing number of unemployed filling Tokyo's parks.

Just having any sort of step towards tomorrow, says Ito, gives enough hope to keep moving forward in this global economic slowdown.

Watch my followup on Ito after he had to resort to a net room home.