I'd been in Japan for 2 days now. I had more-or-less adjusted to my surroundings, although I was still stunned that I had actually made it to Japan. For 2 days, armed with my vocabulary of 10 words that allowed me to start conversations, but desperately unable to continue or finish them, I had awkwardly been exploring the area near my tiny hotel and it's surroundings. I was staying in an area far from any big city, so there were no McDonalds, Starbucks or familiar trappings of Western Civilisation - it was me, and the locals.
Full immersion in remote Tokyo was just fine with me. I came to Japan to experience Japan, I had no desire at all to hang out at Burger King. However, I did need to find a job. This meant submitting my resume to employers around Tokyo. This also meant I needed to be contactable. I realised I had to get a mobile phone. My head was tingling at the challenge of going to a big city and get a mobile phone.
I woke up early on the third day filled with determination and with butterflies in my stomach. My clock read 8:18am. The crickets chirped continuously outside my window. The hot, muggy Tokyo summer oozed in through the window. I stood on my bed and managed to get dressed - no small feat considering my hotel room was only slightly larger than the bed itself. I locked and carefully checked the door, and spun around. I held back a cry of joy. This is the most incredible moment of traveling. Standing outside your hotel room with $200, your hotel key in your pocket, and unlimited possibilities and adventures just waiting to be discovered.
I waved to Gen, the friendly old guy who ran the hotel, he smiled back. I walked out the door, and then paused. I turned around and walked back inside.
"Hey Gen, which way's the station?" I asked.
Gen held up an arm, and pointed. "Go under the bridge. Then over a bridge. Then turn right."
"Thanks Gen!" I walked about 50 meters, and became lost. I exercised my terrible Japanese, and harassed various pedestrians.
"Sumimasen, eki ha doko desu ka?" (Excuse me, where is the station?)
Finally I arrived at the station. I walked up to the ticket gate, and asked the train guy for advice.
"Sumimasen... um.... I'm looking for a big city, pretty close to here. Where should I go?" I asked him.
"Ettooo..... Wheshoudaigo?" He repeated with a confused look on his face.
I realised I had been speaking too quickly. I slowed right down.
"Big city. Close to here. BIGGGGGGG CITY!" I gestured by opening up my arms. "Close to here." I pointed to the ground.
He looked at me with dim understanding. "We know?"
"What? You know?" I repeated, confused.
"We know. Big City." He said in slow heavily accented English.
"Great, so can you tell me, "big city", please?" I asked politely.
"We know." He looked at me again.
"I don't understand."
He gave me a look filled with patience. He brought out a map from under his desk, and pointed to a city. It said "Ueno."
"Ohhh Ueno! I get it. Ok thank you. Which platform?"
"Platform Number 1." He said.
I thanked him, and went up to platform 1. I got onto the train, and cruised into Ueno.
Ueno is an old industrial city, filled with old buildings, old shops and odd smells. Not the classiest area of Tokyo, but an interesting place to spend some time or do some shopping.
I spilled out of the train, and took the first exit. I was surrounded by carts, stalls and old Japanese men selling all manner of fake goods and general crap. I waded through, and finally found a mobile phone shop. Excellent.
I walked inside, and the 3 Japanese people working in the shop saw me, and froze. I caught a glimpse of their faces, and I saw pure terror in their eyes. I spun around, expecting to see Godzilla towering over the mobile phone shop, but there was nothing there. I turned back, and they had composed themselves a little bit. Odd, I thought.
I began browsing around the shop, looking at all the different mobile phones, which were lightyears ahead of any Australian offering. I occasionally looked over at the 3 Japanese who had withdrawn to a corner of the shop. I wondered if someone was going to come over to help me out. I looked down again at the phones on the shelves. One phone in particular caught my eye. I picked it up, and examined it closely. It had a large, clear, colour screen, and it was a flip-open design. I flipped it open a few times. It felt good in my hands. I smiled. This is my phone. This is the phone I will use to get a job. My future employer will call me on this very phone.
Excited, I waved at the 3 Japanese. They looked back at me, with an odd mixture of horror and confusion, as if I had just sprouted a leg from my head and started jumping up and down screaming. Unsure of correct protocol, I waved again, and pointed at my phone. All three Japanese suddenly had begun some kind of discussion. It went for about 15 seconds while I stood there with my shiny new phone. Finally I cleared my throat. I wanted to buy this phone and start looking for work, lets get this show on the road.
One Japanese detached from the group, and walked over to me. He was a young guy, maybe 22 years old. He was thin and pretty tall, and he exuded awkwardness and worry.
I tried to re-assure him. "Maybe they thought I was holding up the shop?" I thought, which brought a smile to my face.
"It's ok! I just want to buy this phone." I smiled as re-assuringly as I could manage.
"Buy?" He repeated.
"Yes. I like this phone a lot. This phone, please." I said still smiling, as I offered him the phone for his confirmation.
He cautiously took the phone, and then looked at me. I was aware the other 2 Japanese were silent and focused on our interaction as well.
"Umm..... Why do you needo mobairu phone?" He asked, finally.
"Um, sorry? Why do I need a mobile phone? Are you kidding? I don't get it?" I laughed as good-naturedly as possible.
"Hmm.. I don't think you needo mobairu phone." He said with authority.
"What? Of course, I need this mobile phone." I said with some conviction. What the hell was this?
"No... what would you use mobairu phone?" He said in halting English.
"What do you mean? What would I use it for?? For calling. For receiving calls. Look mate, this is capitalism. You have phone. I have money. Now we swap. Here is my money." I withdrew $100 from my wallet, and showed him. He stepped back as though recoiling from my money.
"I don't think you need mobairu phone. You musto pay money ebery month. Expensive," He added, as though these were convincing arguments.
"Listen," I said, starting to get a bit frustrated. "I need this mobile phone. Here is my money. What do I need to sign? What do I need to do?"
"Sorry... I think it's difficult." He said, looking genuinely sorry.
"Whats difficult? This is simple. Phone. Money. DONE!" I said, emphasising the word "done".
"Very sorry. It's very difficult." He repeated.
I realised I wasn't getting anywhere. This was ridiculous.
"Are you going to sell me the phone, or not?" I made one final attempt to claim my favourite phone.
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled nervously. "I am very sorry." He repeated.
Flushed red with frustration, I turned on my heel, and walked out of the shop. I picked a direction and began walking to try to find a more accommodating mobile phone shop.
I would later realise that the paperwork and requirements for a foreigner to get on a mobile phone contract is much greater and more complicated than a regular Japanese person. They would need to have explained all of it in English, which would have been very difficult for them. So, these Japanese had a problem. One English speaking foreigner in their shop who was focused on buying a mobile. They had to get rid of me as quickly and as nicely as possible, so they had a meeting, found the reluctant hero who spoke the most English, and sent him over to discourage me from purchasing a phone. A few minutes later I left the shop in frustration, after realising they weren't going to sell me the phone.
I would later find out that Japanese people solve almost all of their problems through this style of non-confrontation. Thus, a complicated problem was avoided in the most elegant and confrontation-free manner - the Japanese way.
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I had spent one full year living in Japan. I had battled with cultural shocks, I had battled my own pre-conceived ideas about life and culture. I had sat on a crowded train carriage, to look around and notice I was the only foreigner around. I had 1 year of ups and downs and sideways curves. 1 year of struggling with the language, and just plain struggling to fit in. 1 year of stress and problems at work caused by Bill and Shane. I wasn’t yet ready to leave Japan, but god was I ready to go back home for a holiday.
When I came to Japan, naturally, I was extremely open to the Japan experience. I was a big Australian sponge, ready and primed to extract meaning and experiences from everything around me. I had eaten lots of Japanese food, I had even studied a smidgeon of Japanese. I had made some Japanese friends in Australia in the weeks prior to my trip to Japan. I was locked and loaded for Japan. As such, when I landed, nothing really took me by surprise. I had no singular “culture-shock”, that all the travel books like to talk about. I said “wow, that’s interesting”, and “hm, that’s a bit different” more times than I could count (and I still do!), but nothing seriously hit me in the face, or took the wind out of me.
When I went into a shop in Japan for the first time, everyone looked at me, smiled, and almost shouted : "Irraishaimase!". I was a bit confused, and had no idea how to appropriately respond, so I simply nodded my head, smiled awkwardly and proceeded with my purchase. I later asked a Japanese person what "Irraishaimase" means. He said : "It is for when you go into a shop. The shop people are welcoming you. If they do not welcome you, it is very rude in Japanese culture, because you are the customer. You don't even need to respond, because you are the customer!" He explained.
Even after he told me that it was not necessary to respond, I still had a lot of trouble with this. Naturally, I was brought up in Australia to respond to people who talk to you. When you walk into a shop, and 3 people drop what they're doing, flash you a big smile, and say heartily "WELCOME TO OUR SHOP!", it's hard to ignore that. Once I tried to reply back. A staff member looked right at me, and said "Irrashaimase!", and I looked back, smiled, and said "Arigatou Gozaimasu!". She looked at me uncomfortably. I looked back. She slowly turned back to her work, obviously unsure of how best to respond. I realised this approach wasn't working either. All I was doing was transferring the awkwardness I was feeling back onto her.
Another time, I went into a shop with a guy who had been living in Japan for a couple of years. He walked in first, so a couple of staff looked at him, and said "Irrashaimase!" and he brushed past them, not even looking at their faces. This horrified me. Later that week I went into a shop with a Japanese friend, and of course, the same thing happened. I started to realise that not acknowledging these people is not a bad thing, it's just a natural part of the culture.
Slowly, but surely, my view on this was changed. I became used to walking into a shop, looking at a staff person, the staff person saying "Irraishaimase", and me either nodding, or not even acknowledging it. This became the normal routine for me : walk in, Irraishaimase, ignore, proceed with shopping.
One time, someone saw me walk into their shop. They DIDN'T say irraishaimase. Of course, I'm a foreigner, and I look like a foreigner, but I was used to my regular routine, and I felt upset that someone had messed with it. I stopped in my tracks, and stared at him. He stopped and looked back at me, and after a few seconds of awkward pause (for him, I knew I was in the right so I didn't feel awkward at all), he coughed nervously and said "uh.... irraishaimase." In this case I smiled back to defuse the tension, and proceeded with my shopping.
After a while, I realised that this is the culture, and I adapted. If the FOB Firefly ("fresh off the boat") saw the "one year living in Japan" Firefly, I can tell you he would be absolutely shocked at how I was treating shop staff. He'd shake me and say "What the hell is wrong with you? She just looked right at you, and welcomed you for coming into the shop! Say something!!". Of course, I would simply smile and pat him on the back, since his conversion into the non-reactive shopper would already be in the making.
Anyway, returning to the first paragraph, I had spent one year in Japan, and I was due to go back home to Australia at Christmas time. I was brimming with excitement. I would be able to see my friends, my family. I'd be able to go to a beautiful Australian beach. I would be able to sit down at a coffee shop with an English newspaper, breathe in the fresh air, and drink a cappuchino. I'd be able to buy some Vegemite! Eat a Tim-Tam!
I arranged the administrations side of my trip, and before I knew it, I was on the plane burning a path across the Pacific Ocean. I jumped at the chance to catch up on a couple of recent movies that was showing on the entertainment system, then I went to sleep.
I was nudged awake by a member of the Quantas staff. "Noodles or the eggs!". Groggily, I opted for the eggs. Both choices are incorrect actually, but the eggs are the lesser of 2 evils. A short while after consuming the packaged meal, the sun intensified within the cabin, and the captain came onto the intercom, and advised us that we've already commenced decent into Sydney, and we'll be landing at 6:35am. I bounced up and down in my seat.
Finally, the plane landed. I didn't even wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my bag from the overhead locker, and bounced to the front of the queue. Some of the cabin crew shot me a distasteful look, but immediately softened their expression upon seeing the excitement in my eyes. The hatchway opened and I bounded into the terminal. I was overcome with emotion. The air was clean and fresh. All of the signs were in English. People walked past me, speaking in English. I walked through duty free - all foreign products! I mean, all Australian products!!
I bounced along to immigration. The main sitting behind the desk took my passport, looked at me, and asked :
"Where have you been young man?"
"Tokyo, Japan!" I replied, excited to speak English.
He looked at the computer screen, and paused.
"Welcome home." He closed my passport, handed it back to me and smiled warmly.
I smiled back, grabbed my passport, and went through to baggage collection. I waited for a few minutes for my bag to appear from the conveyor belt, and walked out the exit. My parents were due to meet me, but a quick glance around confirmed that they weren't there. I stood in the airport, among the English din, surrounded by foreigners (I mean, Australians), and just smiled.
I suddenly realised my throat was dry. Mount Franklins water!! My favourite brand of bottled water. I looked left and right, and quickly located a convenience store. I walked over, and entered the shop. Behind the counter was an Indian guy, looking busy with his work. I walk into the shop, plant my feet down, and look at the Indian.
He looks up at me for a moment, and then returns to his work. I remain frozen in place, staring at him. He continues work for a few more seconds until his eyes flick up, and he sees that I am still there, staring at him.
I'm excited, but also very tired since I didn't sleep much on the flight, but on some level I dimly realise that I am waiting for him to say "Irraishaimase." I continue to stare.
He drops the papers he had in his hands, and looks over to me. He opens his mouth to speak. My eyebrows rise in anticipation.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" He says, in a thick Indian accent.
"I... er... what, the... what?" I stutter back.
"Are you going to buy something? Or do I need to call security!" He continued, enunciating the word security with a sharp poke of his finger. He leaned back, waiting for my response.
"Oh, right, yes, I'm sorry. Mount Franklins water please. I apologise." I shake my head to try to rattle out the fog, and hand him over some Australian money I had already converted. He looks at me like I crawled out of a drainpipe, hands me my chance, and doesn't even say "thank you".
I was stunned for 30 minutes after this interaction. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the elusive "reverse-culture shock".
Welcome home.
-------
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I like to think I'm a pretty upstanding citizen for the most part. I do my part to contribute to society, and look out for my fellow man (be they Japanese or foreign). However if you live in Japan long enough, you're eventually going to run into the police. It's a fact of living here.
Put simply, I don't have the highest opinion of Japanese police. Almost every policeman I've ever met or seen is lazy, stupid, arrogant and high on power. The most useful function I've ever seen them serve is giving directions to Tokyo denizens who have momentarily lost their way. One of the worst functions I've seen them performing is harassing random people and cars, stopping them and demanding to see personal identification or prove their vehicle/bicycle is theirs.
Don't get me wrong. I'm from Australia, and I have a huge amount of respect for the men and women who put themselves in the line of fire to protect everyone else. Every experience I've had with Australian police has either been positive, or at the least, professional. Case in point, one of my best friends is a firefighter in Australia, and I have a huge amount of respect for him.
Compare this attitude to Japanese Police - they do as little as possible, are often overweight, harass people for stupid petty crimes or for no reason other than a brief power "high", and are useless in a real emergency. I have watched them stand by idly, unwilling to get involved in a serious conflict between aYakuza and a taxi driver. Many of my friends have been stopped and demanded to show their passport to prove they're not an illegal alien. I have watched them wait until a person has walked away from their parked before before running over and waving over a tow-truck to remove the car - which their unwitting owners can have returned to them at a costly fee.
They will even try to entrap you - a friend had told me about an incident where a sleek Skyline car pulled up next to her at the lights. She looked over, and made eye contact. The Skyline revved it's engines. This girl, being something of a crazy petrol head(rare for a Japanese..!) revved her engine back. They 'revved off', for about 30 seconds until the light turned green, and she slammed into first, spun the wheels, and took off. She hadn't gone 100 meters when the Skyline driver had pulled out a siren and a light, affixed it to the roof, and called out "PULL OVER NOW" on a loudspeaker. Bastards. Just, bastards.
For these reasons and many more, I try to avoid the police. Unfortunately, my strategy failed one fateful day two years ago.
I was driving my scooter, and my girlfriend was on the back. We were going through a Shoutengai, a crowded shopping street. I am a very safe driver, and I was concentrating on avoiding people. I made a right turn, and slowly accelerated with a controlled twist of my wrist. I was going very slowly, about 20 km an hour. I drove slowly past a "Koban", which is like a Japanese Police box. About 5 seconds later, I heard :
"OOOOIII TOMARINSASAIIII!" (Hey!! Stop!!)
I check my mirrors and see a fat Japanese Policeman chasing after me, folds of face fat rolling angrily as he awkwardly chases my slow scooter. I stop, and he quickly catches up. I turn, and look at him. He's winding up for some kind of statement, and then he sees my white face. He pauses, momentarily confused.
"Hello!" I say, brightly in English, capitalising on catching him off guard.
"STOPPU!" He says.
"I'm stopped already," I reply.
"Come off!" He says loudly.
"Come off?" I question innocently.
My mind flashes back to many of my friends and their experiences with Japanese cops and motorbikes. "NEVER SPEAK JAPANESE! It's a pain in the ass for them to fill out all the paperwork to book someone on an international license. Just be friendly, and happy, and likable, and act like you don't speak Japanese. If you make it hard for them, but look like you're trying to be co-operative, they'll let you go" They all told me.
"Come off!!!" He says, louder, pointing at the ground.
"Sure!" I say with a smile. My girlfriend hops off, and I dismount, and put the scooter on the stand.
"SHOW TO ME LICENSE." He says, loudly and gruffly.
"Sure, no problem!" I say with a big smile. I open the seat of my scooter, and start flipping through the documents. "Can I ask why I was stopped?" I said.
"LICENSE." Came the reply.
I frowned slightly, and continued fishing around. First I gave him my Australian license. He looks at it, and squints his eyes.
"Auusss..treea?" He awkwardly reads.
"Australia!" I say proudly.
He looks at me with disgust. "INTERNATIONAL LICENSE!" He says.
"Sure," I say jovially, as I turn back to find my international license. I look through all the documents, and it's not there. Odd. I keep looking. I check my pockets, the front storage area, between the pages of the magazines in the scooter seat. After 3 minutes of frantic fumbling, I suddenly realise I left it at home. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"Um," I began.
His face scrunched into a ball, his beady eyes shrinking into his skull, as his frown protruded awkwardly from his face. Tough crowd, I thought.
"COME HERE." He waved me over to the koban. Dammit. I wheeled my scooter around, and walked alongside him.
"PARKING HERE." He gestured to the side of the koban. I obediently followed his command, and parked my scooter.
"COME IN. SIT." he pointed at an uncomfortable looking foldout chair.
I slowly sat, and my girlfriend sat down next to me.
"You. You're Japanese right?" The fat policeman addressed my girlfriend.
"I... um.... not.. speaking Japanese too good... born in America....!" my girlfriend replied in pidgin Japanese. Of course, she was a native Japanese speaker. Good girl.
The fat policeman scowled.
"I'm sorry," I say with a genial smile on my face. "I must have done something wrong. Can you show me what it is? I'm so sorry to cause you trouble," you stupid fat arrogantasshat , why don't you do something useful with your time, like stop crime, or give someone directions, you piece of shit, "I wouldn't want to cause you any more problems."
"YOU SPEAK JAPANESE?" He yelled.
"I.... doing... to study.. Japanese... very hard... now!" I responded with a broad grin and mock pride, in deliberately pidgin Japanese.
"Come here." He said in Japanese, and walked outside. I motioned for my girlfriend to stay seated.
"See this over here? This is a one way street. You turned into a one way street. See the sign there? Can you see it?" He punctuated his angry Japanese by pointing at a one-way sign obscured by a street lamp.
"Gomennasai, wakarimasen!" (I'm sorry, I don't understand).
He threw up his arms, and walked back to the Koban, expecting me to follow. I momentarily considered leaving my girlfriend and making a run for it, but I realised they could track me down using the scooter numberplate, and my girlfriends wrath would be worse than the police. Ireluctantly trudged back to the Koban.
By this time, word had gotten around that the fat policeman had "caught" a gaijin. 3 other policeman were mulling around, with bemused grins on their faces, engaging in pleasant chat. I automatically frowned in irritation, but quickly became aware of my facial expression, and banished any sign of a negative or unpleasant reaction from my face. I retook my seat.
"WE CAN NO SEE LICENSE." Specks of spittle showered out from his face as he awkwardly spoke English. "WE MUST SEE YOU BIKE LICENSE, OR WE NO LET YOU RIDE."
"Sure.... my license is at home. You can come with me." I offered, as friendly as I could.
"NO! YOU DO NOT HAVE BIKE LICENSE!" he shouted.
"Well, I do, but it's at home," I continued lamely.
"NO! I RIDE YOUR SCOOTER! You ride in patrol car."
"Hang on a second," I said, pushing my luck. "Can I see YOUR bike license?"
I battled to keep my grin away from my face as I saw that I caught him out.
"License? fuck." He said under his breath. He again scowled, and called out to the crowd of police. "Hey, who has a bike license?"
"I do," A random cop stepped forward.
"Come on then. Pile him into the police car." The fat policemen said to the other police.
I was promptly led outside, and seated in a policecar. It's a very weird feeling to sit in a police car. It was a busy street, and people were walking either side of the police car. They looked in, to see agaijin sitting on the backseat. I saw them shaking their heads in shock, and whispering to each other "I wonder what he did?". I turned red in embarrassment.
After a few moments, I noticed in my peripheral vision that a young boy had come up to the window, and was staring directly at me, with his mouth wide open. I gave him 5 seconds to go away, and when he didn't, I suddenly turned and "pounced" on him from the other side of the glass, with my arms up either side of my face making claws. He jumped in shock and ran away. I giggled to myself, and then stopped abruptly when a policeman opened the door and sat down. I gave them directions to my house, and we were off.
About 15 minutes later, we arrive at my house. A patrolcar in the neighborhood is BIG news, and all of the old women who lived around the area came out of their abodes in a desperate gambit for the next few days of gossip material. When they saw me sitting in the back, a familiar neighborhood face, they erupted in talk.
"Look! It's that gaijin!"
"I always knew he was trouble. He probably killed someone."
"No! Surely not. He said hello to me once."
"I never trusted him. Lucky for me."
Their mindless babble continued, as my frustration and embarrassment mounted. This is your fault you know, a voice in my head reasoned. Shut up, another voice reasoned back.
I was told to go and get my international license. Then, to my surprise, they asked if they could come with me.
"Can I say no?" I asked, guardedly.
"You don't have to say yes." They said.
"Alright, then, no." I replied.
They looked almost crestfallen, as if they were hoping for a chance to see an exotic gaijin habitat filled with trees, plants and rare animals.
They drove me back to the police station. My girlfriend was remarkably cool about the whole thing, whispering to me what was happening and giving me some clues and head-ups since I didn't understand all the complicated rapid-fire Japanese.
We finally arrive at the station, and I'm led deep into the bowels (and I mean BOWELS) of the police station. They make me wait for an hour. I do my absolute best to continue being jovial, fun and friendly with the surrounding officers.
Finally, they place a handwritten piece of paper in front of me.
"SIGN." They ordered.
I frowned at the paper in front of me. I recognised my name written down the bottom, with a line for my signature. The kanji was difficult and written in messy longhand. I didn't understand any of it.
"Um, can I have a moment to read it please?" I asked, warmly.
They grunted, and left me with my girlfriend.
"What does it say?" I asked her frantically.
She scanned the paper. "Hm... it just says 'I made a big, stupid mistake when I turned the wrong way. It was very stupid, I caused lots of problems for everyone, and I promise I will never, ever do this again. I have no excuse, I am embarrassed and feel very stupid." She translated for me.
I choked on a laugh. "Is it safe to sign? I'm not committing myself to jail?" I asked, earnestly.
"It's fine, you can sign." she said with confidence.
I signed the document, and I was released about 30 minutes later. They allowed me to ride my scooter home after the incident. The whole thing took about 6 hours from start to finish - a very shitty way to spend a Sunday afternoon.
I'll re-iterate - if you live in Japan, or if you visit Japan, do WHATEVER you can to avoid the police. Many of them will make your life difficult on purpose. In the best case scenario, they'll take a lot of your time, and really piss you off.
If you have the misfortune to be caught, be apologetic, friendly, and as stable and solid in your personality as possible. They smell weakness like a dog smells steak, and they will mericileslly attack you if they find you're a pushover.
In addition, apologising in Japan is a way to show that you're aware that you disturbed the 'social order', and you're simply regretful of the problems you caused everyone; it's not an admission of guilt like in America. It's best to apologise frequently, strongly, unabashedly and keep as friendly a demeanor as possible.
I hope you never end up at the mercy of one of these Japanese police officers, but if you do, follow these guidelines, and you should make it through. Best of luck, and leave some comments if you have had any experiences with the Japanese police.
This is a story relayed to me by a friend in Tokyo. To set the scene, he is a British guy. He's pretty tall, shaved head. Tough guy looks. He wears a leather jacket reguarly, and he looks like a hardass. But he's also a pretty sensitive guy who looks out for his friends, and is a generally well-intentioned and nice person. This combination is a recipe for disaster in Japan.
He was riding the Yamanote line one day. The Yamanote line is a huge train line that goes in a big loop all around Tokyo. It gets very crowded in the morning, and as such it's prime hunting grounds for the most despised of all commuters - the chikan.
The chikan is a dirty, disgusting creature that is able to prey on women due to a hole in Japanese culture. These filthy creatures get close to a woman on a train, and basically fondle them.
I've spoken to girls who have been victims of these attacks. At first, they think "gee, it's crowded this morning. That guy is getting pretty close". Next, they get 'brushed' with a stray hand or arm. Since the train is often too crowded to move, they don't think too much of this. Then all of a sudden, the Chikan goes for the grope. They dive in with a hand and go for as much as they can. Right here, in a Western country, the female 'victim' would perform a spinning back kick to the perps head and drop him like a bag of potatoes. Then have him arrested for bruising her foot. Then have the police beat him. Unfortunately in Japan, there is a very strong concept of WA - harmony. And it means keeping the peace no matter what happens. So these girls stay there, silently screaming, trying to get out of the way, while the perverted piece of shit goes to town.
*cough*. I feel better now I've gotten that out of my system. Many people I know have fallen victim to these leeches on society. It makes me furious that their upbringing of these girls forces them to keep silent and say nothing, giving the Chikan free license to continue his dirty fetish.
Now, back to my friend's story - he was sitting down on theYamanote, waiting patiently for his stop. He happens to looks up, and he sees a Japanese salaryman standing next to 2 school girls. Normal enough. However his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he glances down, and he notices this particular salaryman is using his briefcase as a shield, behind which he is vigorously relieving himself, not one step away from these girls.
He looks around frantically. Surely someone else has seen this, surely someone will step up and give this man an angry lecture about spanking in public in breathing distance of schoolgirls.
The train is silent.
Except of course, for the animated conversation of the 2 schoolgirls, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking behind the suspicious salaryman's briefcase. "It's down to me!" He realises. Time to step up and protect the innocence of these 2 schoolgirls. I will protect them, where their Japanese brethren have let them down.
He jumps to his feet and storms over, shielding his eyes from the disgusting waist level display.
"HEY!" He calls out angrily, walking towards the salaryman.
The salaryman jumps, re-"sheaths", and conveniently slides out of the train just before the doors close, making a clean escape.
The schoolgirls look at this tall, bald English guy, who just stormed over, screaming. Their faces are frozen into looks of horror, as they wait to see what this unstable gaijin will do next.
The British guy remembers he doesn't speak Japanese, but nevertheless, he has to explain the situation. One quick look at these girls confirms that they're scared shitless.
An ill-conceived idea pops into his head. He points at the door, through which the Japanese Salaryman had just left. The schoolgirls eyes follow his finger, their faces still frozen. He then moves his hand down to his waist level, and performs an exaggeration of the wrist motion of the Japanese salaryman.
The Japanese school girls stand there, shocked. He performs the gestures again. They become visibly uncomfortable. The rest of the train carriage looks on.
Deflated, he realises this is not working at all. He racks his brain for the Japanese words he knows. Masochistically, his brain gives him the word for dick - "Chin chin".
His face lights up. Armed with this word, I can communicate exactly what happened!, he thinks. The school girls are beginning to edge away. He panics, he is losing his last chance to redeem himself and not look like a depraved pervert weirdo. So he gestures wildly to get their attention, once again gestures at the door, then does the hand motion, then points at the door and says "CHIN CHIN!! SALARYMAN!! CHIN CHIN!!".
Predictably at this point, the girls scream and run away. "Chikan!!" They yell from a safe distance. Suddenly every eye on the entire train is on him. He stands there mortified. He was only trying to help. An elderly Japanese man comes up and snarls something at him. He can only make out the word "chikan". The Japanese grabs his arm. He shuffles free. The train stops, and the door opens. He can feel the tide turning strongly against him, and he decides to jump off at this stop. The man stands at the edge of the train door, and points an accusatory finger directly at the British man. "CHIKAN!!" He screams. People turn and look.
The British man runs up the stairs, exits the ticket gates quickly, and makes his daring escape. If he had bothered to stick around and explain the situation, he would almost certainly have been placed into police custody, and he would have been stamped with the Japanese constitution smashing idea of 'guilty until proven innocent'.
Just goes to show that no good deed goes unpunished. Be careful out there.
For some extra reading - a fantastic reverse view into the Chikan phenomena is available here. A very interesting insight into a drunken Americans battle with the Japanese law is here.
A few weeks ago, I was having a chat with the friend of a friend, a short Japanese girl. She had learned a bit of English, and she was interested to go overseas and explore the world. I was impressed by this – at least temporarily. The conversation went something like this :
Me : So, where have you been overseas?
Her : Actually, I’ve never left Japan.
Me : Oh, I see. In that case, where do you want to go?
Her : I don’t know… I’ve been thinking about Canada, or maybe Italy.
Me : That’s great. So when are you going?
Her : Well… actually… I can’t go.
Me : Oh. Why not?
Her : I don’t have the courage.
Me : The courage?
Her : Right. I want to go, but I don’t have the courage to go.
From my perspective, this is a really weird thing to say. I can understand the safety problems of a woman travelling by herself, or even in a group. In this situation, she would need to check how safe each country is, and make sure she was in a hotel in a good part of town, and make sure she knew the numbers of local Japanese speaking Police representatives,etc. But for someone to not go overseas because of a lack of courage confounds me. This idea is so far out of my reality, that I can’t even comprehend the mindset that created it.
I think it’s a completely lame mindset. To put things in perspective, the idea that someone shouldn’t do something because “something bad might happen”, is certainly not an idea limited to Japan. However, this “not doing something because of fear” mindset certainly seems to be much more prevalent at least around Tokyo, and also judging from a number of Japanese people I’ve met in Japan.
At one point in time, most of our family and friends have advised us to not do something because of possible negative consequences. These people almost always have our wellbeing in mind when they give their advice, but their concern blinds them to the more important core issue. As human beings we grow by exploring new things, visiting new countries, having new experiences and doing things we’ve never done before. As soon as we DON’T do something out of fear (or lack of courage), we begin to stagnate. We stay in the same routine, our lives don’t change, and without any growth or new experiences, we take another step towards death.
If it means I would grow as a person, I would definitely do something that scares me, and I would encourage my friends and family to do the same. Think about this the next time your friend or a member of your family asks for your guidance on something they want to do. Tell them to “Feel the Fear, and Do It Anyway” (I highly recommend this book).
Well, it's the 8th of November, which means that Starbucks (and every other kind of shop) begin playing cheesy Christmas Carols on loop. These drive me absolutely crazy, and I'm actually looking forward to the return of the regular shitty muzak.
I want to talk about something interesting in Japan - the concept and idea of politeness. More importantly, how the concept of politeness overseas integrates into Japanese culture.
Last night, I was in Shibuya station. I was heading home, and I was in a bit of a rush. All of a sudden, a small opening appeared in the crowd. I immediately starting walking towards it. At the same time, I spotted a woman directly to my left who was equally the same distance from the opening. We both looked at each other, and I immediately shot for the opening, and dissappeared into the crowd.
After this event, when I was on the train, I realised that by Western standards, I was very rude. However by Japanese standards, it was a completely natural thing to do. The concept of "women first", does not exist in Japan. In fact, I realised that the lady from the crowd would have allowed me to take the opening, and if I waited for her to take it, she probably wouldn't have. So my actions were actually culturally appropriate, and more time efficient.
If however, I did the same thing in Australia or America, I would surprise the woman, and at the very least, receive distasteful looks from the people around me.
In other situations in Japan, when I instinctively gesture for a woman to go first, I receive a confused look, and after she confirms that I am offering her the chance to go first, she generally proceeds cautiously and awkwardly.
This is a rare cultural gap, at least from a foreign perspective, where a foreign custom would actually be more polite than a Japanese custom.
Tokyo is a pretty magical place. Nowhere else in the world can match it for it's size, events, bustle and blade runner aura. I love all of these things about Tokyo.
I love the fact that there is a shop in Akihabara specialising ONLY in selling English games, magazines and paraphernalia.
I love being within 30 minutes of a fully featured themepark with 2 rollercoasters.
I love hopping on my scooter and exploring the strange and often overlooked jungle of backstreets and eccentric shops.
I love being within a 5 minute scooter ride of every class of food imaginable, and plenty of high quality, low price healthy Japanese food.
I love going out with friends and having unlimited choice as to where to go, and what to do.
There are a lot of things to like about this city. But at the end of the day, it's still a city. A sprawling, grey metropolis. Millions of people packed into a small city, rushing about their Tokyo lives. It's enough to fascinate you if you've been here for a few days, and enough to drive you stir-crazy after a few years.
It's also hard not to be affected by the pressure of Japan. All Japanese people have a set of expectations and guidelines imposed onto them by all other Japanese in the vicinity. As a foreigner, we're generally not expected to conform to these guidelines. However after years continuously living here, it's hard not to conform on some level. Conforming to Japanese social regulations is uncomfortable at best. More on this in another post.
Whenever I start to really feel boxed in, I look up my calendar. I almost always find that my trip back to Australia has surreptitiously passed the 1 year mark. This time, I have been in Japan for 14 straight months. I need a break. I need to go to a beach, drive a car, visit a small town, sit outside next to a beach on a sunny day drinking a cappuccino and eating bacon and eggs.
Soon, I will return home. Once I have recharged my batteries and have enough English conversation with friends and family to last another 12 months, I hop on a plane and begin the process all over again.
Interesting enough, I now get homesick wherever I go. When I'm in Tokyo, I feel homesick for all the pleasures and comforts of home. When I'm home, I miss good sushi, excellent service, amazing efficiency, the unique and powerful Japanese ability to persevere and sort things out. Hopefully one day I'll be equally comfortable in either location.
Recently, I had a nightmare, and I woke up at 5:00am. It was actually a pretty scary story, involving strange happenings on a plane, that slowly escalate to pandemonium, fear and panic. The ending was dark and unpleasant too, just like a good horror story. I immediately bolted from bed, ran to the PC (which happened to be on, downloading the latest South Park), and wrote a basic plot for a Horror novel based on my nightmare.
I’ve been having lots of ideas for articles, novels and blogs recently – perhaps I’m supposed to be a writer. It is a lot of fun to cleanly and nicely communicate something that gets a good reaction from other people. I’m already working on 3 books, and 2 articles, so lets see what happens over the next few weeks.
To keep this on-subject with Japan, Japanese people don’t HAVE dreams, they WATCH dreams. That’s quite a subtle and interesting difference.
I’ve always wanted to experience a ‘lucid dream’, which occurs when you start to dream, and you suddenly realise that you’re dreaming. At this point, you can guide the dream in any direction you want, and manifest anything, fly around – actually, you can do pretty much what Neo could do when he realised he could change the Matrix.
I wonder if Japanese people don’t lucid dream very often because of the nature of the language – it’s much harder to actively participate in something you’re watching, as opposed to becoming conscious of a dream you’re having.
Something to ponder! Does anyone have any thoughts or experiences?
I was out having a drink with a friend on Saturday night. We were sitting down talking and having an enjoyable chat - well, I was talking, my friend couldnt take his eyes off the Coyote Ugly DVD that was playing on the TV - and I noticed the group of 3 people sitting at the next table.
There were two girls, one was fast asleep, and another was nodding politely listening to this Japanese guy talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. I began to listen to him, and I began to understand why the other girl was fast asleep.
In any case, there was a flair show at the bar, which was brilliant. Two guys juggled some bottles around and did some flair, and blew some flames and stuff, it was awesome. Actually it was a really good little bar - some very creative and tasty cocktails and friendly staff. It's right near the MacDonalds, and we got a 20% discount with the flyer they were handing away outside.
After the show, the Japanese guy (who was still talking) noticed me. He started singing the Queen song which was playing, and his accent seemed decent, so I said "nice singing, do you speak English as well?" He pinched his fingers together, and said "little !!!". I nodded.
He asked me some questions :
Japanese Guy (English) : Do you speak Japanese?
Me : Yes.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : REALLY? YOU JAPANESE SPEAK?
Me : Uhh, yes.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : AMAZING ! HOW YOU LEARN JAPANESE SPEAK?
Me (Japanese) : Hey man, can you like, talk to me normally?
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : HAHA ! TALK NORMAL OK.
Me (Japanese) : No like, just talk normally.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : HAHA ! OK.
At this point I turned to his friend(the girl who was awake), and I said :
Me (Japanese) : He seems to be struggling a bit with Japanese - does he speak well?
Girl (Japanese) : <laughing> Not too well, no.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : HAHA ! WHAT?
It was a fascinating study - this guy could not compute the fact I was talking and understanding regular Japanese. He had an idea stuck in his head that he needed to talk to me like a child or an idiot so I could understand him. It miffed me.
By this time, my Japanese friend Sou was talking to the other guy.
Sou (Japanese) : Yeah, so I've lived in America for a while, where I learned a lot of my English skill.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : Really? Wow. You were living with people who spoke English?
Sou (Japanese) : Well, I was living with Americans, so most of them spoke English !
Japanese Guy : Hahah!
Sou : Hahah!
Me : Hahah!
Then the problems began.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : WHAT YOU LAUGHING?
Me (Japanese) : What??
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : BEFORE YOU LAUGHING. IT FUNNY - SEEM LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND OUR CONVERSATION!!!
Me (Japanese) : Of course I understand your conversation. Whats wrong with you?
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : HAHA YOU SPEAKING GOOD JAPANESE.
I gave him the flattest, most irritated look I've probably given anyone.
Japanese Guy (Japanese) : HAHA WHAT YOU DRINKING? I BUY YOU ONE.
I guess that he sensed on some level that he was doing something stupid, and wanted to make up for it. I graciously accepted the drink, politely thanked him, and tried to avoid his conversation afterwards. Some people can be incredibly ignorant!
I don't like it when people smoke close to me. I'm all for freedom, and liberty, and all that shit, but when I'm in a crowded space, and someone lights up a cigarette and forces cancer down my throat, I get touchy.
If someone smokes at home, whatever. If someone smokes in a restaurant in the smoking section, ok cool. If someone smokes at a club, sure, it's a club. However when you're in a crowd, and as Tokyo-ites will atest to, you're in a crowd most of the time in Tokyo, I think it's unbeliavably rude to light up a cigarette. People who don't like smoke, or have a medical aversion to smoke have no escape, and it causes all sorts of tension and stress for the inhalee.
To combat this social issue, the Japanese government is pushing "manner smoking". I'm sure many Japanese dont even recognise that smoking right beside other people is a problem, to the dismay and trouble of foreigners(and other Japanese) who live in close quarters with our smoker counterparts in the claustrophobic metropolis of Tokyo.
In fact, this used to be such a problem at Hachikou, Japan's most famous meeting place, that they have installed a large "Smoke Area" to the left-hand side. This Smoke Area draws all of the smokers away from the crowded area, and gives them ash trays, and various "Manner Smoking" messages, such as : "Your cigarette burns at 400 degrees celsius, and it's held at the height of a child's face", and my personal favourite, "I wouldn't suffocate a person with my natural gas on purpose, why would I do the same with cigarette smoke?".
These measures have improved the situation, but smoking culture still flourishes. Of particular interest is a shop called "Smoke Zone", where thousands of people go to smoke. It's like a coffee bar, but instead of a nice cup of coffee, you smoke a cigarette. I'm convinced this would fail in any other country except Japan. However, it keeps the smokers off the street, and the smoke out of my lungs.
I have a mild form of Asthma, which means that the tubes in my lungs occasionally react to smells and wheeze up, making it very difficult for me to breath. It just so happens that smoke causes this condition. It's great to see that Japan is slowly becoming more conscious of these social issues, and making positive steps to improve the situation.
Ganbare Nippon !! *cough cough*
I'll share another Japan anecdote with you. My parents came over to visit at one point, and they were staying in a decent hotel in Shinjuku. Much the same way as I did, and the same way as many foreigners coming to Japan, they were struggling with the language barrier.
They had a bit of trouble getting around, and they felt a bit lost without my help and assistance. So anyway, I met my father one day at lunch, and he told me what happened to him that morning :
<Dad sits down in Lobby, reading a paper>
<A helpful member of staff comes over>
Staff : Good Morning Sir !
Dad: Oh, good morning.
Staff : Can I get you something to drink sir? Tea or Coffee?
Dad : Uh, no thank you. I'll wait until my wife gets here.
Staff : I understand sir !
Dad : Thanks.
3 minutes later, the Staff came back, and with a smile, he placed a large jug of hot water on the table in front of my Dad.
Staff : Enjoy, sir !
Father : *stunned and confused* Uhh, thanks,
To this day we still don't know what happened. Mysteries of life*.
*(but of course, just another day in Japan!).
Today I'm going to focus on some positive, fantastic things about Tokyo that I personally greatly enjoy.
- "Irrasshaimase". The greeting you get when you walk into a shop or place of business. Said correctly, it is very warm, welcoming, and creates a fantastic environment.
- Sensitivity towards others. Tokyo is a very small place - you live very close to other people, and no matter where you are, there are always several thousand Japanese in your vicinity to share the experience. As a result of this, a majority of Japanese people are extremely sensitive and empathetic towards other people. This is a very endearing and fantastic trait that people in other countries would do well to learn.
- Honesty. It's very nice to have something returned when you lose something. If I lose something overseas, I immediately resign myself to the fact that it will not return. However, if I lose something in Japan (which rarely happens, since I'm a careful person), most of the time, all I need to do is wait. If you lose a wallet, chances are good that it will return... WITH any money that was inside.
- Service. Best service in the world. Bar nowhere. I have an incredible amount of buying confidence - I know that almost anything that goes wrong will be fully supported and fixed until I am completely happy. Even when such services mean that the shop is now selling to me at a loss. Incredible.
- Food. Japan has really good food. Healthy, tasty, refined, and generally reasonable.
I believe Japan to be a country of extremes. There are many things that are so fantastic, it just blows your mind. I could talk about this all day. Then, there are things that frustrate and anger you, that put you in a bad mood for days. As a positive person, I tend to focus on the first category.
Interestingly, I find that things that used to make me really, really angry, don't affect me any more. A real life example - I went to dinner with a friend, and I was expecting another friend soon. Here is the conversation between the restaurant guy, and me.
Me : (Japanese) Hello there, table for three please.
Restaurant Guy : Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me : (Japanese) : Er, there is another person coming soon.
Restaurant Guy : Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me : (Japanese) : Um... are you ok?
Restaurant Guy : Uhhhh.... Umm... I no speak.... English... Uhhhh
Me : (Japanese) : Pardon ?
Restaurant Guy : Uhhh.. sorry. No English. Uhh.... Sorry.
Me : (Japanese) : Thats ok, I'm speaking Japanese.
Restaurant Guy (pained facial expression) : Sorry.... Ummm..
Me : (Japanese) : Whats wrong with you? I'm speaking to you in Japanese?
Restaurant Guy : Ummmmmm, very, very sorry.... please wait
Me : (Japanese) : No, I wont wait, I want a table for three. Give me a table right now. Aaarrrggh.
I used to get really worked up about this. I spent so long studying Japanese and practising my language skills, why the hell cant this guy understand me!!??!? Recently this happened to me again, and I noticed my response was totally different.
Me : (Japanese) Hello there, table for two please.
Restaurant Guy : Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me : (Japanese) : No smoking is best.
Restaurant Guy : Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Me : (Japanese) : Oh, I'm sorry. (slowly) Is there someone here who speaks Japanese ?
Restaurant Guy (Japanese) : Um.. what? Umm, Japanese? I speak Japanese... !
Me : (Japanese) : Great ! Table for two please. No smoking.
Restaurant Guy : Ok!!
Isn't it interesting how your reactions change over the years, and they way you adapt to certain situations evolve?
I am running late for an appointment. My heart is beating fast, my map is flurrying about in the wind, and my sweaty, white knuckled hand grips and twists the scooter throttle. I am flying between small, tight streets and frantically looking around to find my building. My unshielded face gets colder as the icy wind beats against it in waves matching my throttle twists.
My hate for the Japanese addressing system is once again renewed. I clench my teeth in frustration – why does it need to be so difficult?
Side Note : I am not a “jaded gaijin”. I do not go about complaining about Japan, about how “it’s so much better back in my country”. I happily accept the good and the bad parts together. I am a very even, reasonable person. However. I really, really hate the Japanese addressing system. It is probably the only address system in the world that is so complicated that you need a computer(car navi) just to navigate around with any degree of certainty. Very frustrating. AARGH.
I now make the mistake of asking for directions. My first advisor is an old lady who seems perhaps knowledgeable about the area.
Me : <IN A RUSH>Excuse me, do you know where 3-12-2 Senzoku-ike is?
Uh, 3choume? Uh... Lets see... um. Hmmmmmm.... Maybe it’s... Noo... No I don’t think so. Ummmm.... could it be over there? Ummmm
Me : <IN A RUSH>It’s ok. I’ll find it myself.
Oh, you could do that, I suppose. Um..... But it might be worth going over there, I think.... maybe you might find something, I guess. If you have a look over there.
Me : <IN A RUSH>Ok, ill do that, goodbye, thanks.
Are you sure you’re ok? Hm.... let me call my friend, he knows this area much better than I do, I think
Me : <IN A RUSH>Please don’t. Please don’t.
Now, what’s his last name. I haven’t seen him in a while now, you know.
Me : <IN A RUSH>ARGGGH
Hang on, it’s ringing now. I hope he’s there. He’s very busy these days.
Me : <IN A RUSH>Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but for gods sake have a look at me. I’m in a rush!!!
Oh ok, <phone appears to answer> Oh!! Hello there ! How are you? I’m good thanks. Very cold recently isn’t it? Oh yes, very cold. It snowed the other day!! Very cold. Oh dear me, yes, very cold. Much colder than last year, isn’t it? Oh deary me, how cold indeed.
Me : <IN A RUSH> *in shock*
Oh that’s right. Do you know where 3-12-2 is?
Me : <IN A RUSH> *somewhat relieved*
Oh yes. Oooh yes absolutely. She’s very well. She just entered Primary School! Can you believe it? How about that. Primary School. She is growing up quickly.
Me : <IN A RUSH>*back in shock*
Dis-orientated and frustrated, I finally managed to escape somewhat politely.
I was so lost, I asked 6 more people for directions. 3 people pointed me in 3 different directions, and 3 people had no idea. Out of these “no idea 3”, only 1 person had the good grace to tell me “Sorry, I have no idea”. The other two wasted about 5 minutes of my time each trying to help me, but only ended up making me later, and driving me nuts. I asked another person who simply wanted to chat, which I probably would have been happy to do, IF I WASN’T IN SUCH A GODDAMN FUCKING RUSH, GODAMMIT LOOK AT ME.
Whew. The conclusion to the story is that I did finally find the place, however I was 2 hours late. As it turns out, there is place called Senzoku-ike, and there is also a section of a ward called Senzoku-ike, and I went to the wrong one. Oh well, I’ll know for next time. Or, I will buy a car with a decked out navigation system that gives me clear instructions.
Right now, I am sitting in a Starbucks in Roppongi, the same building as the now imploded(?) LiveDoor. There was recently a big scandal as the likable and affectionately named Horiemon was found to have manipulated stock and performed some rather underhanded things in order to make some cash.
This is not the point of my blog post, however. Right now, there is a young Japanese lady sitting to my right. She is drinking a Starbucks coffee, and writing something in her diary, which is covered in stickers and purikura (google it!). She just did something mindlessly that just reminded me of the cultural gap between Japan and other countries.
She stood up, leaving her purse/bag/private belongings on the table. She stepped away from her seat, and went on a walk, presumably to the toilet. She took her time, and returned after about 7 or 8 minutes. The possibility that me, a dodgy looking gaijin (in a suit, however) would take her stuff, and calmly walk off, never seemed to enter her head. Despite the fact that everyone around me would be too polite to stop me from stealing this lady's belongings, and it would be even easier than taking candy from a baby (since a baby holds on, right? er, not that I know), she was not even slightly concerned about losing her stuff.
This is a theme I see repeated all over the place. I remember one particularly memorable occasion, when another lady with a very nice shiny NEW red porsche stopped outside a convenience store on a street behind a main road. This was not a terribly busy street, but still many people were walking along it. Now - I guess in order to save a bit of time, this lady left the engine running, and got out of the car, and went into the shop. I could have very easily opened the car down, sat down and smoothly driven off with my brand new red shiny porsche. However after lurking for about 10 seconds in the shadows, I decided against it and kept walking. Still, the implications here blew me away.
Recently at the office, a delivery person arrived to find that no-one was around. This person then left an expensive piece of intricate equipment sitting outside the front door. This piece of equipment happened to cost $2,500, and was a brand new model. When someone came back to find this device, they were shocked, and put the piece of equipment inside immediately. This was pretty incredible, and an extension of these examples. I couldn't help but muse that if this happened in America, the equipment would already have been found, opened, re-packaged and sold before anyone even got back.
Such a fascinating country full of all sorts of paradoxes and contradictions, but thats why I love it. Many people express surprise and shock at the many 'different' parts of Japanese culture, and sometimes even implore Japanese to change - however a clever person mentioned to me once that if Japan changed to the way some Westerners perceived as ideal, we would no longer find it fascinating and enjoyable.
Well it seems like Samrai-san is busy at work, and everyone else in Tokyo is freezing since we got hit with a snow storm. BRRR. They're saying 20cm of snow, but I think it will be more actually. The snow is showing no signs of stopping.
At times like these, the often impracticle architecture and building materials become viscious death traps. For some reason, someone thought it would be a good idea to put marble or slippery surfaces right in front of many buildings in Tokyo. This means, that even on a sunny day when you try to enter the building you will lost traction and slip at least once. Now, when you add rain to this equation, you see many people constantly tripping and falling(i've done it as well). Now, try adding SNOW.
It really is incredible sometimes - Tokyo is such an advanced, highly technological city, but some things are just so incredibly stupid. So stupid.
What scares me is that I am becoming less able to see these things that simply would not make sense to a fresh western eye. It takes a major slip and slide down a marble lobby to get me to notice. I am slowly becoming acclimatised to Tokyo/Japan, to the point where I don't see things as funny or crazy like I used to. These says, I can walk right past a box of "Pooh biscuits", or "Colon Pudding", and NOT EVEN CRACK A SMILE.
Tokyo is changing me... and I fear what I will become!
PS, if you dont believe me about colon pudding, check http://www.ezaki-glico.net/collon/.