Japan Impresses in 100 Ways

And I was thinking that there would be a palpable sense of being down at the heels, but in Tokyo, the girls were dressed as stylishly as ever, things were super clean and bustling, the stores were busy and decorated for Christmas, and it all felt terribly prosperous. I realize this is a surface impression and that a nation’s economy can be in extremely dire straits while citizens go on about their business (hello, USA), but overall, it seemed more positive than I was envisioning it.

There have been other surprises. I knew about the politeness and efficiency, of course, but it still made me grin to have a taxi driver praise our Japanese to the high heavens and apologize for a slightly sudden stop that required him to back up a few inches so as to not enter the crosswalk area. I knew about the impeccable service, but it sill amazed me that every single store clerk, restaurant waitperson and even random uniformed workers were so immaculately attired and meticulous in everything they did, from (artfully) wrapping my paper shopping page with plastic on a rainy day to presenting my morning breakfast set (natto, raw egg, rice, nori, tea, miso shiro) with everything just so on the tray. Sure, I expected the Shinkansen to be as impressive as ever, but I couldn’t get over the beauty of the countryside as we sped along the tracks—the glorious colors of the late fall leaves, the leaning towers of bamboo, a snow-capped Mt. Fuji looming in the distance.

Granted, we’re not coming here with a fresh-from-the-States perspective. We’re coming from a year on a farm in rural Uruguay and five years in Latin America. And that’s why the culture shock really hits us.

On Thursday morning, we took a walk around our new neighborhood, a mostly residential area with modern Japanese-style homes, lovingly-tended gardens (the old ladies were out in force this morning, fussing over their flower pots despite the low temperature), narrow winding streets, and an imposing temple just around the corner. There’s a rice paddy behind the 7-11 (the store closest to us), a couple of coffee shops (old style) and a dazzling grocery store that dumbfounded us as we strolled the aisles and admired the beautiful displays of produce—and the unexpectedly low prices, as in cheaper than Uruguay (with its IVA tax) or Argentina (with its inflation).

Our first night, we took a hot Japanese-style bath, ate our sashimi, split a beer and were conked out by 9 pm. Unfortunately, we woke up at 1:30 am. It’s taking us a while to get adjusted, and despite popping vitamin C hourly, going from relative isolation in a summertime drought to 28 hours of plane travel and a cold winter drizzle is taking its toll.

We are marveling at the eye-popping availability of everything imaginable. We shake our heads and grin as we attempt to absorb the sheer vastness of the consumer choices. We did some grocery shopping at that gorgeous store (broccoli, tofu, bok choy, niida, spinach) and on Thursday morning spent two hours combing every aisle of the Kahwa, a Home Depot type of store a short distance away. At one point, I walked down a garden center aisle giggling as I eyed the dozens of sizes and types of stakes—bamboo, fake bamboo, green plastic, black plastic—in every conceivable size and shape. Back in Uruguay, there were absolutely NO stakes available to buy to stake our tomatoes—we were told that everyone (the very few who dare to grow tomatoes, anyway) uses whatever they have on hand. Tom sawed a long piece of rebar left over from the construction into several sections and used that, but several more rebar-less plants are doomed to droop. In the spring, I had to special order a tray for starting seed—at the only feed store in town—and at Kahma, there was a section with dozens of shapes and sizes of starting trays and a plethora of potting mixes and plant tags, not to mention an entire row of shears, scythes, and other high-quality and well-designed garden tools.

Granted, any Home Depot in the States—or a similar store in other countries—would have similar offerings, but because we’ve been in rural Uruguay, visiting one of these stores has made us realize how much more innovative we’ve had to become to handle even the most basic tasks. Here, it’s just so darn easy, especially if you have a car and money to spend.

In our part of Uruguay, it’s been a struggle to buy sheets, kitchen items, furniture, clothes, you name it—and so, in general, we just didn’t. And you know what? We got used to it. It seemed comfortable despite the spareness of the furnishings, the blank walls and the less-than luxurious accouterments. And of course, we saved a lot of money because there were just so few things to buy, and we got out of the habit of thinking we should solve our problems by going to the store to buy a solution. Now, that year of simplicity is beginning to look more like deprivation—and we’re trying to hang on to the joy we felt watching the sunrise and listening to the birds, the peacefulness of gazing at the rolling hills and the delight of waving at passing gauchos on horseback or the drivers of 70-year-old trucks on the road. We had so many happy times there despite our lack of access to material goods. No—we had happy times because we were so far removed from material goods and the striving that tends to go along with a consumer lifestyle.

It’s clear that being back in a consumer society (and specifically this one) means we will face an interesting challenge. I think that spending a year living so simply will help us abstain from purchasing things here, but it may take more resistance than we expect. I hope we can keep our apartment as spare as it is now, but I know how things tend to creep into a household when everything is right there, reasonably priced and tempting.

I wouldn’t say we’re giddy—we’re a little too sleep-deprived for that—but we’re definitely filled with excitement. More than that, we’re recognizing that we’re here for a reason and it’s up to us to remain open so that we can do our very best to fulfill our roles.

I hope we can give everyone even more than what they hope to receive from us. In the meantime, we’re filled with gratitude that we’ve been given this opportunity to be here.

It’s great to be back.

Tagged as: efficiency, Japan, teaching English