We are encountering aspects of daily life in Higashi Nagasaki and elsewhere that we did not come across during previous visit when we stayed in hotels. We began with the considerable challenge of which items to put in which rubbish bag to be put out on the corner and on which day. The manual for our house summarizes the process thus:
“RECYCLE waste: plastic bottles, can drinks, glass bottles, drink bottles, food containers, trays EMPTY inside and rinse with water, remove cap for drink bottles
ONLY MONDAY MORNING BEFORE 8am, or night before
PAPER waste: magazine, carton box, milk carton.
ONLY TUESDAY MORNING BEFORE 8am or night before
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| One of our instruction sheets telling us how to dispose of rubbish. |
But then we are asked to absorb three A4 illustrated pages of much more detailed guidance, over which we have puzzled and debated at length. Among the details: we can have dead animals “such as cats and dogs” collected for a charge of ¥2,600 (£13) provided their weight does not exceed 25kg.; we can borrow bird nets to keep crows, cats etc. away from recyclable waste; spray cans and gas canisters are collected by specialists; batteries are recycled at community centres and some supermarkets etc. There is more, but this selection gives the flavour.
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| General rubbish ready fro collection by 8am Wednesday morning. |
Our neighbourhood is a pleasure to walk around. We share narrow streets with other pedestrians, a good number of cyclists, and a small amount of vehicular traffic, which moves slowly and gives way to pedestrians, True, when we strolled south as far Meiji Dori, a major street with plentiful fast-moving traffic, and a long queue of cars waiting to park in a shopping centre, pedestrians face long waits to cross the street. But when we walk 20 minutes north to our son John’s neighourhood, we come across few vehicles and our stroll is a pleasure.
At our local supermarket we are checked out by a human, so no self- scanning of bar codes. Instead, a charming lady scans our purchases, and transfers them from our green basket to a bright yellow one (a sign that we have paid). Payment, however, is automated and self-service. Although one presses a button on the screen marked “English” to choose either cash or card, all that follows after that is still in Japanese. We then pack our goods in their yellow basket at a table provided for the purpose. One observation of the offerings in Tokyu Store is the considerable amount of prepared food in plastic trays covered by a plastic lid, which must be cleaned after use for recycling. There is much to do to reduce plastic use.
And of course, most produce, except for the obvious tomatoes, avocado etc., can be tricky to find when packaging is labelled with Japanese only. We rely on images: cows for milk or yoghurt (but no idea whether skimmed, semi-skimmed or full fat), for tinned fish and so on.
Our apartment is of the older variety, with a tatami mat room, a very basic gas ring for cooking (so dangerous to light that we have abandoned cooking) and generally antiquated facilities, except for the air conditioning/heating units. Access is by a substantial number of outside steps, so accessibility would be a problem for anybody who struggles to cope with stairs. John and Ryōka’s apartment, in contrast, is barrier free (in British English accessible) from car park to apartment, toilet, and bathroom. Keys are very much of the past: access to the building and apartment is electronic. Guests can be checked at the door to the building by video. Inside the apartment, all is designed to minimize the need for cleaning. But, old or new, all apartments have a balcony, not for occupants to relax on, but to hang the washing on metals poles that sit on sturdy plastic brackets – there must be many millions of these across Japan. Even John and Ryōka’s ultra-modern apartment has a washing machine but no dryer (although they do have a dish washer, which we do not).
Beyond the domestic space, clean public toilets abound with varying degrees of electric functionality and warmed seats. Our tourist map of Kanazawa positively swarmed with toilets. There are always Ladies, Men and disabled (the latter in one place in Kanazawa labelled all gender – don’t tell President Trump; he would no doubt impose a tariff). Toilets are rarely of the Japanese variety, over which one squats as the French once accustomed. I was amused as I sat in one western toilet to read detailed instructions about its use urging me not to squat on it, nor to use it facing backwards: aimed I think at Japanese used to the old-style facilities. People can be very solicitous to make sure that we know where to go and are comfortable. At a municipal museum (an artist’s studio in a small garden – we must surely have been the only visitors on a rainy day) the lady attendant showed us to the toilets in person, and, finding the door to the ladies open, exclaimed with embarrassment, and closed it so that Jan could then open it.
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| How to use a western toilet. |
Language is, of course, always an issue in Japan, unless like John you have devoted years to learning to speak and read the language. Occasionally, the inappropriate use of English brings smiles to an English speaker. After we had scanned each of our index fingers at immigration we were instructed to “remove finger”, rather like removing one’s hat. On the shinkansen an available toilet is labelled “vacancy” as if it were a seaside B&B. The feedback form of our Kanazawa hotel asked us four times to evaluate the “attiretivness of guest”, as if guests were to report on their own taste in attire (I think the intended word was attentiveness, but then “of” suggested that the guest should evaluate his/her own attentiveness). At breakfast, we were offered a “casual rolle”. [I was reminded of Colin Smith, my Spanish professor, who collected mistranslations into English from Spanish hotels and the like: my favourite was “the young ladies will be defiled at 7 o’clock” – the verb desfilarse means to parade or to process; I think the announcement heralded a beauty contest].
Fortunately, even the public toilets (including those on the shinkansen (bullet train) generally provide the instructions for the various electronic functions of the toilets (exactly which functions from a menu of possible choices are offered vary) in English as well as Japanese. Occasionally, however, the non-Japanese speaker is uncertain which buttons(s) to press when only Japanese instructions are provided, as is the case in our apartment.
An unexpected question in English can visibly strike terror in the heart of a hotel receptionist, who will ponder in silence for a considerable time. Then just as one has given up hope of an answer will respond (perhaps today with the help of a mobile phone). In a pharmacy, a young lady despatched by a lazy pharmacist (not all Japanese are customer-service-friendly) to locate a specific anti-histamine stared earnestly at a large selection of painkillers before eventually giving up and summoning the lazy pharmacist who found the item in seconds. On the other hand, our request at the till of the same pharmacy for a hard-to-find product resulted in a bilingual conversation by mobile phone, followed by a diligent search on the internet before triumphantly finding an appropriate substitute. The only remaining question was whether Jan wished for the lotion or the whitening version (a fair complexion is much desired).
At the remains of the house of the samurai Kurando Terashima (hunter, fighter, economist and efficient administrator of taxes for his lord, painter, and a patron of a musical garden designer for whom Kurando built a small room with acoustic qualities so that the designer could play his “Japanese harp”), we tired of using QR codes to access information about a selection of objects on display, all of which (QR code or not) were labelled in Japanese only. A helpful lady at the front desk explained to us Kurando’s paintings (of peonies, his chosen personal flower), his lacquer picnic set, hunting hat, horse whip, stirrups (decorated with peonies), artist’s manuals with instructions for drawing rocks and people, and a letter he wrote to his family from exile on Noto Island where he died. Our helpful lady was a lucky find and did not tire of answering our questions [more of Kurando on another occasion].
Not all customer service is quite so diligent and charming, as the indifferent pharmacist suggested. However, he was beaten hands down by an individual whom we paid for our sushi lunch trays in a 7-11 store in the train station: no verbal communication, no smile, no response to our arigato gozaimas (thank you). Communication consisted of pointing. But these were the exceptions not the rule.
At the local train stations a poster relies on illustrations to inform the foreigner who reads no Japanese. This informed us, for instance, that we may not carry on the train eight sticks of dynamite with the fuse lit. Equally no gasoline if carrying a lighted flame; no poisons or gas canisters; nor any of a variety of sharp blades. One item, however, remains a mystery: a substance in green bottles labelled in Japanese.
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| Items forbidden on the Seibu line trains. |
Train travel involves multiple jingles. As you wait on the platform, there is a jingle that alerts you to the announcement that the train is arriving. There is another to tell you that the doors will close. On board there may be a third jingle to inform you that the next stop is imminent and is about to be announced. Given the vast number of people who move about Japanese cities daily, the human exposure to jingles is massive.
On the whole the Japanese charmingly and diligently welcome visitors who have learned little or nothing of their language, sometimes go a long way to help and inform them. The traveller who takes the time to learn some phrases that deal with the basics of simple phrases for shops, restaurants, transport, and simple politeness, can deal with most situations if the person you are speaking to can respond with similarly basic phrases in English. But at the same time the Japanese keep a certain amount in reserve on the assumption, correct perhaps, that the foreigner would never understand the finer points of Japanese language and culture.
Arigato gozaimas.
In an earlier post I mentioned that we now have an earthquake emergency kit in our apartment in Higashi-Nagasaki., We realized the significance of earthquake preparation in conversation over dinner with our friends Yuri and Matsushi Kinashi and the family of their daughter Yukari. Matsushi owned a home in the Noto peninsula not far from Kanazawa. The house had been in his family since his grandparents, and possibly longer, so it had been a family home for many decades, and Matsushi planned to pass it on to his son. On 1 January 2024 the family was spending the New Year holidays in Noto, when a powerful earthquake struck. Yuri told us that a crack appeared in a wall that was so wide that they could see clearly into the next room. The family evacuated to the local community hall, but after a few hours decided to drive back to Kanazawa. The home in Noto was declared to be beyond repair and has been demolished. Even in Japan, where preparations for earthquakes are thorough, the quake killed 584 people plus two still missing.
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