Month: July 2022 (page 1 of 1)

September 24, 2019

I came to Japan for the first time in two years after completing my overseas assignment. I stepped off the plane, Japanese were everywhere and what they said clearly audible. That made me realize that I was Japanese. People around me saw myself as Japanese and of course never teased for my Asian face.

When I approached a LAWSON, it made me nostalgic to hear its musical doorbell. I wanted to drink green tee. There were various option of payment―cash, credit card or electronic money: PayPay, Line Pay, Rakuten Pay, etc. Which reminded me of too many functions of Japanese product like TV: no one have a good command of it, unlike Apple product like iPhone that is simple.

It is a typical of Japan. It is good to promote efficiency, but they are not good at consolidating a system. I had decided to centralize my payment in Rakuten with a good point return rate. I took its card from my pocket the way American do.

I took Narita Express to Shinjuku. I felt comfortable with its great speed. Before long, however, a melancholy atmosphere came over me; I missed the ease of conversation that I can have with strangers the way I had been abroad. If you talked to a stranger without any particular reason, you are seen as weird. If a man did to a woman, he is a seducer.

Shinjuku is always crowded. I walked into a drug store and was satisfied to buy something I craved for. It occurred to me that I heard my fellows say “Let’s eat steak in Ginza.” It was none of my business. I did not want to be with the Japanese who prefer to act as a group that values harmony. No openness, no optimism, and tenuous friendships. It is always boring. I wondered why they would not spend time and money with their loved ones. I am not a Japanese who stick in a Japanese group. I am a man who is out in the world.

To leave my heavy baggage, I headed to the capsule hotel where many foreigners stay. Since I was a backpacker, I did not mind sharing a room. Though from the facade the hotel did not look like much more than an obscure building, it had a variety of facilities―a cafe like a manga library with free drinks, man-made hot springs with modern amenities and a coworking space.

In the cafe, I put the food onto the table, microwaved rice and poured hot water into the instant soup. But why eat steak in Ginza today? As long as we were abroad, virtually we could not do Japanese food. I placed natto neatly on top of my white rice with my chopsticks; putting a beaten egg and soy source on the whole. I took bites of rice and natto over miso soup and I was in heaven.

I woke up in the middle of the night because of jet lag and wandered around the hotel. This hotel was in a glass building overlooking pedestrians and vehicles in the busy main road that glistened in the city. Tokyo never sleeps. I was afraid that I would have to work to death, sighing.

When I thought this, I saw a group of businessmen stumbling through the sidewalk. I knew that drinking is to forge a relationship and share your true inner feelings. They complain about their company that they were never going to leave and conclude that they maintain the status quo. I simply thought it ridiculous. It is like symptomatic treatment to ease their distress, not radical one. If you had such time, you would be better off acquiring new skill to leave your company.

I do not necessarily like working, but hate drinking for work. Perhaps you want to go up, and if so, you had better join it. If you do not drink alcohol, you can find other ways to partake in golf, pachinko or mahjong, according to your boss’s preference or the custom in your company. Unfortunately, I am incompatible with all of them, that is, I am a social misfit.

On the other hand, women have the privilege to refuse to invitations. Sensible men (in Japan, most managers are men) fear being accused and punished for what they would perceive as harassment. Like a man hold a strap with both hands on a crowded train to avoid being mistaken for a molester. The best strategy to do it was to say “I have small kids waiting for me.” You would know that their children had not grown up over the years.

As for ordinary Japanese couples, men devote his life for work and women devote her life for her children without a housekeeper. Traveling abroad for a month is out of the question unless they quit their job. I never wanted my life to be controlled. I love traveling as a backpacker.

I was not sleepy at all and went down the stairs to soak in the hot springs, where I would talk with strangers.

One particular Thursday, to go to the church, she could not afford to prepare dinner for me. To this day, she handed me money. “Go Kentucky. Eat chicken.” In her mind, Eating out was KFC, like ordinary families and young people said ‘’Let’s go McDonald’s.” “Ah…Is there any other way? It’s so oily.” “You said you want to eat ‘chicken,’” she said with her angry look. that was when I knew, for her, speaking of “chicken,” nothing better than Kentucky Fried “Chicken.”

No matter where I eat, I can not enter her house by myself. “You’re right. I will go to Kentucky,” I gave in to her. “Sorry to bother you again. Please tell me how to open the door.” She still looked irritated. She fit one key after another into the locks and handled the door knobs roughly. “You understand?”she looked at me with a ferocious expression that was enormous pressure on me. ”Okay, thank you very much,” I said; she disappeared.

I remained standing by the door of my host house as a BMW drove up and stopped. A young chauffeur got out and opened the rear passenger door. She walked like a big shot through the darkness. “Phew, you waited for me, ha ha!” I did not know why she was in high spirits.

Next Sunday morning, she was trimming the shrubs in her garden. “Can I give you a hand?” I asked. “Phew, you want to cut, ha ha!” she handed me a pair of shears and sat in the chair shaded by the roof, and gave instruction: “cut one time,” “further in,” and “that’s right”―like she was a film director. Then she read a book over coffee. Then, one hour later, the neighbors came over, chatting. Now I was done and she had slept.

This afternoon, after swimming at Pigeon Island, I rushed home―she was so pleased I had done trimming that she was to take me to the church. The door was left open; she must prepare the chauffeur like her henchman. “Sorry, I was a little late,” I said, entering her house; she sat in her own chair. “K … I am exhausted,”she did not move from her chair.

The meals with sugar she cooked kept high quality, and the next thing I knew I ate up all the food on my plate. After dinner, I was supposed to study English in my room, but I went straight to bed and slept. Then I woke up midnight. She would sleep deeply. With that, I opened the door quietly and tiptoed to the dim glow near the kitchen, where there were a few cooking pots on the gas stoves. I picked up a pot lid―delicious pieces of fried plantain. This was my home and I reached for a slice.

Sugar is as dangerous as tobacco. I was always sleepy and craved for something sweet. In the evenings I would have watched the DBS news in my room. Diabetes. Diabetes. Diabetes. Every single day, everyday you would hear from the newscaster, the man like a bodybuilder who was irrelevant to it. When I rolled up my T-shirts, I realized I put on some weight around my waist.

In the mornings I ate breakfast at the dining table while she watched TV away from me. Sit in her chair, laughing boisterously. She would not look around unless I talked to her. I took bread, a muffin and a banana, curled myself in a ball around them, and left the room; saying “I’m done. Thank you for the good meal.” In my room, I put them in a plastic bag, stuffed them into my bag and went to my office. 

Whenever walking to client’s house, my colleague, a middle-aged woman dropped in at shop to buy snacks. And most of female ones bought box lunches that were sold by local shops. What astonished me was that they ate about three times as much as I did.  In contrast, I had never seen a Japanese woman do more than me.

On the fridge in the corner of the office, I saw a notice up, saying,“inventory.” As they devoured their lunch, I opened it slowly. The inside was full of light-resistant bottles. “What are these?” I asked one of them nearby. “Energy drinks,” she stood up and took one from the fridge looking at the nutrition facts on the label. “Vitamin B2 … vitamin B6 ‥ good. It suffices for those who have diabetes.” They seemed to think energy drink offset diabetes. “But, high-carb …” I said. “Yeah,” she twisted it open and drank it in one gulp.

When I went home she put an ice pack on her knee. “What happened?” Basically I do not talk to her. “Swollen,”she said. “Do you feel pain?” I asked. “Yes.” She was silent for long. I left my stuff in my room and came back to her. “Would you show me your knee?” “Sure.” I kneeled down beside her, placed my hands on her knee, and begun massaging―“you’re a good guy … When are you moving out?”she asked. “Day after tomorrow,” I said, without looking at her. There was silence for a while. Then I heard a voice say: “I’ll miss you … ”