Noah, and Other Members of the Zark Family

Toyota makes a van called Noah. I'd noticed it before and thought it was a funny name for a car. Wondered if the people who named it had ever read the Bible, etc. 

And then one day I was standing on the sidewalk watching a Noah drive by and it dawned on me: this is a large van for Japan. At least large for a passenger vehicle in Japan. They did read the Bible (or maybe heard the book on tape version). 

Far as I can tell it doesn't come complete with a male and female of every species. Maybe they didn't read the entire story.

The Medical Profession

So what's with the medical profession there in the States? Some time ago a dentist shot a known and named lion in Africa or somewhere, and now there's a vet who shot a cat with an arrow and posted it on Facebook. She says feral, neighbors say pet. You know, a tomato, tomahto sort of thing. Now she's fighting to keep her veterinary license. 

I'd say she should lose her license just for proving she's not smart enough to be a vet. As dumb as we are all getting, soon the police will need only Facebook to investigate our crimes.

So far as I know at this time, the medical profession here in Japan is nowhere near that colorful. Or violent? Well, at least not as colorful.

Since I last wrote about the dentist I have been to a chiropractor, and then back to the dentist. I will see them both again today.

The chiropractor was nothing unusual except that he spent about an hour working me over. 

Back at the dentist, different doctor this time - perhaps luck of the draw on that, the clinic seems to have at least four. Pain had not subsided since last visit, and I figured they were going to do a root canal. But he determined that the tooth was actually cracked up into the root and extracted it. At least I didn't need a root canal. (I had actually suspected it was cracked the last time and mentioned it. But apparently it was difficult to find until I cleaved it further, breaking away the temporary seal.)

It will be interesting to see what they recommend for long-term repair. That clinic does do implants, but I do also have good teeth on both sides, so we'll see if they recommend a bridge instead. 

I didn't know the words for the various instruments he kept sending his assistant after. But I'm pretty sure if I could have remembered them long enough to have looked them up, they would be along the lines of number 58 monkey wrench, crow bar, 12 pound mallet, needle noise vice grips, and long-handled channel locks. 

The tooth may have broken, but that didn't mean it didn't have every intention of remaining in my head. The dentist didn't take "no" or "ouch" for an answer, however. Actually, he did ask after my welfare a number of times, and gave me an extra shot - which hurt about as much as the wrenching - when I wasn't quite numb enough up high.

So far, I'm impressed with the representatives of the medical profession I've met here. Silly me, I can't help but find some fun in the new experiences, monkey wrenches and all.

Land of a Million Javelins

I remember, as a kid, howling with laughter at an episode of Bugs Bunny, one in particular. Some hillbillies were after the good rabbit, and it appeared he'd finally met his match when he began calling a square dance. As the billies got dancing, he called, "Grab a fence pole, hold it tight, hit your partner with all your might." Not ones to argue with the caller, so it would seem, they each grabbed a pole from the fence and began whacking each other, thereby taking their minds temporarily off of the hunt. 

In most part of the US, one might be more likely to be hit by a 2x4 than a fence pole. In Japan even that is quite unlikely. A trip past a local lumberyard has me reasonably convinced the the Japanese equivalent of a 2x4 is a 4.5x10.5. The wood I saw didn't have units, but given the size and the modern local tradition, I'd guess they're centimeters. This, by my calculations, is about 1 3/4 x 4; a 2x4 more or less. Though the name doesn't have quite the same ring to it, a whack would probably hurt about as much either way. 

But it seems to me even more than a 4.5x10.5, the thing the traveler might not have known to be fearful of is the laundry pole.

Above a good many of the sidewalks in Tokyo, there are apartments, and a good many of them have balconies with poles for hanging clothes, like this. 

Let's just say, if anyone up there ever loses track of one of these, it's rather likely to be noticed down below.

When a golf ball takes a bad arc, the golfer yells "fore!" So, if you're in Japan and hear someone yell "ten and a half!," or the Japanese equivalent "juutengo!," it may be time to duck.

The Dentist

Do you remember the Steve Martin & Bill Murray scene in Little Shop of Horrors where Martin is the dentist who enjoys inflicting pain (as they most seem to do) as he sings "I am a dentist," and Murray is the patient who enjoys the inflicted pain (as most of us seem not to do)? 

Well, my story's nowhere nearly as good as that one. But I did go to the dentist in Japan for the first time yesterday. First time as a patient, that is. Some years back I did take my wife to a dentist in Japan; she had an abscess when we were visiting relatives and received excellent care from a young dentist way out in the country.

So, anyway, it was Thursday, later afternoon and I was having a bite of steak for dinner when something went crunch and my tooth began to hurt. Of course I don't know exactly where there's a dentist though I've seen shops around. And I have no clue which is any good. So I went to Google and found three near my apartment.

The nearest one, a Dr. Kobayashi, is closed on Thursdays. I couldn't find Dr. Nishida, who's name suggests he could be a distant relative, though probably isn't. It was raining a bit, but not enough for an umbrella, so I had my glasses in my pocket which didn't help. But I went back and forth a bit before giving up on him (her?) and went on down to a dental practice near the nearest train station. This one I found (second pass), and it was open. Note that this sort of office is often on a higher floor of a building and might not have a large obvious sign. Indeed, this one wasn't large, but possibly should have been obvious.

I don't know the doctor's name because the practice was named for the part of town, rather than for the doctor. She might have told me her name, but I didn't catch it. I thought she might be a dental assistant until she began drilling on my tooth, with an actual assistant's help. At that point I rather suspected, and hoped, that she was a dentist. She didn't sing a catchy tune like Steve Martin, which would have given her away in a hurry.

Anyway, an older filling had failed. Probably the one my Texas dentist has been keeping an eye on, saying it's not looking good, but he's not going to dig it out while it seems to be working for me (unlike Martin for sure).

She drilled it out and patched me up with cement and said as long as it's not still hurting when I return on Tuesday she'll make a mold. She also asked my choice of materials. Between that and the mold I asked her if this meant she was going to put a crown on it. But she said no, it will be a filling. So, I'll report later on how that works out. I've never had a mold for a filling before. 

By the way, when they took the x-ray they had me stand under a machine and bite on a gizmo while the machine spun around my head. Even though my Texas dentist's a bit of a gadget junkie, I'd never had this done before. When I told my wife about it, she said she'd had that done at an endodontist in Texas, but never at our regular dentist. So, I'm thinking, if this lady has a whirly x-ray machine, she can probably  be trusted with a filling, even if it does require a mold, and even if, possibly, she is a dental assistant.

By the way, the whirly x-ray cost me $40. (I'm paying cash for now, and will submit all to insurance later.) Let's see you beat that in Texas. And Texas is the cheapest place I know of in the US. Food for thought, but don't bite down too hard.

If You Can't Read it, Don't Ask Us!

I wouldn't necessarily be reading a novel in Japanese except that I find myself in the middle of a project that now and then requires me to write a sentence or two of literary Japanese. So I'm reading a novel to familiarize myself with the style. (In English you can read about this project in my Arrowsmith blog; in Japanese it's my Nihongoman blog.)

So there I was on the train reading a Japanese translation of Dan Brown's The Puzzle Palace when a group of older ladies boarded. One sat next to me. Within a minute she said, in Japanese, "Are you reading that?"

I assured her that I was. Before long I was in a conversation with the group of them. I was asked my age, how long I've lived in Japan, the whole works. As we conversed I told them that I certainly do run into characters that I don't know, or at least can't recall at that moment, but I'm at the point where I can usually still get the meaning.

Two of the ladies said, "Well,  if you do run into a character you don't know, don't ask me!" We all laughed. I'm sure everyone of them can read circles around me, but it's true, even they certainly do encounter characters they can't read from time to time, just as we Americans sometimes run into an English word we don't know.

A few minutes later one of the ladies said she knows how to say one thing in English, and that's "Have a nice day." 

Just then the train stopped at their destination and the lady next to me said, "Have a nice day," and they were gone. I'll bet their smiles lasted a while; mine surely did.

On Earthquakes

Sometimes when we're in Texas we have a Japanese friend or relative call to check on us saying something like, "I heard there was a tornado in Texas." Well, Texas is big, and has lots of tornadoes; the likelihood any particular one hits me is pretty low. But you don't necessarily know all that when you live elsewhere and have never been to Texas.

Similar with the earthquake. Looks like a pretty good shake, tragic for a few people, and very traumatic for a good many others. But very far from Tokyo. It's true Japan is not as large as Texas, but it is about as large as California, and it's something like San Francisco to San Diego in this case.

Having had a good number of meetings with the US during the Japanese nighttime in the days prior, I was asleep when the quake hit. My wife, who was awake, said she'd felt a slight shake in Tokyo a couple hours before. It's possible that was a slight tremor here, they're common, but unlikely it had anything to do with the quake down south. She said she felt nothing at all near the time news of the quake erupted on TV, which is what I'd have expected.

Anyway, thanks for your concern. The people in Kumamoto can use all the positive energy you can send their way. Bad as it was, I think back about some of the bigger ones, and feel grateful this one's not as bad as they can be.

I know you're translating it, but can you read it?

Years ago I was out in town in the US somewhere translating a Japanese document while I waited for the kids. Someone happened by, saw the document and said, "Can you read that?"

I answered that I was translating it to which she responded, "But can you read it?"

While, it's very true that I've seen, and possibly even produced, translations that didn't look like the translator was able to read the original, any credible translation of course requires a thorough understanding of the original, which in turn typically requires reading.

I bring this up, however, because I occasionally have a Japanese acquaintance interact with me in a way that requires reading, seem to notice nothing unusual, only to be surprised later to find that I can read. 

Perhaps at one level reading, being something most people do, doesn't stand out very much. At another, when they stop to think about it, "Oh, wait a minute (you're a foreigner) can you read that?"

So, I've had people after I get off the stage having given a presentation in Japanese ask if I can read. Probably they don't realize my rote memorization skills are much weaker than my reading skills. I'd never have been able to do a long presentation like that without being able to read my ques from the presentation material.

I've had people after a meal at a restaurant where I ordered from an all-Japanese menu express surprise at some later point that I can read.

And I've even had people with whom I've exchanged significant quantities of e-mail in Japanese ask me if I can read. And you thought I was able to appropriately answer your e-mail exactly how, if I couldn't? (One must be able to read to even write the language. One types it phonetically, but then has to choose appropriate characters from lists of words with those pronunciations. While I'm sure I get some wrong sometimes, it would be incomprehensible if it were too terribly wrong.)

Truth is, these days reading is often easier for me than understanding what some people say. People who talk fast or softly, or speak of subjects I'm not very familiar with can leave me in the dust. I've been in the US most of the past 30 years, and my ears ain't as young as the rest of me. But I can decipher the same information in written form since I have a little more time to do so, and because written language contains so many cues and clues that it can be easier to figure out.

Similar to Greek and Latin roots in English, much Japanese is made up of compounds of Chinese characters. If you hear a combination you don't know, it's sometimes hard to guess from so many possibilities what it could be, though sometimes you still can due to context. But if you know one or both of the characters, it becomes much easier to guess what the compound is when you see it. Many words are pronounced the same, but each character also has a unique meaning, which really narrows down the choices.

Wait for me, you're under arrest!

I have written previously about an experience involving the Tokyo police. Today we had another.

Just off the phone with the US, it was the middle of the night here and since we were both wide awake we decided to go out for a walk. 

One can do that here, thanks in part to the Tokyo police, and thanks in part, I do believe, to a society that believes in teaching morality in the classroom, and, indeed, in every activity every day. (Yes, it can be heavy sometimes, but it works.)

Tokyo has small police offices called 'koban' all over the city. Just as we were passing one of these, a taxi pulled away from the curb outside. Not sure what the taxi did to incur his wrath, but the officer inside sprung from the door, mounted his bicycle, and took out after it. (We were close to being casualties of a police chase, though the damages would have likely been something like a bruise or a skinned knee.)

Now, I'm guessing that the officer saw that the taxi was at a red light and figured he had a shot. But it's funnier to think of the officer huffing and puffing down the street falling further and further behind the taxi, only to be saved by a red light. You choose the version you like. I'm actually not entirely sure, except that the officer did only travel about 100 yards, or meters as they're called in this part of the world.

Anyway, at the red light, the officer blew his whistle and wheeled in front of the the taxi. When the light changed he directed it to an open spot under a bridge where I assume they conducted the kind of business that gets conducted at times like this.

Needless to say, watching a bicycle cop chase down a taxi is not something one gets to do just every day.

By the way, one of my wife's friends said she'd heard that police boxes are called koban even in the US. My wife said no. I asked, "Do we even have police boxes in the US?" Maybe in NYC or somewhere, but, according to TV, the officers all spring out of precinct houses and head out on patrol. No?

Oh, and if koban sounds vaguely familiar, you might be thinking of the Japanese evening greeting konbanwa though it has nothing in common with the police box besides a few shared syllables and the fact that it's very likely said to and by officers sometimes, mostly in the evening one would expect. Perhaps it was even said by a very contrite taxi driver last night.

Ura & Omote (Front & Back)

Some people complain that Japanese people have ura & omote, or font & back. While all people everywhere have a front & back, what this actually means is that Japanese people are very polite to your face, but say mean things behind your back. 

One of my professors said "Intelligence, no matter how artificial, is always better than stupidity, no matter how genuine."

This is pretty much how I feel about ura & omote. While there's certainly something honest and authentic about someone who's an asshole even to your face, I think I'd prefer they save the assholiness for when I'm not around.

To me, Japanese people are plain nice. I'm sure now and then some of them have said something later about that weird foreigner. And, if I heard it, I'd likely agree with their assessment. I am a weird foreigner here. And when I'm in the US I'm a weird native. I can live with it.

Shave 'n a Haircut

In the old days in Japan a haircut was usually 2500 Yen and included a hot towel to the face, a neck and shoulder massage, stinky powder applied all about, etc. Although in those days 2500 Yen was only $10, I was almost as cheap then as I am now, so I'd still look for a bargain that didn't include all the extras. One of my Japanese buddies talked a barber into cutting his hair for 500 or 600 Yen, I think it was, and, let's just say, he didn't need to go back for a long time.

Fast forward to today, or yesterday rather, which is when I got this particular haircut. I'd noticed that it's possible to pay 4500 Yen for a cut, but also possible to pay 1000 Yen. These days - particularly these past few months - 1000 Yen is almost $10. So maybe $10 is the universal price for this service.

Well, anyway, my wife and I had noticed a family salon in our neighborhood advertising the 1000 Yen price. When we happened by yesterday the barbers, stylists, hair technicians, or cosmetologists were standing around, so we stopped in. First there was a machine to check us in and give us a number. Then there was a machine to buy a ticket. These machines are pretty common in Japan at lower-priced, quick diners, for instance. You buy a ticket for the meal you want and go sit down. I think it basically saves a small establishment one person at busy times.

So far as I recall, that's the first time I've bought a ticket for a haircut, though I've done it many times for a meal. But the funny thing was as I was chatting with the barber, he asked me what foods I like, and I was telling him about a new little diner around the corner from him. He told me he'd tried it too, but he didn't realize one had to buy a ticket, and went in and sat down, only to be told to go back and buy a ticket. He acted like that was kinda weird, which struck me funny. 

As for the haircut, worth every penny. I'd have even paid 11 or 12 hundred Yen for it, but don't tell him please. I can't imagine that a 4500 Yen haircut would be better, unless maybe you can do the entire thing over the Internet, that might be worth it.

Plumbers

I recall that years ago when we leased one of these by-the-month furnished apartments, the mail box was often filled with flyers for houses for sale. This is true this time too and makes some sense. But what surprised me is that already we've had two refrigerator magnets from plumbers. Don't they know the landlord takes care of those things?

But then I realized that the management office is only open 10 to 8, and both of the plumbers advertise 24 hour service. I guess if one had a really big problem in the night, he might actually call one of these guys.

And then it struck me; what if these plumbers are smarter than I am? I had visions of battling a small plumbing issue all night, barely keeping it contained. Then, frantically calling the office at 10:00 AM to report the issue, only to have them say, "I hope you kept one of those magnets."

Tie Yer Shoes

There's a tiny shoe store just down the street. I don't think it's quite as large as my small home office. An older guy sits in there day after day. Now and then I see him on the street. Granted, it's only been a month, and I don't go past more than an average twice a day, but I don't think I've ever seen a customer in there. Hopefully he's got a thriving online business. Maybe he even owns understock.com.

When the weather was cold he was in there huddled near an electric heater. When his shop is open he has shoes on racks out front, usually for around $10. Not sure about the stuff inside, but that outside isn't Italian leather, or leather at all for the most part.

Well, anyway, the word for shoes is kutsu, and the character for that word is above his door in a huge font. My joke has been that some evening I'm going to climb up there and write the word tai in front of the word kutsu to form the word taikutsu, meaning boredom. Unlike the kutsu, the small size of the shop doesn't limit the amount of taikutsu that can be therein housed, but rather increases it.

Of course, if I did get up there and write tai, it still wouldn't be the right way to write the word taikutsu. But some clever folks would get the point. And since tai is pronounced like tie, it can also mean tie your shoes, but perhaps only to those possessing the very pinnacle of cleverness, Mount Cleverest if you will.

And Just How Great Was He?

I don't know exactly where is the Japanese equivalent of Madison Avenue, assuming there is one, or what it's called. But if I ever do find it, I have a few questions for them.

The other day I wrote about a store called Don Quixote, the name of which suggests shopping futility, at least to me. Today while shaving with my Gatsby shaving gel, a similar thought struck me: I guess they must have been thinking, when they came up with this brand - a popular one for men's toiletries - "Let's name it Gatsby, he was pretty Great!" But, if you know the story, it turns out he's really not all that great, perhaps like the gel?

This is, by the way, the first time I have used something called shaving gel. The drug store where I bought it had many varieties of gel, and not so many of foam, so I gave it a try. It works alright, though it's not easy to see where you've been since it's just a clear gel. But it does make the blade glide easily over the face, which is at least one major requirement. Next time I'll probably go back to some sort of foam. Maybe even Gatsby's.

Masks in Full Bloom

It's pretty well known that many Asians wear masks. It's my impression that they wear them if they've got a bit of a cold, so as not to share it with others, or if others around them have a bit of a cold. Certainly at this time of year a good number of them are wearing them due to pollen.

The other big thing going on in Japan right now is what is known as hanami, or flower viewing. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom, and there are festivals here and there, and hoards of people out to see the blossoms. 

On TV they said 250,000 people were at Ueno Park the other day to see them. I'll take their word for it since I'm too lazy to count them myself. Besides, though I like Ueno Park, I typically avoid the place when it has more than 249,999 visitors.

A few days ago I did take a walk through Tetsugakudo (Philosophy Tower) Park; the blossoms had already bloomed, but it was early enough in the day that there was not yet a crowd, and I will say it was pleasant indeed. But by the time I took my wife back there, seventeen minutes later, the crowd was building and the pleasantness quickly diminishing, at least for me. 

(Why, you might ask, does a guy who doesn't like crowds, or conformity, love Tokyo so much? The answer my friend, is, along with the pollen, blowin' in the wind at Philosophy Tower Park.)

Now, I don't mean to make light of the suffering of others - I myself have terrible hay fever in dry climates, though essentially no allergy trouble at all in Japan - but it strikes me as slightly humorous that the most pleasant thing going on may be related to one of the most unpleasant, so one has to wear a mask to go out to see the blossoms, as is this lovely lady.

Drinkin' The Water

About fifteen years ago, when I was in a supermarket near my Tokyo hotel, an American woman came up to me with two large bottles of water. Raising them both so I could see, she said she couldn't figure out which one to buy. 

Suspecting I knew the answer, I asked her what she intended to do with it and she explained that she'd heard so much about not drinking the water when one travels, she thought she'd better buy these for brushing her teeth and for drinking.

I told her that they were both just water, so either would be fine, but so would the water in the hotel. 

I've been drinking it now for 34 years, and have never experienced a bad taste or odor, and never heard anyone say anything about the water being unsafe. Typically, the water pressure is even quite good. It certainly is in our current apartment.

So, even if you decide you don't want to drink the Kool Aid, the water itself is fine.