Lazy Friday night

Posted on July 17, 2015 by Yvonne

Chris didn’t even spend 24 hours back in New York after our flight back from Japan because he had to leave for an early morning work flight to San Francisco on Tuesday morning. He came back this afternoon to just want delivery at home and an evening on the couch, which I was more than happy to do. Although I’d been home a few nights this week after work, I was still occupied with cleaning, tidying up the apartment, sorting through edibles and gifts we brought back from Japan, as well as general housekeeping and to-do lists for life back in the Real World. Tonight is a night when we can both relax and just be lazy.

Both of us are not lazy people — we have huge qualms with lying around and not being productive. But sometimes, after a lot of chaos, hectic travel, and seemingly endless professional tasks (as work was quite hectic for me this week), it’s nice to have a handful of hours devoted to doing absolutely nothing.

Bathroom sounds

Posted on July 16, 2015 by Yvonne

There are lots of sounds that we hear every day that we probably don’t take much notice of. One of those sounds is the sound of our own peeing, or even the peeing of other people in the same bathroom in shared restrooms. Most U.S. public restrooms have doors and stalls that do not go all the way up to the ceiling, so as soon as we enter public restrooms that have others in it, we will inevitably hear the sound of other people urinating.

The reason I bring this up is that prior to visiting Japan, I read an article of a traveler who had been there who said that the Japanese are so disgusted by the sound of urination that they would leave the water running while peeing. They had to do something, anything, to block out the sound of their own bodily action. As a society, they realized this wasn’t sustainable since this would result in a lot of water waste, so they started creating everything from recycled water in individual toilets trickling down to mimic the running water sound, to even motion-activated devices that begin making flowing water sounds as soon as it senses someone sitting on the toilet seat next to it. Much to my own intrigue, I experienced all of the above at various bathrooms, from our hotel rooms and ryokans to mall and historic site bathrooms. Surprisingly, even some of the lowest end bathrooms (you know, the Asian “squat” toilets) had motion-activated sensors that would give me the fake running water sound.

The last few times I used the restroom in Japan, I thought about the running water sounds in the bathrooms, and I realized that it was probably one of those things I wouldn’t miss. They were really more of a source of amusement for me than anything else and made it more apparent to me how repressed the Japanese can be.

Yawning in public

Posted on July 15, 2015 by Yvonne

Throughout the last two days at work, even though I have been pretty occupied with catching up on my very long to-do list, I randomly remember things I noticed or observed during our time in Japan. As I yawned and covered my mouth during a meeting today, I realized that on every single train ride, in the subway stations or even on the street, I never once saw anyone yawn. I’m sure it would be pretty outlandish for anyone in a white-collar work setting to yawn during a meeting the way I did, even if the person closed her mouth, as that would be perceived as very rude and disrespectful. Here, I yawn all the time and sometimes don’t even cover my mouth, whether it’s at work or in public.

I have a feeling that I will still recall tidbits of Japan for the next few weeks as I reminisce on our incredible time there and hope to go back sometime in the near future.

Dreaming of Kyoto

Posted on July 14, 2015 by Yvonne

Last night was our first night back in our own bed in New York in 11 nights. It was probably partially because of jet lag, but I dreamt that we were walking through the dark but well lit streets of Kyoto in Gion at night. There were all these bamboo potted plants and old tiled roofs and traditional Japanese doors, steps, and mini rock gardens. The primary colors that stood out during our walk were bright, golden yellow, warm brown, and deep, cool greens. As I entered what appeared to be a restaurant, Chris walked in first, and I followed him. He walked toward a dark room where there was a couch, and he pulled my hand toward him as he laid himself down on the couch and laid me down beside him.

The next thing I knew, it was about 2:30am according to my clock, and I woke up in our New York apartment. This wasn’t a dream anymore. I glanced around the room, not recognizing it for a moment, still trying to figure out where were were both sleeping and if we were still in Kyoto. I glanced to the left of my bed, where I saw framed photos of Ed on the wall that Chris had hung up almost two years ago. No, we’re not in Kyoto anymore, or Japan for that matter. We are back in New York and back to real life. The light that lit Ed’s photos up were not from warm Kyoto homes and restaurants, but rather the dull, cold light of the apartments outside our window.

Japan is in our past now.

Japanese vs. American Culture

Posted on July 13, 2015 by Yvonne

I’m on a Japan Airlines flight from Tokyo back to New York City, dreading the thought of going home and back to my usual routine. The excitement of our Japan trip has come to an end even despite the fact that I managed to convince Chris to check a luggage filled with numerous matcha green tea flavored biscuits, chocolates, and other treats. The treats will keep our Japan memories alive and prolonged, even if just for a little while.

I thought a lot on our Narita Express ride to the airport about the differences in Japanese vs. American culture and all the things I loved about Japan that I really never get in the U.S. I’ve mentioned this multiple times, but I absolutely hate the tipping culture in the U.S. I hate that it’s expected, even with the most horrendous service. It’s not even about “A for effort” as it is an “A for just breathing and existing and farting.” In Japan, there is no tipping, yet I personally experienced some of best, most impressive service of my life here. I have so many examples that I know for certain I will share with others and point to when I think of exemplar service. It just boggled my mind how kind, genuine, and polite everyone was, yet they expected absolutely nothing from me other than a head nod and an “arigato gozaimasu!” It made me angry about tip-collecting workers in the U.S. and their sense of entitlement to tips for service that could never even begin to compare to the service I got in Japan.

Everyone and everything is so punctual in Japan. When a train, according to the schedule, is going to leave at 6:47, you can bet everything you own that it will most certainly leave at 6:47. When people say they will meet you at 5:30, they will likely show up much earlier, and they will never, ever be late. People show up for work and meetings early; it’s a rare occurrence to see someone show up late. I’ve struggled with being punctual, especially with train delays in New York, but I do try hard to be on time to meet friends and always show up to work meetings on time. In New York especially, people are notorious for running late, showing up to meetings late, appearing at restaurants and movies and Broadway shows late — you name it. At some doctor’s offices I’ve visited, they apparently experienced so much lateness that they created a “late policy” where they will charge you $50 if you are more than 15 minutes late to your appointment. It’s gotten to that point. Sadly, lateness is summed up generally by a) disrespect and b) laziness. It’s part of the city culture that people do not respect punctuality.

Cleanliness is one of the major things that just kills me about Japan, and I realized like with being punctual, it’s summed up by a general respect for other people, your environment, and the general world around you. Respect. You don’t want to see trash there, so you won’t litter either, and will carry trash with you until you see a (rare) public rubbish bin, or until you get home. We did this everywhere we went across three cities in Japan. Recycling is also huge there. The majority of trash bins were separated out by bottles, paper, plastic, and “other.” This can really only be found in “green” cities in the U.S. like San Francisco and Atlanta.

Surprisingly, I even enjoyed the bowing, whether it was a simple head nod (which I did a lot there and I actually do with a lot of older family and family friends), or a deep bow like when we left our ryokan, and the front desk guy ran out to give us a 45-degree bow. Respect is a common theme throughout all these cultural aspects about Japan I loved.

The number one thing that sticks out to me where I prefer being in the U.S. over Japan (if I were to live there, that is) is the strict gender roles. Women still seem far more shy, submissive, and demure. My laughter, as I mentioned earlier, really stood out like a sore thumb there. And I know it’s because I was a woman, an Asian woman, in Japan, with that laugh. At an oyster kaiseki meal in Hiroshima one evening, our female waitress served Chris more helpings of oyster and mushrooms in a stew we shared than me. Chris noticed it first. He looked at his bowl, then looked at mine, and asked, “Hey, wait. Why is my serving so much bigger than yours?” I looked at both bowls and started grumbling. About 90 percent of the time, the bill was handed to Chris whenever we dined out, except the one or two times I motioned for the bill to come to me, but it was definitely headed in the direction of Chris.

I’m still stunned, though, by the overall experience of Japan and how enjoyable it was. While they certainly have some catching up to do in the gender equality department, we have a lot of work to do pretty much everywhere else.

Observations in Japan

Posted on July 12, 2015 by Yvonne

The last ten days have gone by so quickly that I am sad to say we are going home tomorrow. Each day has been jam-packed with early morning rises (we woke up pretty much every day between 4-6am and stayed out until at least 9:30-11pm, partly because of our internal body clocks, and also partly because we wanted to maximize our time here as much as possible), lots of sight-seeing, eating of the local foods, and observations of the everyday people who live in Japan as well as those who visit for pleasure. Ten days really isn’t that much time contrary to what a lot of people have said to me; it’s been a whirlwind of events without enough time to really relax and take it all in. Today, Sunday was really our only day to semi relax and wander the streets and go at a relatively leisurely pace.

I’ve seen and observed a lot of interesting things here. Of course, since I’m American and was born and raised in the U.S., my perspective is very obviously western, but these are a few of the things I have noticed in the three cities we have visited that I’ve found intriguing:

1. Obsession with cleanliness: There are rarely rubbish bins in sight anywhere — not throughout train stations, not in a lot of public restrooms, not even by vending machines unless you count the bottle-recycling-specific bins. How does Japan keep so clean when it doesn’t have common places to toss trash? We rarely saw any litter anywhere. And to add to the cleanliness obsession, even the most public restrooms on trains or at temples had toilet seat sanitation wipes or sprays. The cheapest restaurants we visited had complex toilets that allowed you to clean your front and your rear down there. Everything must be very clean at all times. Even your crotch. And even the anime porn has to be clean: again, all the penetration images are pixelated out.

2. Safety and trust in others: There was never a single second when I felt like we were walking through a “shady” neighborhood, and even when the streets did seem a tiny bit more grimy, I always felt safe. We passed by a “parking lot” of bikes on a random street in Kyoto one day, and after some inspecting, we realized that a large chunk of the bikes had no bike locks. Anyone could have just swiped a bike and run off with it, but apparently no one really felt this was a risk, so they decided to just forgo the locks. They trust others to mind their own business.

3. Following rules: I’ve already mentioned how orderly people move up and down stairs in the train stations, but people even line up at the car doors for the actual trains! Lines form where the passengers know the train doors will open (because of the little gates that open when the train arrives either being marked with a picture on the platform floor, or by the actual barriers opening). We saw the lines form everywhere; swarms into the train cars were rare.

4. Quality of service: At our ryokan in Kyoto every evening, we went back to our room to find a few sweet wagashi (Japanese traditional glutinous rice-based sweet treats) on our table with a pot of boiling water and a pot of cold water, a spread of different types of Japanese tea bags, along with our traditional beds laid out. When we checked out, the man working at the front desk not only bowed to us, but chased us outside as we rolled our luggage down the street to say a final goodbye and give us a low bow.

When we arrived in Hiroshima, the person checking us in told us that we were a bit too early and needed to wait a few hours for 2pm check-in to access our room. Chris said this was unacceptable given that he was a platinum IHG member, so as a consolation, not only did they escort us to their gorgeous lounge for complimentary champagne to enjoy while waiting 30 minutes for our actual room to be ready, but they also upgraded us to the executive suite (which by far was the most spacious hotel room I’d ever stayed in, and was likely bigger than our Manhattan apartment), and gave us four free items from the hotel in-room bar.

On our last day in Hiroshima, I waited too long and all the bakeries that sold momijimanju (maple-shaped fried cakes with bean paste or custard filling) closed by the time I wanted to buy some. I walked into our hotel cafe and asked if they sold them individually since I saw that they had the boxed sets of momijimanju on display. The host not only checked the supply with two different colleagues, but apologized to me about five times in different words about not having individual manju for me to buy.

When we arrived in Tokyo for our last leg of the trip, we arrived at our hotel room with our helper, who rolled all of our luggage up for us on a cart, to find that there was a huge baby crib in our room. She apologized profusely about this multiple times, with clear embarrassment on her face, and even made a note of it on our stay record so that when we checked out, the front desk worker mentioned it and apologized yet again.

This was a very long-winded but detailed way of stating that the quality of service here has been far beyond any expectations I’d ever had. It’s like people take it personally when you are disappointed and will go out of their way to make sure that you are 120 percent satisfied with everything they do for you.

5. Nail and eyelash salons: I rarely saw a nail salon that did not also mention eyelashes. Fake eyelashes, eyelash extensions, and mascara are huge for women in Japan. All over Japan regardless of the city, I saw women of all ages with long, thick, fake, extended — everything eyelashes.

6. Women’s shoes: For the most part, the majority of heels I saw women wearing here were fairly practical — probably no higher than two to two and a half inches, which are comfortable for everyday wear and walking. However, if they weren’t wearing low heels, they were wearing these god-awful and extremely high platform shoes, which Chris noticed because he witnessed a girl fall on hers in the middle of a crowded street. I guess my ballet flats aren’t trendy here.

7. Loudness (or quiet): I’ve been told I am loud by quite a number of people, but I’ve never noticed it more than when I’ve been in Japan. I have a loud laugh. I am a woman with a loud laugh. Women do not laugh loudly here. At all. The most they will do is giggle softly while at least half covering their mouths. I do not do that. I won’t do that. I will laugh the way I laugh. And that’s elicited a lot of staring from other tables at restaurants and even people on the street.

8. Vending machines: these things are everywhere on the most random residential streets, and you can get anything from them: cold tea, hot tea, iced (with actual ice) tea and soda and spritzers, even coffee and cappuccinos. It’s like convenience central here.

9. Fish for breakfast: pretty common, and pretty amazing. I’m really going to miss having this in the morning.

10. Japanese trains – subway, shinkansen – everything: So amazing, fast, clean, and efficient. Geez, does the U.S. have a lot to learn. And when (or if) they do, I’m willing to bet it won’t be anywhere as clean, fast, or well-priced. It’s cheaper to take a freaking subway train in Tokyo than it is to take the train one-way on New York City’s MTA, which is gradually increasing its fares, which have gone up about 50 percent since I moved to the damn city only seven years ago. Tokyo has precise time tables for everything. New York does not. That is total crap. The stations even have maps here that show you each subway platform, numbers each of the subway exits, and tells you which car to be at to be closest to the exit you want to go out from. They thought of this, and we didn’t.

11. The Asian Neck Slump: Asian men of all ages seem to bend their necks off to the side while zonking out on the trains. Sometimes, we saw them all lining up with their heads tilted to the sides in rows and rows on the trains. It’s as though it were all in unison and fully coordinated. Except we knew it wasn’t. And they always knew when exactly to wake up and get off the train. I can’t even imagine the types of neck pain they experience afterwards.

Japan has been an overwhelming experience for me. I leave overwhelmed and in awe of it all. Sure, i don’t love everything about it (I know for a fact I would hate being a woman in a society like this), but I don’t love everything about anything, so that wouldn’t be a fair bar, would it?

Meals that change your life

Posted on July 11, 2015 by Yvonne

Tonight, we took a long, swift, and smooth shinkansen ride from Hiroshima back to Tokyo, where we will be spending our last two nights in Japan. It’s always such a bittersweet feeling when I know a trip is near its end; for most of the places we have visited, I’ve always felt like there was never enough time to see, do, and taste everything we wanted. But then, there are always those amazing things that happen you never expect that you will always be able to look back on and remember, and realize how much it has the ability to change the way you view life.

For our time in Tokyo, that event was the ability to have an extremely notable meal at Sushi Yuu, which was recommended to us by one of Chris’s colleagues who works in their company’s Tokyo office. He met us during our dinner at Sushi Yuu, where he used to work as a sushi chef and of course is still friends with the owner, Daisuke Shimazaki, who personally prepared each and every one of the pieces of fish we ate tonight. Sushi Yuu does not have a Michelin rating, nor is it on any major top sushi list of Japan I have found, but it is one of the most amazing dining experiences of my life, very likely made even more exciting since we got to sit right in front of Dai as he prepared our sushi and told us about each little dish’s preparation and how it should be eaten. We were treated as special guests, which truly was so special for us. It helped that he spoke pretty good English to describe all these little details to us.

Before coming to Japan, I never really thought much about things like salmon roe or fish eggs, nor did I ever genuinely enjoy uni (sea urchin). Salmon roe was one of those things that I just ate because it might be on the side of my sushi platter in New York; uni always tasted like the guts of the ocean, and not in a good way. I would take a quick sniff, place the uni into my mouth, and swallow. And that weird, gutty taste would linger in my mouth after that I’d need to wash away with sake or green tea. Well here, Dai has showed us what very good salmon roe can taste like and how big and juicy the little individual orange-colored eggs can be. And when the juices squirt out in our mouths as we bit into the little eggs, it actually tasted sweet, like juices from the ocean. He carefully prepared the most delicate pieces of uni, all picked himself at Tsukiji Fish Market where he buys pretty much all of his fish every morning. I watched him as he removed each piece from a wooden box lined in bamboo strips; he made the entire sushi preparing and sashimi cutting process look so easy. The pieces were smooth and silky, not oozing and intestine-like the way the pieces back in New York were. Watching him cut and prepare everything was like real live entertainment, but with a huge learning experience woven into it.

Dai introduced us to anago, the sea eel that is leaner than its cousin unagi, which most of us know and have at Japanese restaurants. Unagi is river eel and is known for its high fat content. He’s the reason we ate actual, real bonito sashimi, as I’d only ever had bonito in the flake form at Japanese restaurants. And he also explained to us the growing and harvesting process for wasabi root; it takes about two to four years to grow wasabi that is just a couple inches long, and because of this, a kilo of wasabi that, on a busy day, only lasts him a single day to feed his customers costs him about 15,000 yen, or about $125 USD. He’s clearly not skimping out on good ingredients for his business.

He ended the meal by serving us some of his mother’s homemade plum wine, which she’d been fermenting for the last eight years, and serving us each a single slice of honeydew, cut up into bite sized pieces. For the first time in my life, I actually witnessed my Chris eating an entire piece of melon voluntarily, and not only that, but enjoying it. I guess it was a life-changing experience for both of us. Who knew how complex the sashimi world really was?

Genbaku Domu and peace museum

Posted on July 10, 2015 by Yvonne

This morning, we visited the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum. In the museum, they have a model of the devastation done to Hiroshima after the atom bomb was dropped, and they even marked the spot where this actual museum stands today. Many personal items from affected families were generously donated to the museum, so we saw and read about a lot of the personal stories of people who were here on that very hot day in August 1945.

One picture on display was of a woman wearing a kimono with a very intricate design at the time of the bomb dropping. The delicate pattern of the fabric got burned into her skin, leaving what looks like a tattoo of her kimono all over her back and arms. One of the many objects was a child’s single Japanese-style shoe. A mother went searching for her missing child after the bomb was dropped and found nothing – except a single sandal which she knew was her own child’s because the thong portion was hand-woven from a piece of her own old custom-made and designed kimono. No one else in the world had shoes like this – except for her child.

It’s always the personal stories that get me when it comes to events like this. I’m not trying to be callous when I say this, but when we learn that 350,000 people either died or suffered after effects from the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, these are just numbers to me – statistics like any other statistic about any other counted fact. What is the most moving as a human being are the personal stories of affected individuals, how these devastating events affected real people in real families in real neighborhoods. It’s what makes these events real to the people who were unaffected directly by it and able to at least slightly empathize with their experiences.

Let’s have peace

Posted on July 9, 2015 by Yvonne

We left early this morning to catch our shinkansen (bullet train) from Kyoto to Hiroshima. For most of us who are remotely aware of the atomic bombings that happened in Japan during World War II, we’d know that Hiroshima is the first city that the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on in an attempt to force Japan to surrender. The entire city was flattened almost instantly after the bomb was dropped that August morning of 1945. The city has since rebuilt itself, and has a large peace memorial park built to memorialize the victims of the first atom bomb devastation. It also has a well-known museum dedicated to this tragic event. Hiroshima has retained the one building left standing near the hypocenter where the bomb was dropped – or at least, its skeletal remains.

When I told a Japanese friend, who comes to Japan every year since she and her husband own a house in Hiroshima, that Hiroshima was on our Japan itinerary for this trip, she was very surprised. She said that of the people (very likely the majority of whom are American) she knows who have gone to Japan, few to none of them have visited Hiroshima. Tokyo and Kyoto are always on the list, though (for understandable reasons). “There’s really not much to do in Hiroshima,” she said to me, other than the obvious peace park and museum, so most tourists don’t actually go there of whom she is aware.

I was surprised to hear her opinion and experience on this speaking to other travelers to Japan, but when I thought about it, I realized of the people I know who have been to Japan, few had included Hiroshima on their list, too, other than Chris and his family, who are obviously huge travelers. To me, it seemed like a logical place, particularly as an American, to want to visit, given the history with the atom bomb dropping. But in that sense, why would Nagasaki not also be on the list, I suppose?

Tonight, we walked around the atom bomb dome to see the remains of the building left standing after the bomb dropped, and read the descriptions surrounding it. In the twilight, it was so eerie and seemed even more tragic. As I read the background on the city and the peace park before our trip, I got teary thinking about the devastation to families, many of whom were completely wiped out because of the atom bomb and its lingering ramifications on the survivors. Our parents generally teach us that when we do good things, good things will come to us; if we do bad things, bad things will happen to us. It’s clearly very simplistic and is even more painfully obvious that it’s just not true. None of these people did anything to deserve this level of devastation. And it was chilling to see the remains of the dome in person. Despite the heat and high humidity, I felt chills walking around the dome and thinking about all the people in it who died in seconds. Innocent lives were lost and multiple generations killed instantly.

As an American, I think it’s even more important for us to visit places like this. Our country is obsessed with stupid, inane concepts like American exceptionalism, the idea that we’re the best, the most developed and civilized, but we really should deal with the fact that we’ve done a lot of God-awful things to other countries that for some reason, most Americans just want to forget and ignore. We’re not the best. If we were truly the best, the gap between the richest and the poorest would not be so large, the infant mortality rate would not be so high, and there would actually be recognized and paid maternity and paternity leave at the national level. We would have trains that actually were on time, fast, and worked. We would truly and fully embrace other cultures and languages and not have so much ignorance about the rest of the world and how others live, breathe, and eat. Guns would not be as easy to get as a pair of shoes. We would recognize that the right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” also means the right to proper and full healthcare coverage, because without health, you have absolutely no real life no matter what any moron says. These are the moments I get really angry and embarrassed about being American because these are the things that the rest of the world knows about us and laughs at us about, but somehow in our own country, we’re still blinded by our own delusions, thinking we are number 1.

It’s hard to have and want peace in the world when you live in a country where people are blindly pro-war no matter what it is and think that the U.S. has to get involved in every war possible. Let’s just hope we don’t forget how we screwed up Japan to end World War II and decide to drop another atomic bomb somewhere else in the world to try to prove our delusional superiority.

590-year-old soba noodles

Posted on July 8, 2015 by Yvonne

I was first introduced to zaru soba noodles, or Japanese buckwheat noodles, when I was 12 by one of my best friends, who is half Japanese. We went to a traditional Japanese restaurant in San Francisco’s Japantown, which unfortunately today is defunct. Zaru soba is traditionally served cold in a little wooden box on a bamboo mat, with a thin, semi-sweet soy sauce that you mix wasabi and scallions into. You then dip the noodles into this sauce to eat. The reason it’s considered such a delicacy is that buckwheat, unlike regular wheat, is very hard to manipulate into pliable dough that is sturdy enough for noodles. It’s a subtle taste, not one for people who are used to very bold flavors. You really need to appreciate subtlety to enjoy zaru soba. I didn’t realize this at the time, nor did I realize that the overwhelming majority of soba noodles served and sold across the world had a higher ratio of regular wheat to buckwheat because of the difficulty in making them. However, today, we were lucky enough to try these delicate noodles made the very old-fashioned way in a gorgeous noodle house that has been operating in Kyoto for over 590-plus years. It really doesn’t get more authentic or traditional than that. I’ve never eaten at any restaurant that has been around that long, and I don’t know anyone else who has.

The biggest difference I found with these noodles was that not only were they lighter in color (the soba noodles back home were a deep grey color; these noodles were more like an off-white, pale grey), but the texture itself was very silky, emphasized even more in Chris’s hot soup version than in my cold dipping version. These noodles were so light to eat, far lighter than the buckwheat/wheat soba noodles back home in Japanese restaurants. We enjoyed our noodles with a few pieces of tempura, again very light with the thinnest fried batter, and some sake. On the table, they advised us to use the traditional Japanese green pepper and the ichimi (Japanese seven-spice mixture) as condiments. I’d had ichimi before and even have it in our kitchen at home, but had never had the Japanese green pepper before, which was peppery, hot at the finish, with a very strong lemony taste. This has been one of the most refreshing meals of our Japan trip so far.

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