Sunday, July 3, 2011

Supermarkets 2: Produce 「スーパーマーケット2:農産物」


When I made my first trip to the supermarket after coming back from Japan, I was immediately thrown off by the produce section.  There was counter after counter of fruits and vegetables, and by the counters was a set of plastic bags and a few scales.
 
That's right, I thought. How could I have forgotten?  Produce here is sold by weight.

It's the kind of thing that you may all take for granted, but it is something that had I had not thought of in ages..  In Japan, bananas and oranges and heads of lettuce are, for the most part, sold in units.  One bunch of bananas (pre-bagged) might be 388 yen, or a bag of five clementines may be 298 yen.  Cucumbers may be 98 yen each. Prices vary widely by season (in the off season, greenhouse-clementines, for example, climb to nearly 600 yen).  No weighing, no calculating.
Simpler, yes, but it certainly makes people pickier about which fruit they choose.  Do I take this bunch of three large bananas, or this other bunch of four small bananas?  Do these five apples amount to the same size as those five apples?  There was many a day in which I bought a bag of five clementines, only to find that one of the mix was in less than ideal condition.
I prefer the American system: choose the volume and weight that's right for you, and pick everything individually.  Perhaps I only want one apple today.  Maybe I want one each of several varieties of apple.  Perhaps today I only care to take home a small bunch of grapes.  If this leek is a few grams lighter than that one, then I want to pay a little less for it.  Sure, limiting those options means that you don't see many people hanging around the produce sections in Japan thumping melons, but if I'm going to be eating it, then I want to be able to choose the produce that's right for me.

Friday, June 17, 2011

Supermarkets 1: Access 「スーパーマーケット1:アクセス」

After a few days in the United States, it came time to go stock up on groceries.  As I had only just arrived, I was still living with my parents, and so we bundled into the car and went off to the supermarket.  I had forgotten just how far we had to drive to get food!

In Japan, supermarkets were very convenient.  In the last apartment that I rented in Japan, I could walk to two different supermarkets in less than five minutes!  I also had two 24-hour convenience stores and over ten restaurants that were equally close.

And no, I did not live in the city center.  Easy access to food was not limited to my suburb, either.  For my first five years in Japan, I lived in what Japanese people call 田舎 (inaka, literally "countryside," but used in conversation to mean "the middle of nowhere").  Even there, I lived a five-minute walk away from one supermarket and a twenty-minute walk away from another.

With food being so convenient, people usually don't buy a carload of groceries at a time.  Instead, they usually only buy a few days' worth, a small enough amount that the food can be carried home easily.  The mentality behind bagging groceries is, therefore, very different between the United States and Japan—but more on that another time.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Thirty 「三十歳」

Today is my thirtieth birthday.  A big milestone, of course.  In Japan, people would now be whispering, saying that something must be wrong with me for being thirty and single.  Here in the United States, people tell me that thirty is the new twenty.

This time, at least, I hope that the American opinion is correct.

Most of what has been going through my mind on this day is, perhaps fortunately for all of you readers, not within the scope of this blog.  I do, however, have something to say about turning thirty relative to my life in Videoland.

I spent the majority of my twenties in Japan.  Now I face my thirties in what is still, in some ways, a foreign country to me.  On to the next decade!

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Health Insurance 「健康保険」

Coming back to Massachusetts in the middle of April, I had a heck of a time getting Health Insurance.

I'm sure that just about anyone can agree that medical costs in the US are insane.  At some point, all of the various interests involved hammered out some sort of agreement in Massachusetts that requires everyone to have health insurance--and limits enrollment opportunities to certain periods of the year.  The closest enrollment period to my arrival, it seems, begins on July 1st.  There is, of course, public health insurance available for people, but my eligibility for that insurance is open to question (my application is currently pending).  Now, to all of you reading this who think "Of course you can get insurance; I know plenty of people who have done so," and to all of you who have already said that to me, I say: try it yourselves.  Go live in Japan for a few years with a respectable salary, leave your job voluntarily and move back to Massachusetts, then call up and ask for health insurance.  Go ahead; see what they say to you.  Then you can talk to me.

Yes, I'm a bit sharper than usual on this point, but it got a bit irritating to have people say "oh, it's such a so simple, just do such-and-such," right after I did exactly that such-and-such and had the representative say "You're not eligible."  So, in the end, I went down to the Community Health Center and met with a very helpful person who helped me to fill out an application.  I then had to wait a week to hear whether my application was accepted.

Soon after, an envelope arrived telling me that I was eligible and could now choose a plan.  The letter encouraged me to enroll online, but when the website soon proved to be more opaque and confusing than Myst, I decided to make a phone call.  After hearing all of the different options of plans and learning that only one of those options was recognized by my choice of hospital, I made my selection and then waited for my enrollment card to arrive.  I soon found myself in possession of a number of different cards and a large book detailing my plan, along with one more piece of surprising information.  My coverage wouldn't begin until the first of June.  That's right: I set about getting health insurance as soon as I set foot on native soil, but the soonest I can be covered is a month and a half after my arrival at home.

So, why this someone uncharacteristic rant on a culture shock blog?  Because health insurance is so much easier in Japan.  When I had a month in which I wasn't working, I simply went to the town hall and asked for one month of private health insurance.  I paid the fee (about $150 dollars) and was insured.  Fully insured, by the way--no talk about various plans with varying benefits.
Which was good, because that was the month that my appendix burst.

Of course, even without health insurance, medical care in Japan is quite affordable.  Case in point: I went to the dentist and had my teeth cleaned, got an x-ray taken, and had a flouride treatment.  The hygenist apologized profusely when handing me the bill, saying that I would probably be shocked because the treatment cost so much.  I looked at the bill and laughed.  Thirty dollars.

Oh, and that's not just dental work.  My burst appendix (which, by the way, is quite a story in and of itself—perhaps I'll tell it sometime)?  What would my medical bill have been for invasive surgery, lots of medicine, and 15 days in the hospital, had I not had any insurance whatsoever?

$6,500.

Needless to say, with my insurance, it was much, much less.

Say what you will about nationalized health insurance.  I've had it, I liked it, and, for the record, I never had trouble getting treatment or seeing the doctor I want to see.  Granted, the workings of Japan's health program extend far beyond simple national health insurance.  But it's a system that I liked quite a bit.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Measurements 「標準単位」

Ask me how long a foot is, and I'd have to look at my shoe before I gave you an answer.  I have no idea how heavy a pound is, and when people tell me that they live two miles away, I can't estimate how long it would take me to walk there.
For my first few years in Japan, I had the opposite problem.  I simply could not visualize one meter.

The imperial system of measurement is so ingrained in the United States that I doubt that the metric system will ever be successfully adopted.  After using both, however, I must say that the metric system is much easier for me to use.  I can understand why the scientific community is so fond of it: it is logical and concise.  No 12-inch feet or 16-ounce pounds, just good old base ten.  Imagining how different types of units relate to one another is easy, too.  What is one kilogram?  It's the mass of one liter of water, that's what.  I've gotten so used to giving lengths in meters and weights in kilograms that pounds and feet have completely dropped off of my radar.  I can't even give my own weight or height without calculating them from the metric system (thus the parenthetical in my last post).

Even Centrigrade has become second nature to me.  Tell me that it's 26°C outside, and I'll break out my T-shirt.  Centigrade, also known as Celsius, took me a while to get the hang of, however.  For a long time, I was doing the old C = (F-32) * 5/9 equation in my head after seeing the weather report each morning.  Good mental exercise, by the way.
Fahrenheit, however, has been easier to reaccustom to than some of the other Imperial measurements.  Perhaps it's simply because I pay so much attention to the weather.

Japan hasn't entirely gone over to the metric system, however: the floorspace in rooms is measured in using Japan's own system, 畳 (tatami, pronounced jou when used as a counting suffix).  Almost every home in Japan has at least one room that is floored with bamboo mats: tatami.  (The bamboo floors are, incidentally, a significant factor in Japanese people's distaste for wearing outdoor shoes in the house—even wearing indoor slippers on the bamboo mats is extremely rude.)  The size of tatami vary slightly by region, but they are generally slightly less than 1m x 2m, or just about 3'x6'.  When I was shopping for apartments in Japan, the realtors all gave me room sizes in tatami: (the standard size of a room is 6畳, six tatami mats).  And, yes, that measurement is used for rooms whether they are floored with bamboo or not.  After having lived in Japan for several years, however, I became able to visualize a 6畳 room without any problem, and so shopping for apartments in Japan was a breeze.  Even square meters became easy for me to understand.  Tell me that a room in a house has 35 square feet, however, and I'll have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.

The only measurement that remains easier for me in the imperial system than in the metric system is speed.  MPH still comes to mind much more readily than km/h.  Perhaps it's a side-effect of driving in the U.S., but not in Japan.
Oh, yes, driving.  Now THERE'S culture shock for you... but perhaps I'll save that for another time.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Girth 「メタボ」

I've often heard that about fifty percent of Americans are overweight.  Perhaps you think, "Oh, it really doesn't seem that bad."

You want a shock?  Go live in Japan for a few years, then come back to the United States.

People in Japan are fit.  And I don't just mean moderately well-shaped.  I mean FIT.  That's not to say that there are no overweight people in Japan—I did see quite a few heavy people—but concave abdomens were much more the exception than the rule.

And I don't mean that people were unhealthily skinny, either.

I was a high school teacher, and almost all of the boys had pecs and six-pack abs.  Don't get me wrong, it's not like I went around looking at my students, but when kids change for gym in the classrooms and have swimming classes and sports days and school festivals and what not, and when you're assistant coach of a track and field club, you see the occasional bare chest.  And they were in shape.  Even the kids in the art club and the computer club had muscles that most American high schoolers would kill for.

Now, why are they in such great shape?  The sports clubs certainly have something to do with it: clubs in Japan are serious business.  But that doesn't explain the computer club kids.  Well, as far as I can tell, it's simply diet and exercise.  Food is generally healthy and portions are small.  92% of kids at one of my high schools came to school by bike, and I'm sure that other schools post similar numbers.  Gym class in Japan is serious business.

Oh, and just in case you're wondering, it's not just something that can be passed off as Japanese genetics, either.  Take me as the example, if you will.  I graduated from college struggling to keep my weight from rising above 169 pounds (76kg).  After seven years in Japan, I weigh 142 pounds (64kg) with eleven percent body fat, and can run a 5k road race in under 20 minutes.  Now, of course, I have to try to keep it that way.  I'm not optimistic.

So, you want a good dieting tip? Live in Japan.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Restaurants 3: Tips 「レストラン3:チップ」

When I went to that sit-down restaurant with my father the other day, I looked at the bill and was suddenly faced with something I had forgotten about: tips.

Restaurants in Japan do not use tips.  Neither does any part of the service industry, for that matter.  You won't find anybody tipping bellhops or hairdressers or chartered bus drivers in Japan.

Wait; perhaps I'm being hasty: I once saw someone tell a taxi driver to keep the change.

In general, however, good service in Japan is expected.  Tipping your server is actually perceived as an insult, something that I was unfortunate to discover on my first trip to a restaurant in Japan.  You see, tipping the waiter for good service in Japan implies that you were surprised with the quality of the service—that is to say, you weren't expecting to be treated well when you walked in the door.  It also cheapens the service by suggesting that the waitperson only worked so hard because he or she was hoping for a good tip.  Think about it: have you ever been treated exceptionally well by a waitperson or a taxi driver, and thought, "Wow, that person must really want a good tip."?  I'm willing to bet that you have.

Well, consider this: The best waitservice that I've encountered in the United States pales in comparison to some of the service that I saw in Japan.  There, good service is a matter of course.

Does that mean that I think that tips should be abolished in the States?  Not necessarily.  I've worked in the service industry before (as a theatre usher), and I know how demanding—and rude—some customers can be.

"I'm sorry, sir, but drinks are not allowed inside the theatre" seem to be fighting words for some people.  It's amazing the lengths some people will go to in an effort to take their diet cola inside a theatre, only to spill it on the hundred-year-old seats and have it run off the mezzanine onto the head of some poor customer below.  And, yes, that really happened.

What does that have to do with tips?  Well, I didn't get tips for that job, and I didn't need them, because I was paid well by the theatre.  Restaurant waitstaff is not.  Many employers count tips as part of the wage in the service industry, and reduce their own contributions accordingly.  When I compare the wages that I saw advertised in Japan to what people get in most of the United States, I understand why people in Japan don't need tips.  Which brings to mind another question: do you think that perhaps waitpersons in Japan are so courteous because they're paid decently?

Monday, May 2, 2011

Restaurants 2: Portions 「レストラン2:量」

My father and I went to a Chinese restaurant the other day.  It was my first time at a sit-down restaurant in quite some time.  We took our seats, ordered our food, and then the meal came.

I stared at the plate in front of me.

"I only ordered a single portion," I said automatically.

"That's what I gave you," came the response from the waiter.

I couldn't believe my eyes.  The plate was heaped with food.  The pile of meat and vegetables was nearly invisible beneath the mountain of rice, which was topped off by several precariously-balanced pieces of crab rangoon.  It could easily have passed as a plate for three at a Japanese restaurant.  Did seven dollars really go so far?

Now, I am capable of eating quite a lot, and so I finished my plate, but I did not have of an appetite for the rest of that evening (or the following morning, for that matter).  I have heard a lot about the monstrous appetizers at some restaurants that give you 2,000 Calories before the main course even comes.  Reading about something and seeing it for yourself, however, are two different things.  I wonder if restaurants will let me order a single meal and split it with three people from now on?

I should add, by the way, that even the biggest meals in Japanese restaurants rarely top 1,000 Calories.  Where do Japanese restaurants fall down, then? Sodium.  Most menus in Japan now list Calories, fat, and sodium for each of their offerings.  I was horrified on more than one occasion to open up a menu and see offerings that were made with 4.5 grams of salt for a single serving.  It just goes to show you: you have to be careful of what you eat, no matter where you live.

Oh, and no, my insistent capitalization of the word "Calorie" is not an error: it's the teacher in me.  One Calorie, with a capital "C", equals 1,000 calories, with a lower-case "c".  If you were to live on a 2,000-calorie diet, you'd die of starvation rather quickly, because the energy in our food, as labeled in the nutrition information, is counted in Calories, not calories.
Japan avoids this confusion altogether by listing the energy in its foods in terms of "kcal", or kilocalories, which is a much less confusing way to count Calories; don't you agree?

Sunday, May 1, 2011

What, Again? 「へ、また?」

Happy May Day!

Gaijin at Home has been running for one week, but people may have been wondering what my life was like before I left for Japan.
Well, there were all kinds of things going on in my life then.  Mostly, however, there were games.

And so, here is a second blog, one that has been a long time coming: My Life in Videoland.

But don't worry—I'm not abandoning Gaijin at Home or anything.  Expect the next restaurant post shortly!

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Restaurants 1: Tobacco 「レストラン1:タバコ」

I must say, it is very nice to walk into a restaurant and not be asked the question, "Smoking or non?"  While it is now a given that one can walk into any restaurant or bar in Massachusetts and eat in a smoke-free environment, that is not the case at all in Japan.  There is a very slow trend toward smoke-free food, but most restaurants still offer only very small no-smoking sections, often with tables directly abutting the smoking sections.  On top of that, bars don't offer smoke-free seating at all!  It kills me to see little kids eating amid clouds of cigarette smoke.

Japan has started a nominal anti-smoking movement, but it is halfhearted at best, consisting primarily of stick figures and generalized captions about how smoking is inconvenient to other people.  No.  Talking in the library is inconvenient to other people.  Smoking is DANGEROUS to other people.  With all due respect to you smokers out there, moving to a state with strict tobacco laws is one bit of culture shock that I'll happily accept.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Rain 「雨」

What could be so different about rain in the United States to warrant culture shock, you ask?  Well, it's not the rain itself so much as it is people's reactions to it.  I went outside yesterday to find that it was raining steadily.  Not heavy rain, but enough to make splashy puddles and visible drops and all that.

So, what was so surprising about it?  The whole time that I was outside, I only saw one person carrying an umbrella.

That would not happen in Japan.  When rain falls, the umbrellas open.  It could be light rain, even the slightest sprinkle, and the umbrellas would open.

Umbrellas are so ubiquitous in Japan that just about any store has a massive umbrella stand out front.  Carrying a wet umbrella inside a store is extremely impolite, so people put their umbrellas in the umbrella rack when they go in, and pick them up when they go out.  Yes, umbrellas are occasionally stolen, but it is an extremely uncommon occurrence.  Nevertheless, some high-class hotels and some schools have special locking umbrella stands, where each umbrella can be locked in place with a key.

Umbrellas are everywhere.  People open them to walk from their cars to the storefronts.  They use them in showers and even in light drizzle.  People even use umbrellas in the snow, which is something that I simply could not get used to.  They keep people dry, yes, but try walking through the narrow streets of historic Kyoto when they are flooded with open umbrellas and you'll understand why I had trouble with them at first.

Now, because so many people ride bicycles, you may be wondering what people do in those situations.  Well, most people wear rain suits.  However, a number of people also carry umbrellas and ride one-handed.  Needless to say, cycling with an umbrella is not very safe, and yes, there is a law against it.  Unfortunately, that law is rarely enforced.

I rarely carried an umbrella before I moved to Japan, but when that small shower started yesterday, I found myself looking for one.  One thing that I left in Japan but wish I had taken with me is my giant umbrella.  It had a radius of 70cm, which is respectable in and of itself, but what made that umbrella so great was the fact that it was made of clear plastic: I could see through it when walking, and when I got home, a quick shake or two was all it took to get all the water right off of it.
I miss that umbrella.  I wonder how long it will take me to get used to long walks in the rain again.

(Thanks to my sister-in-law for reading my post and sending the picture!)

Welcome Home? 「お帰りなさい?」

Hi, and welcome to Gaijin at Home, a blog about reverse culture shock.  I returned home at the end of April, 2011 from nearly seven years of living in Japan—and I mean living in Japan.  For most of that time, I had little daily contact with people who were not Japanese citizens, and after a few years, Japan felt like home to me.  Now, I'm back in the United States, and I must say: it takes a bit of getting used to.  In this blog, I'll write about some of the day-to-day occurrences (and some not-so-day-to-day occurrences) that strike me as, well, foreign.

Note:
This site makes liberal use of Japanese characters.  If you cannot see the text below, you will need to adjust your browser before viewing this site.
このページ、日本語の字が使われています。画面に出てない場合はブラウザーの設定を直してください。