My laundry machine kept flooding my bathroom, and when Ben took a look, he said that when my bathtub was replaced and the machine got moved around, the exhaust hose was put in the wrong hole, but that a piece had been removed so it would fit and I would need a new hose. I mentioned this to my supervisor (who had done the fixing) and he insisted on coming to my home to look. I told him it was okay, but I have a feeling that he and Mastui, who tagged along, were eager to get away from the office for a bit during the day. It was pretty funny to see them both trying to figure out how to fix my little washing machine, with one tilting it and the other, kakhis rolled above the ankles, sqatting below to see what was happening.
They told me to put in some laundry as a test run. I did that, and when they decided it was working, they said that it was time to go back to the office. Of course, this was mid-laundry cycle. I did my best to waylay them (I gave them tea and chocolate), but there was no way I could stay and wait until the end of the cycle. My clean clothes were doomed to wrinkles and mildew.
I asked Matsui if he had ever done laundry before, and he said he had, but informed me that really, you don't wash your own clothes, the machine does it for you. (Ba-dum ching.)
A note on Matsui: Matsui, to me, is hilarious. I told him that I didn't have much experience cooking but that I planned to make stir fry (and had to explain what that was) his response was, "Oh, wow, you really can't cook, can you!" He then proceded to guide me to some leeks, saying that they were better than scallions because they were the same thing but bigger. (I assumed he was right, until I ate it and recognized the flavor - it did not taste good in the stir fry.) He also thought I bought too much garlic, even though I explained that it doesn't really go bad and that I planned to use it pretty much every time I cooked. He's married, and I have heard from the usual (unreliable) sources that he's probably never done any housework in his life.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
And now, for a little New York interlude...
I've been printing out the New York Times' "Metropolitan Diary" on a weekly basis in hopes of presenting some of the blurbs to my English Conversation group one day.
This is from the August 18th Metropolitan Diary:
I've often tried to explain this phenomenon to non-New Yorkers, and sometimes to Japanese people, who seem to only half believe me.
Ironically, though, it has relevance here. My predecessor, Ben, was Jewish, and in his monthly column in the town newsletter, he often introduced Jewish holidays and customs. Many people in the town smile enthusiastically when I mention the now familiar words "Rosh Hashannah" or "Hannukah."
Even funnier, though, is that Ben and I are both living in Shitara, we figure that out of 5,000 people, we in Shitara might very well have the highest concentration of Jews in Japan.
This is from the August 18th Metropolitan Diary:
Dear Diary:
One recent afternoon, I was waiting in line at the silver counter at Tiffany. A woman ahead of me had just purchased a bracelet and was filling out a gift card. She looked up and asked the salesclerk, "How do you spell 'bar mitzvah'?" The salesclerk didn't hear her. I intervened.
"Bar mitzvah?" I asked.
She smiled and nodded.
"Didn't you buy a bracelet?" I asked.
"Why, yes I did," she answered.
"So it's for a girl?"
"That's correct," she said.
I explained: "Well, bar mitzvah is for a boy. Bas mitzvah is for a girl. So you should say 'Happy bas mitzvah.' " She thanked me, then I asked, "Do you know if they are Sephardic or Ashkenazic?"
Her face dropped. "Oh my, I have no idea. Does it matter?" she asked.
I replied: "No, not for the purpose of a gift. But if they are Ashkenazic, it's bas mitzvah, Sephardic is bat mitzvah."
"So how do I spell it?" she asked. I told her. She smiled and said: "I'm visiting from Milwaukee. Thank you for all this information, it's so interesting." She looked a bit sheepish and said, "I don't know any of this; I'm a Catholic."
I said, "So am I."
Surprised, she asked, "My goodness, how do you know all this information?"
I responded matter-of-factly, "I live here."
-Brian Honan
I've often tried to explain this phenomenon to non-New Yorkers, and sometimes to Japanese people, who seem to only half believe me.
Ironically, though, it has relevance here. My predecessor, Ben, was Jewish, and in his monthly column in the town newsletter, he often introduced Jewish holidays and customs. Many people in the town smile enthusiastically when I mention the now familiar words "Rosh Hashannah" or "Hannukah."
Even funnier, though, is that Ben and I are both living in Shitara, we figure that out of 5,000 people, we in Shitara might very well have the highest concentration of Jews in Japan.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Taguchi encounters
I was dying for some basil, but there was none to be had, either fresh or dried. I decided that, despite its being the end of the summer, I would plant some.
At the first store I went to looking for seeds (they had dirt and planters out front), there were no seeds, but a friendly old obaasan (granny) who introduced me to her daughter, who was a modern artist with an upcoming exhibition in Nagoya. She showed me her work, and she told me how her daughter lived in London, so we were able to speak some English. Who woulda thunk that there was a house full of award-winning abstract art down the street from me? Basil was a bust, but at least I got a dose of culture.
I gave up on basil for the day, and went to meet my friend (and predecessor) Ben. When I met him, he was having a conversation with a very petite obaasan who was talking a mile a minute. I introduced myself, and she bantered on without the usual pauses to make sure that my foreign mind was absorbing it all. She went on about how it was really too expensive to bring presents all of her friends in nursing homes, or even to get to the ones in Hokkaido, but that now was the O-bon holiday, and all the dead relatives were going to come in to visit tonight anyway. Then, very abruptly, she started talking about how foreigners eat a lot of meat, but it makes them tall. "And, I watch those movies where the foreigners kiss, and it's so wonderful! The foreigners definitely have us Japanese beat in the kissing department!"
That is exactly what she said.
Back to the great basil hunt - yesterday morning, Ozzie neighbor Hamish and I walked through the entire downtown, but not even a suggestion of basil seeds. Finally we were walking past a florist near my work, and Hamish pointed to the plants lined up outside. "These are all basil! Why plant when you can get a fresh pot!" I walked into the unmanned, darkened store. The inside seemed to be some sort of stationary store. "Hello! Excuse me?"
Finally, a middle aged woman appeared from the back. I told her I wanted to buy one of her basil plants. She looked shocked, then laughed, "Oh, those aren't for sale. But I can give you one."
I tried to refuse, but she picked out a plant that had BOTH basil and the Japanese green, shiso. I was rather embarrassed, but now I have my own, very much alive and fresh, basil plant.
At the first store I went to looking for seeds (they had dirt and planters out front), there were no seeds, but a friendly old obaasan (granny) who introduced me to her daughter, who was a modern artist with an upcoming exhibition in Nagoya. She showed me her work, and she told me how her daughter lived in London, so we were able to speak some English. Who woulda thunk that there was a house full of award-winning abstract art down the street from me? Basil was a bust, but at least I got a dose of culture.
I gave up on basil for the day, and went to meet my friend (and predecessor) Ben. When I met him, he was having a conversation with a very petite obaasan who was talking a mile a minute. I introduced myself, and she bantered on without the usual pauses to make sure that my foreign mind was absorbing it all. She went on about how it was really too expensive to bring presents all of her friends in nursing homes, or even to get to the ones in Hokkaido, but that now was the O-bon holiday, and all the dead relatives were going to come in to visit tonight anyway. Then, very abruptly, she started talking about how foreigners eat a lot of meat, but it makes them tall. "And, I watch those movies where the foreigners kiss, and it's so wonderful! The foreigners definitely have us Japanese beat in the kissing department!"
That is exactly what she said.
Back to the great basil hunt - yesterday morning, Ozzie neighbor Hamish and I walked through the entire downtown, but not even a suggestion of basil seeds. Finally we were walking past a florist near my work, and Hamish pointed to the plants lined up outside. "These are all basil! Why plant when you can get a fresh pot!" I walked into the unmanned, darkened store. The inside seemed to be some sort of stationary store. "Hello! Excuse me?"
Finally, a middle aged woman appeared from the back. I told her I wanted to buy one of her basil plants. She looked shocked, then laughed, "Oh, those aren't for sale. But I can give you one."
I tried to refuse, but she picked out a plant that had BOTH basil and the Japanese green, shiso. I was rather embarrassed, but now I have my own, very much alive and fresh, basil plant.
At long last, my bathroom is set up.
First, let me explain how the shower water works here. On the right is the boiler. There is one dial which you turn one notch and hold while turning a crank that makes alarming banging noises. Then release the original dial, and - bingo! Hot water. If successful, you should be able to see the pilot light come on in the little black window. There is another dial to adjust the amount of gas, and another even to adjust the temperature. Another controls whether it should come out of the bathtub or the shower, etc. Very complicated.
When I first moved in to my apartment, I had no way of cleaning myself. The bathtub was disgusting and had no drain stopper, and the shower hose disconnected from the water boiler (left) when the water was turned on. We had the gas man come take a look at the situation, and he said he wasn't sure he could fix the problem without replacing the whole boiler, which would cost roughly US$1500. Replacing the bathtub would be $400.
In the meantime, I showered in my Ozzie neighbor's apartment while he was away on business. The first morning was a disaster. I didn't know how to use the shower, and after cranking to no avail, I started to smell gas. I opened all the windows, threw on some clothes and ran outside barefoot. (Jeez, how much would it suck to die by shower in someone else's apartment my first month in Japan? Yeah, it wasn't particularly funny at the moment.) With the help of the only two people I could find - an eight-year-old neighbor and the Japanese equivalent of the UPS guy - we made sure the gas was turned off and UPS man called some people from town hall, who came and decided there was no smell of gas, but they had no idea how to make the shower work. Let's just say it was a pretty grimy first week.
My boss told me that there were no funds reserved for apartment upkeep, and I'd have to figure something out. I mentioned it to Mr. Nanahara, who apparently inspected the apartment and deemed it unacceptable. Funds appeard, and now I have everything up and running, including my dream bathtub (with plug!). It's so deep that when I sit in it, the water comes up to my chin. I can even reheat the water when it cools off! Beautiful.
When I first moved in to my apartment, I had no way of cleaning myself. The bathtub was disgusting and had no drain stopper, and the shower hose disconnected from the water boiler (left) when the water was turned on. We had the gas man come take a look at the situation, and he said he wasn't sure he could fix the problem without replacing the whole boiler, which would cost roughly US$1500. Replacing the bathtub would be $400.
In the meantime, I showered in my Ozzie neighbor's apartment while he was away on business. The first morning was a disaster. I didn't know how to use the shower, and after cranking to no avail, I started to smell gas. I opened all the windows, threw on some clothes and ran outside barefoot. (Jeez, how much would it suck to die by shower in someone else's apartment my first month in Japan? Yeah, it wasn't particularly funny at the moment.) With the help of the only two people I could find - an eight-year-old neighbor and the Japanese equivalent of the UPS guy - we made sure the gas was turned off and UPS man called some people from town hall, who came and decided there was no smell of gas, but they had no idea how to make the shower work. Let's just say it was a pretty grimy first week.
My boss told me that there were no funds reserved for apartment upkeep, and I'd have to figure something out. I mentioned it to Mr. Nanahara, who apparently inspected the apartment and deemed it unacceptable. Funds appeard, and now I have everything up and running, including my dream bathtub (with plug!). It's so deep that when I sit in it, the water comes up to my chin. I can even reheat the water when it cools off! Beautiful.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Ohayo, Minna-san!
Well folks, I'm finally settled and ready to send all the news I can. Not totally sure about this blog thing, but hey, I'm still waking up at 5 am every day, so might as well be productive...
I'm living in a small town in a region I'd though no one had ever heard of, but apparently it was made famous by a photographer named Shinzo Maeda. Most of the "town" is literally in the mountains - houses along windy roads with no guard rails, terraced rice fields and tea and veggie farms - you name it. Absolutely gorgeous. When I first got here, I was staying in the home of one of the town's muck-a-mucks.
Now, I live in low-income housing in the downtown. Downtown is called "Taguchi," and the danchi (apartment building or complex) is called Yage Danchi.
I'd better get ready for work. I finally, after almost a week, have my very own shower.
More pictures (and explanaing) to come!
I'm living in a small town in a region I'd though no one had ever heard of, but apparently it was made famous by a photographer named Shinzo Maeda. Most of the "town" is literally in the mountains - houses along windy roads with no guard rails, terraced rice fields and tea and veggie farms - you name it. Absolutely gorgeous. When I first got here, I was staying in the home of one of the town's muck-a-mucks.
Now, I live in low-income housing in the downtown. Downtown is called "Taguchi," and the danchi (apartment building or complex) is called Yage Danchi.
I'd better get ready for work. I finally, after almost a week, have my very own shower.
More pictures (and explanaing) to come!
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