On Driving

 I feel like I need to attach a GoPro to our car, so you can get a sense of driving here.  Obviously, driving on the left takes a little adjustment, but I learned to do that way back in the day in India.  Even after six months, I still occasionally turn on the wipers instead of the turn signal.  But only one time did I drive on the wrong side of the road (after pulling out of a parking lot onto a tiny street).  

What's really crazy, though, are the highways in town.  Driving on an elevated toll road that twists and turns and has no shoulder is really something.  Entrance ramps, exit ramps, or merging to other toll roads could be on either side as they are built for where space is - and there's not much space.  It requires such concentration to stay in the lane, stay aware of where cars are coming from, stay alert for the signs in Japanese (or unfamiliar English place names) for where to go, and stay focused on the road and not on the buildings/river/Mt Fuji.  

An hour trip south to Yokohama leaves me pretty tired.  I come back just after lunch and am pretty much shot for the day.  

And, while I've never experienced, I think speed racing at 2am on the highways must be a thing, because I can hear it from the highway near our house.  A friend confirmed my suspicions - and he said his friend told him she totaled her Porsche going around a curve too fast on the highway at a 3am joy ride.  And that Porsches are better than Lambos on the Tokyo highways.  I said he traveled in circles beyond mine :)  I don't think I'll be in a real life "Tokyo Drift" situation anytime soon - but I can see where the fascination comes from.

Cross cultural influences during childhood: paying cash

 A long running joke in my marriage is how I always like to put cash payments in an envelope.  Greg has rolled his eyes soooo many times as I hunted around the house for an envelope to pay someone, from a delivery guy to a nanny.  "Just give them the cash, they don't care!" And yet, still I just couldn't do that.  

One of our kids is now editing videos, also called "making Fortnite montages" in modern parlance.  He's gotten pretty good, occasionally winning "shout outs" on YouTube in small competitions.  His friends at school think this is really cool -- as you can tell, I'm still learning about this new world, but he's passionate about something that's creative and productive so that's great.  Productive as in, apparently kids actually pay him money to make these clips that they can then post on their social media.

Based on this reputation, one of his friends at school asked him to make a montage.  Our son came home today and said, "Look!  He offered to pay me $10 for the video! And he put it in this envelope he gave me at recess labeled 'For Fortnite Montage.'  It feels so much more official than getting passed cash!" 

Immediately... Greg burst out laughing. "Now I know why your mom always has to pay people cash in an envelope!" 

Incidentally, I never have to hunt for an envelope here because the stationary stores in Tokyo sell inexpensive envelopes just the right size for yen bills.  So, I simply bought a pack and keep it in my desk - so handy for operating in a society still so cash-based.

On English

So many foreigners are surprised at the lack of English in Tokyo, despite mandatory English classes in secondary school.  This topic came up during my koto (Japanese zither) music lesson the other week.  My koto teacher had an interesting take, which I hadn't heard before. 

She admitted to me that she can speak English - but she's more comfortable in Japanese, so she's happy to have our class in Japanese.  (and, anyway, I'm happy to continue in Japanese since this is my year to focus on language acquisition.)  This was funny, because I had had about three classes before she even told me she could speak English.  I commented that, when I lived in Vietnam, if someone spoke even a tiny bit of English he or she would always try to practice with me.  And, though I was trying to learn Vietnamese and wanted to practice with them, it was really hard to find people willing to talk in my middling Vietnamese skills.  

On the other hand, everyone in Japan seemed happy to start out in Japanese.  I wasn't sure if it was because they were more used to hearing foreign-accented Japanese, or perhaps because lack of English-speaking confidence on their part.  

She offered a different possible idea.  She noted one of her friends has a shop, and started speaking English to a foreign customer who walked in.  But, that person didn't speak English.  And then commented how it was tiring to him that everyone assumed he could speak English because he was Caucasian, but he couldn't - however he could speak Japanese.  Thus, the friend now speaks Japanese to all customers, until the customer asks if she can speak English -- because the friend doesn't want to offend customers by assuming all Caucasians speak English.  

I have no idea how widespread this thinking is, but it is interesting to step out of my American-centric viewpoint to think about how English prevalence might be viewed by others.

The same, no matter what culture or language

 I was walking back from some errands today, and saw a scene play out that was so familiar, though the dress and language was different.  I'm sure any parent of three kids - particularly three boys - can relate.

Our residential compound is near two shrines.  November is the "shichi-go-san" (7-5-3) festival month, when boys who are 5 years old and girls who are 3 and 7 years old go for a blessing.  The children dress up in fancy Western clothes or traditional Japanese clothes.  Brothers usually wear a dark suit (with shorts for the younger boys), and sisters a pretty dress.  Dads/grandpas in dark suits and moms/grandmas in either a dark dress or a seasonally appropriate kimono.  It's super fun seeing these family groups walk by.  

Today I was walking home and saw to boys, maybe 7 and 9 years old, chasing each other up the street.  The younger one in a short pants suit and the older one in slacks/tie/button down/v-neck sweater.  Then a dad popped around the corner and yelled along the lines of, "stop running! this is a street with cars.  Please walk nicely back here."  I chuckled, having been in that situation so many times. 

Then I got to the top of the block, and a little 5 year old in traditional Japanese dress was crying as his mom in her kimono wiped her tears.  As the now chastised two older brothers stood looking at their feet, the mom scolded them again for running in the street -- and also for running around and goofing off when their little brother, on his special day, couldn't run around because he was in the fancy clothes.  

And then the mom apologizing to the grandparents for the boys being crazy. 

And then all three of the boys being kind of upset and what was supposed to be a happy day, ending up being stressful. 

Oh, how many times have I been there?  I'm pretty sure every parent in any culture can imagine that scenario.  But yet, a bit more beautiful when kimonos are involved.

All for a chicken katsu

 It's fall break for the boys, but not for the parents.  And I'm studying from home right now, so this week is a mix of planning activities out of the house for the boys to do with our nanny and having small excursions when I have breaks in my class.  

Monday we went to try takeout from Taco Rico, a Chipotle-inspired restaurant.  It wasn't bad - we've been in Tokyo long enough that the taste was close enough to be enjoyable.  (I've often found I shouldn't eat my favorite American foods within three months of being in America!)  On the walk to Taco Rico, we passed a lunch spot cooking up tonkatsu (fried pork cutlet), and one kid declared it smelled so good, we had to go back.  

Tuesday the boys explored Tokyo Dome City and ate at Shake Shack (yes, that's here - with local flavor such as a Japanese mushroom burger or a black sesame milk shake, in addition to the more "normal" American options).  So, today became tonkatsu day.  

Two boys opted to make their own lunch from left overs rather than go walk out and about for lunch.  What a treat to (a) have kids old enough now to stay home on their own and make their own lunch and (b) spend an hour with just one of the three! 

As we walked toward where we had smelled that delicious smell on Monday, I warned that some Japanese lunch places have a rotating menu, so maybe the tonkatsu wouldn't be there.  Which sparked an interesting conversation about would the restaurant have, say, five menus (every Monday is tonkatsu?), 20 menus, or 365?  Or maybe it would have tonkatsu every day and only do that.  Sadly, today's choices were spicy chicken curry or a "hambagu" (hamburger patty with other sides).  The boy said usually those would be ok, but he really wanted tonkatsu, soo.... 

We went on a hunt as I was fairly sure I remembered a chicken restaurant had yakitori, chicken curry, and chicken katsu for their daily takeout options.  Thankfully it did.

But, then, we arrived at 11:15 ... and the restaurant didn't open until 11:30.  AND it only took cash, but I didn't quite have enough not having checked my wallet when we left.  After all the walking hunting for katsu, his little legs were a bit tired - and he didn't want to have to walk all the way back home to get cash and then go back.  

But, this being a family-run chicken place, I knocked on the door and of course the wife who doubles as the hostess and order taker opened the door, even thought it was a little early.  I apologized for being early, but explained we were looking for chicken katsu for my son, but I had forgotten my cash.  And would it be too much trouble for him to wait in the entry way while I ran back for some money?  She of course said it was no problem for her to watch him, and off I went while her husband prepared our take out. 

I returned with the payment, and I doubt while I was gone my child even looked up from my phone which I left with him :)  In any case, off we went, chicken katsu in hand.  And said child declared, "next time I want it, I can walk here myself and order myself, because I can point to what I want on the picture paper and easily give her 1,000 yen.  That's good to know!"  So, I guess I don't have to worry about him ever going hungry :) 

Wondering what else is hidden

Every country has its own financial system, but in my experience so far, Japan's is quite unique.  It relies significantly on bank transfers to pay bills - credit cards are used (though not to the extent as in the US) and, aside from PayPal for some online purchases, I haven't really discovered yet other e-payment systems.  ATMs often only function during business hours (pro-tip: most 7-11 convenience stores are 24/7, so if you need to get cash at odd hours, that's my go-to.)

Anyway.  Though we usually try to avoid setting up a local bank account when we move, it seemed inevitable here.  Even if we didn't have, say, soccer team payments, the highway EZ-Pass equivalent can only be linked to a domestic Japanese credit card... which can only be paid by a domestic Japanese bank account.  Thus, as we do hope to take some road trips with our new-to-us Honda Odyssey, no choice but to open a local account.  One of my Japanese teachers dubbed this the "Galapagos Mentality" -- as an island nation, they keep things locally-specific.  

With the post office bank account all set up, we ventured out today to attempt two bank transfers.  The ATM had a "English" button, but no options looked promising.  On the Japanese screen there was a "EZ Pay" button, but clicking that then required a "payment code" which wasn't in any of the bills I had received.  After a few minutes of staring at the other Japanese and English options, I asked the post office employee for some help.  

She showed us which button to push and walked us through the Japanese menu choices - needless to say, it wasn't too hard once we knew what to push and learned the Japanese banking words (not really something taught in diplomatic Japanese classes or in my university literature and culture focused classes).  After she left, we even paid the second bill on our own with only one incorrect button.  Yay. 

Then out of curiosity, we went back to the English menu to see what we had missed.  Only to find that the option choices under the English menu really were completely different.  We never found a way to pay an account in another bank.  

Which makes me wonder, as we go about daily life here, what else might be hidden when using the English version of things rather than the Japanese one?  Thankfully my Japanese is good enough that, with not too much effort, we can power through in the Japanese versions.  But if Greg or Lea are trying something on their own - or if I'm just feeling tired - I think there will definitely be things we will miss.  

I'm 100% sure this probably happened in Vietnam, too, but my Vietnamese was never quite strong enough to be so aware of it.  All the more reason to try and operate as much as possible in Japanese, so we don't get an edited version of what might be out there.

"What is it like, all that moving?"

I spent about 20 minutes on the phone today with an Amica representative, finally closing out all our US-based insurance policies  I really lament that Amica doesn't have policies for people living overseas, because they really have fantastic customer service.  They've been so patient and responsive - from quickly handling a fender bender we had days before we moved to explaining what we should close when based on what situation we were in.  Anyway, that is a different story.  

Today, wrapping up the lose ends, as the agent was reading through the notes in our file over last last two months while we were waiting for the systems to confirm everything was closed out, she said, "wow, Japan. That's really exciting.  What's it like, all that moving?"

I gave her my usual anodyne answer, as that's what people expect to hear: "It has its challenges, but overall is exciting and enjoyable for us."  Then I paused and added, "This move was a little weird, since we don't know when we can visit home next."  She commiserated on the COVID-induced travel restrictions (I mean, even when we were in MD, we didn't visit family in TX, so at some level it doesn't matter where we are).  But, she really wanted to know what it was like to move especially overseas.  

We do it so often, I couldn't really encapsulate it for her well.  But, after I hung up the phone, the perfect example presented itself. 

Moving so much is - having two drawers full of cords and constantly rearranging which ones you are using where, hoping you don't have to buy yet another one, to try and adjust the outlets to fit the way you'd like to set up your house.  In other words, trying to use what you have and know, but also knowing when to let go of the familiar and embrace the new and present.

When you live in one house, you don't really think about the outlets.  Lamps, TVs, gadgets -- all have their proper place.  Maybe an occasional furniture rearrangement or introduction of a new gadget will necessitate a review of what is where, but in general, those sorts of things stay put.  

But over the moves, we've had such oddly placed outlets, and such a variety of plugs, sometimes necessitating transformers, we've accumulated quite the collection. And we try things out and have to adjust when we figure out what does or doesn't work (like after this morning's near meltdown when one child realized, again, he plugged his school laptop into the plug that was attached to the light switch and the switch was off over night... So, what extension cords did we have to enable him to plug in his laptop in that corner of the room rather than another? And praying as we sort through the box that we can use something we have and don't have to buy yet another cord!).  

Thankfully this time, with adjusting a few cords from other rooms, we could use what we had.