All Posts from the Settling in Category
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A Japanese weekend
On Friday night, having spent most of the day cleaning the house, I headed out for a bite to eat. I decided to try one of the smaller places near the station area and eventually stumbled on yakitori (grilled chicken) shop. When I went in though, it wasn’t like a normal Japanese restaurant, rather a pokey little place. I started to feel self-conscious and couldn’t interpret the menu. Eventually, having lost my confidence altogether, I asked the guy behind the counter to help me out on something to eat. Whereupon the gentleman next to me immediately pushed over a flask of hot sake saying, “If you want to eat here, son, you have to DRINK!”
It turns out that yakitori places are actually bars in disguise; going out for yakitori is code for going out for a night on the turps.
Though you may speak Japanese, grasshopper, you still have much to learn. (And when Yusuke heard about it, the first thing he said was “so why didn’t you invite me too?” A major cultural faux pas.)
Anyway I soon became Best Friends with the guy next to me, who turns out to be Mr Nishihara (we exchanged business cards—of course—and next month he’s going to take me hiking to watch the sunrise from a nearby mountain) as well as the guy next to him, a Sony consultant visiting from Tokyo. And here’s the proof:
On Saturday morning I introduced myself to the neighbours.
I remember from our time in Tokyo that when you move in to a new apartment, you’re supposed to introduce yourself to the people above (ie upstairs), to the left and to the right. In our case there’s nobody above (in terms of up the hill), only an embankment, so I figured I’d go with across the road (to the left), next door (on the right), and behind (or below, seeing as we’re on such a steep hill).
My first attempt on Thursday night had been an abject failure; nobody was home and I ended up accidentally handing over a gift to the lady two doors down on the right whose house isn’t even visible from here and therefore doesn’t rate. What a waste.
So off I went again on Saturday morning armed with my little pre-prepared bags of ancient traditional cultural tea gifts, and this time met with greater success.
First port of call was Mrs. Hara across the road, a kindly lady of about 60 who I’d bumped into on the street the day before. The goodie bag was duly handed over and there was much bowing and scraping and I think I made a good impression.
Next was Mrs. Masuda behind us, who immediately took me around to visit the leader of our the neighbourhood association, Mrs. Kanda. Neighbourhood associations are big in Japan; everyone is expected to join up and take part in exciting neighbourly activities such as cleaning up the local park, sweeping the streets and making sure that people are putting out their rubbish properly. No, really, I’m sure it’s a great way to foster local community spirit and a collective consciousness that we could all do with a bit more of.
However this created a dilemma in that I ended up giving Mrs. Kanda the gift that I had earmarked for Mrs. Masuda—seeing as you can’t introduce yourself empty-handed—so now I had run out of gifts despite having covered only one of my three key targets.
Mrs. Masuda said she didn’t need a gift but I’m not letting her get away with it that easily; it’s back to the tea shop for more supplies on Monday.
Meanwhile, the people on the right are away at the moment so that reduces the burden slightly.
Then on Saturday evening I went out drinking with Yusuke and young Mr. Kobayashi, who is also the real estate agent who arranged this wonderful house for us.
When you go out drinking in Japan, it appears you must go to at least two places as a bare minimum. On Saturday we managed three, and it would have been four or more had I not started feeling a bit pathetic (the combination of beer, sake, choshu and Japanese plum liqueur may have had something to do with it) and pulled the pin. And because you can still smoke in bars in Japan, my clothes all reeked of smoke when I got home. Just like the good old days!
Things got even better on Sunday: I went skiing in Japan for the first time in 15 years.
Mr. Kobayashi (first name unknown, despite the fact that we’ve been out drinking together) took me along to a ski field about two hours away, with his two kids aged 5 and 6. Unfortunately for Mr. K, he had to spend the day pulling them on the sled up and down the kids’ slope, but I had a wonderful time zooming up and down the daddy slopes unhindered. Once again, though, after just a few hours I was starting to feel my age (the combination of beer, sake etc the previous night may have had something to do with it) and was reduced to standing around minding the kids while Mr. K did a bit of zooming up and down of his own. And on the way back from the ski field, just to cement the Japaneseness of it all, we stopped in at a hot spring to have a communal bath while admiring the views of the snow-covered mountains.
What a great weekend.
After all, how many people can honestly say they’ve seen their real estate agent naked?
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How hard can it be?
Here we go again then.
Many of you will recall that eight years ago, when our family moved to the wilds of the Italian countryside, I had a great deal of trouble getting the phone connected—and that’s putting it mildly. (If you haven’t heard the story, may I refer you to this excellent book.) Whereas in Japan, land of technological progress and efficiency, there was to be no such carry-on. The plan was to arrive, take a week’s holiday, and then have a 21st-century super-fast broadband connection delivered to the door with a courteous bow shortly thereafter.
Once again, far too optimistic.
It turns out that in order to get optical fibre to my home, the local telephone company has to ask permission from the local power company to use their power poles. This procedure alone takes a month. Then they have to come along in their nice shiny truck and fit the nice shiny cables to the power poles and thread them all the way up to our house on the hillside and in through the walls of our house. This takes another month. So… two months. Two months without the internet! In this day and age! It’s like bloody Valfabbrica all over again (except this time there’s not even a grumpy landlord downstairs to lend me a phone line). I’ll have to pack my laptop up every day and drive over to the local internet café just to read my emails. Much less surf the internet or spend hours lovingly updating this site.
Now in the interests of journalistic integrity I should point out that I could, if I wanted to, get the phone connected within a week or so, if I were to apply to the national carrier NTT (the equivalent of Telstra in Australia or good old Telecom Italia in Italy). However this would be a vastly inferior ADSL connection, and I really really want optic fibre, mainly so I can boast about how fast it is. And, given my general dislike of national carriers, I can’t pass up the opportunity to thumb my nose at NTT. Also their charges are much more expensive. And last but not least, what really hooked me in was the name of the internet provider. They’re called… wait for it… MEGA EGG. How many people can honestly say that they’re connected to called Mega Egg?
I think it will be well worth the wait.
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Settling in
Well here I am then.
I’ve been in Japan for fully a week now and it feels like months already.
There’s something odd about travelling to Japan: one the one hand, it’s exciting to be getting on a plane and going to another country; on the other hand, having lived here for five years already, Japan is utterly familiar to me. This country is so very different to Australia and yet I feel totally at home. And right at the moment, I love the place:
• It’s nice and cold (with apologies to those in Melbourne who have just endured a disgusting heatwave)
• Eating out is cheap (needless to say I haven’t cooked myself a meal yet, other than toast)
• There’s a Mr Donuts (the best doughnuts in the world in space, no argument)
• There’s an enormous two-story ¥100 shop (like a $2 shop but for approx. $1.15 at current exchange rate)
• Our new house is wonderful, full of tatami mats and sliding doors, with a view of the sea and a garden to boot (more on the house later)
• And, I’ve been shopping. Boy have I been shopping. I think I understand what they mean by retail therapy.
It’s been a busy week:
• On Saturday I got the keys to the house and went to choose a car at my friend’s parents’ car yard up in the mountains
• On Sunday I bought a fridge, washing machine, oven, toaster, rice cooker, vacuum cleaner and bread maker, and also did some damage at the ¥100 shop
• On Monday I toured the second-hand shops and bought a desk, some light fittings and other stuff, then went to the local Nitori (like an upmarket Ikea) and bought futons and blankets for the family
• On Tuesday I went and registered at the government office did other procedural things, then started cleaning the house (which has been empty and collecting dust for a couple of months)
• On Wednesday I spent the entire day shopping for house stuff at the local home centres (= Bunnings) and supermarkets, and did some more damage at the ¥100 shop
• On Thursday I went back up into the mountains to complete some registration procedures (and saw snow!) then came back for a bit of lazy shopping
• And on the seventh day (that’s today), he rested. I plan to have a leisurely breakfast at Mr Donuts followed by, oh why not, a spot of shopping. But at a more leisurely pace.
Although shopping has been fun, there is also something a bit scary about spending all that money in such a short space of time, a vague sort of “am I doing the right thing here?” sensation. Actually I’ve been having quite a few of these moments lately, as described here. It sometimes seems to me that life is just one long succession of am-I-doing-the-right-thing moments. Like when you come home from hospital with your first baby and no instruction booklet.
Anyway, whatever, tomorrow is the weekend, and on Monday I’m seriously tempted to go skiing for the day. Problem is, the tour bus departs at 6:00 a.m. sharp. I guess I’ll have to wrestle with that one over the weekend. Meanwhile, the family arrives on Tuesday night so I’d better have the house looking good.
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This blog is about the adventures of a family of Australian barbarians spending two years in the islands of southern Japan. Stay tuned for regular updates on the food, the culture, the earthquakes, the wacky festivals, the school system and more. 
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