what i like about you

One of the strangest things I encountered while preparing to move to Japan was the frequent quizzical looks, coupled with the question, “Why.”

I always answered the person honestly, though I did try to keep it light, because one thing you don’t want to discover before leaving a town is how your friend is actually a xenophobe. That’s just me, though. After an extraordinarily high number of political fights in my youth, I decided that sometimes it’s better not to know people too well. For the most part, people were simply curious, and wanted to know where the appeal was. However, I think I ended up more baffled than them.

I don’t think I’ve ever been called a free spirit or anything like that, but I do think of myself as relatively adventurous. I think this comes from moving around a lot as a kid, as well as the necessary exploration which comes with such frequent relocations. After I learned one route home from school, I’d go find another. When I finally got my own car, I frequently drove places, then circumnavigated my way home.

The first time I came to Japan, I was a bit afraid to try wandering off. After a few jet-lagged days of waking up too early for the rest of the world, I realized the same rules applied here as anywhere else: use common sense, and remember landmarks. If all else failed, I could simply retrace my steps.

All else does fail a lot in Japan. Most streets aren’t even named, let alone marked, and the number of alleyways a person could disappear down while wandering in circles seems innumerable. Recognizing funny little things—like the small door which leads down my alley or the back of a dilapidated wooden house I took a shine to—keeps me comfortable in a town where I may possess the language skills to ask for directions, but not the ones needed to understand the response. Also, if all all all else fails, I know how to write my address on a piece of paper, and hand it to a cab driver. Takushi!

None of this goes very far in answering the question of why I moved to Japan. The simplest answer I have is the one I frequently gave when I was asked the question to begin with: I love it here. I’m pretty sure that if they wanted, Japan could mount a campaign against Disneyland, and sue them for the rights to The Happiest Place on Earth. There are probably two or three things which will irritate the crap out of me by the time I graduate in a few years, but I don’t see them just yet, and they will almost certainly be overwhelmed by the things I do love.

More specifically, it seems to me as if Japan has been honing its culture for thousands of years to appeal to me directly. Every day, I see something which delights me, and makes me smile quietly to myself on the train, forgetting momentarily how tired I am, and how much my feets hurt. Here is where I elaborate:

The Food: I love Japanese curry. It’s my go-to sick food over chicken noodle soup. I love barbecued meats. I love rice. Maybe because I was raised in a house with a Japanese dad, and we had rice for dinner every night. Or maybe just because it’s starch-a-licious. All the same, Tokyo may be one of the most expensive cities in the world, but so long as you like rice, you’ll be okay. I’m not completely on board with the whole fish thing, but I am currently trying to think of Japan as a gently suggestive parent, who wants me to eat better and spend less time at Mister Donut. I have been trying to eat one thing each day which I have never had before, and it’s working out surprisingly well.

The Food, Pt. 2: the French may have the market cornered on desserts and pastries, but the Japanese have their number. Once the Japanese set their sights on something, they work at it until it’s just right. And they have been working on desserts for a long time. Bakeries are everywhere...on the street corners, in the department stores, at the train station. There are few places in Japan you couldn’t stretch out your arm and get a loaf of freshly baked bread or a croissant or tart or cake or custard. The custards are my achilles heel. Creme brulee, creme caramel, panna cotta, you name it, they have it. The 7-Eleven down the street from my apa—to has at least a dozen varieties, most for less than a dollar, each as good as anything you’d find in a nice restaurant.

The People: I’ll be honest: I haven’t traveled a whole lot. However, I feel comfortable saying that the Japanese people are the nicest I’ve ever met. And I’ve been to Canada! This past week has been an absolute swirl of first year Japanese, dictionaries, iPod apps, and a dizzying array of office workers, counter clerks, and train station attendants going above and beyond the call of duty to help out the ugly Americans. I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my Japanese teacher, who insisted the little I knew would go a long way, and who was completely right.

Most notably, eigo o hanashimasu ka (do you speak English?) has only amounted to a small number of shaking heads. About half the time, the ask-ee will make the universal sign for very little then either try their best, or begin speaking better English than most people I have encountered in my life. The other half of the time, the person I am speaking with will disappear with a quick little chotto matte kudasai, then return with the youngest employee on staff, hoping they remember their English lessons from senior high school. All in all, the husband and I have had great luck, and the enthusiastic nature of the people here creates an enthusiastic spark in us as well. Kindness really is a cyclical force.

The Cars: they’re like little Matchbox versions of giant American cars! My current favorites are the mini mini vans, but a close second is the teeny tiny delivery trucks. Also, the license plates are way cool; since we live in a relatively small town, we occasionally see plate 77. The other day we walked past plate 5. Don’t worry, I have my eyes peeled for the first guy in town who bought a car.

The Trains: I love a culture where only 29% of the people own a car. The trains are frequently packed, but they are on time, they are clean, and they are air conditioned. Also, the different stations play cute little songs, and my kanji is getting better simply by remembering the stations I frequently pass.

The Bikes: I was so excited to get a bike, and I’ll be even more excited when I figure out how to register the damned thing, and am able to ride it places. It’s a nameless silver folding bike, yet unnamed, but it does have the cutest pink u-lock which I couldn’t resist. I loved my bike back home, but I sold it knowing that I would have the pick of the litter here. The cyclists do tend to ride a bot like it’s Thunderdome, weaving in and out of pedestrians with hats pulled down over their eyes, but I’ve learned that it’s safest to hold my gound, and let them manically swerve around me.

Health Insurance: To be honest, this is the real reason I began writing this blog post, as the whole experience of applying for health insurance nearly brought tears to both mine and Jarrett’s eyes.

We began our day by taking a train one stop to Oji, where the city office is located. I tell most people I live in Tokyo, which is true, but not completely. More accurately, the apartment is in the Tokyo Prefecture, in the town of Kita, in the neighborhood of Higashi-jujo. Tokyo is sort of like the county, and Higashi-jujo is basically only my train stop. Kita, however, is the actual city in which we reside, so everything bureaucratic required of the husband and I must be done at the city offices.

The first order of business was to apply for our Alien Residency cards. After walking through the grounds of a beautiful temple, we arrived at the building as directed, then were promptly directed to an adjacent building. Actually, we were physically taken to the second building by an information desk worker, who walked us all the way to the appropriate window. Forms, pictures, passports, yadda-yadda-yadda...about a 35-minute process which resulted in successful registration, though the cards themselves will be available in three weeks. That’s a bit of a bummer, as we can’t get phones or internet service or bank accounts until we have those cards.

Since that whole thing was over with so quickly, we wandered upstairs to fill out the paperwork for NHI—Japanese national health coverage.

Here’s how it went down: first, the obligatory do you speak English? followed by the shaking head, and the obtaining of another employee. We showed them both our passports and our receipts for having just applied for alien residency. We filled out a form with our address, then I signed a form stating that I was the head of the house, and had not worked the previous year in Japan. All of the forms were taken away for a few minutes, entered into computers, then the pair of office workers returned to us with payment slips and two little cards slid into plastic sleeves.

The payment slips were to be expected. It is health insurance, after all, and it isn’t free no matter where you go. We were told to take the payment slips to 7-Eleven each month, pay the balance due, then get them stamped. We were to pay to first slip immediately, preferably before the end of the day. Amount due? About $23.28 American after conversion. That was unexpected.

As for the cards, I asked the English-speaking office worker if these were temporary cards, and if we would be mailed permanent ones. These are your cards, he said. After saying I understood, and that I would be careful with mine, he also helpfully added, Yes. Protect yourself to do that. Beautiful. Oh, and one more thing: total time elapsed between stepping onto the second floor and successfully obtaining health insurance? Less than 20 minutes. It took us longer to take the train one stop back, walk home past the convenience store, and pay for the month.

I have to say, in all honestly, I do not know if I will ever come home.