Awkward lunch

I had one of the most awkward lunches ever. I had Chinese, in a private room with a big round table, sitting with three other women I had never met in my life. We ate in silence, and those who finished left quietly.

This was lunch that came with our annual health check-up. I arrived hungry at 9am at the health check-up center, and stayed there for 2 1/2 hours.

So health examination seems to be a specialized industry in Japan. My office is a member of this particular establishment, and we take turns to visit for a morning every year. Today was my turn, and nobody else from my office had an appointment. I assume most workplaces in Japan have a private health examination center with which they contract. These are establishments that conduct annual health check-ups for members, and health check-ups only. If you need further examination or treatment, then you are referred to a real hospital.

The center was full. First, you check in, and you change into an unflattering robe. Imagine a waiting room full of men and women of all working ages, clad in the same unflattering robe. You carry your chart and are led from one place to another, from blood sampling to x-ray to eye sight test to mammogram to electrocardiogram to urine test. Two and a half hours of going under thorough bodily probe, and surrounded by strangers who are sharing the same uncomfortable process with you. Coming out of a room after an ultrasound abdomen inspection, and keeping cool among your fellow subjects, pretending to leaf through a magazine, before being called for another procedure.

I had never gone through so many medical devices in so few hours.

Medical examination is a kind of forced intimacy between you and the medical staff. This mass health check-up center, then, is a place of forced intimacy among the strangers who very well know what others are being subjected to.

After those 2 1/2 hours, it may just be too much to ask for friendliness at a shared meal. We already had enough of an intimate morning. Awkward silence rules.

Kinetic adjustment

An average commuter in Tokyo would go through these gates several times a day.

You carry your commuter pass. At the gate, you lightly but firmly touch the panel with the blue circle with your pass. The machine reads it and lets you go through. Everybody takes about 2 seconds to walk through the gate. It is part of your habitus, and your body has the kinetic memory.

You're not slick enough if you take more than 2 seconds, or betray your bumpkin-ness by getting stuck at the gate. You'd see utter frustration on the faces of the people after you made the ultimate morning mistake of not touching the panel at the right angle, with the right amount of force, or time.

I've been going through these gates every morning and evening for more than 2 months now. And I still get stuck once every three, four times.

It seems my body has yet to become that of Tokyoite. Or is Tokyo informing me of my being unfit every time the gate doesn't open?

Spatial adjustment

I gave up my car when I moved to Japan. Tokyo is well serviced by public transportation (though extra complicated if extensive), allowing one to survive without an automobile.

But you walk. You walk to the station, you walk within the station, going up and down the stairs, and you walk around town. I realized that most of my shoes were good for driving to your destination, walk a little, then driving back. Not for walking all day (Yes, I need new shoes).

Anyhow, Japanese space makes me want to drop driving all together. I thought I didn't need to drive, but now I'd be scared of driving. Or parking. I've already complained about rogue bicyclists who endanger pedestrians, and I reiterate that bicyclists are probably more menacing than cars here. They're not licensed or trained, they zip through the sidewalk, and they seem to be completely oblivious of the possibility of hurting their fellow sidewalk occupants on foot.

But I digress.

I'm scared of driving. Not just because they drive on the left, but because of the space in which they have to maneuver. It's true you don't see too many Cadillacs and Hummers, but you do have to learn to park like this.

This is a usual garage sight in our neighborhood, not an exception. The house next door has a garage quite identical to this one. The street in front of the house is not a one-way street, but should be.

I'm happy to be on my foot, putting my money into walkable shoes.

Food safety

One of the concerns I had before moving to Japan was food safety. With the radiation scare and Japan being the proud inventor and worldwide distributor of MSG, my expectation of finding a Berkeley Bowl or Earth Fare of Japan was not too high. You'd see me giving a dirty look at every package I pick up at a supermarket.

Then I joined a co-op that distributes safe food through membership. This particular co-op is renowned for strict screening and direct engagement of producers. They reuse glass bottles and jars. They measure radiation of every food item. They refrain from pesticides and artificial food additives. They renounce GM and animal cruelty.

Granted, they don't have the cool aesthetics of Whole Foods, but hey, I feel good eating the stuff.

BureaucracySpeak

I blogged before I would work for a beltway bandit business. My work takes the government institutions as clients. The first day of work, my boss had prepared for me the best immersion program: a big meeting with officials from JICA (Japan International Cooperation Agency, the Japanese equivalent of USAID) and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (the Japanese Dept. of State). This was a briefing on security in Afghanistan.

So I sat in the meeting room trying to look as professional as I could, with a bunch of middle-aged men (OK, I'm middle-aged, so they're a bit older) in dark suits (for the record, there was one other woman besides me). I was trying not to betray the fact that I was being amused.

The meeting began with an explanation that the situation in Afghanistan is difficult and we have to keep paying attention. Fair enough. Then the briefing started.

The presentations were about their analysis of the current situation in Afghanistan and how we could carry on development projects or when and how to make decisions about pulling out. This was my first official meeting, and they had my full+ attention.

I still got lost.

It sounded like their talk was going nowhere, and I found it very hard to follow. I understood the language, but I couldn't decipher what they were trying to communicate.

Afterwards, I asked my boss: "So what was the conclusion? I didn't quite get what they were saying."

"They talk to not say anything. It's bureaucracyspeak. They go around and around and avoid saying anything definitive."

Ah. If you work in Afghanistan, and something happens, they want to leave it as open to interpretation as possible as to who is responsible. Vagueness is their art of speech.

Moving into an apartment

Immediately after arriving in Japan, I began apartment-hunting. I had some ideas of locations and prices through Internet searches, and had focused on the East side of Tokyo (or rather, outside of Tokyo to the East). Rental prices aside, one advantage that a mega-city like Tokyo has is public transportation; we decided to forgo an automobile. Well, we would be too scared to drive on the left side of Tokyo's narrow streets. So our basic conditions for the apartment were, in the order of importance:

a) Pets allowed;
b) A good kitchen;
c) Two or three bedrooms (so friends can come and stay);
d) Within 10 minutes' walk from a nearby station;
e) Within 60-minute commute from my work (not bad for Tokyo);
f) A reheatable bath;
g) Second floor or up.

Little did I know, pet policies are quite strict in the rental market in Japan. Once you have the above a) and b) as conditions, the search returned only a few apartments. Thus I was forced to broaden the area to all Tokyo. Luckily, I found an apartment that met all those above within a few days of search.

I grew up in a large suburban development where all the streets were so planned that a pedestrian's encounters with automobiles were minimum. In the US, the only time I thought walking was impossible was in Los Angeles; or perhaps I would just drive to get to walkable areas. The neighborhood I moved in is entirely different--one has to constantly dodge cars and bicycles. I'm going to have to learn to walk in Tokyo again.

Ten-printing

One of the things that need to be taken care of before leaving the US is applying for a travel permit. I intend to keep my US green card as much as possible, and if you stay out of the country for more than a year, you need a good excuse and a prior permit from the US government. The immigrant (me) has to apply for a permit, with the application fee of $445 to the US Dept. of Homeland Security (US Citizenship and Immigration Services) and wait to see if their petition is accepted. If you get rejected, you lose your $445 bet. If you get accepted, then you're invited to come to one of Application Support Centers for ten-printing, or biometrics appointment. All the while USCIS warns you that there is no guarantee that the permit would be granted: you shell out nearly half a grand not knowing who is making decisions based on what.

I was summoned to come to an Application Support Center for ten-printing, and luckily, I was available that day. Otherwise, you request for a change of date and see if the new date fits your schedule. You're not the one choosing the date.

Biometrics procedure consists of taking a photograph, fingerprinting of all your fingers (hence 10-printing), and registering your signature. The place is quite discreet: a small office where they conduct biometrics procedures and not much else, and the sign reads: "Application Support Center." No mention of Homeland Security, or even USCIS. If you have no business with immigration, you would pass by and not notice there is a government office.

The process went without a problem, and I was out in less than half an hour. I remember the last time I went through biometrics appointment (leaving the country for my fieldwork), the receptionist was sitting in front of a framed picture of George W. Bush.

A little peek into what an immigrant in the US goes through.

Tokyo-bound

A job is a job is a job. I took a job, so I don't end up on the street. I am grateful that this job was offered. I will be working for a Japanese beltway bandit in the field of international development. Japanese beltway bandits are mostly located in Tokyo, and that is where I am going.

I am from Tokyo, and thought I had left it for good. The congestion, the cultural conservativeness, the un-cosmopolitanness, small housing, expensive living cost, etc., etc. I do like the city, but certain things always made me uncomfortable.

After 10 years in the US, however, many things look attractive, too: Universal health care; efficient and extensive public transportation; near absence of gun-related crimes; abortions taken for granted; and I don't have to do my taxes.

Things that concern me, on the other hand, are: Availability of organic food; size of kitchen; size of apartment; earthquakes; radiation; high prices in general; complicated courtesy rules.

I have told myself that I would act as a faux-American, so that I'm exempt from the last mentioned. Japanese like to draw boundaries between Japanese and non-Japanese, and those are hard lines. I'd rather be "not quite Japanese," so they can cut me some slack about the million unstated rules of appropriateness. I will be that uncategorizable weirdo.

So friends, tell me good, fascinating, exotic things about Japan that I can look forward to.