Japan: Public Conveniences

To tourists who visit all over Asia, the public sitting toilets in Malaysia must leave an impression as great as in Japan. The difference is, one strives to understand the function buttons of the clean high-tech toilets in Japan while another struggles to place the buttock on the dirty toilet seats in Malaysia.

A standard sitting toilet in Japan has the integrated bidet with two settings: for posterior wash or feminine cleaning. A few seconds after the button is pressed, a corresponding nozzle will come out from underneath the toilet seat and squirt water. As some Japanese words either looked Chinese or sounded Western languages, I was able to understand or guess the functions of the buttons.

I had first learned the concept of bidet in France, from where the word originated but only few houses were equipped with this bathroom fixture. I was wondering what this additional low-mounted sink was for, until somebody explained to me that French people were so lazy to bathe everyday that they had invented this to wash at least the essential body parts!

At Ah Yu's house, the toilet also had a clever saving-water design: a faucet and an handbasin were on top of the cistern. As soon as you have flushed, you can rinse your hands with the water routed to fill the tank.

During our stay in and around Moriya, public washrooms were easily found everywhere and all of them had minimal facilities like two toilet rolls inside the toilet room, soap, tissue paper and hand-dryer.

Once, we were having an outing when it was time to change Yuri's diaper. As Emi had forgot to bring a spare one, we rushed to a department store to buy a packet and immediately released Yuri's heavy burden at a washroom with baby facilities. It was as big as a dental clinic!

Emi told me that the Japanese were taught since small to care about other's feelings before their own. Because of their attitudes towards other toilet users, they will not climb on top of the toilet bowl to relieve themselves, a practice in Malaysia which has been given warning notice inside some of the public toilets.

And they will never need a National Toilet Summit to educate the public about the importance of clean commodes.

Japan: Dinner At A "Shokudo"

One of the evenings, Ah Yu brought us to "Moriya Shokudo" for dinner. When I looked at the word "shokudo", it literally meant to me in Chinese a canteen at a school or a company. In the reality, it was not.

The spaces of the car park in front of the restaurant were reserved for low-cc cars. I wondered if it was to reduce the risk of bumping into the building by a high-cc vehicle since Japanese drivers liked reverse parking.

If you have a good habit of washing your hands before putting anything into your mouth at home, you will also look for a sink first before you start eating your food at a restaurant. I regret to observe that it is often one of the most neglected facilities for the customers, next to the toilet, in food service locations in Malaysia. Either you doubt the quality of their soap, or you are reluctant to use their towels which seem to have more germs than your hands.

In many of the restaurants we went in Japan, a clean sink with its nice accessories and decorations was the first one to greet us as soon as we stepped in.

The "shokudo" was actually a cafétéria-style restaurant where a variety of food was available at the food counter. We just slid a tray down the line, selecting which dishes in small plates we wanted. We also ordered two omelets and waited while they were quickly prepared. Then, we paid based on the price per item. The bowls of rice cost the same regardless of the three different portions.

Next, we proceeded to another corner to heat up our dishes with a microwave and take our unlimited free drinks : plain water or green tea.

It was still early. There were no other customers besides us.

As we were in family, it was more practical for us to settle at a table to share our dishes. When we had finished our meals, we were to return the empty dishes to another counter and mop our table for the sake of the next customers. How many customers in Malaysia would do that?

According to Ah Yu, the "shokudo" was a popular restaurant in Moriya because of its reasonable price and home-dishes. It reminded me of an economical rice restaurant near my house in Batu Pahat where a bowl of hot soup would be served free to each customer.

Hot dishes? Wait for them to invest in a microwave.

Japan: VIP Service At A Hair Salon

Emi needed a haircut. So I volunteered to accompany her to the nearby salon. The square building was a few minutes' walk from their house and on the other side of the tracks. She and Ah Yu were regular customers there.

When we arrived, Emi explained to the receptionist that I was her sister-in-law from Malaysia. Learning that I was Ah Yu's sister, one of the staff commented that I looked young, which Emi translated to me. In around year 2000, Ah Yu, who was four years my senior and already working, had visited me while I was still a student in France. When I introduced him to a Japanese acquaintance of mine, she was surprised that I was the younger sibling. After so many years, another Japanese' reaction finally reassured me that my appearance was less mature than Ah Yu's baby face and small frame...

Emi handed her coat to be hung in a small wardrobe behind the counter. Then we waited for awhile near the reception for her turn to have the haircut. When her usual hairdresser was available, she asked Emi to move to another seat in front of the mirror and the desk. Since I was not a customer myself, I did not make any request to follow them. With the beautiful mini garden in front of me, soft music surrounding me and my devotional booklets with me, I was not going to feel bored at all while remaining at where I was.

The hairdresser was very friendly. When she knew my presence, she invited me to sit next to Emi. Soon later, another thoughtful employee came and gently served me a glass of pinkish water. I had never had this kind of VIP service at a salon in Malaysia, not even in France! Not being familiar with their culture and language, I did not dare to walk around to take pictures. So, I started to leaf through a hair style magazine and sip my ice peach tea.

After the haircut, Emi and her hairdresser proceed to another chair and a basin for hair wash. I just finished my drink. The same employee who walked past behind me kindly replaced it with a second glass. When Emi came back to have the hair drying and shoulders massage, a glass was also served to her.

She had asked her hairdresser if I was allowed to photograph inside the salon. I had the permission to everything except for the customers. Not wanting to make other people feel ill-at-ease, I preferred to capture the image of only both of them who had been chatting for almost one hour like good friends.

When Emi was settling the payment at the counter, she showed me another hairdresser who was usually in charge of Ah Yu's hair. Had I known the language, I would have imitated those in the Japanese drama, courteously bowed and said to her, "Thank you for taking care of my brother's hair!"...

The receptionist helped Emi to put on her coat again. Do you dream of enjoying this kind of VIP service?

Have your haircut in Japan.

Japan: Father's Day Celebration

Last month, Jack Neo's "I Not Stupid 2" was shown on television. It was the second time I watched this Singaporean film which explored the issue of poor parent-child communication.

One of the most memorable scenes to me was that the eight-year-old boy Jerry gave his father a portrait of him as Father's Day present. When Mr Yeo looked at the drawing, he did not understand why Jerry had coloured his face all black on the paper.

So, Jerry asked his father to stand in the dark, with the light off, and gave his explanation: Most of the time, he only got to see his father's silhouette. Due to his busy schedules, Mr Yeo always left home early in the morning while Jerry was still asleep, and went home late at night after Jerry had gone to bed.

When I was in a shopping mall in Japan on 3 June, there was an exhibition "My Father's Portrait" by a local kindergarten.

Small children had portrayed their fathers' faces in all kinds of creative ways.

I thought of Jerry's drawing again, for Japanese men were infamous for working over-time and spending too little time with their families.

To celebrate Father's Day, the best present for the workaholic fathers would be a "bentoo" (single-portion boxed lunch) to bring to their working places, so that they could appreciate it while still being productive...

Japan: Patient Drivers

Since I resumed the contact with PG, I had several occasions to have his escort while going to church or other places together. He was the most careful Malaysian driver I had met. While the traffic light was turning from yellow to red, he would not accelerate to cross the junction. When it was turning green, he would wait the front vehicle to go to a safe distance, then only would he change the gear and press his foot on the accelerator in a slumber manner. Once I asked him, "Have you ever been horned at because of your slowness?" and was surprised to get the answer "So far no."

My question was actually a reflexion of my own driving attitude influenced by my brothers. I always remembered Leong's comment that more vehicles in Taiwan passed in front of the traffic light within the first fifteen seconds than in Malaysia because of the quick reaction of their drivers. And unfortunately, Seng was the most impatient driver I had ever known in person. When we used to travel by car together in the past, I was worried about how much his passengers, especially my parents, could stand the horror. Now when we sat in his car, I just prayed for our safety and relaxed, while Mum sometimes still complained about his recklessness.

On our way to KLIA from Batu Pahat, I was stunned to see the consequence of three lories having lost control at the highway and a car at a round-about. Was it not a proof that our drivers were getting less patient in spite of the better road conditions?

After more than ten days in Japan, I noticed that lanes within a city were generally very narrow. Drivers had very little chance to overtake on a busy road. Even then, I hardly saw any cars rushing. Cars always keep a one-car distance from each other, whether moving on the road or in front of a traffic light. PG's driving would perfectly merge into the scene.

Later, I learned from Ah Yu that in Japan, when a car was knocked from the back, its driver also had to bear a part of the responsibility. Even though the vehicle insurance company would finally take the charge of repaying the damage, the payment of the insurance contract would become higher to the disadvantage of the driver.

We should consider to follow this example in Malaysia. What do you think?

Japan: Slurping Ramen

In the Japanese dramas, the way Japanese people, regardless of the gender, slurp ramen at a restaurant used to impress us. As soon as the hot dishes were served, the clients would pull the long noodles with their chopsticks and suck up to the end as if they could swallow without chewing.

Six years ago, when Dad finally went to Tokyo, he was amused by the scenes whereby Japanese men formally dressed in coats with neckties were eating their ramen at the roadside. Indeed, ramen, originated from China and modified to suit the Japanese taste, had no doubt become one of the most popular dishes among the travellers in Japan.

During our two-week stay in Japan this year, I tasted ramen at four places.

In Malaysia, we usually have a choice between noodles seasoned with a sauce, accompanied by a bowl of soup and the same noodles in a bowl of soup. At the food court inside a shopping mall where I had my first ramen,

the difference was the soup base: shoyuu or miso.

The second time, we went to a famous chained ramen-ya at the peak lunch hour. Young people were queueing outside the restaurant which only boasted of about ten seats at a bar and three or four tables. So we did some shopping at a supermarket behind the restaurant before getting available seats.

While we were waiting for our noodles to be served, Emi told me, "Nowadays in Japan, many young people's dream is to own a 'ramen' restaurant."

The speciality there was thick noodles served either cool or hot, accompanied a soup with a lot of ingredients, namely dried seaweed, sliced pork, half of a hard-boiled egg, etc.

In Malaysia, I was so used to finishing everything in my bowl. When Emi commented that she was surprised at my ability to drink almost all the soup, I realized the very salty broth was only meant to be dipped with the noodles. No wonder free icy plain water and hot green tea were served at most of the eateries to quench the thirst of the customers after a high intake of sodium.

The third time, we popped into a restaurant after seeing that our first choice was closed in the middle of the afternoon.

We were sitting side by side at a bar. Right in front of us and behind the transparent plastic curtains was the kitchen. It was interesting to witness the preparation of the food without making the cook uncomfortable.

We ordered five ramen and two plates of five fried dumplings.

The cheapest ramen would cost 300 yen on Fridays between 3pm-6pm instead of 450 yen during other times.

The last place was Seng's favorite since his last visit two years ago. He specially requested to go to this ramen-ya, previously a petrol station.

This time, I ordered a tonkotsu ramen. Chopped fresh leek added a nice colour to the white, milky soup base.

In Malaysia, I was taught to focus on my bowl while eating, though sometimes I still do not bear to switch off the television. In France, I learned to discuss with others at the dining table. In Japan, comics are so widely available in ramen restaurants that clients seem to be encouraged to place their eyes on the book rather than the food.

In Malaysia, I was criticized for unconsciously making noise while eating, especially since I am a female. In France, I learned to give compliments to the food at the dining table. In Japan, the chewing sound is impolite but the slurping from the ramen eater is a must. I suppose it is a way to show how much the Japanese love ramen.

How much do Malaysians love ramen? Just look at my two brothers who were almost washing their faces with ramen...

Japan: Papa Goes To Work By Train

In May 2003, when I first went to Japan to attend Ah Yu and Emi's wedding ceremony, they were renting an apartment in Tokyo. Later, they moved to Chiba-ken (Prefecture) which was less costly but still in the Greater Area of Tokyo. Since more than three years ago, they are living in their own house in Moriya city in Ibaraki-ken outside the Metropolitan area.

Emi had resigned from her job. So Ah Yu drove alone to work in Tokyo, which took him two hours for a single trip. Even his colleagues were surprised that he lived so far from the working place. I remember a former colleague Chuang also told me that she used to spend that much time travelling from her house in Muar to the Alor Gajah campus by car. I asked her how she had managed to do that for years. She answered, "At first I felt tired. So I just got into the car, not thinking about the distance. Slowly it became a routine!" To me it was unimaginable. Even when I was stuck in the traffic for only a few minutes while driving to the city campus once or twice a week for the past three semesters, I already found the time long.

Tsukuba express was opened half a year after they were settled down in Moriya. Since, Ah Yu abandoned his car most of the time and hopped into the train in which he could sleep or do some reading all the way to his company.

When we were there during his working days, he was the first one to take a shower, get changed and have breakfast. At seven o'clock, he was leaving the house to walk four minutes to the Moriya station to take the train. If Yuri was already awake, he would hold Ah Yu tightly and try not to let him go until Ah Yu succeeded in comforting his son.

Ah Yu once wrote in an email:
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I remember that when I was small, Dad was going to banquet every night, and I always didn't let him go. Then Dad would give me some money. But I don't think this method can be effective with a toddler.
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Of course it would not work with Yuri. Sometimes, Ah Yu just handed the crying child to Emi and quickly walked away. Anyway, a couple of minutes after Yuri was separated from his father, he was already happily playing with his toys...

As their residential area was just next to the tracks, we could see and hear a train passing almost every five minutes. Yuri loved to imitate the noise. When he stood at the window, pointed outside and excitedly uttered the "gatang gotong, gatang gotong..." sound, we knew he was referring to the long vehicle.

If the weather was good, he would be allowed to stand outside the house with our presence. Then he would wave at the train energetically and said, "Bye-bye!"

None of those trains was carrying his father back to the house. Yuri was not disappointed, for he knew that Ah Yu, unlike the typical Japanese men, still loved his precious son much more than his job.