Excuse me!

Alex has been exposed to Japanese from the time he was born. Ken talks and reads to him in Japanese.
Yes, his nanny, as well as I, only speak and read English to him but he does understand the difference between the 2 languages.
He gauges the direction each language reads (Japanese : up / down) or the way the pages are turned (Japanese : from left to right). He can tell right away if someone is speaking Japanese or English even though he doesn't know any of the words.

When we were in NY, Alex and I often went to this Japanese restaurant nearby when Ken was late at work. It was probably the only time Alex got to see me speak some Japanese to someone besides Ken. I used to say "Su-mi-ma-sen" when I waved to a waitstaff, had tea served or dropped something on the floor. It essentially means "excuse me". Alex picked it up quickly and he managed to pronounce it flawlessly at the age of 2.5 years old. Whenever we would go to a Japanese restaurant, he would try this word out on people.

Alex has a Japanese name alongside his English one. He is called in his Japanese name when spoken to in Japanese and English name at other times. But he does not let me call him in his Japanese name, mainly because I don't speak the language well.

One day I started out with his Japanese name and just kept on going much to his protest.
Then he had an epiphany.

"Oh, I know! This is Su-mi-ma-sen! You are saying Su-mi-ma-sen!"

No I'm not using that word at all.
What is he saying?

Then I had an epiphany.
I realized he never understood what the word "Su-mi-ma-sen" meant.
He thought it was an English word that stood for "Japanese language".
So when he's in a Japanese environment, he would get excited and say "Su-mi-ma-sen" just to reiterate the fact that he realizes he's in a Japanese place.

And all this time I thought we were raising a multilingual child....

He's 4 now and nowhere near speaking Japanese.

When does my Business Trip Start?

Just a normal day in the life of......

I get to the airport 12 hours early.
I don't notice this until the woman at the check-in counter looks at me puzzled.

All this after struggling for an hour to reserve a cab last night to get me to the airport early in the morning (5:45 am pick up).
There were no limos nor cabs because it was a Monday after a 3 day weekend (whatever that means, I guess demand is high).
The last car service company on the list had mercy.

But now that I got AM and PM mixed up.....

So I have 12 hours to kill.
I need to get rid of my huge suitcase first.

I go in the direction the ground crew tells me to.
I don't find anywhere to dump it.
I look at the airport map.
Golly, it's at the end of the other side!

I was lead in the wrong direction.
It looks like a 10 minutes walk to the other side
This airport is huge.

I finally arrive at temporary storage.
The guy asks me when the suitcase will be reclaimed.
"12 hours later"

He looks surprised.
Guess what, I am surprised too!

Just like the ground crew he consoles me by telling me that at least I am 12 hours early and not late.
As if that makes me feel any better.

I eat breakfast at this place where they sell Japanese bagels (steamed, not boiled) and then consider my plan of attack.

Although the airport was all the rage when it opened after extensive renovations, there is no way I'll spend more than 2hours in this place.
I can stay at an airport hotel for 6000yen ($60) during the day, meaning I get power for my PC but it just doesn't seem worth the price and effort.
I do want to get my necklace that I forgot at home if possible, and there is the issue of my dead watch so I decide that going home is the best solution.

I call Ken and whine about the situation.
He suggests that I go to Tokyo station near his office, and kill time there so we can have lunch.
When I tell him that I plan to go home, an hour away from his office, he suggests having coffee after 3pm.
Isn't that nice.
I'm feeling so sad and helpless (called the 'to-ho-ho' feeling in Japanese) I'm grateful for the company.

The cabfare to the airport was company expense, but there is no way they are going to foot the bill for 3 trips in one day.
I find the cheapest way to get back to the city, some obscure train that used to be the fastest route to the airport 2 decades ago.
Once I am near the city, I get off at Ueno station expecting to change onto something called a Keikyu line that will take me closer to home.

I bought connecting tickets.
I don't see any signs saying Keikyu.
The station master tells me I had to get off at Aoto station that was like 3 stations and 15minutes ago.

Hey, nobody told me that!
I'm bleeding money here.
I decide to take another train home.

Once home, thing seem peaceful.
Had the leftover udon for lunch and worked the computer.
Then I hear the locks turning.

It must be grandma.

It was.
She's standing there dumbstruck when she sees me.
She thought she came on the wrong day and looks as though she’s about to cry.
She’s paranoid about Alzheimer’s hitting her.

I tell her I gave her the wrong time and she’s on the attack on why I could be so dumb.
She claims to have come to check on the fridge.
Didn't I spend something like 30minutes yesterday listing what was in there and e-mailed it to her?
Can’t she just check her e-mails before leaving home?

She prepares some food for Alex and Ken and we talk about Alex and marvel at how observant he is.
He takes one look at a photo when I was a kid and he rightfully points out that it's me. Well okay, all the other kids were blonde.
But he can even pick out grandma when she was young.
Pity we don't have pix of young Ken.

Grandma asks where the manga books 'oh-ke no monsho' are.
These are comic books I used to read when I was a teenager to, um, learn Japanese.
Yes, grandma thought the best way for me to learn Japanese quickly was to read comic books.
Still, Japanese comic books are nothing like the American ones and some are nearly a work of art, seriously.

Anyway, since space was of essence in our household I sold them.
Apparently grandma was reading them the last time she was here.
I felt so bad.
I got out some other manga 'with love, Eroica' by the same author instead.
She seemed happy.

Gave her the rundown on Alex's routine and she was off to a coffee shop until Alex and the babysitter got home.
I grab some extra socks and panties hanging from the racks, pack the watch with dead batteries and I am off too.

I arrive at Tokyo station and go straight to the brand new Daimaru department store.
The watch repair man opens my watch after announcing that battery change for Hermes watches will cost me a cool 3250yen ($32).
He carefully takes out the battery, tests the current and says that the battery is fine.

Ok, so what is the issue?
Am I going to be watchless this entire trip?
There are no issues.
Watch working properly.

Goodness, what an embarrassment and waste of time!
That seems to be the theme of today.

Wasting time.

Okay, I'm gonna waste time searching for dinner that I will be eating on the train that takes me to the airport.
After buying my dinner and heading to the bookstore at the other side of the station, which is like a 15 minutes walk via underground passage, I get a call from my boss asking me that I get a gift for our new restaurant that opened recently In Waikiki.
"Something Japanese like rice crackers in neat boxes would be nice"
Ummm, there are hardly any rice cracker stores on this side of the station.
I'm sent on a wild goose chase.
I'm wearing my coat and I'm getting hot.
I finally find a Japanese/European 'gaufre' place at the basement of one of the swankiest new buildings in the business district.
Not rice crackers but a very famous Japanese “western” confectionery.
The price is agreeable too.
I settle on it.

Just as I am figuring out how to get out of this basement labyrinth, Ken calls.
He's ready to meet for coffee.
Yipee!

I go over the day and think about what I'm going to report to him.
It's a long walk to his office.
I end up walking something like another 10minutes.
I’m getting a lot of workout.

After some nice talks we part at 5pm.
I would make the 5:33pm train to the airport.
Alas, after much struggle to figure out how to use the ticket machine, the tix were sold out so I had to get the 6pm train.

This is so sad.
I can’t even figure out a ticketing machine.
I feel like a clueless American tourist in an Asian country.
Still would make it to the airport in time but I was expecting to kind of relax there.
I'm pretty sure I have a premium economy seat, which should mean that I get use of the exclusive airport lounge.
I mean, don't I deserve this pampering today?

However the ticketing lady at the airport does not give me the voucher for the lounge.
I think of asking her but suddenly not sure of the status of my seat.
I refrain from asking to save myself from further embarrassment.
I had too many of those today.

Defeated, i go through immigrations and get our staff in NY some duty free cigarettes.
I can't find the one he's asking for.
And the price is also different.
Is he going to reimburse me even though it’s like twice the price he thinks it is?

I wouldn't mind buying him something as a gift but I can't tolerate cigarettes and cannot imagine myself buying it as a gift. I am going to get my money back on this.
However this guy is our restaurant staff and he’s scraping by.
He has no money.
Oh well, I get him the closest one I can find.

I remember to get something for All Souls school too since I’m planning to visit.
Good girl.
I feel like I am finally regaining control of myself.
I walk towards the coveted lounge.
It looks closed.
Maybe that was why they didn't give me the voucher.

I go to the restroom and struggle to get my rolling carry-on in the stall.
Japanese stalls are tiny and I am not trusting enough to leave my computer contained carry-on outside.
By this time I don't get frustrated that easily.
After a few minutes I succeed and even manage to get out some pills that I need which were in the bottom of the carry-on.

After browsing stores and not finding my favorite watch that I plan to buy, I head to the gate.
I see the usual scenes of ground crew busying themselves.
Then some male figure arrives.
I catch a glimpse of his profile and figure he's senior.
Everyone is paying attention to him.
Whatever.

I look down and around again.
Hang on, did I just see that senior’s face?
He looks familiar.
I look at him again, this time his full feature are in full view.
Is he...?

Wow, a blast from the past!
An ex-boyfriend I haven't seen for 18years.
He tells me he had dinner with my friend recently and heard all about my move here.
So he has been keeping a tab on me.
Hmmm.
We exchange business cards and he's back to work.

So what does this all mean?
I mean, it has been a very strange day.
Is there a message here from somewhere high above?
Thankfully my spirits have been high.
Considering all I have been through, I'm a somewhat happy gal today.

The hormone balance is good.
But is this the end for me or the beginning of something?
I have been wondering about this ex ever since I moved to Japan.
So I finally see him and know what he’s doing.
Wish granted.

A treat before my end or a sign of something new?
I get on the plane and realize this flight has no premium economy.
Just 2 classes, business and economy.

It’s 9pm and time for me to sleep.
I will be arriving at 8 am in Hawaii.

I take a melatonin tablet wondering if this is going to cause a rare allergic reaction in me and kill me.
Ha! It doesn't even knock me out to sleep.
When I arrive in Hawaii, it's Monday morning all over again
Is it going to be a new start?

I always wonder about horoscopes that tell you what the day will be.
Is it going to be the same when you jump date line?

The day has just begun in Waikiki......

Understanding Japanese

My hearing ability in Japanese has never been that good, but for the past decade or so, since the only Japanese I really listened to in NY was my husband's, which was often grammatically incorrect, it has deteriorated considerably.

So I go to a supermarket named "Peacock" and am asked something by the cashier. I ask her to repeat and she obliges. I still can't understand.
In NY, when the sales assistant asks something when you are paying, they are usually trying to sell a credit card.
I guess the correct answer in the Peacock situation is "no" as well.

So from then on I just say no, whatever I am asked.
I don't know what I am being asked anyway, so what have I got to lose besides some opportunity to open a line of credit?

Well, I finally realized after several months that I lose the privilege of getting a plastic bag for my stuff.
Why didn't I even notice this for so long??

Memories of New York

A nice Saturday in Central Park in June. Ken already left for Japan, Alex and Harrison had a playdate in the park. 

Alex got upset because he couldn’t eat his snack right before lunch. 

He starts the guilt trip.

Alex: That’s not fair! I’m not talking to you mommy. I miss daddy. I miss daddy~!

Harrison (deadpan): Daddy’s at work

Alex: No Harrison!! DADDY IS IN JAPAN! I miss daddieeeeeeee.

Carole: Harrison would never say that in a million years. Did you hear what he said? "Daddy’s at work." That’s Bruce’s excuse when he’s not around!

Of all the years I have been in NY this is the most memorable conversation. I don’t know why, but it was just too funny at the time.

Japanese love stereotyping

In the past few weeks I have noticed that there is so much blatant stereotyping going around in Japan it's nauseating.

I go to an electronics store to get something for my computer.
The shop assistant gives me a leaflet saying "this is really popular with women because it's easy to understand"
So, like we are dumber than men?

I am getting a new cell phone.
You will be amazed at the offerings here.
There are like 500 styles, seriously.
The shop assistant shows me several styles, telling me "For the ladies, I think these designs are nice"
No I am not interested in leopard print or pink crystal. I want chrome.
"Oh, those are really popular with men. Are you sure that's what you want?"

I shop at a supermarket.
They were giving out freebies to taste.
So I take one.
The guy handing it to me tells me that "young women all love this".
Well, I'm not your typical young woman and no, I don't like it, is what I said.
Yes confrontational, a social suicide in this country to be saying something like that in public, but these seemingly harmless stereotyping are so annoying.

Yet to find Silver Lining

I have somewhat settled in Tokyo with more than half my things still floating across the pacific.

According to studies by University of Maryland/BBC collaboration, a United Nations thinktank (forgot the name) and some big-shot Asian research center, the Japanese are the most pessimistic nationals in the world. This is not only about the economy, but outlook in life in general. Each study verified this individually with extensive studies and surveys, at different times.

Kind of brings you down if you live there, doesn't it?
Before leaving NY, I'm thinking, okay I'm going to find a silver lining in Japan.
But I have to get hit by these studies that a friend in Washington DC sent me.
The studies have been proven to me, much on an individual level after I have arrived, starting with neighbors all the way down to the potential babysitters I am interviewing.
I desperately need prozac right now. This feeling of depression is contagious.

There is so much I am confused, irritated, and plain dumbfounded about and on top of that, I found out I don't understand half of what the people are saying.
It's like I am in a foreign country.
Wasn't I fairly proficient in Japanese? I mean, I have a husband who speak to me in Japanese!

I found something similar to FreshDirect, delivering groceries on a 2 hour window of your choice, and I realized I made a mistake when checking off the desired delivery time.
So I called customer services to ask if I could change the timeframe and the girl says yes, and she walks me through the change, reconfirming every single order I made, thanking me each and every time for each of the 30 items I ordered, and then after I finally moved delivery time to 4 hours later, she asks me if I wanted anything else, I say no, and then she thanks me for calling and informs me that they won't be able to deliver on the requested date. I am like, so what were we doing for the past 20 minutes? Did I miss something? She said something about procedure, but I just didn't understand.

I'm told at Alex's summer camp that Alex NEEDS to wear socks with his water sandals. I asked why and was told it's dangerous without socks. I asked again recently and was told he can catch a cold without socks. I am ignoring the socks order, but am wondering if I am really hearing things right.

Now onto the bright side of things.
Although they lack a lot of organic stuff, the selection of heat and eat food is amazing.
If I go to a supermarket and wanted to get a ready-to-eat-after-nuking risotto, I can find 15 types of them on the shelf.

I have already conquered 5 flavors. Still 10 to go and that is just rissotto.
They also have curry with rice, short pasta, long pasta, chinese fried rice, rice porridge etc.
There is a perpetual curry fad in Japan, and there are many famous curry restaurants.
The restaurants hook up with manufacturers, and make their own branded ready-to-eat curry, complete with rice.
I have tried out 4 curries already, it will take until September to conquer all.
There is a whole aisle dedicated to this semi-junk dish (god knows what's in them to get that shelf life!).
Since curry is my favorite food, working from home and nuking my own lunch has never been better.

Then if we move on to the fridge/freezer section, there are numerous ready-made food; all you need to do is pop it in the oven.
I have been saved with the frozen "lunch bites" that they sell.
Chicken nuggets, mini-sausages, fried fish cakes, veggie patties, rice balls, pastas, veggie derivatives that are in bite size and ready to stick in the lunch box.
They are shaped in moons, stars, cars and flowers and for Alex, who is miserable in camp, these lunch are the highlight of his day.

I went to a "western" supermarket today (named so because they sell foreign imports) and found Huggies pull-ups with "cars the movie" design on it.
Although Alex has graduated his night time diapers a few months ago, his bed and waterproof liner are still crossing the pacific, and I can't afford to have accidents on the mattress we are borrowing right now, so I am having him in diapers. He's not happy with the Japanese one so I grabbed the huggies.
At the cash register, the woman announced cheerfully that it was $40.
WHAT?
It's 21count. Not like they have 60 in them.
It's less than $20 on amazon.
I was frozen there for a while.
I went back and checked the price; she was right.
And for your reference, a single bounty roll is $5, a bottle of San Pellegrino is $4, Frito-lay chips (large bag) is $10, a GE monogram stovetop with oven that yours truly had in her rental building is 10grand (not that they sold that there) and a pedicure is anywhere from $70 to $180 (and this is just a run of the mill nail salon).
Bloody expensive.

Where is my prozac?

Brand New Washing Machine

We got a new washing machine.
It's actually a washer/dryer.
It does 2 jobs at once, well ok, not at once, but in one cycle..
We bought it to save space and time.
We were wrong on both accounts.

The space issue:
When we went to buy the machine, the shop assistant insisted on coming to our house for "estimates".
We had no idea what they were trying to estimate.
They kept saying that they had to know if the machine will fit.
We we did our own measurements and it's not like that's rocket science.
We were having a hard time wondering why they couldn't trust our tape measure.
Since we were having trouble comprehending Japanese, we conceded and allowed them to estimate (it was free anyway).

They come a couple of days later and start measuring the apartment like crazy.
The door, the size of the handles, the elevator, the building entrance.
They measured everywhere but the actual area we were going to put the machine in.
They told us the door covering the washing machine area had to go temporarily.
Apparently, with the door there, the machine was not going to go through.
So that was what they were doing.
Japanese apartments are small but their fixtures are about the same as US.
So, door handles or the thickness of doors can hinder stuff getting inside.

We agree to removing the door.
The machine arrives; the door is lying in my son's room upsetting the boy dearly.
Ken falls in love with the machine.
He watches the front loader door open and close without any annoying sounds.
He watches the drum cycling to figure out how much the laundry weighs and to calculate the amount of detergent.
He touches the sleek lines, the soft shade.
Alex, now forgetting the door in his room joins Ken.
They are both mesmerized.

So the door, can we move it?
We try to put it back, but then realize that if we do, the washing machine will not open.
The hinges of the door touches the hinges of the washing machine and if we are not very careful every single time, the loader door will surely break.
We need to have the door opening from the left, not the right.
We figure we can just put the door upside down and connect it to the other side.
But we can't.
The state of the art door is way more complicated that we first thought.
So it's there now, leaning against the wall next to the washing machine.


The time issue:
What we completely failed to grasp was the weather in Japan.
Basically, it's humid.
Hot or cold, it's fairly humid.
So, drying clothes takes extra time.
If we try to dry clothes in the same drum that was for a minute ago washing them, it's going to take considerably longer because the machine needs to dry out the drum at the same time.

We look at the control panel that looks like an airplane cockpit.

There are so many buttons and displays we don't know what to do.

One American businessman I met a decade ago insisted that American machines don't last long not because of manufacturing inferiority but because consumers don't read the owners' manual. They just guess, press buttons and screw the whole machine. He marveled at how Japanese always read their manuals from start to finish.

I was wondering if that was still the case.
The control panel screams "read the owners' manual" but we just couldn't get around doing so.
So we blindly pushed buttons, and the machine gave us a time frame.
"2 hours 45 minutes".
Nearly 3 hours for what? For washing and drying?
Have I already screwed the machine up?

So that is how long it takes.
And washing machines here are small.
You can only do about 2/3 of the amount we do in NY in one cycle at best.
So while I was doing 3 loads in New York, I have to do 5 here.
That's nearly 15 hours of consecutive use.
If the machine breaks down, it's NOT because we didn't read the owners' manual.

The goodness of TV as a childrearing tool

Rachel once told me that when she moved from East 90s to East 50s, she didn't have time to deal with her kids so she sat them in front of the TV while she packed and unpacked. Now her apartment is all nice and cozy but apparently the kids never got out of the habit.

I am a preemptive control freak. I'm bad at controlling things after the fact so I try to preempt. I can't pry a kid off a TV so I rather just raise him without one. One good way at installing "no TV" rules was to find a nanny who would rather go outside to the playground that sit in front of the TV. Delegation is everything to me.

"No TV" or "Yes TV" seems to be a topic that riles some people up, especially on childrearing message boards. Come to think about it I really didn't have a good reason to support my "no TV" policy. I turned out fine. I even worked in network TV for a decade for heavens sake. A lot of my friends were glued to the TV in their playpens and they are lawyers now. But then I remember my childhood, sitting in front of the TV all day, eating snacks or French fries and getting splitting headaches, not to mention gaining a lot of weight. I have a tendency to reflect my fears on my son. Those headaches were destructive to my mood and I'm too old to carry a heavy child. So it's no TV for him.

But how can I resist the remote control when Alex is nagging me to tell him each and every item I am unpacking and asking me whether he can touch the few Baccarat Crystals we have left?

We shipped the TV last. Ken was contemplating until the very end whether we should take it to Japan or not. I wanted to give it to our nanny. Ken thought about the prices these LCD TVs are in Japan. The day the movers came they put it in a box and wrote "to Japan". However, this was the second shipment. We did 2 installments. First was in May, the second end of June. It takes at least 50 days by sea. Our TV is still floating across the Pacific.

So I do not have a remote control button to push. I don't have a choice. I have to deal with my kid. Ken doesn't want to buy a TV when he knows a perfectly good one is coming in a few weeks. I am working from home without a nanny. How do people cope in situation like these?

I finally find a solution. I let Alex watch a movie on my computer while I read paper documents. problem is, since he's been raised without much TV, he gets tired at focusing and his interest wanes in 30 minutes.....

Tokyo Style Bagels

One of the things I miss is bagel. In Manhattan, I used to live near Bagelworks, a store written up in the NY times a few years back for having one of the most authentic recipe. On top of that, we ate Eli’s bagel at Vinegar Factory at least once a week when Alex attended swim classes near there. It’s been 3 weeks since my last bagel. I was getting withdrawal symptoms.

So off we go in search of bagels and in no time we stumble across a place called “Bagel & Bagel”. It had a subtitle – “New York Style Bagels” Sounds promising. Bagels slightly smaller than ones at Eli’s or Bagelworks lined up on a small table near the entrance of the store. Each bagel was wrapped in a plastic bag, and all were sitting nicely in baskets, sorted according to flavors. Bagels in New York were always heaped up behind a glass case with the ones on the bottom squashed. I didn’t believe in giving bagels the royal treatment, but I digress. This is Japan after all, a country that over-packages everything – even green beans.

I picked a bagel. It was lighter than I imagined. Suspicion arose. I put it back and eye the pumpernickel bagel. I am impressed that they decided to do pumpernickel. The Japanese have an aversion to bread with dark colors. They always strive to make them as white as possible. I pick it up. I smell something. Could it be…… chocolate? I look at the label. It says “cocoa and chocolate bagel”. I feel as though I have been violated. “Come on, don’t be such a snob. Try it, you might like it” encourages Ken. I drop the black bagel back in the basket and go for the safest bet, Everything. I asked to have it toasted with butter. I was told it’s $1.50 extra and that it comes with honey. I repeat my request for butter only. The girl at the counter repeats what she already said. I suddenly remembered the day when there was a riot at Vinegar Factory.

My friends and I buy bagels at Vinegar Factory after our kids’ swim class every week. Rain or shine, we are always hungry (class starts at 9am) so we get coffee, bagels, juice for the kids and just lounge there or at the playground and wolf down our purchases. One day one of us asked the bagel to be toasted as usual and was charged $3 extra for it. Suddenly there was a shouting match between us and the cashier. How can it cost $3 just to have something toasted? We’ve been going there for the past few months and never been asked for such a ridiculous charge. Ken was demanding a menu stating that toasting was $3, Carole was shouting for the manager, Steve was accusing them of ripping people off. I so wanted to join in this fun but someone had to sit with the kids. The ruckus went on for 20 minutes. They store held their stance saying that the price was the same as the restaurant upstairs which still didn’t makes sense since downstairs was less than a coffee shop. We eventually got the toast service for free, only paying for the bagels, but were warned that next time they will charge us.

Getting a proper bagel has become a competitive sport. I gave up on butter with or without honey and just bit into the toast with maximum force because, of course, it’s supposed to be a New York Bagel. My teeth clanked real bad. I look at this thing that calls itself a bagel and right there where I have bitten I see the unimaginable. An air pocket. “Bagel’s air pocket” is an oxymoron. It won’t be a bagel if it had air pockets. But there it is. The bagel is so soft it only takes 3 seconds to chew and swallow. A bagel is supposed to be a zero calorie food. You burn so much energy just chewing the dang thing that the calorie of the bagel is completely used up.

Ken brings me a leaflet explaining this store’s offerings. They go in details the ingredients they use. Water from Mt. Hood National Forest, wheat from Montana. And they boast that the texture of their bagels is moist and soft. Moist and soft? Am I missing something here? How can a bagel be moist and soft when you use malt and boil the dough?

According to New York Times, the traditional bagel, born of Eastern European shtetls, was made of yeast, malt, flour, water and salt. It was rolled by hand, first boiled and then baked. I am pretty certain that this store doesn’t follow this formula. Defeated, I go home and google New York bagel. I get Wikipedia that leads me to H&H. They ship worldwide. I am saved.

Country of Dyson

2 weeks after moving into our apartment, we finally went out to get a vacuum cleaner.
Someone told me it was Japan where Dyson made his big break. Dyson was so grateful for the chance to prove himself that he still spends a significant amount on R&D dedicated to the Japanese market.

His current offering is limited to canister models; i.e. no uprights like they have in New York. However, considering the lack of storage space for tall things in this country, a canister model with its telescopic wand and hose that wrap around the body to make a tight small bundle is actually perfect.

I look at the most expensive model, which is officially $800 but actually gets discounted to $700, and compared it to the Dyson Stowaway I saw in the city. Its wheels are bigger, the wrap tighter, the hose sturdier, the body a darker color with the canister being a chic champagne gold. It looks far better than the U.S. model. I was told it also hooks up to the internet. Yep, the internet. Apparently it can receive data through that; I don't know what for. There seems to be more bells and whistles regarding its ability at cleaning too.

It looks like the only thing that is superior in the U.S. model is its cost efficiency. The U.S. price is $500 with a 5 year guarantee (Japan only stretches 2 years). Ken is not happy with the price difference nor the price, period, but I can live with that. Beats dealing with filters.

Back in New York, I was told from someone who uses our cleaning lady that she doesn't exchange filters. I only found this out after hiring her for a year. I don't even want to think what was going inside that machine. Dyson it is. Now I have to find a cleaning lady who can use it.

Tokyo Buses

The bus stops.

It’s in front of the bus depot.

2 men run toward the bus.

They wait in front of the bus, standing straight, hands by their sides, as if they are soldiers waiting for the general to walk past by them.

The bus driver takes off his name plate from the holder above his seat (if there is a complaint to be made by the passengers, they know the drivers name), bows towards the passengers and gets off the bus.

Another driver in identical uniform climbs in, bows, attaches his name plate and sits in his seat.

The other guy who accompanied him in running climbs in, faces the passengers, bows and says “Our apologies for delay, thank you for waiting, the bus will start now, have a nice ride”.

This guy and the driver who ended his shift are standing on the sidewalk, heads bowed deep down until the bus speeds off into oblivion.

MTA straphangers, eat your heart out.

potty fishing

Alex wanted to fish. He needed to fish. So he finds a rod and some fish and happily goes in search of water. The tub takes too long to fill, the kitchen is too high to reach. The bathroom sink is being used for soaking his underpants that he peed on heavily (by accident, he insists).

He then finds a pool of water, just sitting there, waiting to be used as a fishing pond. He is ready to throw in the fish when I spot him. 

"Alex, please don't fish in the potty"

He turns around, quizzical. "Oh", he says looking lost.

I turn to leave when he asks "why?".

Does he seriously not know? I mean he is totally potty trained by now, he knows to wash hands after going to the toilet.

"because you pee and poop there. It's dirty".

"but it's flushed. It's clean now"

"um..... well, sometimes you pee and forget to flush"

He proceeds to flush the toilet.

"it's clean now"

The hygiene talk is not going anywhere so I need to change strategies.

"what if mommy needs to go pee right now and you are fishing there? There will be no time for you to pick up the fish and it will get dirty"

"you can use the other potty"

It was a comeback I did not expect. He is getting good at this.

"Ummmm, it's too far if I really wanted to go now"

"oh, okay"

Phew, he bought it!

So he takes his rod and fish and starts fishing on the carpet in front of the bathroom.

I am satisfied with my interaction with him thinking I have mastered the art of child rearing.

I go in the bathroom just to check he didn't do anything in the bowl or splash water around.

I notice a spot on the mirror so I start wiping and then I start cleaning the hand washing sink and then wipe down the toilet ending with another flush.

I come out of the bathroom seeing him content and happy.

He looks up.

"Is it clean in there?"

"of course"

"yeah! now I can fish!"