Run run run!

People in NY generally don't run unless they just mugged someone or are at Macy's thanksgiving sale.

Here in Tokyo, it seems to be mandatory.
You never know who's going to come out of the corner running so you need to be vigilant.
These people are not joggers.
They run in their normal attire.
Age, gender, profession nor shoe style matter.

Most common reason for running seems to be "to catch the train".
This coming from a country where trains run in 3 minutes interval ON TIME.

When Alex and I first started commuting to preschool, he kept asking "why are they running?"
It was such a different sight compared to where he was from.
Now he seems to enjoy the show and counts how many are running (too many!).
He has been knocked over a few times because he got too close to a running Tokyonite.

Thought to snap some pictures of them running, but they are too fast!

Japanese Potty

"mommy, there are no potties!"
"Yes there is, this is a toilet. See the blue man and pink woman on that board? That means there are potties here"
"I don't like pink woman room. I want to go to blue"
"Well daddy's not here today so you are in here with me"
"but mommy, pink doesn't have my potty!"
So I go into the offending stall and find this.  

I go in the next stall and find the same thing.
This is Tokyo, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world, at a fairly upscale department store to boot.
Why am I facing this?

Japanese potties are basically a hole in the floor with half a dome to cover 1/6 of the oval hole.
I refuse to understand how to use it and instruct Alex to do so as well.
I completely forgot about their existence until Alex came running out of the stall.
"mommy, can I go to blue man room?"
He's 4.
Should I send him off to a public toilet on his own?
The only "western style" stall is out of order.
He is near tears with the hole potty.

Come to think of it he is becoming pretty rigid about trying out new things.
He didn't want to try out the new mango orange muffin that cost me $5 this morning.
Maybe this is a good opportunity to instill the idea of overcoming challenges.
So I drag him in the stall, and have him squat over the hole.
I am not sure if we are even facing the right way, but he aims inside the dome, assuming it's a splash guard.

MISSed!
He pees ON the dome.
The liquid trickles down the dome onto the floor running towards his shoes.
I lift Alex to avoid any contact but Alex was not done yet so the pee was now showering the wall.
Ooops.
Disaster in progress.

The stall is so small that there is no other choice but to put Alex down in the puddle and let him finish his thing.
He understands the situation and now he is peeing and crying at the same time.
"I want to go to blue room!!"

This toilet has been the de facto standard for many years.
At the same time the Japanese have been known for their longevity.
One needs to squat to do her job in this toilet but I cannot imagine an 80 year old being able to do that.
There is a janitor's closet within the ladies room so I clean Alex's shoe there.
He's still sobbing at the ordeal and not happy about the fact that he has to wear the shoe I hosed down.
Mercifully there are no people waiting to use the toilets so I throw a bucket of water in the stall we trashed to wash things down.
The rest has to be dealt by the janitor.

During all of this, not a single person came in.
It's 1:30pm, when the toilets are usually crowded with people who finished lunch at one of the restaurants.
Alex and I leave the Restaurant floor to go down to the Luxury Brand floor.
There is a long line of people coming out of a corridor.
It leads to the ladies room.
We cut the line and go in, pretending to just wash our hands, and find out that all the stalls have regular toilet bowls.
Aha! So even Japanese, young and old like the "western style" toilets.

An anniversary we fail to notice

There was an article about anniversaries people celebrate.

It asked which anniversary the readers most look forward to.
To me, I guess it's my kid's birthday.

And so my answer was the same as a million other readers.

But that wasn't the point of the article.
The author pointed out that our firstborn's birthday is not just the kid's birthday but also the day "parents" were born. Before that we were just husbands and wives (majority of Japan is still a hetrosexual partnership). Hence the birthdays of Mommy and Daddy.
We have a right to celebrate for ourselves too! Who knew?
Makes sense.

But who's going to get me presents?

creep

I don't know the appropriate translation for the word "creep".
So after much contemplation, I just say "creep" in English.
I'm talking in Japanese pretty well and suddenly I turn into English.
The group of women I was talking to blink.
And then they lose interest as if it was a boring story after all.

The problem with Japanese people is that they assume you are Japanese if you look East Asian.
There are no "Asian-Americans" in their world.
If you look Asian, you are expected to speak Japanese flawlessly and understand it perfectly well. You are expected to follow the culture of bowing, saying "sorry" all the time, running to the trains, etc, mindlessly.
Especially with the "patriotic fad" going on, there is this strange sense of superiority among people and a friend told me she felt she was treated like a second-rate citizen when people found out she couldn't speak the language.

So I am having trouble with the word "creep".
Alex and I were sitting on a train and out of nowhere comes this 20-something, sitting right next to Alex. I didn't notice him until he interrupted our conversation. I thought a pretty woman was sitting there. Where did she go?
"He's very cute. How old is he?"
I'm dumbstruck. This is Japan, the land of harmless looking psychos with knives.
"I'm Four!" Alex is so happy that he was finally asked something that he could answer in Japanese.
"You speak very good Japanese. Where are you from?" Damn it! Why is he carrying on a conversation? I just stare. He asks again, this time loudly.
I still stare.
"Are you from Thailand?"
I finally cave and say "New York".
"Oh, that must be far away. How long is it by plane?"
Why is he asking this? Creep. His eyes scream "pedophile".
I am thinking what to do. I don't want to move suddenly and have him running after us with a knife. It's still a while until the next station.
And then I freeze.

He takes Alex's right hand and strokes it, repeatedly.
I mentally calculate how long it takes me to take a pen out of my bag and stab his hand.
Can I get away with it?
Then I hear the announcement for the next station. I have never been grateful for this boring announcement in my life.
I grab Alex's right arm and say "okay, we are getting off".
"Why? this isn't our station yet". Why does Alex have to argue with me right now out of all the time in the world?
"I don't like strangers touching you".

The creep then stands up and walks away.
He go sits next to a woman with a stroller.
Wow, he is a pedophile looking for prey.
We get off the train.

In NYC even 10 year olds have chaperons take them to and from school.
But in Japan, once you are in elementary school, kids are suppose to commute by themselves. A lot of schools think that this is what constitutes children's "independence".
I see 6, 7 , 8 year olds, light as a feather, brave the commuter train every morning. These kids are small, most of them wearing uniforms that identify their schools (and location, obviously) and sometimes even have their nametags hanging out.

I am explaining all of this to a group of Japanese women as they pass out tea and I get stuck at the word "creep".
I am still angry and worked up about it and I am stressing that there is no way in hell I am going to let Alex go to school by himself.
"That creep. Creep, creep!!!".

"Relax, here it is".
What is here? What is she talking about?
"Your cream. Creap. Well this is real cream, not cheap creap that's powdered.
This is what you want in your tea, right?"

I'll be damned.