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!"