Category: experiences

It happened again: I had to go to the dentist… Just before Christmas – of course right in a time when I was fiendishly busy – I noticed that part of an old filling had fallen out. Even though I am not an expert, I assume this is not a good thing.

So I went to my dentist and made an appointment for the new year. Because I had some troubles communicating with the receptionist (a very nice woman who only speaks Japanese), the doctor was called and I explained that I probably needed a new filling. To which he responded: “Okay, I’ll have a look at it and we’ll make a treatment plan…”

Bad idea, you lost me there and then! The last time he made a treatment plan, I had to return four times for dental cleaning, one hour and 10.000 YEN each – in a private practice no less… And then already I had the feeling that he was pushing the treatment onto me without me even having a chance of declining. So the moment he said treatment plan with this smile on his face, I felt very uneasy and thought of a way to get out of this…

In fact, I did wind up sick at the time of the appointment, so I had to cancel it, and I decided not to go back but to see another dentist a friend of mine had recommended. And because I still don’t like going to the dentist (who does?) it took me until last Monday to build up the courage and finally go.

The experience was satisfactory: Last week we did the drilling (yes, I do want anaesthetics, lots of them, thank you!) and since the cavity was very large, we decided on an inlay, so we had to make dental impressions as well.  Unfortunately, I have a very strong gag reflex, and the tooth was a back molar, so I almost threw up when we did the impression of the upper teeth. I’m glad it was over relatively quickly though.

Yesterday I went back to have the inlay placed, which took about 45 minutes, all said and done. Most of that time I had to wait though, and the interesting thing is that the dentist would go and treat other patients in that time. Japanese dental offices are made so that there are a number of chairs next to each other in a single room, and while one patient has to wait for example for her inlay to set, the doctor simply goes to another patient and looks at his teeth. Thankfully there are room dividers in between the chairs, but still, you can hear all the chatting and all the drilling all the time…

Interestingly I even noticed that there was a timer on the chair I sat, or rather: laid in, and the first time the doctor came over to take out the temporary filling and put in the inlay to see if it fit, he was working for exactly 1 minute and 10 seconds. I wonder if that is just a performance measure for the doctor himself, or if this is something the national health insurance mandates as part of quality control. Of course, more patients in shorter a time does not quality make, but prices are reasonable throughout. And even though I know that Japanese dentists like to do their work in many more sittings than European ones – another way to earn more money – my tooth was completely finished yesterday, and I won’t have to go back again. At least not until the next filling drops out…

Still, I have to wonder what it is in this country with dentists… The first one I went to made me feel very uncomfortable with inappropriate remarks, the second one as mentioned above was creepy and pushy. And even this one took a long and lusting look at my other 31 teeth and declared they all had cavities which needed to be fixed immediately. Nice try doc, but I am still a computer scientist: Never touch a running system! And as long as there’s no pain or missing parts, I will be fine without a complete dental overhaul at this point, thank you. Still, I think he is a good choice as a dentist: at least he can take a “no way” as an answer…

Tuesdays I am very busy. In the morning I have my Japanese class, and in the early afternoon a business meeting in town. Usually, I buy an obento lunch box somewhere and don’t bother going home in between, the day is tiring enough as it is. Last week, at the end of the day, I had yet another meeting with somebody, not too far from meeting #2. Because it was an okay day and I am fast enough on my bicycle, I left only 30 minutes between those meetings, which is plenty.

Usually, that is. Last week however, meeting #2 took a bit longer (for the first time ever!) and I couldn’t really say “okay, I’m off now”, so I was quite pressed for time. On my way, I had to go through a part of inner city that at that late hour is always rather busy, and I had to cycle fast but still carefully to avoid all the people on the streets (one way streets without pavements but lots of shops). I was happy when I found a less busy street and I pedalled on a bit faster, still watching the clock – and, at one point, an interesting building on the other side of the street.

And then I looked ahead again. And there she was: Coming out of nowhere, there was an elderly lady walking in the middle of the bicycle path. I swear the street was empty just seconds before, so I came after her with full speed. There was nothing I could do: swerving left would have had me grazing the wall of the building, swerving right would have put me right into the path of the car five metres behind me… So, I did the only thing left: I continued straight on and pulled the brakes as hard as I could.

And of course, I slammed fully into her. In a sense, I was lucky that my front wheel went between her legs, that I have a basket before the handle bar and that my brakes are in good condition. This is to say, I did give the old lady a rough shove in the back, but she just made a few fast steps forward and did not fall, thankfully.

I was mortified: She turned around with the Japanese equivalent of “what the hell”, I jumped off my bike. And then I apologised and asked if she was okay and if there was something I could do or if she wanted to go to hospital or… She seemed okay, but I was still deeply shocked.

And what did she do: She did not utter a single word! Through all my words of apology and whatnot, she just looked at me accusingly, but did not say anything. Nothing at all. When I finally stopped yapping and waited for her to speak, she just threw me a final disapproving look and then she walked on – still on the middle of the bicycle path, by the way.

This was the single most embarrassing thing that I have done in all my time in Japan! I mean, I have my share of “stupid stuff foreigners do”, but almost running down that old lady is on a completely different level. And the fact that she did not say anything, did not accept or even acknowledge my apology, makes it even worse. I did not sleep well that night, and I can only hope that she was indeed as unharmed as it seemed to me. And that I’ll never bump into her again. I’m sorry…

What a wonderful weekend! It was snowing for the first time this winter! And because it is quite cold at the moment, there is still snow in Kyoto today – I LOVE IT!

It started snowing Saturday afternoon, and on Sunday morning, when it was snowing quite heavily, I went out for some two hours or so, and then had breakfast in a cafe (something I rarely do) before going home again. I did not take that many pictures because it was mainly gray anyway, but I’m happy to share some of the better ones.

As I mentioned fire insurance in my last post, I thought I would continue in the same vein with telling you about my latest unexpected visitor from the local fire department.

Last week or so, a young man in dark blue uniform knocked on my door and started to talk rapidly, in Japanese, of course. On seeing my bewildered look, he paused to think and came up with the most stereotypical question ever: Do you have a Japanese husband? (And where the hell is he?? – okay, he didn’t say that out loud but I’m sure he thought it.) He understood quickly that that question hadn’t gone down very well, so he resorted to use his mobile phone as interpreter, and I finally found out what he wanted: He was here to inspect my apartment with respect to fire safety.

Now I know that interestingly, I only need two fire alarms, one in my bedroom, and the other one in my kitchen. Probably two alarms are enough because my apartment is that small, it may be different for larger houses. Lo and behold: I am almost safe because I already have two fire alarms – thanks to whomever lived here before – and they are even working!

I say I’m almost safe because while one of the alarms is indeed in my bedroom, the other one is not in my kitchen but in my office. Even though the firefighter urged me to move it to my kitchen, in my office it will stay. That’s because I think that a cable fire in my office with all the electrical appliances and paperwork around will be, if not more likely, then at least more dangerous than any fire in a kitchen that I hardly use. Besides, the kitchen is directly next to my bedroom where surely that fire alarm would pick up the smoke or heat of a fire, so I am feeling safe in any case.

Towards the end of the year, it is bonenkai season in Japan, which means that you go out with friends and coworkers to celebrate the last year. It usually goes along with heavy drinking (especially the company-funded dinners), but it doesn’t have to.

The other day I met some friends for lunch, and afterwards we went on a stroll through the inner city. Quite unexpectedly, we came across this:

This aquarium is located on the ground floor of an otherwise uninteresting office building, right next to the entrance of a large dyeing company. One of my friends said that the owner just loves those fish, and that they are very rare and expensive – especially the large white one with the crocodile snout in the back.

Isn’t Kyoto amazing? 

Two weeks ago on Saturday, I went to a sake tasting near Kyoto Station. Since I did not know how much I would get to drink, I decided to take the bus. It takes about 45 minutes from my place to Kyoto station, and just to be on the safe side, I took the bus at 16:45, so I could make it by 18:00 without problems.

Or so I thought. Traffic was moving as slowly as I had never experienced before, and by 17:20 we had only come half way. At that time we had arrived at Sanjo street and the bus driver made an announcement that it would take another 50 minutes to reach Kyoto station, and that anybody who had to go there should get off the bus. So, I paid my fare and left the bus. Outside, an employee of the Kyoto Bus company handed me another paper ticket and directed me and everyone else bound for Kyoto station to the subway, which also has a station at Sanjo street.

To make this clear, there are only two subway lines In Kyoto, one in North-South direction along Karasuma street, and the other one East-West along Sanjo street. Except for a few more railroad lines that also run underground in the city, and have most of their stops in the southern and eastern part of the city, Kyoto’s public transport relies heavily on the extensive bus network.

Anyway, with my paper ticked I could enter the subway through a back door and go to Kyoto station directly. I had to exit through the manned gate and return the ticked, and then I could finally go to my appointment – I was only a few minutes late.

What surprised me – once again – was how well organised everything was: The new tickets were all printed with detailed instructions (albeit in Japanese only), there were many staff with signs and megaphones guiding people to the correct entrances and exits, and everything ran really smoothly. Part of the praise here has to be lavished on the passengers: There were no complaints, no noisy arguing with the bus driver or other staff, only quiet compliance and doing what needed to be done.

Later I heard that the last weekend in November is the most popular one for momiji viewing in Kyoto, which must have been the reason for the deadlock on the streets. But this also means that obviously both bus- and subway company were prepared and just put a well thought-out plan into action. This actually gives me much hope in case I will ever be caught in a big earthquake – the Japanese will know exactly what to do. I love Japan!

Japanese work ethic is legendary. And although I keep telling people that in many offices a “warm body” on a chair is more important than a “working body”, there is still this extra mile only the Japanese seem willing to go.

Point in case: At 9:00 pm today, I received a phone call. Okay, there have been spam calls before at such late an hour, and I usually deflect them by telling the caller that I can’t speak Japanese and he has to talk to me in English. I still have troubles with Japanese phone calls, so I’m not telling a huge lie, at least.

Anyway, the phone call today was from my local post office. The officer even spoke English (how come I never met him in person?) and he wanted to know my exact address. Apparently I have received a parcel – probably from abroad – and the last bit of the address was missing, so he wanted to make sure the parcel can be delivered tomorrow. (In case this sounds funny: On the form that comes with the parcel, there is a space for the recipient’s phone number. Today I finally understood what that’s good for 😉 )

I am not expecting any parcels, so I am very curious as to what I’ll get – and from whom it is of course. It’s too early for Christmas presents as well, so…?

Lately, I have been going to town more often than usual because of my new job. It has been raining several times now, so I need to take the bus instead of riding my bike through the back lanes and along the river.

And I noticed to my great dismay, that for some reason or other, lots of beautiful old buildings have been torn down lately. Where before there were lovely old wooden houses with high fences that allowed only a glimpse at the top of a pine tree, or even a kura store house standing at the back of the garden, there is now – nothing. Nothing but a gap in the rows of houses.

Since I have always loved old buildings, the lack of appreciation the Japanese seem to show to those old houses greatly upsets me. Even more so because those buildings are a big part of what “Japan” means to me, and why it is so nice to walk around Kyoto. I’m not interested in going from one temple to the next shrine when in between there is nothing but a random assembly of apartment buildings, parking lots, and convenience stores, with the occasional ugly private home in between.

I want to walk along those little lanes with the old houses where you can see shoji through the wooden windows on the first floor. That’s what Kyoto means to me. I wish I were really, really rich – then I would buy all those old houses and renovate them and make people live in them again. But it seems to me that only foreigners value those houses, the Japanese don’t care. Until they are all gone, I guess?