goinggaijin.com – Page 128 – A European's move towards Japan

First Month

Today is June 5th, that means I have been here in Kyoto for a whole month already – it certainly didn’t feel that long! So far I have enjoyed myself tremendously. In the last month I have

visited two shrines, two food markets, one temple, one flea market, one matsuri
walked along most of the river several times
ate numerous take out menus, o-nigiri and three avocados with soy sauce
participated in one rather dangerous nomi-hodai event (all you can drink) with sake and beer
met around ten new people – both gaijin and Japanese
taken around 1000 pictures, most of them at the Aoi matsuri
had two sunburns and got soaking wet with the rain once

Now it’s time to finish vacation and get a bit more serious about this thing though. To be honest, I would like to drift a bit longer and see where this is taking me, but unfortunately – control freak me – I am a bit worried not to get out of this mode anymore. Also, what if the authorities don’t let me into Japan after so many short-term tourist visas – that would be my biggest nightmare!

So, I have started a new online Japanese course and sent out my CV a couple of times. I have also bitten the bullet and actually asked some friends for help (I’m so proud!) with the job hunting.

Wish me luck!

Expiration dates

It is funny how much those tiny little things that you never really consciously notice can make you go “huh?” when they are out of place somehow. For me, one of those tiny and irrelevant things are expiration dates every time I go shopping: “What, the 13th still?”

It appears that dates here are written in Year – Month – Day order, reversed to what is normal in Europe. It is weird: I have been here so often and never really noticed that! Thinking about it however, it’s logical: Japanese is traditionally written from right to left, in top-down columns rather than in rows. Although some modern publications are written in Western style lines from left to right, plenty of books and also manga are written in the traditional way still, and you start reading at the “wrong end” of those books which does feel weird somehow. At least it seems to be easy to figure out which way a Japanese text is written, as the columns are usually well spaced, and the hiragana and katakana entries are a giveaway..

Personal anecdote, vaguely related: You can do the top-down writing in Chinese as well of course, and there, as each character occupies the same space, it’s not so obvious as to whether something is written horizontally or vertically. I once stood in front of a large reproduction of some old Chinese text and asked a Chinese colleague of mine who was with me at the time: “But, how do you know?” to which he smartly replied: “Well, it either makes sense or it doesn’t.”
Okay, at least I can be sure that my departure from academia has not created an Einstein-shaped hole in science…

In any case and back to the dates, I have not yet made the mental switch to look for the important part of them at the end instead of in the beginning. I guess I’ll be going “huh?” for quite a while still…

Avocado

I love Japanese food. Ever since I came here I have indulged in a variety of take-home bento menues. Of course, I can’t cook any of that myself, there are much better chefs out there than me. My tandem partner Tomoko has told me that traditionally, Japanese people should eat 30 different foods every day – and once you see how many ingredients and preparation steps even the most basic Japanese dishes require, you’ll certainly believe that.

Anyway, one of the few things I can cook myself – mainly because it does not require any cooking 😉 – is this basic starter, which I first had when I stayed with a friend’s family in Nagoya two years ago.

Avocado with soy sauce
All you need is a ripe avocado (meaning the peel must be black or brown already) and some soy sauce of the type that is usually served with sushi. Cut the avocado in half, remove the pit, fill the soy sauce in the holes. Optionally you can add some wasabi here for that extra spicy touch. Use a spoon to eat the avocado right out of the peel.

As I said, usually half an avocado prepared like this is considered a starter and the main dish with rice and fish is to follow. However, I often eat a whole avocado together with some very dark rye bread and make it a full dinner this way. It’s done in less than five minutes (certainly a plus after a long day in the office) and I like it very much. The only important thing is to make sure that the avocado is really ripe. Otherwise just spooning it out of the peel is not possible (and will result in many hard to clean soy-sauce stains) and cutting it into pieces and eating it with the soy sauce poured over it is not quite the same thing – believe me, I have tried…

Kamo

Three consecutive days of rain left me yearning to go out and sit in the sun again. So today I packed my things and went to the river that passes through Kyoto and divides the very busy center in the West from the more residential areas in the eastern part of the city. It is called Kamo river – which means duck river – and although it is now regulated down to a straight, slow running stream, it still provides some sort of inner city nature refuge.

Right now the water is very low, and on the little islands and sandbanks thus made, many different kinds of birds can be found. There is even a large group of eagles – maybe 20 or 30 animals – that usually circle above the place where the Kamo and Takano river meet in the northern part of the city. They are amazing in flight, especially when they come down low in the evening. I enjoy watching them very much, and so do other people obviously. I have already seen some daring young men trying to hand-feed them with pieces of meat and fish. So far, nobody seems to have tamed those birds though… There must be other animals as well, but the only species I can positively attest to is a large sized type of ant – a three centimeter specimen tried to bite me while I was writing this.

At the northern part of the river, both banks have been widened to make room for bicycle paths, benches, trees… It’s fun to sit there and do some people watching. Towards the evening there are many elderly women walking their dogs. Other people in business attire are going home along the river then, but even during the day there are people sitting on the benches reading or chatting or even practicing some instrument or other. Today I have seen a guitarist, two young girls with a horn and a tuba, respectively, and a small boy who seemed to practise drums: he had two wooden sticks and banged them against something that looked like a cutting board. I did not fully grasp the meaning of the exercise though, but did not dare to ask.

All along the river there are small sport fields as well, where kids – obviously from some nearby school – play football or do gymnastics. Other groups can be seen running, always motivated by a yelling teacher with a stop watch. There is a less official looking spot where teenagers gather to practice their skateboard skills – they seem to have the most fun.

Further downstream, near the center of Kyoto, restaurants line the right river bank. They all have riverside terraces built on platforms, and while they do not extend over the river proper, there is a small artificial canal running under those terraces. The purpose is to cool the area for the diners above, but how well this works in the hot humidity they call summer here, I cannot guess.

After dark, it goes quiet – away from the restaurants that is. There are no street lamps directly at the river, but the ones from the street that runs parallel provide ample light – if not to read, then enough to walk home safely.

If you’re looking for a quiet spot in Kyoto, you’re probably better off in any of the dozens of temples and shrines, but the Kamo river provides more privacy and is an excellent place to watch – and meet – the locals.

Networking

Why do I find it so difficult to ask for help? No matter whether it’s big things, small things, close friends or simply colleagues, it’s virtually impossible for me to say “Can you help me with that please?”

When I am asked this question, however, I am usually delighted to help. There is a certain feeling of pride that people come to me and not anyone else and that they think I’m good enough in whatever to expect a positive result. There is always a big feeling of accomplishment when solving other people’s problems. Probably most people feel like that, no?

When I was a child I heard so often “Well, I can’t help you with that, you’ll have to do this on your own”. And in fact, most of the things that were important in my life somehow, I did on my own, without anybody to rely upon. However, this Japan thing is too big to handle alone, there are so many things that could go wrong without a helping hand here and there.

I have a list of people I know in Japan, and I have started writing to them, telling them my intentions and yes, asking for help. It’s a short list and still I know it will take me ages, but what better time to grow up than now?

Transfer

Today I had my first close-up encounter with the Japanese banking system. I needed to transfer money to a Japanese company. Of course, I could have done it from my European account, but international transfers are rather expensive and it would have taken much too long. Hence, I decided to go to a bank nearby and pay the amount in cash.

The experience was pleasant: The moment I walked into the bank, a young clerk came to welcome me with a friendly “Irasshaimase” and asked if she could help me. “Why, certainly” I said and produced the piece of paper where I had prepared all necessary information – together with the Japanese phrase for “I’d like to deposit money into an account”. After agreeing on a cash transfer, she showed me the machines and said she would help me. So we went there together, she pressed the very first button for me and said

“Please enter your phone number.”
“Huh? My what?”

At this point the tone of the conversation changed because I had to admit – technological hermit that I am – that I do not have a phone number in Japan. Nope, no mobile, also no company phone number, and no, I don’t have anybody else’s number with me either… To which revelation she politely but firmly explained:

“No phone number, no transfer.”

So, I apologized profoundly, left the bank, and went home.

I was lucky that my landlady was there and explained that banks ask for the number in case something goes wrong with the transfer, which it apparently does sometimes. And that it was no problem at all of using her number for the transaction.

So, armed with the same piece of paper – now amended with the phone number of my oya-san – and with my passport – just in case they decided to need it after all – I returned to the bank.

Same clerk, same “Irasshaimase”, same machine.
Happiness ensued when I produced the phone number. The procedure from there was simple: Type of account? “Deposit”. Name of Bank? “Mizuho”. Name of branch? Enter account number – surprisingly short. Enter your name and check the name of the recipient. Enter cash – yes I have coins! – coins first, then bills. Wait for return money and receipt – keep that!

The whole transaction took maybe five minutes, and it would have been completely impossible to do without help because there were so many kanji involved everywhere… I could only read the two most important ones myself: “Enter Money”.

In the end, both the clerk and I were relieved, and I even more so about one hour later when I got a confirmation email from the company that they had received the money. I just love the swift banking in Asia…

Daruma doll

As several of my friends asked about the picture adorning the “About Me” page, I thought a short explanation is in order.

This is a daruma doll. It is used by the Japanese as a talisman for good luck and it is also seen as a symbol of perseverance. The idea behind this is the following: Daruma dolls are purchased without eyes. You make a wish – or set a goal – and while doing so you paint in one eye of the doll. When your wish is fulfilled – or your goal reached – you reward the daruma by painting in the second eye.

Daruma dolls are made out of paper mache or some similar light material, but with a very heavy base, which makes them impossible to topple over – hence the symbol of perseverance, an endless falling and getting up again. They are modeled after Bodhidharma, the founder of Zen Buddhism who lived in the 6th century. The story goes that he meditated for nine years without moving, so his legs atrophied – hence the round shape of the dolls. They come in many colors and sizes, but most of them are red – the color of a head priest’s robe – and fit comfortably in two hands. The eyebrows and the beard are modeled after animals that symbolise longevity – the eyebrows have the shape of a crane, and the beard on the cheeks the shape of a tortoise. However, the design here may vary according to where they have been made.

Nowadays, daruma are widely sold in souvenir shops, but traditionally they could be bought only at Buddhist temples. The idea was that a doll was “valid” for one year only, and at the end of the year you would return it back to the temple where you bought it, where a ceremony would be held to thank the Bodhidharma for the services rendered, and then the dolls would be ritually burned. I am not sure what to do if a wish is not fulfilled within the year you bought the doll though…

In any case, my daruma was bought in a simple souvenir shop in Miyajima last year, so I don’t have to return it anywhere. And I don’t have any intentions to burn it until my wish is granted, no matter how long that takes.

What my wish is? Oh, can’t you guess…?

Reminiscences

I have just returned from a meeting with people from my old life. I first saw a professor from Kyoto University, and then we went out to have dinner with a number of other people from my field, or should I say ex-field? It was a very nice dinner, perfect food and all-you-can-drink, and when I explained that I’m leaving and I’m up to start something new, everybody wished me luck and said that I should follow my passions. It was lovely, I didn’t expect that at all.

Afterwards – I skipped karaoke 😉 – I went home along the river Kamo. The night air was mild, the moon – almost full – together with the street lamps from the road next to the river walk lit the scene, it was great. I felt safe, sound and serene all the way back home.

I love this place.

Data entry

I spent all day writing new versions of my resume – both on- and offline. There is a specific job I’d like to apply for, and the company expects a CV – in Japanese.

Only a small reason to panic…

There is in fact a standard form for Japanese CV’s; it covers everything an employer needs to know for the first impression – on two pages only. It can be bought in stationary stores and some companies expect you to use their own, but online forms are also available, for example here. The start of the first page looks like this:

So, what do we have… Besides the usual name, date of birth and age, current address, questions about married status and dependents, as well as a photo on the right, there is also the question about commute time from the current residence to the company – these costs are usually reimbursed. What is absent is place of birth and nationality – Japanese law forbids discrimination based on this (together with discrimination based on gender, religion, or social status). The largest spot is reserved for education and work experience – you are expected to enter all you ever did, starting from elementary school in chronological order. There is also a field for licences and certificates (a driver’s licence get’s the number one spot!), and a rather small one for the triple “Why I want this job / What I can do (skills) / What I like to do (hobbies)”. There is even a field for “requests to the company” which includes salary, but I am not sure how far you can go here. Apparently it’s okay to ask to be placed in a specific branch office in the country.

A detailed “how to fill in a Japanese CV form” can be found on this page, by the way.

Generally these forms are A3 size, with the two pages next to each other. I said above that these forms are available in stationary stores – that is because it is customary to fill it in by hand. I have heard that companies in Japan have handwriting analysts to find out the character and whatnot of the employee-to-be. Well, as my handwritten Japanese resembles that of a five year old, I’ll better don’t try any experiments here – typed it is.

In any case, I’m exhausted now, but now I can start my job hunt in earnest… Wish me luck!

Disposal

Monday and Thursday morning is garbage collection. There are no garbage bins for individual houses (at least not in this area), so you have to bring your waste to designated spots close by your building. Every house has a special spot where to bring the garbage, and you have to put it there before 8 am – but not the night before!

You pay for garbage collection by buying designated plastic bags that come in various sizes; they are sold at convenience stores and cost 1 yen per litre capacity. There are many crows here, so this – and probably the wind – is the reason why you have to put your bags underneath a net and secure it with stones. The nets are usually tucked away in an extra bag on an electricity mast nearby for example.

garbage collection spot in Kyoto — garbage collection

So far, so easy. What I find rather irksome though is the fact that recycling – while it does exist – is made relatively complicated. The obvious recyclables – glass bottles, cans and PET bottles – are collected once a week. Other things – plastic containers and packaging in general, paper, metal… are collected only once a month, and while the spot for the rubbish is always the same, I could not find out when the collection takes place.

Also it seems that separating waste is not mandatory, my landlady even said I can put anything into the “burnable” waste category, from paper to kitchen waste, plastic and ceramics, even batteries… And let’s not forget that Japanese houses are tiny and there’s not much space for storing anything – so it’s much easier just to throw stuff out immediately and be done with it. To be honest, after my time in Germany where everybody must recycle (at least theoretically) this is almost painful, especially in a highly industrialized country as Japan.

I do know though, that in other Japanese towns things are different. I recall from a visit in Saku (which is a small town in the countryside in Nagano prefecture), that the household there had eight or so different bins… Probably a bit overkill, and most likely not mandatory either, but it made me feel a bit better there.

Fun fact: Here in Kyoto, there are collection points for old tempura oil – and used lighters…