Between Tokyo and Osaka

There’s still more to share and wonder about re: my first taste of Japan before I got to Osaka.

Back in Tokyo, there were a few things I had to get used to. I wouldn’t say I was culture shocked, but I definitely had to make a conscious effort to keep the bewilderment off of my face at some times, while trying to remember to do certain things at others. So, what more than pachinko halls, strange celebrity endorsements, and shrines and temples could I encounter? Lots.

First, I found that those surgical masks that Torontonians came accustomed to seeing during our SARS scare years ago are the norm here in Japan. Worn on the street, in the subway, while shopping, even while cutely clutching the hand of a significant other, they were everywhere. Having read about the Kyoto Agreement and about how environmentally friendly the Japanese were, I found it hard to believe that they were protecting themselves from smog or pollution (I later learned that it has been a LONG time—if ever—that Osaka’s heard of a smog alert in the city). And although I had no easy access to any news, I hadn’t heard of any air-borne infectious diseases that I needed to be masked against—besides, not enough of the population was wearing them to deem that a plausible explanation. My mind decided to chalk it up that they were then protecting themselves from the rest of the general population—including me. What could I and millions of other city dwellers possibly be emitting that was so gruesome that so many found it necessary to mask themselves against cross-contamination? While I personally wasn’t offended, I felt that I almost should have been.

Arriving in the city, I noticed that I tended to bump into a lot of pedestrian traffic. I quickly learned by personal observation and by the well-diagrammed signage everywhere that contrary to my Toronto norm, Tokyo custom was to stand left, walk right, and definitely pass on the left. I suppose it made sense—they’re as backwards as the British! Thankfully, in the same graceful move, I not only learned how to flow with the pedestrian traffic, I also learned to look right when crossing the streets.


Being in a leading fashion city, I wasn’t surprised that everyone looked good all the time. I guess I then wasn’t so surprised to find mirrors (and people looking into them) everywhere. The most I saw were in the subway systems—up to 5 of them side by side, lining the way up the escalators, and even on either side of the doors on the way out of the trains themselves. Yes, maybe I might have thought that these were a bit much, but then, it wasn’t my culture to judge. If looking good was their thing, then that was their thing...I could't judge--definitely not when my wardrobe consisted mostly of sweats.


Finally, I wondered helplessly to myself about why my bathroom was raised off of the floor. It had its own door frame that I had to step over in order to enter. While this didn’t occur in public bathrooms (though they gave you the choice between “western” and “Japanese” style toilets) it was definitely the case with personal bathrooms.

Having entered the country alone, I was left to imagine my own explanations (much like the mask deal). Heck, that was why I decided to travel, right? To take in other cultures? Learn the ways of others?

And then I got to Osaka.

The masks were there as before, but I suddenly found myself being trampled once again by the flowing pedestrian traffic, both on the escalators and on the street. Mirrors still, but I saw my first (and still only to this day) girl in full sweats like myself; granted they probably cost more than all of the clothes I had in my suitcase combined. Bathrooms and their doors still curiously raised from the floors just outside.

However, the one thing that I had in Osaka that I hadn’t had in Tokyo finally bailed me out of my blissful ignorance—a friend.

SimpleDimple is my close personal friend who just happens to be way more Japanese that I am. She tackled me at Shin-Osaka station with a gimongous I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever-and-welcome-to-Japan hug and then took me out for dinner where I was afforded the chance to pick her brain about all that had tickled mine over the past two days. Over salad, sashimi, and Japanese style congee (not to mention plum wine and sake) I learned the following:

1. The masks were worn by many, not to protect them from me, but to protect me from them. If someone was sick, or beginning to get sick, rather than getting all others in close quarters sick as well, they simply donned the masks to keep their germs to themselves. I couldn’t believe how considerate that action was after all—I felt a little guilty for ever thinking I could be offended by it.
2. My becoming roadkill twice in two cities was not because I was a slow learner, but actually because from Tokyo to as far west as Nagoya, the rule of thumb was indeed stand left, walk right, pass left. But once you passed Nagoya and headed to Osaka, it went back to the way I was more used to from home: stand right, walk left, pass right. Figures. Unfortunately Shin-Osaka Station just didn’t happen to be signed as well as Tokyo was so that I didn’t pick up on the switch sooner (trust me, I’ve become pretty darned good at deciphering what the signs mean).
3. Mirrors next to the escalators were exactly that—as well as a chance for the providers to advertise their good will to the fashionistas. But the mirrors next to the doors in the subway cars were for the protection of the women riding the trains during the rush hours. The preventative thinking was that men wouldn’t be so bold towards the women if the women could see any attacker from any angle. Again, I felt a little bad about ever having thought that a society could simply be so self-centred.
4. The bathroom mystery turned out to have an explanation rooted in history. Baths and bathing were social events and were done in bath houses. Showers then were simply to hose yourself off. When showers were introduced into homes, they remained mostly a room in which to hose off in—tubs and shower curtains in those rooms were unheard off. So, in order to keep all of the run-off water and excess spray from escaping to adjacent areas, the door was built with a bit of a lip—it only made sense. Later, tubs were installed in the shower room, but apparently the curtains still took a while to follow. So, had I visited Japan even a few decades ago, all of this would have made sense on its own, hence, the solved mystery of the lipped bathrooms.

Man was it nice to finally know. I even got to ask her what those “drumstick things with faces” were.

“They’re cod roe—cod eggs—with cupids in them...duh!”

We both had a laugh at that over our beautiful dinner with plum wine and spherical ice cubes. It was good to finally have a familiar face on this side of the globe.