Crash Course In Japanese Culture (Part 3 of 5)
After I was done with breakfast, Sachiko cleared the table and washed the dishes. I was then asked if I wanted to wash up. Of course I did. Sachiko motioned me to the kitchen sink with a pale blue plastic basin in it. She turned on the hot water heater and let the water run into the basin along with cold water from the faucet. She brought me a yellow plastic cup with a funny looking comic cat on it, a small towel, and a new toothbrush.
“What? Do I brush my teeth and wash up right here in the kitchen sink?” I thought to myself. “Isn’t there any separate room for this?” It seemed that no, there wasn’t. There was only one sink in the entire house. I did my morning ritual right there in the kitchen. How strange I remember thinking. I wonder if everyone in the family did this. I found out that, yes, they did. There was no separate room for washing up. Even in my own apartment some years later, all washing and the brushing of teeth was done in the kitchen sink as there was only one sink.
After I was done, I sat down and watched the activity going on around me. The mother began to wash clothes. She brought out a basketful of clothes and exited the house through the door next to the china cabinet. I thought it odd that the washing machine was located outside the house. But in Japan at that time, almost all washing machines were located outside the house, especially apartments. I guess this was in the interest of saving space.
Japanese washing machines were the smallest I had ever seen! They were like toys that my sisters might get for Christmas or something. You would wash a few items on the right and then you would transfer them to the spinner on the left to spin out the water. You could only wash one or two pairs of jeans at a time or three shirts, or 5 t-shirts and your drawers. Afterwards, you would take out the clothes, untangle them, and hang them on the clothes pole outside the house. One could have any color washing machine they wanted as long as it was white. Dryers were unheard of back then. If one had a couple of kids, it would take at least a couple of hours to wash clothes. Then you had to iron them to take out the wrinkles. I know as I had one of these when I had my own apartment later on. By the way, the washing of clothes is done every single day by housewives.
Sachiko, meanwhile, busied herself by taking out all the bedding from the closets in the three other rooms and hung the mattresses and futons over the clothes pole located outside of every room to air them out.
Also, even though it was quite cold outside, by my standards, all the windows in the house were opened, and the rooms were aired out. I became a little chilly and warmed myself by sitting near the kerosene heater.
After she was finished with that I went with Sachiko on my first trip to a Japanese supermarket to buy what we were having for dinner that night: Sukiyaki. This was my first foray into Japan without any people from the base.
We left the house about noon and boarded a bus for the 15 min ride to Ofuna station where the supermarket was located. I found it pretty interesting that you boarded the bus at the back and paid when you exited the front. The two lane main thoroughfare was so narrow that I was sure a car would hit us or that this huge bus would hit a light pole, a bicycle, or something. There were also no sidewalks, and the storefronts were located literally a foot or so from the street. With all the people, cars, bicycles, busses and taxis around we just snaked our way through, and it seemed that I was the only one who was nervous. I just stared out the window taking it all in with childlike awe. As in the house, it seemed that all the store fronts had doors that slid open to enter or exit. Also, Japan had some of the smallest cars I had ever seen and it also seemed that everyone rode a bicycle. One thing I distinctly noticed was that there was construction going on everywhere. Roads, buildings, you name it, anywhere you looked there was construction.
The supermarket was crowded. More so than anything I had ever experienced before. Also, a Japanese supermarket is really quite small compared to the behemoths I was accustomed to stateside. Most major department stores in Japan have a super market located on the first floor or in the basement. There were also many, many (more than I had ever seen before) bicycles parked neatly in front of the department store. There must’ve been at least a hundred or so. And every single bicycle had a basket on the front for the carrying of groceries and such. It was much like the train stations where there were literally hundreds of bicycles parked.
There we purchased the meat (paper thin slices of beef), eggs, vegetables, another loaf of the bread that I thought was so delicious that morning and a few other things. The loaf of bread was just four slices of really thick bread! I just stared in amazement as I watched everyone bustling about with their little baskets in their hand. Every counter we passed had at least two or three women behind it, all dressed in white, selling everything from cookies and candies, to breads and cakes. It was noisy with all the chatter going on that I could not understand. The words I heard most often were “domo arrigato”, thank you, and “irashaimase”, welcome. (Literally "walk up")
Looking at the items on the food shelves with writing that I could not understand, I still found it hard to believe that I was actually living in a foreign country and experiencing a culture that was so alien to anything I had ever experienced before. I also began to learn my first words in Japanese: pan (bread), nikku (meat), tomago (egg), yasai (vegetable), etc.
One thing stood out here that I quickly noted: Before arriving in Japan the previous month, I had assumed, and was told, that Japan was a poor country, kind of backwards and was not at all like America. I expected a country similar to the pictures one saw on TV of Viet Nam, Africa or some other third world country. How wrong they were back home. They really were ignorant. Other than being on a smaller scale and somewhat lacking in archetecture and plumbing than America, to me, Japan was no different than the US. It was pretty modern, was as full of life as New York, and the supermarket was packed with every kind of food. I was kind of expecting to find the shelves half bare like I used to see of the old Soviet Union on TV. There was almost nothing that I could get back home that I couldn’t get in Japan.
Anyway, we made our purchases and, before heading home, stopped for lunch. Sachiko asked what I’d like for lunch and I mentioned the “spaghetti soup” I so much enjoyed the previous night. She told me that it was called ramen and we could get it anywhere. She selected a small place and we went on inside. We sat at the counter and she mentioned the types of ramen that they had. I selected the soy sauce flavored ramen with butter and corn, also known as “Shoyu kon batta.”
Other than my feeble attempt that morning with the pickles, this was my first real experience on learning how to eat with chop sticks. Sachiko was patient with me and I quickly learned. Although I was a little awkward at first, I managed to finish the entire bowl. Man was it good.
One thing I learned from this experience, though, is that it’s perfectly alright to slurp your noodles into your mouth while eating ramen (or soba or udon for that matter). This took me a few minutes to get used to as I was taught that it was very impolite to slurp ones food. It also took me a while to get accustomed to everyone else slurping theirs. It was a little grating on the ears at first and somewhat bothered me, but I put up with it and slurped my own. Sachiko explained that slurping helps to cool off the ramen as it is sucked up and is a whole lot easier to eat. A whole lot easier to eat yes, but I didn’t think it cooled it off any. Blowing on it helped more than anything. Also, as I learned that morning, it was perfectly acceptable to raise the bowl to your lips and drink directly from it. I noticed that everyone did it.
After lunch we headed back home to what was to be a very interesting night and a pretty big faux pas on my part.
Sachiko and I talked on the way home about the previous night and morning and my surprise, and somewhat anger, about her parents being there and all. I also mentioned how relieved I was about her parents not being upset and being so nice to me. She went on to explain that, in Japan, taking a friend home for the evening is nothing unusual whether it be a male or female. Sleeping in the same room with the opposite sex is also nothing unusual. She said that she could tell from the conversation with me the previous night that I was not one of “those types” who were just out for sex. She said she felt comfortable with me and believed I really wanted to be her friend which was why she invited me home.
I did confess to her, however, that I was looking forward to a night of bliss, but after seeing her sister sleeping there in the room, that feeling quickly vanished. We both laughed and had more small talk on the way home.
I asked her where she learned her English and she said that she had studied it in high school, from her other sisters, and from listening to the Armed Forces Radio Network. I was impressed at her ability. Although not fluent, I had no problem understanding her, unlike some of the bar girls I had met.
“Does your father always work on Saturdays?” I asked.
“Yes. He works six days a week,” she answered.
I was surprised at this answer and mentioned that we only work five days a week in America. She went on to explain that almost all people work on Saturdays in Japan. I learned that sararimen, businessmen, work a half a day on Saturdays and that even school is held for half a day on Saturdays. She usually worked on Saturdays also, but had scheduled in advance to have this day off. I was really surprised and somewhat impressed at how much the Japanese worked. Just being out of high school less than a year myself, I really couldn’t quite believe that kids really attended school on Saturdays!
I was really beginning to like this woman. With her long, black, straight hair, her beautiful eyes, her height, she really was a beautiful woman. Plus, she had a nice personality to boot.
What if we were to……, I remember thinking to myself as I stared into her eyes while we talked. Naaaah, you just met the woman, I thought to myself. Then I remembered that I told her I was 22 when I was really 18. It kind of bothered me, but I put it out of my mind for now. Just enjoy the moment, I thought to myself. Besides, we may not even be seeing each other next month. Sachiko did mention that I looked kind of young for my age.
We arrived home later in the afternoon and we went into Sachiko’s room where she placed a few zabuton, cushions on the floor around the small table. She lifted off the top of the table, placed a thick quilt over the top and removed a wire from underneath which she plugged into the wall. She then placed the top back on and turned the switch located on the wire.
She explained that this is what is called a kotatsu, a foot warmer so to speak. I sat on one of the zabuton and placed my feet underneath and it really began to heat up under there. It really felt good to the feet. I looked under the quilt and there was a large, red, heat lamp underneath. She also brought out the kerosene heater which heated the room nicely. After a while it was really comfortable in the room and I removed my coat.
Looking back on it, I was in admiration at the economy of a Japanese house. No central heating, but every room was heated, as needed, with a kerosene heater which did the job quite well. Each room was closed off from the other rooms to provide privacy and warmth. There was no hot water heater so to speak of as the water was heated instantly by the propane hot water heater located over the sink. Bedding was taken from and put back into the closets, thereby turning every room into a bedroom if needed. Very economical.
She then brought in a thermos of hot water, two small cups, a small, rust colored tea pot and a small plate of osenbei, rice crackers. She then made me my first cup of cha, green tea. The green tea was kind of bitter to my taste, but I drank it anyway and didn’t let on. The rice crackers were delicious. Some were wrapped in nori, black, dried, paper-like seaweed that I had seen on the table that morning, and they really tasted great. She also brought in a portable radio and tuned it to 810am FEN (The US Armed Forces Radio, also known as the Far East Network. FEN was every serviceman’s, and ex-patriots connection to back home.) We talked more, while drinking our tea and after a while I began to feel sleepy and lay down. Sachiko brought me a pillow, and I fell asleep with my feet toasty warm under the kotatsu.
It was about 5pm, and dark, when I woke up. I headed on into the kitchen and sat at the table. I felt perfectly comfortable there now. Sachiko made me a cup of coffee and I just sat there watching her and her mother prepare dinner. They washed the vegetables, cabbage and some other vegetables I didn’t recognize; prepared the raw meat on a huge plate, cut up the oshinko, Japanese pickles, and placed everything on a large, rectangular, wooden table located in the room to the right of the genkan, entranceway, and off the kitchen. This was the parents sleeping room and also served as the family room for watching TV and eating dinner. I noticed that the table was low to the floor and it seemed that everyone would be sitting on the floor while eating dinner. “Cool,” I thought.
Her mother said something to her in Japanese and Sachiko asked if I’d like to take a bath, ofuro, before dinner. I thought about it and said, “No thanks, I showered last night.” I preferred showers anyway. Besides, I didn’t have a change of underwear I told her.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We have new ones of my brothers; they should fit.” She then leaned over to me and whispered, “In Japan we take a bath every night. It’s custom.”
Ohhhh kay, I guess I better take one, I thought. “Sure, I’ll take one,” I told her.
She then went into a room next to the toilet and came back out. “It’s heating up. It’ll be ready in about 40 minutes,” she said.
Heating up? Why don’t you just run the hot water? I thought. I remembered about the hot water heater over the kitchen sink and figured that was how the bath was being made, but I didn’t hear any water running. I didn't know it then, but the bath was being heated by a propane heater that heated the water. After a while all I heard was a kind of hissing and rumbling sound from the bath room.
Sachiko re-entered the bath room a few times during the next 30 or so minutes and I heard water swishing around. What she was doing was mixing the water as it heated up. Soon it was ready and I was about to take my first Japanese ofuro, bath.
I was also about to make a major cultural blunder that I still remember to this day with laughter and some embarrassment. However, like my entire experience that day so far, it was a learning experience that I would never forget.
Continued here (part 4)
SOURCE : www.jref.com/forum/showthread.php?t=18333
