Life Is in the Details

When you move to a new country half way across the world, there are a lot of big things you could write about. But thinking back on our first days in Tokyo, the small things paint the truest picture of how daily life has changed for us.

Instant gratification is no longer available, which takes getting used to. There’s no more hopping in the car whenever we need to get somewhere or buy something. We walk and take the subway, which is fine – we like walking and the trains are clean, air conditioned and actually run on a schedule. However, Tokyo is a very large city so getting where we need to go can sometimes take a while. Going to the doctor, for example, isn’t a matter of driving 10 minutes and arriving. We have to plan on 45 minutes to an hour each way. Even if we took our car, it wouldn’t help much because there are so many cars on such narrow roads with so many stop lights that driving takes almost as long (and the stress of it could take years off your life). Bottom line: We can’t get as much done in a day. We’ve adjusted our expectations accordingly and find the slower pace rather enjoyable.

Communication is obviously more complicated for us now, given we don’t speak the language and can’t read it either. What I didn’t know and wouldn’t have guessed is that not being able to read is by far the worse handicap of the two. You’d be surprised how far pointing at things and simple pantomimes can get you, but when it comes to reading there’s no way to cheat. There are three Japanese script types commonly used – one of them with 2,000 “basic” characters – so we don’t expect an improvement in our ability to read what’s around us anytime soon. We receive bills and can see how much is due, but have no idea who we’re paying. We have some lovely new appliances, but aren’t sure how to use them.

For example, our Japanese microwave has control buttons labeled in – of course – Japanese writing. If you bought a new microwave in, say, France, you could use a dictionary to find out what the words on the control panel mean because you’d be able to identify the letters. Here, despite 30-odd years of experience using microwaves, I’m left wondering whether pushing the big yellow button will cause the microwave to self destruct, or cook my popcorn to perfection (I burned the popcorn, but the microwave is still intact). One night, Mark decided to try a new button and ended up “browning” a dish with a plastic lid, effectively shellacking our take-out.

Milk is another seemingly small detail that looms large for us. After a few visits to various grocery stores, we decoded the numbers on the nutrition panels to the point where we can identify cartons that hold fat-free milk, the only kind Conor and Stig will drink. A wise American I met advised me to buy only cartons featuring a picture of a cow because she once ended up with goat’s milk, which her kids didn’t appreciate.

So if you find yourself thinking of me and wondering what I’m up to, rest assured I’m busy celebrating my latest triumph – guessing correctly how to change the filter on my new (absolutely awesome by the way) vacuum cleaner, or successfully purchasing stamps at my local post office – and thinking of you.