Japan, Finally

Michael Finally, we did it: After intense preparations, we got on a plane to Japan to wander around by ourselves for two weeks, have adventures, and teach the Japanese to be afraid.

By the way, if you want to print out your newsletter and lovingly file it in a hand-painted binder, you can now download it as a nicely formatted PDF file -- the link is at the top, you just need to have "Acrobat Reader" installed on your computer. Today's issue is a hefty three megabytes due to the many images (so you'll need a fast internet connection), but the next newsletters will only be about half a MB in size.

Also, I have noticed that references to internet resources are appearing more frequently in the text to offer you more in-depth information, in case you are interested in a specific topic that is only vaguely touched upon here and want to explore further. And since these "links," as they are called in computer jargon, tend to be somewhat lengthy, the text only refers to a number like [3], which is then resolved into the correct links ( http ://..., you know) in the appendix "Links to the Internet" at the end of the newsletter. Happy browsing!

Aircraft as Arcade

Due to the tight seating rows, we asked at check-in if there were any seats available at the emergency exit, but we were informed that we could at most get so-called bulkhead seats, which are the row in front of the large screen. Fearing that I wouldn't have a Tetris game, I generously declined. (In hindsight, it turned out that the people in the first row, of course, have small screens that come out of the armrest. And the seat spacing was okay.) We then played like gaming addicts, the eleven hours flew by, and the stewardess had a hard time convincing us to disembark at the destination.

Tokyo

Upon arrival at the hotel, the staff bustled around us, and in no time, we were in our room. The hardest part was not giving a tip. Coming from America, I'm used to fishing dollar bills out of my pocket, but in Japan, you absolutely don't give anything—not to the taxi driver, not to the bellboy, not to the waiter. If you do, it causes confusion or even offended looks, as we knew from the travel guide. Nevertheless, the service is excellent. So, from then on, I kept my hands buried deep in my pockets.

Gastronomy

Michael But back to the starting point of our journey: In Tokyo, you can mainly do two things: shop and eat. We ate out three times a day for a week without visiting the same place twice. However, dining out as a tourist is not that easy because the menus are usually only displayed in Japanese. And even if you, like us, can read Hiragana and Katakana quite fluently and know many Japanese dishes by their Japanese names, it usually doesn't help because the menus are full of Kanji characters. You need to know about 3,000 of them to be able to read a newspaper reasonably well. We know about 80 Kanji—and that's far from enough to understand even the menu of a sushi joint.

Upon inquiring with the waiter (in Japanese, of course), it sometimes turns out that there is an English menu available somewhere or a sushi menu with pictures on it. This proved to be a lifesaver on the first evening, as we could point to something and then say, "Two of those, please," which we can manage. If necessary, you can also drag the waiter outside to the display window and point to the plastic food replicas presented there. While illustration 8 shows the display of a restaurant with quite European food, in illustration 9 you can see the shop window of a store that sells the plastic items to the gastronomy industry. A single one of these deceptively realistic sushi pieces costs more than 5 euros, and a beer glass with plastic beer and foam costs over 30!

One evening, we were wandering around downtown, unable to find the dive bar recommended in the travel guide, so we simply chose a nice-looking sushi bar. It's worth mentioning: when you enter a subway or a pub in Tokyo, you are, with very few exceptions, the only white person there. Coming from San Francisco, we're used to a diverse mix of people hanging around, but in Japan, we realized on the very first day that we were the only Westerners far and wide. Japan is almost 100% Japanese. When we entered the place, there were only Japanese people in suits hanging around, who like to eat after work (typically: only men and in suits) and relax with a drink with colleagues after a hard day at work. Everyone was shocked when we sneaked in. We felt like we were in a zoo. And this in downtown Tokyo, can you imagine! I bet no Westerner had set foot in this place in years. We got a table a bit away from the action and asked the young waiter in Japanese if he had an English menu. He laughed and said just one word: "Nothing!". Ah, yes.

We cautiously ordered a beer and concluded with sharp reasoning that this place must have a sashimi combination (just raw fish without rice). The waiter nodded enthusiastically. We ordered two, but after he looked at us in horror, we settled for just one. A short time later, he brought it over, and the fish were really out of the ordinary—one of them was a freshwater fish, which you generally shouldn't eat as sashimi due to the risk of food poisoning, but of course, we devoured it. We could hear the staff whispering, but everyone was impressed when we declined two forks offered by a waitress and ate with the chopsticks lying on the table. (Actually laughable, as I can, of course, eat thumb-sized pieces of duck with bones or a bowl of dry rice with chopsticks.) I also praised the sashimi with "Oishii desu!" ("This is very delicious!"), upon which we heard a waitress happily repeat the short phrase to her colleagues several times.

Then the waiter came with a pen and a few pieces of paper, on the top one of which (written by someone else, probably an English-speaking guest) it said that if we wanted anything else, we should perhaps write it down (Figure 10). We laughed, and I wrote in Japanese "Please, a beer" (in Japanese scribbles), which caused almost tumultuous scenes among the guests. We then ordered and ate some tempura and were about to pay when another plate with beef rolls around something like potato salad came on the house. We explained in our very broken Japanese that we were from Germany and not working in Japan, as had been assumed. Everyone was thrilled, and I believe we have proactively ensured good weather in German-Japanese relations, as preparation for the soon-to-arrive football hooligans -- the Japanese will be in for a surprise, it's going to be a disaster, they have no idea what's coming their way!

Tokyo Fish Market

It was bustling there, you can't imagine. Buyers were darting at a run through the narrow alleys between piled-up styrofoam boxes filled with dead and live fish, shellfish, and other sea creatures. Fish sellers were chopping up the partially frozen fish with axes, sawing them with electric saws, and amidst an indescribably fast and loud chaos, the trading was taking place.

Like a guerrilla squad (small teams, strike quickly, disappear quickly), the dynamic newsletter duo dashed through the aisles, took photos, and ducked for cover between fish boxes every time a grumpy fish monger came running or a crazy cart driver wanted to pass by.

We stalked through the cauldron for about an hour, thrilled by the fish glowing in supernatural colors under the bright spotlight, the flashing pieces of ice, the professionalism of the sawyers and the hackers, overwhelmed by the noise -- and always on guard and ready to jump aside to not obstruct the market activity. After an hour and 100 photos, we made our way out. What madness!

We had breakfast after the experience at the counter of a well-visited sushi restaurant located on the edge of the market. Raw fish and beer at nine in the morning can only be handled by the iron stomachs of your dynamic newsletter reporters! The sushi was wonderfully fresh, and even the usually tougher items like squid and shellfish were nice and tender. By the way, the sushi chef at this establishment had a knack for giving the piece of dead fish on the rice ball a quick, powerful slap just before serving, causing it to arch slowly once more when placed on the wooden counter, from where you pick it up with chopsticks and devour it.

The portion of sea urchin (orange, looks like tripe) that I had never taken from the conveyor belt of the floating sushi restaurant in San Francisco tasted somewhat musty. And Angelika absolutely couldn't manage to eat the small white worms, each with two staring eyes at the end (Chirimen Jako), so Michael, who is known for being unfazed by anything that can be washed down with beer, had to take over. The secretly curious onlookers (and of course, as always, entirely Japanese) and the staff were impressed by these two tough Europeans.

Masks

(Note: Thanks to reader Olaf from Berlin for the correction that face masks are worn when one has a cold (to avoid infecting coworkers/customers) and for pollen allergies. The poster with the masked children is part of a local campaign against illegally adulterated diesel fuel with kerosene or heavy oil.)

Beverages

Michael In Japanese cities, there are vending machines on almost every street corner offering drinks of all kinds: from soft drinks like Coca Cola to cans of cold coffee and even beer and whiskey, you can find everything you want there, 24 hours a day. You read that right: there's even beer in the vending machines, and we've also seen whiskey. The machines accept up to 500 yen coins (about 4.30 euros) and even 1000 yen bills (about 9 euros) and reliably return the change. A small keg of Asahi beer and a bottle of whiskey for about 20 euros were the most expensive products I saw; otherwise, a can costs about 140 yen (1.20 euros).

In the USA, such a vending machine would have an average lifespan of a few hours before someone broke into it, but in Japan, this system seems to work brilliantly; people even throw the drink cans into the appropriate trash containers after use -— unheard of!

Different countries, different drinking customs: I have tried out the most exciting new flavors of the local drink selection for you. In illustration 17, we move from the top left to the bottom right:

Chinese Tea by Coca Cola (1): Unfermented Chinese tea, not quite as harsh in aftertaste as its original green counterparts. A bit friendlier for the Western palate. Kirin Fire (2) and Kirin Super Fire (3): Chilled coffee with milk and sugar, nicely rounded in flavor, with a long, fine finish. Georgia Emerald Mountain Blend (4): Chilled coffee with milk, pleasantly spicy, but with a slightly fishy aftertaste. Natua (5): A milk-like refreshing drink tasting like thin kefir, without any other recognizable additives, similar to Turkish Ayran. Acerola Drink (6): A drink tasting like artificial cherries with vitamins, without carbonation. Takes some getting used to. Kirin Kiki-Chi-ya (7): Oolong tea, somewhat unusual for Western palates, with a strong tannin aftertaste. Unlike unfermented green tea and fermented black tea, Oolong tea is semi-fermented and therefore tastes a bit less grassy than green tea. Calpis Cool Soda (8): Lemonade tasting like Chabeso. Suntory Green Tea (9): Cold green tea. Takes some getting used to, but very refreshing. Suntory Gokuri (10): A delicious grapefruit drink, with an exceptionally pure, fresh taste, pleasant, balanced sweetness, not as overly sweet as the American stuff. I strongly suspect this will be a future Japanese export hit, and as always, you read it here first in the newsletter. Green Tea by Kirin (11): Cold green tea, drinkable. Kirin Milk Tea (12): A mild chilled black tea with milk. Unpleasant UHT milk aftertaste.

Beer

Paper tissues

Those distributors usually do not offer tissues to foreigners, by the way. However, in the hustle and bustle of the subway stations, we managed to grab some several times. As for using the tissues: place them on the shelf *before* washing your hands—rummaging in your pocket with wet fingers after washing is uncool.

By the way, in Japan, it is considered extremely rude to blow your nose in public. This is even stricter than in the USA, where you are not supposed to blow your nose at the table and should excuse yourself to go to the restroom instead.

Shuwattchi!

The pose is by no means associated with a right-wing political group, but rather comes from the popular Japanese TV series "Kamen Rider", whose Superman-like hero, whenever he transforms into Superman (in Japanese: enters "Rider" mode), strikes this pose and shouts "Shuwattchi!" The gesture and expression are widely understood in Japan, and the poster, if you understand the Kanji characters, is simply promoting that employees should keep their social security information up to date. Ha!

Fashion

Michael In five and a half years of living in the USA, I have gotten used to wearing a sort of sloppy California hacker look: short surfer shorts that come just below the knee with roomy side pockets (mostly from Billabong, DKNY, or Quicksilver), T-shirts that have been washed a thousand times (also surfer brands, but also Nike, Adidas, and some from the Costco supermarket in Maui, Hawaii), and sneakers that haven't been cleaned in years and are only half-laced (Mizuno Wave Rider) are what I usually wear -- my idea of a crossover between the Beach Boys and Public Enemy.

In San Francisco and the surrounding Bay Area, you rarely run into problems wearing this style: I only know of two establishments from which I was once kicked out for it: The cocktail lounge of the Bank of America building (no shorts or sneakers after 5:00 PM) and the bar room of the Fairmont Hotel (no T-shirts in the evening, must be a shirt or jacket). Since then, I've avoided these snobby hangouts during critical times and have been happily getting by with my choice of clothing.

In Japan, on the other hand, there is a stricter dress code: Most men wear suits with ties, and women wear business attire and high heels. This is because office jobs require this dress code, and people usually only go out with business colleagues after work without changing clothes.

Funnily enough, my experience was that even in upscale restaurants, you won't get kicked out despite having a shabby California look -— either you enjoy the exotic bonus as a Westerner, or such an affront would be far too embarrassing for the Japanese. I never tried it in shorts (it's not that warm in Japan in May), but even in the most elegant restaurant, my worn-out sneakers were neatly placed in front of the tatami mat without any eye-rolling.

Safety

Technophilia

The mobile phone industry in Japan is a step ahead of the rest of the world. There are already mobile phones with built-in cameras that allow you to send pictures to the person you're talking to! Additionally, I find it remarkable that phone conversations in Japan are much more discreet. No one loudly shouts into their phone on the train or lets it ring with annoying melodies, unlike what Americans do (Rundbrief 07/2001). No, on the train or in a restaurant, the phone is set to vibrate mode, and for making calls, one steps outside (in the train to the vestibule) and speaks quietly and with one hand (!) covering the mouth, so that you can hardly hear anything. That's what I call manners! The etiquette prize is going to Japan this year!

But it's not just phone calls that are made on the go. Anyone who frequently surfs the internet is probably familiar with what AOL calls "Instant Messages" (AIM). Similar to the German SMS, young Japanese people, in particular, tap away on the tiny keyboard to send short messages to their friends. Each phone, in addition to the number keypad, has a dial that allows users to select terms suggested by the phone's computer. In America, no one does that. Here, you can even surf the internet and order books from Amazon using cell phones, but this is criticized as being far too cumbersome.

Shinkansen

Michael With Japan's "Shinkansen" train (pronounced "Shinkan Senn" with a soft 's'), the equivalent of the German ICE, we sped from Tokyo to Hiroshima, then to Kyoto, and finally, with local trains, to a sacred Buddhist mountain at Koya-san. If you, as a foreigner, pay about 250 euros per week, you can get a so-called JR Rail Pass, which allows you to use all trains of the Japanese railway JR, except for the super-fast "Nozomi," and travel across the country. The trains run precisely on time, are super clean, and only stop in major cities —- a nearly futuristic world if you're coming from America.

Because Japanese people, when they go on vacation, absolutely have to bring back gifts (called O-miyage) for their colleagues, these are naturally offered at train stations and even on the train. Additionally, as shown in illustration 27, there are pretty Eki-(station)-Bento boxes available for purchase, which -- typical Japanese -- contain all sorts of delicacies (mostly fish-based) in square compartments for immediate consumption.

In illustration 28, you can see Navigator Angelika waiting at the train station. Please note our luggage, which, for easier identification on the airport conveyor belt ("Which black Samsonite was mine again?"), carries a logo with three stripes that I personally designed. By the way, Japanese people travel with very light luggage -- with our two huge bags, we were constantly looked at in amazement, and I had to repeatedly help the slight hotel staff with carrying the suitcases, otherwise they would have collapsed.

Japanese speaking English

Michael In Japanese, there is a funny linguistic peculiarity: One answers a negative question with "Yes!" if you want to negate it. For example, to the question "This train doesn't go to Shibuya?" a Japanese speaker would answer with "Yes" if the train indeed does not go to Shibuya, while in German or English, you'd answer "no" for emphasis.

This leads to all sorts of amusing misunderstandings between cultures. For example, when we initially had trouble finding an ATM that accepted our American debit card, we spoke with a bank employee. In broken English, she responded several times in a row to our question, "So we can’t use this card at your ATM?" with "Yes! No!" I was still laughing about it 10 minutes later on the street.

In general, there are hardly any people in Japan who speak English fluently. When you go to a restaurant, at least in the big cities, you might sometimes find someone who knows at least 10 words, so you can at least order a beer and maybe (!) request a menu with pictures or even in English. But be careful: sometimes the English spoken there is a fantasy version that has little to do with the real thing. When we boarded a bus at Narita Airport to ride into Tokyo, the baggage handler slapped our suitcase with his flat hand and shouted "No Breakup!" We looked at each other questioningly because "breakup" in English means "to separate" or to end a relationship. At first, I thought he wanted to make sure that both of us were going all the way into Tokyo and not that one of us would get off first and hence need some of the luggage. But no, he just wanted to make sure there was nothing fragile in the bag!

Busy Bodies

Another mass phenomenon is what I call the "people's run," a group dynamic that occurs when a crowd of people suddenly starts running. I first noticed this peculiarity when we were standing in line at airport immigration upon entering the country. For Japanese citizens, there were about ten lines open for queuing, which the steady stream of arriving people distributed themselves evenly across. Suddenly, another counter opened at one end —- and as if pulled by a string, the arriving people accelerated really fast to the speed of a "people's run" to line up at the new counter. Everything proceeds in an extremely controlled manner, and it is very rare for someone to be jostled. (About as often as in West Germany, a little less than in East Germany. In the USA or Great Britain, however, it *never* happens that someone jostles you; that is considered a mortal sin). However, people in Japan do not aggressively insist on their right of way; in case of doubt, they will let you go ahead just before a collision. You also often see people, even those of advanced age, in suits running through the city, probably because they're late for something. In the USA, on the other hand, no one ever runs -- except for joggers and criminals on the run. If someone in the USA is running in non-sports attire, you'd better take cover because there might be a shootout soon.

Rambunctious Youth

Michael In Japanese society, everything revolves around group affiliation -— usually a group of colleagues at work. The group defines the rules, and children learn this early on, as they hardly do anything other than kindergarten and school (from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m.), sometimes even on weekends. This, by the way, leads to the fact that it is almost impossible for foreigners to start friendships with Japanese natives. Even those "Gaijins" ("foreigners") who live in Japan permanently and speak perfect Japanese reportedly find no entry into these closed-off groups.

It is naturally difficult for young people to break out of there -- sometimes you see amusing attempts within their means, like when the boys let their neatly ironed white school uniform shirts hang out of their pants. Oh my! Or they simply sit on the ground, even though that is considered completely unacceptable in Japan! A new Generation X on the rise!

Among the approximately 16-year-olds, there is now quite a good alternative scene, of course not yet comparable to that in the USA, but, oh boy, they do throw trash on the street! What experienced English speakers often notice, by the way, are the unintentionally funny English T-shirt slogans (see illustration 38). But you can find that in Germany too, where I've also laughed until I cried. However, I haven't yet found any pants there with "GERMAN DOG" written across the backside in 10 cm high letters, like I saw in the "Isetan" department store in Tokyo.

Surveyed by Students

Michael On our temple tours (Angelika was struck by what I called "temple mania"), we encountered a large number of students on school trips who apparently had an English class assignment to complete in addition to sightseeing. Groups of four, consisting of around seventh graders, had to approach one of the few foreign tourists (about five out of a hundred visitors) and ask them a few questions in English, jot down the answers, and take a group photo as proof.

It was hilarious to secretly watch the children as they overcame their hesitation to make the first contact. An older teacher joined a group of two girls and two boys, approached some American tourists who were already happily willing to answer the questions, but then the two boys lost their nerve and bolted in panic down the temple steps. We were asked a total of four times by different groups at different temples where we were from ("Germany" was unfamiliar to them, the Japanese "Doitsu" was more common), how old we were (around 20), and what we liked about Japan (under Angelika's eye-rolling, I listed the different beer brands). The children's English skills were not very advanced, so the teacher often had to step in and translate our answers.

In Japan, it seems that English classes are conducted in Japanese, focusing on dry grammar rules. Most children can't speak English at all. According to our findings, most have studied English for six years, three hours a week. What happens there is a mystery to me. English classes in Germany during my school days were also quite ridiculous (so out of touch with reality that most people couldn't even make a phone reservation at a hotel after nine years of school English), but I knew the word for "soapbox race," knew what happened in 1066, and could engage in discussions on various topics.

Geishas

Original and American knockoff

The stores were exactly like the American ones. However, I was highly amused that Starbucks in Japan has a Green Tea Frappuccino on the menu. In general, Tokyo does not hold back when it comes to culinary offerings: Italian, Indian, French, Chinese, Thai, Californian, and of course, Japanese cuisine are all on the menu.

In Tokyo, we went to eat Italian for testing purposes. And once again, we revised a prejudice: the food did not lack authenticity. Who would have thought? Usually, immigrants bring their cuisine to the respective country. Not so in Japan: here, only a vanishingly small proportion of foreigners actually live there. And I swear that both the chefs and the waitstaff in the Italian restaurant were entirely Japanese. We also noticed that the food wasn't altered to suit Japanese taste buds, as is often the case in America, where suddenly every dessert is overly sweet. Restaurants also always provide the correct silverware, I read in the travel guide that the Japanese place great importance on this. Michael ate fish at the Italian restaurant and actually received a fish knife. That has never happened to us in our five and a half years in San Francisco. And we really do eat a lot of fish.

Consumer Frenzy

There are also sweets like Swiss pralines or cakes that look as if they came straight from the Viennese court bakery. And what did we discover as we leisurely strolled through the aisles of the "Takashimaya" department store (pronounced: Takashima Ya!)? Sausages from Dahlmayer in Munich - the original! There were lovely gift baskets with ham and all sorts of different sausages. However, a generous gift basket, a threesome of a large whole smoked ham, another piece of meat, and some sausages, cost 40,000 yen, which is 345 euros.

Overall, the department stores were absolutely stunning. There are extremely beautiful things from all over the world to buy, and you can really get everything your heart desires. In this regard, Tokyo is truly a cosmopolitan city, while San Francisco is more provincial, if we're being honest.

In upscale Japanese department stores and in some important public buildings, we encountered what I have termed elevator ladies (again, no men in sight), whose job is to operate the elevator all day. Uniform, hat, and white gloves are mandatory. The elevator ladies not only continuously use Japanese polite expressions but also indicate with hand signals whether the elevator is going up or down or when the doors are closing.

Japanese toilets

On the other hand, there are the state-of-the-art variants: the obligatory bidet, heated toilet seats, and automatic water sounds to drown out unpleasant noises. In Japan, one should be cautious of this technical frippery and avoid pressing random buttons on the toilet if you want to avoid taking an unexpected shower. In our traditional inn (Ryokan), we had one of these hyper-modern devices. The toilet had a control panel with various push and turn buttons, which activated different bidet functions. You could adjust the water temperature, water pressure, and spray technique. Despite all the warnings, we naturally tried out every conceivable button. And lo and behold, there was the consequence of such reckless behavior when I couldn't manage to stop the bidet water jet. Fortunately, Michael already knew the button to turn it off which was naturally only labeled in Japanese.

Due to the two different systems, public toilets usually have either "Western Style" or "Japanese Style" written on the outside to avoid confusion.

Bicycles in Tokyo

Even drivers struggle with the cramped conditions. They drive very well, swiftly, and can park in very tight spaces, tighter than anywhere else in the world (Figure 48).

Train station in Tokyo

Angelika Before we set off for Tokyo, we read horror stories about the crowds, especially in the subway and train stations and the trains themselves. Of course, with 12 million inhabitants, we weren't surprised to generally move in a throng of people.

But everything is running quite disciplined and orderly, so the many people don't really bother you, and we made sure to avoid rush hour. In the stations, arrows showed us which side to go up and down the stairs. The whole system is very cleverly designed, as there is a barrier in the middle of the stairs, but it's not exactly in the center, taking into account that largers crowds are rushing to the stairs when a train arrives. In Japan, by the way, people go up and down the stairs on the left side due to the prevailing left-hand traffic. It is advisable to follow the arrows during peak times. I once didn't, and despite my best efforts, I couldn't get back to the correct side.

The Shinjuku Station in Tokyo, a combination of a train and subway station, channels up to 2 million people daily, making the Munich Central Station seem tiny in comparison. There are 60 exits, a labyrinth of underground passages, department stores, and restaurants. It's completely crazy: like an anthill. There's hustle and bustle everywhere.

Uniforms

Girls are wearing skirts and often a top that resembles a sailor shirt. On their feet, both girls and boys wear modern sneakers. For girls, the latest fashionable school uniform trend is to wear thick winter knee socks, which are casually rolled down to slouch around the legs. There are always ways to loosen the uniform requirements. Incidentally, Japanese schoolchildren also carry a backpack, while this is otherwise a 100% identifying feature of non-Japanese tourists. Japanese tourists are usually seen carrying neat little bags. The receptionists (only females, I didn't see any men) at the information desks in upscale department stores also wear uniforms and look like flight attendants. Often, a hat is part of the outfit for women. It's all very nice. We were also fascinated by the uniforms of the road workers because they looked so different.

Taxis

Of course, taxi drivers know where the train station, major hotels, or other attractions are located. Unfortunately, tourists often don't know which famous landmark the restaurant they want to visit is nearby. However, Japanese taxi drivers are fundamentally honest and won't rip you off. If they can't find the address, they will drive to the nearest Koban in the desired district and ask for directions. A "Koban" is a small police station. These can be found in every district, often no larger than a kiosk. Here, there is a detailed map of the district where the police box is located.

In Tokyo (and in our experience, also in other Japanese cities), it is additionally challenging that only the larger streets have names. Finding something is a challenge even for a pathfinder with a compass, because there are thousands of tiny alleys in Tokyo, none of which are marked with names on street maps. We often searched for a restaurant described in the travel guide and gave up in frustration despite having a map. Additionally, restaurant names typically include Kanji characters, which are wonderfully decipherable in the printed travel guide, but have little to do with the signs in the real world, as they have been "enhanced" for design purposes.

To Bow

Shoes Off and Shoes On

Angelika Just as I always get a chill down my spine when an American clips their nails on the subway, a Japanese person shudders when a tourist doesn't take off their shoes at the right moment. In Japanese homes, Japanese restaurants, accommodations in Japanese style (traditional inns called Ryokan or Minshuku), and temples, it's customary to take off your shoes. If any type of shoes (even slippers) touch the tatami mats (tatami mats are straw mats that cover the floor like a carpet), a witnessing Japanese person turns pale with shock. Now, this might initially sound uncomplicated: take off your shoes -— no problem. But I tell you, it's a science in itself, because before you reach the room with the tatami mats, you switch to provided slippers at the entrance of the establishment.

An elevated step signals the impending switch to slippers. And so begins the balancing act, as street shoes must not touch the elevated step and socked feet must not touch the floor designated for street shoes. I sometimes found myself quite clumsy in this process, but noticed the same confusion among some Japanese teenagers. Shelves are available for storing the shoes. With slippers that were often much too small for us, we shuffled through the corridors, constantly reminding each other to slip out of the slippers when stepping onto a tatami mat. However, we often forgot to position the slippers so that we could step back into them without having to turn them around (as the Japanese do). A particularly amusing variant is the bathroom slippers. Yes, you guessed it: upon entering a bathroom, you switch to the so-called "bathroom slippers," hideous plastic items. We were just waiting for a faux pas to happen where we would accidentally wander outside the bathroom in the bathroom slippers. Miraculously, we never forgot to switch back to the other slippers. We remembered the story our Japanese teacher in San Francisco told us. She once trotted back into the temple wearing her bathroom slippers, prompting several monks to rush over and yank the "impure" slippers off her feet.

In our Japanese course, we also learned that Japanese people do not squat on the floor unless it is covered with a tatami mat. However, there seems to be a clear generational gap here. We often encountered schoolchildren and teenagers sitting on the floor. On the other hand, we observed middle-aged and older Japanese people who did not even place their bags on the floor and put a newspaper under their shoeless feet on the train to prevent their socks from directly touching the floor.

Hiroshima

Michael kept insisting to me that Hiroshima still has radiation. However, I was determined to see the memorials for the victims of the first atomic bombing. At first glance, Hiroshima resembles many other larger Japanese cities: modern, colorful, with ugly concrete buildings reminiscent of the German architectural style in the 1960s.

Skyscrapers, stylish department stores. If it weren't for the Peace Park, which commemorates the dropping of the atomic bomb with a museum and various memorials, visitors would not guess that this city lay in ruins in 1945. In the Peace Park, the so-called A-Dome is the first thing to catch the eye. This is the ruin of the only building that remained standing at the center of the bomb drop.

Throughout the park, there are various memorials, including one for the children and the Korean forced laborers who were killed by the atomic bomb. The memorial for the Korean forced laborers was only erected in 1970, as the Japanese had diligently suppressed and ignored what they had done to the Korean forced laborers until then. At the memorial for the children, entire school classes lay down folded cranes in memory of a girl named Sadako. I have already recounted the story of Sadako, who fell ill with leukemia in 1955 as a result of the atomic bombing and began folding cranes to wish for health, and how cranes are now considered a symbol of peace. The laying down of the cranes, strung on threads, is often very solemn and accompanied by a small ceremony.

We observed schoolchildren singing, performing, and playing the flute. There are many chains of paper cranes, and behind the children's memorial, there are small transparent tent-like structures where the chains are hung. The peace flame is also impressive; it will burn until there are no more nuclear weapons on Earth. When you consider the consequences of Hiroshima, it is incomprehensible to me why nuclear weapons still exist at all. The leaders in Pakistan and India have probably never been to Hiroshima. Unfortunately!

Ryokan

Angelika In Kyoto, we rented a room in a ryokan - a traditional Japanese inn. The term "inn" might sound a bit rustic, but a ryokan is more of an upscale version. It allows you to immerse yourself in ancient Japan.

Following the custom of removing shoes is very important in a ryokan. The room itself consists of tatami mats and a low table, where meals are eaten while sitting on the mat. In a ryokan, meals are typically served in the room by a lady dressed in a kimono. Usually, both Japanese breakfast and dinner are offered. A traditional Japanese breakfast consists of fish, miso soup, pickled vegetables, some kind of egg dish, rice, and often tofu. Black tea is served as a drink. We often received tiny fish with eyes (Chirimen Jako), which always looked at me so nicely and resembled prehistoric worms.

Dinner can best be described as Japanese "high cuisine" (in Japanese: Kaiseki). It follows a strict etiquette: the freshness of the ingredients and the presentation are paramount. The food is lovingly and tastefully arranged on small plates, and dishes and served one after the other. You can imagine it as if there is one appetizer after another. The dishes include, among others: sashimi or sushi, tempura, miso soup, cooked or grilled fish, something pickled, rice. With Kaiseki, the saying holds true: you eat with your eyes.

Attentive readers among you are probably now wondering: But where do you sleep in a Ryokan? Are there beds, or cozy mattresses on the floor? After dinner, the kimono lady returns, clears the table, moves the cushions aside, and lays out the futon and blankets on the tatami mats. By the way, Japanese pillows tend to be on the harder side. The reason ist their barley stuffing. My ears did hurt a bit from that. In the morning, the kimono lady appears before breakfast and stores the futon and bedding back in a designated closet. Taking a nap in a Ryokan? No way! Unless you lie down on the tatami mat without a futon and blanket, which I only recommend for the very tired and hardy. Often, there is a small corner in the room with chairs and a table in a Western style.

Michael managed to break the backrest of a chair on the very first day in our ryokan. Although he managed to put the chair back together in a makeshift way, the next day it (the chair, not Michael) was nowhere to be seen (we suspected it was being repaired), which reduced the number of chairs in our room to one. In traditional Japanese rooms, you often find an alcove ("tokonoma") with arranged artworks or flowers. Japanese do not appreciate it when tourists place their suitcases or other belongings in the alcove. I admit that one is inclined to do so because there is hardly any furniture in Japanese rooms, and we often desperately tried to store our things somehow. The rooms of an upscale ryokan often offer a view of a Japanese garden. But be careful: if you want to view the garden up close, you need to step into wooden clogs ("geta").

Japanese Bath

After bathing and drying off, everyone slips into a kind of bathrobe ("Yukata"). Yukatas are available in every Japanese accommodation. No one minds if you walk around the house in it, have dinner in it, or use the bathrobe as pajamas. The left side of the bathrobe is wrapped over the right. I always focused on doing this correctly because right over left means that you are no longer among the living. The only question that remained unanswered: What should we wear under the Yukata? Underwear? T-shirt? Socks? No travel guide answered this crucial question. To prevent getting cold, there is also a kind of overcoat that you can wear over the "Yukata," called "Tanzen".

In the temple for AOL

Another gimmick involves writing worries on special pieces of paper that completely dissolve and disappear when thrown into water, symbolizing the disappearance of those worries. My biggest concern at the moment is, of course, the low price of AOL stock, and I dutifully paid the 200 yen (1.70 euros) fee, filled out a piece of paper, and let it dissolve in the water. Since then, at least the stock price hasn't fallen any further!

By the way, do you see the flag in illustration 69 that shows a chapel? The mirrored swastika does not indicate a far-right party, but is actually the Buddhist symbol for "temple".

Koya-San

In the room, we had a so-called Kotatsu, a traditional Japanese invention: a low table with an electric heater attached underneath its tabletop and a thick down blanket that extends from the tabletop to the floor. You can generate heat under the table with the heater, and the blanket keeps the warmth in. You sit on a cushion on the floor, stretch your feet underneath, and can read, work, or even sleep. It's so cozy and practical that I've seriously considered getting something like this for our apartment in San Francisco.

We promptly appeared at the ceremony at 6 o'clock in the morning, sat in the lotus position almost the entire time, and listened to the monks' chanting -- an experience of sitting half-asleep in a cold temple and following the monks' mantras, even though we didn't understand any of it. After 40 minutes, we had truly earned our breakfast. By the way, the monks were vegetarians, so at noon we eagerly devoured a tonkatsu, the surprisingly similar form of the Japanese Wiener Schnitzel, at a nearby restaurant.

Cemetery in Koya-San

They believe that this will put them in the front row when "Kobo Daishi," their revered and deceased priest as well as the founder of the Shingon sect, who according to their belief is merely in deep meditation, meets the future Buddha and both return to the world. The cemetery is vast. There are gravestones as far as the eye can see. Large Japanese companies like Sharp, Nissan, and the coffee company UCC have secured corporate grave plots for their employees.

We came across a large coffee cup at the grave site of the coffee company, for example, and a rocket representing another company: employee benefits in Japanese.

That was our trip to Japan! We are already back in San Francisco and working like maniacs again. See you soon! Your adventurers:

Michael and Angelika