Scribbler's Cafe

First Impressions of the land of the rising sun

I was unprepared for how ugly it is, how grey and square and cramped. Now I understand why Japanese art is so minimalist. There is no space (and surprisingly little beauty) in the physical world, so the canvas cries for it. After being here just a day, I crave the arc of a single continuous line and an ocean of white space.

There are saving graces- our bathroom, for instance. It’s two rooms with a ridiculous amount of built in storage for things like lotion and lip stick. The bathtub is short, but so am I, and is also deep enough to soak me to my armpits when I sit straight and to my chin when I relax against the curved backrest.

Every four blocks is a vending machine that sells sweet milky coffee, cool and refreshing in this murky heat.

The 7-11 down the street is nothing like the 7-11 back home. They sell bento boxes full of fresh sushi and tempura for just five bucks.

Hello Kitty is everywhere - though I wonder how long I’ll count that in the perks category.

My boss and his wife have welcomed us warmly. Okamoto is already Uncle Okamoto to Kiomye and she wants to hold his hand everywhere we go. We drove and walked up and down crowded little Nishinomiya on our beaurocratic errands. Okamoto drove me to the dollar store and laughed at me when I bought the plastic molds for my rice balls. He said that my hands are all the tools I need. I replied that I’m still American and can use all the help I can get. I like my boss. He swears in English, even when he’s speaking Japanese. Sometimes it’s the only part of the discussion that I can understand.

Matt and I toasted with sake on our balcony. Here’s to our new adventure in Japan. The apartment buildings become stack of lights beneath us, the tower of Osaka twinkling in the distance. We watch the bullet train running past the bottom of the hill. When we open our windows we can hear its low rumble.

We’ve arrived. Japan. Home.

posted by Scribbler @ Saturday, August 28, 2004