Japanese Survival Stories No 1 The Toilet and Other Hazards

(Above: A Japanese Toilet and the directions for using a western style toilet. I think they have it backwards.)

I never expected to need assistance when Iwent to go to the toilet for the first time in Japan. I naturally assumed that all toilets were pretty much the same as I grew up with in the USA. I figured that a your toilet came with your basic porcelain stool suitable for standing in front of, sitting down on or keeling next to when you needed to rest your head after a night of heavy drinking was pretty much all that was really necessary. Certainly, there are exceptions, such as when camping, where you hang your nether parts over a fallen tree, or when out drinking and you stalk the nearest bush. I was never expecting to see a urinal laid flat on its back and set into the floor. I didn't expect it to be moving either.I had been on an airlane for about 12 hours. Airplane toilets are just what you'd expect to find on an airplane. I spent time in Haneda Airport, the toilets there are what you'd expect to find in an airport. I spent the night in an Internatioal Hotel in Tokyo, once again, a toilet was a toilet. I had to take a 4 hour train trip from Tokyo to Sendai, (this was before the Bullet Train was introduced). That is where my experiences with the friendly stool got flushed.We had gone from our seats to the dining car to have a beer. I don't know if it was just a matter of time, or if it was the shaking of the train, but I soon felt nature's call. I asked where the toilet was, got my bearings and after bouncing off a wall or two, I managed to get the door to slide open. I got inside and found what I was sure was the urinal. It wasn't, but by the time I figuered it out, I wans't exactly in the mood to take care of business. I made up my mind to tough it out for a couple more hours.

Garbage is "Gomi" But It Is Still Garbage

Above: What garbge or "gomi" goes out on what day. Simple, huh?

"Don't forget to take out the garbage when you walk the dog." my wife says to me.
I dutifully reach down and pick up a plastic bag full of garbage that is sitting next to the door as I noose the dog with the choke chain. I check to make sure that I have plastic "doggy bags" in my pocket and I am heading out the door when I hear, "Wait! Today is not Monday, it is Wednesday!"
"I don't care if it is Friday”, I reply. “Frank has to take care of business now."
"No, Today is not Monday, Today is Wednesday, you have to take out the plastic garbage today."
I look at the bag. It is plastic. "This is plastic." I tell her.
"No, outside is plastic, inside is paper. Paper is Monday gomi. Wednesday is plastic gomi."
I consider this for a moment, and I ask, "OK, where is the plastic gomi?"
“I don't have the plastic gomi in the bag yet, plastic gomi is in the kitchen.”
I try to urge her to get a move on, the dog doesn't care if I take any gomi, he wants to check his "P"-mail, and perhaps make an ‘organic’ deposit for my "plastic doggy bag". I know that he really couldn't care less that the Wednesday plastic gomi was in the kitchen and the paper Monday gomi was by the door. He doesn’t care if I pick up his organic deposits with a paper bag, a plastic bag or my bare hand. In fact, I don’t really think he is worried if I pick it up at all. He has other problems. In deference to him, I forgo the argument about gomi placement, and why we have to wait till the very last minute to get the correct garbage so we can get out the door. Soon, the garbage arrives and we head outside. The dog and I are both confused. My dog is trying to figure just exactly what has been holding up his sorely needed trek into the night and I am trying to figure out just exactly what day it is.