Tag: Everyday Life

Hug – Part 2

My father visiting me in Tokyo

Tokyo, 1981. I’m crossing the michi in Roppongi, a very trendy area in central Tokyo when a man, crossing in the opposite hōkō suddenly reverses course and stops me as I take a step onto the sidewalk. He throws his arms around me and gives me a big haggu saying, “My Sister!” (I don’t have any brothers at all and certainly not in Tokyo.) I reel back a bit in surprise and meanwhile, he gives me a huge hohoemi and says in very accented English. “Oh, I felt so hōmushikku when I saw you and you look just like my sister!” I’m a little shocked that a stranger has hugged me, but he seems so happy that I try to remember that I am not Japanese and come from a culture where hugging happens. Maybe he does, too?

Okay. I smile back and ask him where he is from as one does in the foreign community in Tokyo in the 1980’s. He says he is here on a mijikai ryokō with a delegation from Palestine. Oh. Awkward. I tell him that I am Jewish and have a sister living in Jerusalem. This doesn’t make him grin any less. In fact, he is smiling even bigger.

I’m curious so I gingerly ask him if aren’t we perhaps actually enemies. I haven’t been paying attention to world events, but Jews and Arabs… aren’t we enemies? He laughs and says, “No, no, not at all. We are of the same Semitic race. You look just like my own sister. I’m so happy to see you.” We chat a bit more. It’s all very friendly.

The next day, to my huge surprise, I read about Arafat’s visit to Tokyo in the newspaper and realize I’ve met a member of Yasser Arafat’s delegation, i.e. a member of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). True story and not one I’m likely to forget. It shaped me…not just a little bit….

  • michi – 道　road, street
  • hōkō – 方向　direction
  • haggu – ハグ　hug
  • hohoemi – 微笑み　smile
  • hōmushikku -　ホームシック “homesick”
  • mijikai – 短い　short
  • ryokō – trip, journey

What?!?

The seventies in Kyoto were special. And I know there is a tendency to romanticize them now, but hey folks, it wasn’t all good. I have no lost love for non-flush toilets and rooms with no heat or AC. And… we didn’t know very much.

Imagine coming to live in Kyoto with maybe a little nihongo speaking ability, but certainly zero or a very low reading ability. That left a lot of us lost. We had to rely on eigo sources. But, remember, this is before the internet. So what was there?

For me, there were just three sources of jōhō available in English. The first was The Japan Times. This English shinbun was about ten pages long and a far cry from American newspapers, I thought. But that wasn’t the entire problem. It was very expensive for a poor student. I’d have to get on my bicycle and go into town to get a copy. It was sold in the lobby at both the Kyoto Hotel and the Royal Hotel. I metta ni indulged. However, both hotels also had nice clean Western bathrooms off the lobby. When my mother visited me, we’d make regular stops there since she wasn’t a fan of my squat toilet.

Another source of English information was the Kyoto Tourist Bureau. They had a few publications and would answer questions. But it was located across the street from Kyoto Station and I rarely headed down that way. Also, I wasn’t a kankōkyaku and it was slightly embarrassing to go in there and collect pamphlets that would tell me how to use a Japanese toilet, ohashi etc.

There was one more source of English information. The Armed Forces radio station didn’t come through very clearly on my cheap rajio, but I sometimes caught the news or some music if the air waves were right.

So, one day, I was cleaning my room and I put the radio on to see if I could catch the Armed Forces radio. I did and the DJ was a talkative one. I don’t remember what song he was playing, but he said “… and the late John Lennon.”

WHAT?!? John Lennon was dead? How could I not know such an important thing? When had he died? Why didn’t I know? How could he be dead without me knowing it? I was shocked.

Can you imagine not knowing something like that today? You’d have to be totally off the grid, so I guess it is possible, but the shokku was great and it still remains as a strong memory of the isolation that I didn’t fully realize I was experiencing until that moment. And, by the way, this is why I was compelled to learn to read in Japanese.

  • nihongo – 日本語 the Japanese language
  • eigo – 英語 English (language)
  • jōhō – 情報 information
  • shinbun – 新聞 newspaper
  • metta ni – 滅多に rarely
  • kankōkyaku – 観光客 tourist(s)
  • ohashi – お箸 chopsticks. Note the honorific “o” here as well.
  • rajio – ラジオ radio
  • shokku – ショック shock(s), surprise

Fat in Japan

So, here’s the thing. I was never fat in Japan. Each time I disembark from the hikōki after landing in Japan, it is like my karada says, “Oh, we’re in Japan. Let’s immediately lose ten pounds or more.”

It might be a body memory thing due to my first trip to Japan where I became ill with natsubate and ended up in the hospital unable to eat. And then there were all the unfamiliar foods that took awhile to like. (Luckily I did know how to use ohashi, so that wasn’t the issue.)

I do hate to exercise and only once in Japan did I join a class for that purpose. It was a jazz exercise class. We’d go out to lunch afterwards and virtuously eat sarada. And feel really really hungry. So, that didn’t last.

But what did last was the lifestyle. Here are some examples:

  1. In Japan I had a washing machine, but no kansōki. That meant hanging the clothes out to dry as opposed to shifting them into a dryer.
  2. The futon we slept on also had to be regularly carted over to the window and hung out in the sun to air. They also had to be beaten with a futontataki and flipped over and beaten again. This as opposed to either making a bed or … not.
  3. I didn’t have a kuruma in Japan. This covers a LOT, including grocery shopping by bicycle and looping the bags over the handlebars to cycle home. It also covers taking my kids on the jitensha to cart them anywhere we were going and daily trips to daycare.
  4. In Tokyo there were the subways that could be way down deep underground. Esukareetaa? Who had the time and they weren’t a given.
  5. Sightseeing. Obviously Japan is charming and hilltop temples and shrines especially so. If the old grannies were climbing, so were we.
This is the tool we used to beat the futon. And when you lived in an apartment building you wanted to be sure to get your futon outside early in the morning to appear more virtuous than your neighbors.

So even though I never watched what I ate, I was always slimmer in Japan. However, it is the curse of the gaijin woman to never feel that way next to the lithe Japanese women. But that’s a whole other story.

  • hikōki 飛行機 – airplane
  • karada　体 – body
  • natsubate　夏バテ – A special word used to describe suffering in the summer due to the oppressive heat. When you get natsubate you don’t feel like eating and you can quickly succumb to the heat. Natsu means summer and the bate comes from the verb bateru which means to be exhausted.
  • ohashi　お箸 – chopsticks
  • sarada　サラダ – salad
  • kansōki　乾燥機 – clothes dryer
  • futon　布団 – not a sofa. REAL Traditional Japanese futon are mats that you sleep on. You put them down at night on a tatami surface and then fold them up in the daytime.
  • futontataki　布団叩き – the tool that you use to beat the futon when you are airing them out. You can see puffs of dust arise when you do this. Necessary? Not sure. Traditional? Hell, yes.
  • kuruma　車 – automobile
  • jitensha　自転車 – bicycle
  • Esukareetaa – エスカレーター – escalator
  • gaijin　外人 – foreigner. This is the short form of gaikokujin. Some foreigners take offense at being called this and would prefer the longer and more polite form. Your mileage may vary.

The Baby on the Bus

The one thing you have to get used to if you live in a Japanese city is the hordes of people. That’s no different from any city in America, but you tend to feel it more in Nihon because it is likely that you use public transportation more than your own kuruma. There are a few reasons for this.

First of all, Japan does public transportation really well. Densha and buses are dependable, clean, and benri. Of course they are faster than driving in most cases and you don’t have to work to find a parking place. I don’t know if it is true, but I have heard that to buy a car in Japan you have to prove you have somewhere to park it. I never had a car in Japan and never felt I needed one. A bicycle and public transportation covered all of my needs.

The best way to travel with a child in Japan!

But when you have kodomo, you have different issues. Try taking a baby on a train. If you’re lucky, they are lulled to sleep. But if you are unlucky, they are going to bawl their eyes out in distress. And then all eyes turn to see what’s going on. Here’s what happens next:

It becomes a project and everyone gets involved. The obāsan sitting next to you jangles a key ring to distract the baby and if the baby reaches for it, she’ll let the baby grab it and hold it. The slightly older mother across the aisle will open her bag and reach into it for a small omocha and offer that up. The grandmother sitting two seats down pulls out some plain cookies and offers the baby those. The teenage boys standing up near you make funny faces to amuse the baby. And the older men do bero bero bah — the Japanese version of peekaboo or any antic done to amuse a baby.

Everyone’s been there. Right?

Recently I read in the news that people sitting in the airline’s first class think that babies should not be allowed to sit there. They pay extra for the luxury and listening to a crying baby disturbs them. Sekkaku okane o dashita noni! You can just imagine the indigence.

You can also imagine what I think of that. They are missing a chance to make a connection and be of help. Too bad for them.

Once I’d experienced the treatment of a baby on a bus in Japan, I began to carry small toys in my own bag and look for opportunities to give them to mothers with a fussy child. When I took a flight a few years ago, a mother with a toddler sat down next to me in the middle seat. I offered to hold the little girl while she settled herself. I am a nervous flyer and having a toddler on my lap diverted my fuan. She ended up having fun looking out the mado and then eventually fell asleep on my lap. I told the mom that I was a grandmother and this was a joy for me. We all had a very good flight!

  • Nihon – 日本　Japan
  • kuruma – 車　car, automobile
  • Densha – 電車　train
  • benri – 便利　convenient
  • kodomo – 子供　child
  • obāsan – おばあさん　grandmother
  • omocha – おもちゃ　toy. Be careful not to confuse with matcha! And yes, somehow toy takes the honorific ‘o’
  • Sekkaku okane o dashita noni -せっかくお金を出したのに Literally, “Even though I went to great pains to pay for this.” Sekkaku is a good word to know. You could say, “Sekkaku benkyō shimashita noni, I flunked the test. Get it? (Even though I went to great pains to study, I flunked the test.” It’s a good word for when you want to bitch about something.
  • bero bero bah – ベロベロバー Used like peekaboo with a baby. You say it and then make a funny face perhaps.
  • fuan – 不安　uneasiness, worry
  • mado – 窓　window

Kōenji

Oh lordy. My old neighborhood is now a hipster place. It’s turning up on lists of cool neighborhoods or hidden gems or ”places to discover.”

I moved to Kōenji in 1983. I would take the Chuo Line from Shinjuku Station and it took about fifteen minutes. You’d get off the train and have a choice between the minami and kita exits. Mine was the south exit. From there I’d walk ten minutes or so through an old shōtengai. I loved that walk. It’s worth saying that the shōtengai extended all the way to a subway station of the same name. And there was another shōtengai on the north side. If you like shōtengai, you were all set.

As I would walk home, I’d see a futon store to my right where I’d often browse looking for new covers for my zabuton. Next to that store and on the second floor was a restaurant that served fried rice with an ebi furai on top of it and a dab of curry. It’s a great combination that I’ve rarely seen elsewhere.

I was surprised to find a photo of my old apartment building on the internet. Though it looks nice from the outside, it was dark and damp inside.

On the right side I’d pass a few pharmacies and small grocers. Eventually I’d pass a kōen on the right that was featured in the novel 1Q84 by Murakami Haruki. It’s always a quiet thrill when you unexpectedly encounter a place you know in a shōsetsu.

From there, things got seedier. Kōenji, for some reason, was where many bar hostesses and other creatures of the night chose to live. There were a few jazz coffee shops, and some good oden spots. But what really proved to me that this was indeed the home of the tattered butterflies of the night was the public bath. And it was simple. Unlike any other public bath I’d been to, this one stayed open until 1 AM. Every other bath I’d ever been to—be it in Kyoto or Tokyo—closed at 11 PM.

I’d sometimes go right before closing and join the raucous group of women hanging out there. I never really chatted with them. I usually came with the guy I’d end up marrying and I didn’t linger or try to make friends. We’d meet outside after bathing on our respective sides of the bath and then go eat some oden.

Checking the internet now, I see that our bath had been around since 1929! I’m very happy to see it is still open and still open until 1 AM. I guess there are still some things that do not change!

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  • minami – 南　south
  • kita – 北　north
  • shōtengai – 商店街　shopping street
  • zabuton – 座布団　floor cushion
  • ebi furai – エビフライ　fried shrimp
  • kōen – 公園　park (the kind children play at)
  • shōsetsu – 小説　novel
  • oden – おでん a type of food that is sold by street venders and in bars (it practically cries out for beer) and now in 7-11 and other stores. It has an unmistakable smell to it due to the fish products it uses. A lot of non-Japanese fail to see the charm of it. But in the winter, before many homes had heat, it was a great way to warm up before returning to a stone cold room.

A Consultation

In America as well as Japan someone might idly ask you, “So, what are you cooking for dinner tonight?” I often ask this of my own musume, curious to know what she’s feeding my beloved mago and also curious to know what local foods she might be eating. In Japan, my neighbors often answered with “Reizōko to sōdan shimasu.”

Exactly like my first fridge!

I get the meaning, but it still makes me smile. You could translate that literally as “I will have a consultation with my refrigerator.” This is especially meaningful at the end of the month before a gekkyū rolls in. And it also is a good way to ensure that you don’t end up with rotting vegetables or oniku past its prime.

I think there are two ways to grocery shop. In America, where people shop less frequently than in Japan, my friends often make up a menu plan for the week and then buy based on what is needed to prepare these dishes. I’ve tried doing that, but I cannot. I also can’t shop just once a week, or heaven forbid, once every two weeks.

When I was living in Japan most people shopped for food daily or once every couple of days. Many women my age still do it that way. Food shops are conveniently located near train stations so you could come home from work or school and buy what you needed for yūhan on the way home. My homestay mother went to the same local shōtengai daily to shop. Why? Why daily?

One reason is that Japanese homes are small and thus storage, be it reizōko or pantry is very limited. Think of the kind of refrigerator that you might find in a dorm room. Now they sell bigger ones, but they are still narrow and are simply taller. But I believe many women are still shopping daily or three times or more a week. This is because you want to see what is shinsen, what is in season, what is on sale and what simply looks good. In theory one should always be eating with the seasons and that is reflected in both food and tableware. It’s a lovely way to cook and eat. There’s not a Japanese alive who couldn’t tell you what month bamboo is in season and what fish is eaten in the autumn. The closest we have to any of this would be a pumpkin spice latte. (I cringe.)

It’s the end of the month today and I did indeed consult with my refrigerator. Plenty of carrots, so I pulled some chikuwa from the freezer and made a stir-fry with soy sauce and sugar. What else? Oh, this is embarrassing. But I had some sad looking broccoli and a lot of celery. A knob of ginger appeared and I always have miso.

So I cut the celery into small pieces, zapped the broccoli, and sautéd both vegetables with the ginger in sesame oil, adding miso and mirin to make a sauce. Not bad! But I now have two very rich dishes so I’ll add rice (already cooking in my suihanki) and daikon pickles—and cut up some fruit to eat along with it. Oshimai!

There’s enough left over for tomorrow at which point I’ll cook up a dashimaki to go along with it.

And…it would not be at all out of character to see me thanking my refrigerator for this gochisō!

  • musume – 娘 daughter
  • mago – 孫 grandchild
  • reizōko – 冷蔵庫 refrigerator
  • to – と particle and or with
  • sōdan shimasu – 相談します to consult or to confer with, adding shimasu makes it a verb
  • gekkyū – 月給 monthly salary
  • oniku – お肉 meat
  • yūhan -夕飯 dinner. You can also call dinner bangohan. Maybe this is like supper and dinner?
  • shōtengai – 商店街 shopping street
  • shinsen – 新鮮 fresh
  • chikuwa – 竹輪. a tube shaped fish paste product. It’s cheap and easily found in Japan. And it tastes better than it sounds. Unfortunately, in America I can only get a frozen version.
  • suihanki – 炊飯器 rice cooker
  • Oshimai – お仕舞い Finished! Done! You could also use it to say “I call time.”
  • dashimaki – だし巻き a Japanese rolled omelette made with dashi.
  • gochisō -ごちそう a feast. Used to praise food not just for a real feast.

Happy New Year

Akemashite Omedetō Gozaimasu. (2023 is the Year of the Rabbit)

That’s how you say Happy New Year in Japan. But unlike in America where we start saying it near the end of the year, you can’t use this expression until the second the clock hits midnight. If you’re watching Japanese tv, then that’s the moment you’ll see the announcers bow and say this. Until this moment, what you can say is “Yoi otoshi o” which means Have a good year.

My first Oshōgatsu in Japan was in 1976. I was with my boyfriend and a group of Japanese people. Everyone was drinking. I think we were in Gion. It was a nigiyaka group and nobody noticed that the clock had struck midnight until about twenty minutes later. Quite different from what I was accustomed to.

My boyfriend had claimed that I’d have to move in with him during these holidays. He and my homestay program had claimed that nothing would be open for a week. I was living in a tiny room with no cooking facilities other than the ability to boil water. The shelf outside my window functioned as a reizōko. (The whole room could have done that since there was no heat.) The thing is, I didn’t believe that everything would be shut down. Maybe on January 1, but surely a few shops or gurosarii would open the next day.

A leftover New Year card from 1981
Example of a sign announcing hours for end and beginning of the year

Nowadays they do. But in Kyoto in 1976 every shop really was shuttered and had pieces of paper on it announcing closure until January 7th or even later. The shrines and temples were bustling but normal life had stopped. There was a reason why women were cooking boxes full of food. Would they really last seven days? Actually, no, but three days was definitely possible. I found that out in later years when I prepared the osechi ryōri myself. We’d be thoroughly sick of these boxes as they’d be brought out for all three meals, but we made it through snacking on osenbei and mikan.

Almost everyone would gather round to watch the NHK Kohaku Song Show. This year was the 73rd year of broadcasting it. I think it gets worse every year, but people my age are simply bound to say that. But the tradition of families gathering together to watch it as they did in years past seems likely to fade out. Still, though, it is some of the most incredible staging you’ll ever see. Check out Youtube for some clips. Or watch this as an example:

  • Akemashite Omedetō Gozaimasu – 明けましておめでとうございます　”Happy New Year” or literally, “Congratulations on the opening [of the year]. Isn’t used until the clock strikes midnight and the new year arrives.
  • Yoi otoshi o – 良いお年を　”Have a good year.” This is used at the end of December to people that you think you won’t see again until the next year arrives.
  • Oshōgatsu – お正月　New Year’s
  • nigiyaka – 賑やか　lively, merry
  • reizōko – 冷蔵庫　refrigerator
  • gurosarii – グロサリー　grocery store. There is a more Japanese word for this, but I think even this is old; so many shop at a suupaa now.
  • osechi ryōri – お節料理　New Year’s food, aka “the boxes.” Google it.
  • osenbei – お煎餅　rice crackers
  • mikan – みかん　Japanese tangerines. So so good!

Hug

These streetcars no longer run up Kawaramachi Street

When I think about changes in Nihon since 1976 there are many that are technology-related. That happens. But there are also some that kind of blow my mind because they are such a huge cultural henka.

When I first came to Japan the word “hug”did not exist. Hugging itself did not exist. I’m going to prove it with this photo from my dictionary. See? Hug or hagu isn’t in the dictionary. The kotoba did not exist and people did not hug each other. Bodies were not touched in public in the way that hugs are done now. Imagine my shokku in 2016 when my (ex-)brother-in-law met us at the eki in his small town with a hug after not seeing me for over 30 years. That was different.

So if hagu as a word didn’t exist, how did the action of hugging get communicated? What I am trying to say here is that the concept of hugging in a friendly manner didn’t exist. Yes, there are words for a couple embracing. There is a word for picking up a child and holding it. But I can’t think of a word that equates to hugging as a friendly aisatsu.

So, I tried to research how this word ended up in Japan and when. I failed. (I didn’t try very hard and I should really ask a sensei of linguistics.) But what I did find was a premise that soccer brought hagu to Japan! When foreign soccer matches became popular television viewing, Japanese people would see players hug after successful matches or when scoring. And… that needed a word apparently. The other theory is that Americans would be seen hugging on the streets of Tokyo and that kind of culture gradually became popular amongst trend-setting young people.

I never once hugged anyone in my host family. And when I left Japan the first time and my boyfriend accompanied me to the kūko, we did not hug goodbye. It just was not done in public. And in 1988 when we moved to America and my ex-husband’s family saw us off at the airport, again, nobody hugged. We bowed. And cried. But, no hugs.

It’s probably a nice change for skinship’s sake! Sukinshippu? Oh, that’s a whole other post!

  • Nihon – 日本　Japan
  • henka – 変化　change, [noun]
  • hagu – ハグ　hug
  • kotoba – 言葉　word or phrase
  • shokku – ショック　shock, as in big surprise
  • eki – 駅　train station
  • aisatsu – 挨拶　greeting(s)
  • sensei – 先生　teacher or professor or doctor etc.
  • kūko – 空港　airport
  • Sukinshippu – スキンシップ　A pseudo-Anglicism describing a close relationship like the one between mother and child. Or the act of getting closer by hanging out together. When I first heard this term and told people it didn’t exist in English they were shocked… simply shocked. Then what do you call it, they asked? Good question.

Overprotective

Who me? Was I a kahogo mom? My daughter and I were touring the after-school care center she’d be attending. She was in first grade and I was a working mother. The local government ran these gakudō kurabu so that kids didn’t have to be home alone after school got out. They accomodated first through third graders. Any child older than that was on their own. And this Gakudō Club made sure they were ready to be on their own by then.

They were just getting ready to have oyatsu and invited us to sit down with them. We were served glasses of cold tea by a second grade boy. Some of the girls were peeling the ringo that we’d eat. Yes, you read that right. In Japan apples always get peeled and a knife is used to do it, hopefully in one strip as you’d go round and round. And there in front of our eyes CHILDREN were using knives.

“Oh, doesn’t Shana know how to use a knife to peel an apple?” asked one worker.

“She’s SIX,” I wanted to respond indignantly. Instead I just murmured something about different customs. We’d just moved back to Japan after three years in America.

My daughter was wide-eyed at that one. And she could see these kids were really takumashii.

After we had our snack it was time for chores. Another surprise. The kids went in to clean the bathrooms!

The head of the center explained to me that these kids had two working parents so they needed to learn life skills so that they could help around the house. There was no coddling here of either children or parents. They were raising self-sufficient kids. Everything they did was based on learning a skill. So different from after-school care in America where kids were more apt to get extras such as art lessons or drama.

The children would go home at 6 PM. Parents did not pick up their kids. Some parents still wouldn’t be home, but the kids all had house keys. The kids walked home, often in the dark. They’d walk in groups, dropping each kid at their home and cheerfully saying goodbye. As luck, or no luck would have it, my daughter lived the furthest from the center and would be walking the last three blocks by herself. Gulp.

The second furthest away was another first grade onna no ko. Her mother was divorced so it was just the two of them. And her mother worked late, so sometimes she’d come back with my daughter. One evening she announced that she’d cook bangohan for the four of us (my son was two years old at the time). A six year old was offering to cook dinner for us… Okay.

And she did. Eggs, I think, and maybe a salad. She managed the whole thing on her own without my help. Very sugoi! My own daughter was amazed.

Now, what can we learn from this? I tried hard not to coddle my children and they both did their own laundry from the time they were in first grade or so. When my son went off to daigaku he was shocked that there were students that had never done sentaku before and didn’t know how to use a washing machine.

And this is just another reason why I am so deeply grateful that I got to raise my kids in two different cultures!

  • kahogo – 過保護　overprotective
  • gakudō kurabu – 学童クラブ　after school care for kids with working parents
  • oyatsu – おやつ　a snack, used mostly for children. Adults might take a midafternoon break and call it “osanji” or a “3 o’clock.”
  • ringo – りんご　apple
  • takumashii – たくましい　strong, capable, sturdy
  • onna no ko 　女の子　- girl
  • bangohan – 晩ご飯　dinner
  • sugoi – すごい　amazing
  • daigaku – 大学　college or university
  • sentaku – 洗濯　laundry

October

It’s that time of year when the nature and more lyrical writers amongst us come out in droves to wax poetically about the autumn season with all of its marvelous changes.

Kinmokusei

For me, it is about the kinmokusei. If I tell you what it is in English, it isn’t going to do much to explain it if you haven’t been to Japan and seen and smelled these blossoms yourself. I have a sensitive hana and I remember walking one autumn day and smelling the most wonderfully fragrant scent. I soon saw it was coming from the tiny yellow-orange blossoms on a tree I’d never paid particular notice to before.

I asked a friend. He rolled his me and said it was a curse to all men because when they smelled it they would be unable to sleep at night. I will just leave that for your sōzō to interpret. It is a wonderfully perfume-y scent, but very light and, to me, not overwhelming.

A popular brand

In fact, I liked it so much that I even liked it in the toire. It turns out that kinmokusei was a popular scent for air fresheners which were de rigueur for any toilet in a home and many public places as well. When I returned to America, I packed a few of them to take back with me so that I could remember and cherish the kinmokusei.

Dear reader, of course I eventually ran out of these air fresheners. And it is a sweet reminder of the thoughtfulness of my Japanese family that they once sent me a few more of them (probably thinking what a weirdo I was). Sadly, I was unable to find these air fresheners when I was back in Kyoto in 2016. There are trendier choices now. But I bet I am not the only old lady that misses them. Fingers crossed that the current Showa Boom brings back the kinmokusei air fresheners!

  • kinmokusei – 金木犀　osmanthus flower
  • hana – 鼻　nose. With a different character, it also means flower. Ponder that.
  • me – 目　eye or eyes
  • sōzō – 想像　imagination
  • toire – トイレ　this is a general word for toilet. Men might use benjo 便所 (literally ‘convenient place’) instead and women could delicately use otearai お手洗い (literally ‘to wash hands’).