Monthly Archives: March 2022

How to travel Japan without being a douchebag

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A few days ago, I arrived in Japan to complete some errands before turning in my residence card. The entry procedures for returning residents are demanding. Casual tourists are not yet welcome. Still, I hear from blog readers and friends that Japan is their number one travel destination. To them, I dedicate this post. Eventually, Japan will open to tourists again. As I have recently re-arrived, these travel pointers are fresh in my mind.

The Exalted Mount Fuji, Pexels.com

The Golden Rule

There are many layers to visiting Japan. Most important for a traveler is the understanding that this is a high-context culture. It is a conservative society; people are reserved, and personal lives are pretty private. Keep this in mind while you move about here. Realize that your actions have repercussions on future travelers. The internet is full of people being assholes in Japan. I hope you are NOT a cringe-worthy westerner; we need no more Aaron Paul’s walking through Tokyo traffic. Essentially, think of the golden rule: don’t be an asshole.

I initially came here on the JET program. The position carries with it the goal of forging bonds with foreign countries. Of course, this speaks to my attitude towards travel. I see meaningful travel as part of growing bridges across cultures. The way I see it, people in different parts of the world are simply brothers and sisters from another mother. See your visit as an opportunity to be a cultured traveler and an ambassador. To better understand how to interact in social situations, I recommend this excellent Etiquette guide for Japan.

For more specific tips, here is my list below:

1. Prepare to Love Public Transportation

Going the Distance

After working your way through the airport, you will choose to take a cab or public ground transportation. Sooner than later, you will need to take a train. Japanese trains are unlike their American counterpart; they are clean, punctual, and pleasant to ride. I recommend getting a chargeable IC or Pasmo card on your first opportunity. It requires a 500-yen deposit, and then you can charge it as needed. I would go ahead and load it with at least 5,000 yen (about USD 50). Pasmo also works with Apple Pay.

You will want to keep your card easily accessible as you need it to swipe into and out of the turnstile each time you change train lines. Also, even if you have a JR pass (see below), having credit on your card will make getting through non-JR train stations much more manageable. Finally, your vacation time is precious; avoid missing a connecting train because you had to buy an individual train ticket during rush hour (and had to wait in line behind a family of five foreigners who wanted to use exact change). Keep your card charged, and you should be good to go.

Being car-free was one of my favorite things about living here, and it is a fabulous way to get a natural feel for Japanese life. Lastly, along with the public transport note, a good pair of walking shoes are worth their weight in gold. Even with train journeys, a day of sightseeing can easily climb past the 10,000+ step mark. So make sure your feet are ready for the adventure.

2. Do your research

Early in my stay here, an American couple came to visit Tokyo. To help them plan, I asked Anne (name changed to hide embarrassment) what she wanted to do. She said, “Can’t we just do the touristy stuff?” Ugh, I am not sure what constitutes the “touristy stuff.” I would not choose to travel like that. However, if you value your time, make an effort to do some research. The city of Tokyo is akin to an enormous adult playground: red-light districts, temples & shrines, amusement parks, aquariums, shopping malls, and gardens and historical sites are spread out over 2,194.07 km.2 (Some estimates suggest it would take seven days to walk across the city. The breadth of options is no joke. Do the basics and know which rides you would like to take.

The Night Comes On, Pexels.com

How will you decide whether to get the JR pass or which phone service to get? Depending on the purpose and length of your trip, the best option will vary. For sorting out logistics, like which Wi-Fi plan to choose or good day trips into the countryside, I recommend the articles at Tokyo Cheapo. Don’t let the name dissuade you; it is not about being cheap. It is about finding value. Their pieces help you make good decisions through well-researched and thought-out information. For a calendar of shows and events, I would suggest TimeOut. Their knowledge of music, special exhibitions, and culture is spot on.

3. Stay a Few Beats Off-Center

Inokashira Koen, My Go-To Park on the Westside

Many people are very eager to get right into the thick of the Tokyo hubbub. I find myself overwhelmed by the intense urbanization of Tokyo. Although there’s so much excitement in inner Tokyo, some areas are almost too busy. If you are in Shinjuku, Kabuki-cho, or Harajuku, plan on constantly having noise and traffic around you.  

Since transportation is excellent, you can easily stay a neighborhood away and have a great time. So I would pick an off-center place to stay while you explore. For example, slightly off the center of Tokyo, I like the neighborhood of Nishihara or Yoyogi-Koen. Even further west is my old stomping ground around Kichijoji, with Inokashira park next to it. For me, that is a perfect balance of liveliness and a touch of nature. These residential areas have restaurants and nightlife. As a bonus, you will see children playing in the park and hear birds in the foreground during daylight hours.

4. Pay attention

Matcha Preparation, Pexels.com

The one way to be a douchebag in Japan is to be oblivious to the world around you. The Japanese love organization and procedures. There is a “right way” to do everything, from the tea ceremony steps to boarding the train, or standing in line. It would do you good to pay attention to those around you. When you sit down to eat a meal, notice how others around you are paying, ordering, and even behaving. If something comes off as disturbing other diners, it is not unheard of to be gently informed by the staff. For another example, you’ll notice that there aren’t many trash cans on the streets of Tokyo. However, if you buy something at the convenience store and consume it there or right outside, it’s easy to dispose of trash at that same convenience store. There are trash cans there just for that very purpose. Avoid throwing your trash on the street or shoving it into a shop’s window display. That is just douchebaggery.

If you are coming to visit Japan, these few pointers will help you make the best of your time here and avoid big faux pas. Enjoy the overwhelming and all-encompassing experience of this unique place. Your trip will leave you in awe and could even inspire a shift in your worldview.

Growing Up Ismaili: Celebrating Spring with Navroz Mubarak

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Courtyard of Atlanta Khane

            Navroz Mubarak! Congratulations on the New Year! No one is surprised when I tell them that Spring is my favorite season. Blooming flowers and warm weather are only part of the reason. Growing up in Atlanta, the celebration of Spring (Navroz) was my favorite way to celebrate my pluralistic roots. My upbringing within a progressive, eclectic sect of Islam contrasted traditional notions of being a practicing Muslim. While I have chosen spirituality over religion, I can see that many of my foundational values are rooted in growing up Ismaili.

            Ismailis mark the beginning of Spring in a blend of Islamic traditions. My family, living in Georgia, adapted our own practices. If the first day of Spring fell on a school day, my sister and I were allowed to skip class! Before leaving the house to join the festivities, we made an enormous effort in getting dolled up. My sister and I might have had a new festive shalwar kameez to wear, depending on the finances. We spruced up our everyday look with fancy hairdos and ornate jewelry to complement our outfits’ embroidery, sequins, or tassels. Sometimes we adorned our clothes with tiny purses made of metal, lined in satin and sown together and clipped with a bold clasp. The whole family perfumed itself in exotic smells. Then, still, early in the day, we packed the car with the blended aroma of Dad’s aftershave and the lady’s floral perfumes. As we headed to Jamat Khane (what we called our house of worship, our church) for the beginning of festivities, we would listen to a pre-recorded religious lecture over the sound system.

Dressed up for a Song

Thankfully, getting to Khane during the daytime meant avoiding the Decatur traffic. Hundreds of other cars had already filled in the parking lot. After grumbling about parking and pulling into an always far away spot, my family entered through the courtyard gates. We were well-coifed and a bit frazzled from the ride as we approached the red brick building, our holy place. At the foyer, I turned in my shoes for a numbered token. Upon entering the vast hall, the ladies on the left, the men on the right, I found a place to sit on the plush pink carpet with dark blue borders. I breathed in the smells of Oudh and looked around to peek at the long table separating the genders. At the front of the hall,  a congregation member sang religious songs. The songs there, ginans or qasidas, came from the vast global roots of the Ismaili community. The recitations could be in Farsi, Gujarati, or Kutchi.

Namaz on Navroz

            After the singing, and on this day alone, there was a typical namaz; this is what most people imagine when they think of Muslim prayers: people stand up, bend down, and repeat the moves a few times. After the prayer ceremonies, food and drink were served in the outside courtyard. A fair-like atmosphere pervaded the grounds. Younger people could sometimes expect an `eidi` a cash gift for simply smiling and shaking hands with an elder. That first day of Spring was usually the only day I wanted to go to Khane. Celebrating Spring was a stark contrast to my other recollections of attending Khane.

Sunday School on Friday Night

            For some unknown reason, the most vital day to congregate was Friday evenings, after a long week of school or life. Being involuntarily taken to Khane on Friday nights was the bane of my high school existence. I grudgingly dressed for Friday nights and then suffered in the backseat through excruciating rush hour to arrive and be grumpy for more classes. My version of Sunday school happened on Fridays. I dutifully attended the Religious Education Center, REC, taught by a community of volunteers who all seemed to know my parents. Though it was better than forced prayers in the main hall, I could not suppress my desire to poke holes in history or doctrine. I attended REC while debating and disagreeing in most of the class. One classmate was impressed with my brain, and the others were just annoyed with my questions.

Who is driving her?

            After the ceremonies or REC was over, I headed to the Khane library. If caught by a family friend on the way there, I socialized a bit. When it was finally time to leave, my parents knew to find me in the library. When my parents were ready to go on most Friday nights, they sent me to search for my sister in crowds of people. I appreciated the brick peek-a-boo fence and flower patches between the laps or two along the courtyard outside. In my meanderings outside, I eavesdropped on volunteers and cringed at comments. Invariably I overheard people’s lives being examined and judged. A few steps into the parking lot, there was yet another version of the same game. At every turn, people were wondering: Who is driving the new beamer? Beyond that, over tea, `what does your son do now?` Or the eyes watching for what insignia or emblem is hanging off your keys? The community practiced, constantly, the subtle one-man upmanship.

Hungry Yet?

            Fridays sometimes ended well. When we returned home or went to my grandma’s house after Khane, we delighted in what my parents bought in “nandi.” Within the prayer hall, separating the male and female sections, was a low-lying table with various plates of food. The dishes were of all colors and represented a world of cuisines. They were all brought in by the diverse congregation. Nandi was the term used for these food offerings that were auctioned off after ceremonies. The proceeds went to Khane funds. The act of sending part of your home-cooking grows from the importance of an abundance mindset. You GIVE away a portion of your lovingly made meal to Khane. The by-products were two-fold: the revenue for Khane and the opportunity for Jamaat members to eat something different. The best surprises were when someone sent in an East African dish of mandazi and bharazi. The prices could get high on a special occasion day. With his foodie tendencies, my Dad always seemed to find it worth the cost. Many nandi dishes simply could not be bought anywhere else.  

Diverse and Growing

            Spring nandi sometimes included arrangements of flowers and fruit. The luxurious day was a celebration of new life, the very essence of Spring. Explaining the background of the Ismaili lineage was always a bit complicated. A long-winded book, The Ismailis, covers some history and doctrine, if you are curious Still, I can see how the sect I was raised in reflects on my life now. Of course, food, travel, self-growth, and entrepreneurship are essential to me. I came from a thriving, diverse community that was both enjoying the past and diving into a full American tomorrow. What I accepted from this past and those parts I rejected are more evident now. My spirituality is freed from the dogma of religion. Underneath it, the Ismaili spirit of pluralism, community effort, and self-growth are my foundation.  

A reflection

I Do Not Cook In Tokyo

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In Tokyo, where both time and space are in short supply, eating out is a necessary luxury. The average apartment in Tokyo is small. Relative to comparable city dwellers, Tokyoites have the lowest square footage of any large city. The kitchens, then, are even smaller. Lack of counter space makes prep work itself an elaborate exercise. Usually, a single medium cutting board could fit over the top of a sink. Very rarely do average apartments have dishwashers or ovens. Multiple burners can be a rarity. Cramped cooking creates more trouble than just kitchen clutter. Smells quickly waft into living and sleeping spaces. In my former 200-square foot apartment, I used to plug in a slow-cooker and open the windows to vent. When comparing tiny apartment kitchens versus the world of dining options, homemade is no longer a pragmatic choice for working people.

Beautiful plating is standard.

Even if you have the time and disposition to cook, many choice ingredients are far-flung across Tokyo. Searching for a Marsala wine, for example, can quickly require an hour journey to a shop with irregular hours that may have just run out of their 3rd bottle of sweet Italian wine. Fruit is a sore spot for many ex-pats. If you find some appetizing fruit, the sticker shock will give you another surprise. A single mango can cost you $8 on a good day! So much for that little bit of garnish, you needed. The hustle and bustle of Tokyo is home to a great many fantastic ingredients. Making sure you can snag them when you need them is a different story. Add that to the time and energy and yen output, you may be looking at a long run about the city. Leave the cooking to the professionals in Tokyo.

The Japanese love Indian food

Dining out is really an elevated art in Japan. Tokyoites eat with their stomach and their eyes. Though it is hard to find foreign language skills, the palate is much easier to internationalize. Obsessed foodies can find pretty plates of high cuisine in nearly all city nooks. In addition to stupendously good Japanese options, Tokyo is an epicures delight of global foods. Popular options include Italian and Indian food. Looking for dinner in a well-developed, lively neighborhood often feels like searching through a treasure map. Hidden in dark alleys, specialist Burmese or German cuisine ask to be found. Ever trend-conscious, or even trendsetting, bubble tea joints are nearly as ubiquitous as Starbucks. Whether you desire fugu, mutton curry, or creamy gelato, some Tokyo shop has it.

Instead of spending your precious time cleaning for cutting space, collecting twelve different spices for murgh makhani, do the practical thing. Call your neighborhood Indian restaurant and make a reservation. Then, take a quick walk down the street, eat well, and return home. Your kitchen will be undisturbed. The rest of your home will smell like your funky vanilla spice candle instead of a Delhi-dhaba, and you can return to luxuriating, Tokyo-style.

Dessert Indulgence, anyone?

The Early Atomic Habits: Self-Growth in Lent & Ramadan

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We are a few weeks into 2022, and amid scary war-driven headlines, pandemic aftershocks, and the demands of everyday life, the majority of us have walked away from any New Year’s resolutions. While it is easy to lose short-term hope for peace, positivity, and progress, I know that the best changes unravel slowly. Global human rights progress and even everyday cooking benefit from small efforts towards a larger positive purpose. A slow-cooked risotto, a gently raised child, and a delicately watered plant thrive from a patient approach. Our personal habits, too, grow from our desire to make our lives just a little bit better, a little bit different day after day.

Big Changes from Small Steps Instead

Habit Hacking

We are not generally content with the way our lives are; our self-help book craze reflects this desire for change. Last year, the book Atomic Habits was a best-seller. Before that, The Power of Habit. The whole idea of small changes is not new. We are now a few days into the month of Lent. While I do not subscribe to any religion, I am always open to practices that encourage self-development. During the month of Lent, Catholics give up some-X-thing in the name of God. That X can be something well-loved, like chocolate or mindless swearing, or it could be alcohol. The practice reminds me of the few times I practiced fasting during the Islamic month of Ramadan.

What do Lent & Ramadan have in common? First, of course, both are punctuated with a feasting holiday. Lent has Mardi Gras before it, that all-out celebration before a month of disciplined sacrifice. Ramadan ends with Eid, a three-day festival of overeating and family time. Both of these religious practices are reminiscent of our new-aged habit hacking experiments. These short exercises in discipline can profoundly affect our daily lives. They offer the opportunity to mold our character and behaviors through a vital purpose and with relatively easy training in habit change.  

My Experiments

Short-term experiments have brought me long-term benefits. I have developed a sense of gratitude, a commitment to writing, and an alcohol-free existence through short challenges. These exercises work because they start off with a determined purpose, are for short periods, and leave me with a sense of accomplishment. In addition, through these small shifts, I have gained a bigger appetite to work towards better self-control and the trust in my capacity to build from minor changes.

The Gratitude Jar

An Empty (?) Jar

I did not realize then, in 2015, that an empty mason jar could change my life. That year, I spent Christmas with my (then) boyfriend’s family in their enormous Charleston home. For Christmas, my ex-boyfriend’s mother gave each family member an empty mason jar with a set of instructions in it. The task: write down things you are grateful for over the year and stick them in the jar, then, on the following Christmas, open up the pot and read your recollections. I followed the instructions in earnest. I found myself taking moments to jot down sunsets, kindnesses, and kisses. When I shared these moments with the family the following Christmas, we re-lived the joys I recorded together. Beyond that, I noticed a change in myself. I found greater awareness in my day-to-day activities. I became attentive to brief moments of grace and luck. It reminded me of Kurt Vonnegut’s story about Uncle Alex; the moral was to stop and realize, “if this isn’t nice, I do not know what is!” Even today, and primarily through the pandemic, I found space in my heart to notice and enjoy what is beautiful, romantic, and meaningful. Having gratitude is a precursor to any happiness. For that, I have this initially empty gratitude jar to thank.

Morning Pages

The work of uncovering my inner artist is still ongoing; it started through daily morning pages, a required part of the 12-week course in Julia Cameron’s The Artists Way. In early 2020, I lived in my less than 200-square-foot apartment in Tokyo. Just as the string of pandemic closures and restrictions shrunk my world, I started this inner journey to expand my horizons. The morning pages, a daily writing practice, gave me room to grow during the maddening and dark times of 2020. I never imagined calling myself an artist. But through the morning pages, I learned to recognize an under-appreciated sense for art. Through regular writing, I realized I had an opportunity to look at my life and see it as a drawing board. I could honestly touch what was working and what could be improved. My social circle shrank without the regular routine of going into work, but my inner life blossomed. The practice of writing regularly, particularly in the morning, has opened me to deeper realms of my inner life. From this course and the morning practice, I sprang into energizing projects (TokyoGround & this blog, among others). I leaned into my introversion and found strength there. I have the small task of morning pages to thank for this significant change.

Alcohol

Wine Down

Just as good habits can grow slowly, my casual drinking sneakily became a norm. Eventually, I realized that drinking had become a fixture of my life in Japan. For the sake of experimentation, I began doing a dry January in 2019 and 2020. Each time, I marveled at how my energy and my skin improved during the dry months. Then, in 2021, dry January turned into dry February. I knew experimentation had developed into resolve when I turned down a glorious aged bourbon among friends. Though the setting was perfect, in the company of my Tokyo family, in a winter log cabin and with the background of heady Tom Waits, I knew that if I could resist a tipple then, I could resist any time. I decided I no longer needed to have a drink to enjoy myself in that cabin. I found the strength and courage to turn down that last round from my practiced resistance. In so doing, those few dry months paved the way to 14 months of abstinence.

The Next Challenge

My self-improvement method involves taking tiny steps from gratitude to writing to abstinence. Habit hacking starts with a small move driven by a significant purpose. Though my first introduction, from the gratitude jar, was an accident, it grew on my past appreciation for Ramadan. In a way, those old religious practices seem a lot like our new-age hacking experiments and challenges. Though I’m not too fond of sweeping and broad commitments, I enjoy the challenge of tiny steps. Beyond Lent & Ramadan, I look to take my hacking into new realms.

I have a pending challenge to try. The 21 day-no complaining challenge is next on the to-do list. My college study abroad teacher called me Llorona, Spanish for whiner. I suspect completing the 21-day no complaining exercise will be good to throw off that ignominious title. A month of Lent or Ramadan can nourish an extraordinary power even without the adjoining religious beliefs. Minimalism, eco-consciousness, and even global progress are accessible to us. With the power of a strong why, we can commit to choosing one small step after another.