Happy New Year Japan Style- Culture Lesson #8

Posted on December 31, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Monks herald the New Year at Midnight in every shrine throughout Japan with the tolling of a bell 108 times. This Buddhist tradition symbolizes the 108 human sins and banishes each as the new year begins. So begins the biggest celebration of the year in the Japanese culture.

The celebration of New Years must start at lunch time on December 29th because that’s when Andretti-san and I were looking for a parking place in Shinjuku and it coincided with the time all the Japanese left work to start the holiday. I was in a post-holiday shopping mood and was on the hunt for a yakitori grill. Andretti-san was educating me on the various types of miniature grills available and was afraid  I would be unable to complete the task without his assistance. He was determined to find a parking place and escort me in to Bic- the largest “camera store” on Earth. 10 floors of cameras and every other form of electric, gas, or home appliance of which one could conceive to move in to a home or office.

Ouiser-                “Andretti-san- just tell me how to say “grill” in Japanese- All I have to                                   do is go buy a grill- put it on the deck- voila- done.”

Andretti-san started to laugh- and laugh- and laugh…

“Ouiser-san- you don’t put a grill on YOUR DECK!!!!! It goes on your                                       table!!!! HAHAHAHAHA”

Ouiser-                “What the Hell kind of grill goes on your table?”

Andretti-san-   “HAHAHAHAHA  gas one- electric one-                                                                                         HAHAHAHA- grill on table in Japan… HAHAHAHA”

As Andretti-san was enjoying my ignorance I glanced out the window at the swarming masses just in time to see one man kick another.

“Andretti-san- FIGHT!!!!”

That diverted Andretti-san’s attention.

“OH!!! Chinese style of fighting!” Andretti-san slammed the car in park, ignoring all of the traffic around us, so we could both watch the two combatants – both well in to their 60’s  going  after each other with their feet. No one else seemed to notice the fight for they were focused on Andretti-san’s parked car in the middle of the street. We watched until one man finally walked off, the other threateningly waving his cane in the air. Andretti-san was not going to move the car until either the fight was over or until I said go.

Andretti-san sniffed in disappointment  “Time for vacation”

Ouiser-      ” Forced vacation. Since this place closes down from Dec. 3oth until January                          2nd. I’m afraid we’re going to starve or die of boredom I’ve heard nothing is                        open.”

Andretti-san- “True- get whatever you need today Ouiser-san.” He said happily.

Hearing him confirm that one of the largest cities in the world closed down for 4 days made me feel like I needed to prepare for an impending disaster. Visions of heading to the grocery store buying out all the bread, milk, water and flashlights flashed through my mind. I became obsessed with this grill. All of the sudden the grill was my only means of cooking for the next 4 days as the rest of Japan would be eating preserved food in the form of osechi-ryori- a tradition dating back to the centuries prior to refrigeration.  It was imperative that I grilled chicken, fish and steak from Dec 30th-Jan 2nd even though my rational side told me the power was not going out. OCD is a terrible thing.

Andretti-san        “Most of the younger women don’t know how to make osechi-ryori It’s                                   only being made by the mothers. ”

Ouiser                   “Is it like the Japanese Tea ceremony? Being lost by the culture?”

Andretti-san        “Yes- is it the same in the US with Thanksgiving?”

Ouiser                   “No-We Americans don’t lose fat filled food related traditions.”

Andretti-san         “Now the younger generation just buys it.”

Hmmm- if I bought the osechi-ryori that would eliminate one meal and the Clampetts could enjoy Japanese culture at the same time. Although late in the week to be ordering osechi-ryori Andretti-san was not to be trifled with. As usual, he found a store advertising osechi-ryori and in a polite, Japanese “this will get done” sort of way convinced the quaking clerk to sneak in one more order for four. Somewhere there is an army of aging Japanese women who cook throughout the night supplying thousands of grocery and convenience stores with the best homemade Japanese food. Apparently these poor hidden women also make osechi-ryori for New Years meals also.

The osechi-ryori typically is served in a jubako box which is 4 boxes stacked. The meal is meant to last several days. Traditionally New Years was the only time the woman of the family took several days off. Now the meal contains sashimi and sushi as well as other perishable items. These boxes – jubako- can be very elaborate lacquered, ceramic, gold-plated, etc. I want one- a nice one. I’ll put stationery supplies in it.

Feeling like I was preparing for an oncoming hurricane for which I would be stranded surrounded by water for several days, Andretti-san and I headed to Ginza for supplies. One of which was traditional New Years cards for our Japanese friends. Interestingly, if one gets to the post office by a certain date, all of the New Years cards receive a special stamp. With that stamp, the card will be delivered to the recipient on New Years Day. I’m only getting the tradition half right since none of our Japanese friends will be getting a card on New Years. The post office hires students and extra staff to accomplish this daunting feat. Since this is the year of the Rabbit, most cards bear its image. If one has had a death in the family, a special card goes out prior to New Years informing family and friends not to send cards out of respect for the deceased. The tradition started as a way of letting friends and family know that all was well. Many are hand-made. (Examples provided by Offspring #2)

Otoshidama- money envelopes are given to the children as they are in China. (Culture Lesson #7)

Through out the day, decorations started to pop up. Outside of shops appeared kadomatsu. Kadomatsu are made of pine, bamboo, and straw. Pairs are placed outside of front doors or gates. The pine tree symbolizes longevity as it is evergreen while unbreakable bamboo is a symbol of strength. Woven rope seen in decorations wards off bad luck.

Doorways were decorated with Shimekazari. These usually contain crops of the harvest offered to gods as thanks for the previous year and to pray for a successful harvest in the upcoming year. Many contain a prawn which is a prayer for longevity.

New Year’s Day itself begins a massive parade of firsts. Starting at midnight, trains are all redirected in a one way direction toward the Meiji Shrine where thousands of Japanese head to pray for prosperity in the coming year. Most Japanese start the New Year at either a local shrine or their favorite shrine. Being a highly superstitious person, I will be adopting this Japanese practice. Braving the crowds is not high on my list of “must do’s” however, people watching during such festivities is highly entertaining. I am getting better at taking photos of people without them noticing. I actually have learned how to ask for permission in Japanese, however, the embarrassment to the Offspring when I whip out the camera and start snapping away is so fulfilling I hate to resort to politeness.

 

Meiji Shrine Tori

Meiji Shrine

Sensoji Temple in Asakasa

Sensoji Temple in Asakasa

Another fairly typical activity done on New Years is to watch the first sun rise of the new year. I don’t have a beautiful picture of Japanese lovers gazing off in to the horizon adoringly from the peaks of Mount Fuji- or I’d insert it here.

Finally, mochi is eaten, games are played and Ouiser feels like the walls are coming in on her since everything is closed. This is truly when one must actually “Do as the Romans do” and embrace the culture. Go to the shrine, force the Offspring to come along, be thankful for the blessings the previous year brought and pray that next year is as good as last.

Happy New Year!

Posted in Culture Lessons, Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The Clampetts Hit the Road- Travel Tips

Posted on December 29, 2010 by Emily Cannell

As did thousands of other travelers, the Clampetts took to the skies for the holiday season. Unlike most ExPats who either returned to the US or headed for sun, we headed North to one of the world’s most precious and unknown snow powder Mecca’s of the planet- Niseko, Hokkaido. Reputed to rival the Western US and Canada for quality powder and surpassing all but Mt. Baker in annual snowfall. Offspring #1 had to be bound, gagged, and locked in a closet in order for the rest of us to endure the days leading up to the trip.

The resort lured with natural onsens (Hot Springs), ski in/ski out access, spa, countless restaurants, hours of entertainment for indoor and outdoor lovers alike. Visions danced of warm fires overlooking idyllic mountain views, fresh snow twinkling in the sun, the Offspring careening down the peaceful slopes like banshees grating on every nerve of the unfortunate souls in their path while Spouse and I relaxed with a hot sake blissfully oblivious to the Hell caused outside.

Just one major problem standing between us and the resort- getting there. The intimidation factor of traveling through a country where one is both illiterate and effectively mute can be debilitating. Trial and error has produced a number of strategies used by the Clampetts which allow us to travel unencumbered by our inability to communicate effectively with 99% of the people we meet. One must first be willing to shed all vestiges of pride in order to enact these rudimentary interpretative travel tools.

First, one must accept- and get used to – the idea that for the most part, the signage is unreadable. Once one comes to terms with this inevitability, and the GI distress that accompanies that fact, the journey is more palatable. Learning to depend on departure times, recognize flight or train numbers, and the logo for the airline or carrier becomes the objective when all else is indecipherable.

One must also keep your sense of humor. I for one have never seen a true flying Pokemon.

Nor have I seen this new camera attached to the bottom of the plane which allowed me to shoot the landing of the plane as seen from the pilots’ perspective.

It doesn’t matter what level of Frequent Flyer one happens to be when a member of the Clampett family, crew instructions are viewed as guidelines vs rules. Spouse was called out several times for grievous errors involving electronic devices and headphones while Ouiser ignored crew advice regarding seatbelts, seat backs and walking through cabin prior to reaching 10,000 feet. Both Offspring kept track of parental gaffs in dismay given such well-traveled parents could rack up that number of blunders prior to reaching cruising altitude. We adjusted our attitudes for the return trip.

Case in point that even the well-known phrases can cause confusion so I carry two cartoon books which are “Point and Speak.”  At least one of these books are with me all the time. Level 201 requires anticipating the phrases one might use, writing them in advance and potentially memorizing prior to needing. For example, “I have reservations, where is the bus stop, etc…..” however, I prefer to point in a panic, flying by the seat of my pants the rest of the Clampetts in tow.

Don’t be afraid to whip out handwritten instructions. My trusty go-to Andretti-san wrote out instructions for the airlines requesting that we be re-seated together. I happily thrust it in the face of the waiting clerk who happily complied.

For those with IPhones, a trusty app “Translation” will allow one to type what needs to be translated and it appears in the language of choice. The drawback is one needs a 3G or Internet connection in order for the conversion to work. I’ve found this only works 50% of the time, never when I need it most, thereby rendering it “last resort” only.

“To be Forewarned is to be Forearmed”- Know where you’re going. Map out the entire itinerary as if it’s a military invasion. In our case, we needed to catch a bus at the airport. Bus travel is a primary means of travel in Japan and there are thousands of them. One piece of advice- the hotel will advise one on the bus (or means to transferring to hotel) to book and can do it on your behalf. Additionally, the internet provides pictures of the buses, boats, or transfers which are crucial for recognizing en route.

In order to maximize our chances of getting on the bus, this was orchestrated as if it were a page out of “Catching a bus for Dummies.” Yes-I admit it- a map was printed of the airport with the bus location highlighted.  This is where Spouse and I are a one- two punch. If I read a map- we’re headed for disaster and destined for failure. As soon as we get off the plane, the hand off occurs. Spouse gets the map. All follow in single file behind Spouse in a direct line – the shortest distance between two points- to the mapped out location- in our case – the bus stop.

We recognized our bus among the thousands by the phallic symbol painted on the side. Since it was sporting a crown it must have been unintentional. As the Offspring laughed and frantically grabbed for cell phones I quickly intervened, “That is not an appropriate picture for Facebook,” which was immediately followed by a retort from O#1 “This is not an appropriate picture for your blog,”  Let’s just say our bus was easy to spot amongst the crowd. Trying to set a mature example for the Offspring, I resisted the overwhelming urge to sneak a picture of the logo to post below.

Never one to leave things to chance, and because of a proclivity for being anal, I usually have copies of the travel information in Japanese in order to confirm one last time with a driver/conductor/concierge that we are in fact on the right path to our final destination.

Finally, I like to ensure the driver of the bus/taxi is headed in the right direction so I periodically check his/her progress by checking the map function on my IPhone. At least I know how long it will take to get where we’re going. And it settles my anxious mind- again- that we’re headed in the right direction or I know how long it will take us to get to the wrong one.

As always, one must be prepared for the same chorus that every parent must endure. “How long until we get there?” To which Spouse and I have adopted a few new ones to go with the old ones…

“Approximately 3 hours to one day”

“I have no idea”

“Ask me again and you’re going to bed as soon as we get there”

“Ask me again and you won’t eat for the first 3 days”

“Enjoy the beautiful scenery”

“Is that Shaun White?”

“I have my ear plugs in – can’t hear you”

“We’re here”

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , | 10 Comments

A Convoluted Christmas

Posted on December 25, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Less than 1% of the Japanese population is Christian however that hasn’t stopped the retail establishments from recognizing a shopping opportunity that would make Santa hurl coal at department store door fronts. If the Jewish culture had a mascot around which to rally, I would expect to see the Festival of Lights fully represented as well. Curmudgeon me shoved aside joyful holiday shoppers to snap this shot:

Then I unhitched my trusty dog Max from the Grinch sled and asked “Andretti-san,” one of the fastest drivers in Japan and culture consultant for all Ouisar questions, the viewpoint of Christmas by the average Japan inhabitant.

Andretti-san–      “Christmas is for lovers.”

Language barrier perhaps?

Ouiser- “You mean Valetine’s Day?”

Andretti-san–    “No- you know- people who love each other. And children. And there is                                  Santa.

Apparently American exports aren’t in as bad of shape as previously reported, we’ve shipped materialism to Japan.

Signs of Christmas are everywhere although in an altered form. Some of the Christmas decorations remind me of the “Whisper Down the Lane” game- Someone starts the game by telling a secret, it is whispered to next person and so on until the end. The last person compares what was told to them vs what the originator whispered in the beginning of the game. A metamorphosis of the secret is the result. As Big Patti (my mother) says- “That’s how damn lies get started.”

Following are a few of the more memorable decorations I’ve seen.

Santa arrived, but he’s wearing blue. Apparently either he or the Japanese prefer him in this hue since he is often seen in Japan wearing it.

The necessary components are present- balls, tree, stars- but upside down since the star(s) is on the bottom.

What would the holiday season be without a tree? Even my Jewish friends have one- which is removed when the in-laws arrive.  Rockefeller center, the White House all boast trees with a pristine Americana pedigree. Lately these have come under fire for not being “green”. The US public must watch the lighting of countless giant trees and endure cities competing for greenest tree in the greenest city of all…. I think I found their Japanese counterpart. This is a really large specimen of the fir genus and species with Christmas decorations and a message that proclaims “Christian” sentiments of Christmas to a predominately Buddhist and Shinto population. It looks to me like it was a recycled version. I can hear the rationale now- ” We’ve got to cut this tree down for a building- I know, let’s use it for one of those big American type Christmas trees- it sort of has the right shape.”

I was able to take many of these shots due to an annoying habit of having a camera on my person at all times. Luckily I had my camera when this reindeer encounter presented itself.

I wonder the reaction if I wore this to a party?

 

One of the Shibuya decorations has been getting quite a lot of attention. It is beautiful in a decorative way, although I haven’t found its connection to Christmas.

One important thing I’ve learned about the Japanese. As a culture, she will embrace a concept and develop or improve it in ways that leave one wondering why it hadn’t been done before. Once engaged on an idea, no people in the world is better at producing a quality product, with gadgetry no one realized was needed until it became a “Must have” post installment, all components working absolutely right,  with little nuances added to make it “just a little better.” So I was not surprised upon my escape from the crowded shopping streets to see tasteful decorations in the lesser known areas of Tokyo. Holiday decorations that reflected the style, simplicity, and attitude of the Japanese combined with the sentiments of the season.

 

 

Christmas cards aren’t exchanged in Japan. As required in a new country, flexibility in adjusting to the new traditions is a must. The Clampett Holiday card has gone through a metamorphosis of its own in order to incorporate our family members all over the globe. Please enjoy the attached photo montage in lieu of the traditional pic. Have a wonderful Holiday,

Love,

the Clampetts

The Hurricane posing patiently while the Nose figures out the IPhone. It is Dec 2010.

Hog- far left- assuming guard duties of a new treehouse.

Truffles- who’s more scared? Truffles or Santa?

It wouldn’t be Japan without a “Hello Kitty” appearance. The Offspring.

Happy Holidays!

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Something to Try during the Holidays

Posted on December 21, 2010 by Emily Cannell

This is not a food blog- but- I’ve been harassed by a certain family member to do more sharing on gastronomic topics. After reflecting on the Japanese food I’ve been eating while in Japan vs the food that was disguised as Japanese in the US, I decided that it is my duty as a gastronome to share Japanese cuisine with the world- or my family and friends reading this blog. I’ve noticed this bastardization of fare frequently happens when food jumps beyond its original border and the indigenous people adapt it to suit local taste. Case in point, the surplus of basil and oregano in all Italian dishes produced in the USA which is noticeably absent when the sister dishes are prepared by Italians in Italy. I wonder if the Mexicans recognize the relationship of Tex-Mex food to any local cuisine across the Rio Grande river. Some of you know of my unabashed love of the ramen noodle (Click here to read post on this passion) and I’ve been on a search for the perfect Ramen recipe so that I won’t have to abandon my love when we leave Japan. Here’s a family favorite

Miso Ramen

This is a good dish and easy to make- or I wouldn’t attempt it. These ingredients can be found at any Asian grocery store.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

6 TBLS- Medium Brown Miso Paste- There are usually 3 types of miso paste- a yellow version, a caramel brown, and a chocolate-brown. I prefer the caramel brown version.

Enough ramen to fill 4 bowls. Cook according to package directions. If noodles come with sauce, do not use.

1/4 lb of meat- I use very thinly cut pork roast or tenderloin. Any kind of left over meat could be used as well. Or, stir fry chicken breast meat (Cut in to 1 inch chunks) until no longer pink. For chicken, I stir fry in sesame oil, salt, pepper, and scallions cut in to 1 inch pieces.

5 cups Chicken Broth

1/2 Tsp Ginger Paste

2 Leeks- cut in 1/4 inch pieces

Chopped seaweed (dried)

2 Scallions thinly sliced (Add 2 if using chicken)

2 TBLSP Soy Sauce

Bamboo Shoots

Bean Sprouts

Boiled Egg cut in half

Mushrooms

Mix 5 cups chicken broth, 1/2 TSP ginger paste and 2 TBLSP Soy Sauce. Simmer for 10 minutes. If using pork, add pork to broth. While this cooks, immerse noodles in boiling water for 10 minutes. When noodles are finished, drain and divide among 4 bowls.

Add 6 TBLSP miso paste to the broth mix. Taste the broth after 4 TBLSP to ensure it’s not too strong. Keep adding if you’re like me and like a flavorful soup. When adding the miso, put the spooned miso in a sieve and mash it through to the broth. (See picture) Do not add the miso directly in to the broth or it won’t dissolve correctly. DO NOT LET THE BROTH BOIL ONCE THE MISO HAS BEEN ADDED.

Add leeks and seaweed and let simmer for additional 5 minutes.

Pour broth and components in to each bowl over the ramen noodles. Add as many garnishes as you like- bamboo shoots, onions, boiled egg, more seaweed, bean sprouts.

The next big issue is eating these long noodles. In Japan and China, all dishes are consumed with chop sticks. My recommendation is to eat them with a fork and spoon similar to pasta. Use the spoon to lap up the juice. In Asia, slurping noodles is perfectly acceptable so feel free to show your love of the noodle and slurp away.

Recipe adapted from one published by Ningthoujam Sandhyarani and embellished with abandon by myself.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments

It’s an Emergency

Posted on December 18, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Living in Japan is a perilous affair. Just one look at the inhabitants will tell a visitor to beware, dangerous heat seeking bacterium of potentially nefarious origin lurk around every doorway waiting to catch an unaware immune system dormant. Countless numbers of my National Geographic quality pics have been ruined by paranoid mask wearing individuals – none of which can be salvaged by the Elizabeth Taylor lens or the indispensable crop feature.

Add to this paranoia of 10 plagues the concern about “The Big One.” Earthquake. Japan sits on several ever shifting tectonic plates which have doomed the island nation to catastrophe at some point in the next ten years. We’ve witnessed 3 small ones since our arrival. I believe that the more of these the better. Any pressure release off the plates keeps “The Big One” at bay in my book.

Being a family of nomads, fears specific to a particular geography I have found to be overblown. The scorpions in Arizona provided mindless entertainment for the cats. I neglected my parental obligations in protecting my children by choosing not to invest in black lights for illuminating the hallways at night so that the sleepy night walkers could easily identify the now incandescent glowing army of scorpions guarding the bathroom doors. Who knew scorpions glow in the dark? As far as I know, no one died while visiting our house in Arizona. Nor did anyone get attacked by a wild cougar during our sojourn in Seattle.

Although skeptical of the Nostradamus type predictions of Tokyo’s demise within a certain time frame, I did find it prudent to investigate the appropriate emergency procedures regarding earthquakes and medical emergencies. Living in a foreign country with the vocabulary and grammar of a toddler presents numerous communication obstacles in an emergency.

The Tokyo American Club conducts a yearly orientation every September for newly arrived foreigners outlining basic information on assimilating to life in Tokyo. Although the thought of sitting through a two-day seminar encouraged me to drive nails through my eyeballs, the threat of missed opportunities from a purposeful lack of information due to my own laziness forced my attendance.

The first two presentations scared the Hell out of me. Earthquakes. The first guest spent a month without power, water or food after the earthquake in Kobe while across the bay life went on as normal. We were told to be prepared to walk to the airport in case of a big earthquake 60 miles away. It wouldn’t have been complete without scary video (Click here for scary video) and there were lots of them. I bought three emergency back packs for $300 dollars each. The contents of these back packs will allow our family to survive, injured, on fire, with 4 broken limbs for several weeks. It will take us that long to walk to the airport which for mysterious reasons will be functioning normally.

Our next presentation was equally uplifting. Medical emergencies. The timing for this presentation was appropriate as I was on the verge of a medical emergency immediately following the earthquake presentation. Truthfully, I was already an old pro at the medical system given that one of the Clampetts had already suffered a broken toe. I sat back as the English doctor took the podium. The World recognizes the inferiority of the UK medical system versus the prestigious American Ivory Tower epicenter of all medicinal knowledge – I doubted he would tell me anything of value. I raised my American flag and pulled out the IPhone – time to check my email.  I’d already vetted the closest hospital. Thing I and Thing II kept me up on the latest advances in ER procedures and locations.  Between that and 18 years in Big Pharma- I doubted he could tell me anything about healthcare I didn’t know. Yawn, stretch.

Dr. Dr. “Japanese Hospitals can turn you away if you arrive in an ambulance.  For any                      reason – if you are afraid you will be turned away- take a cab. They can’t turn  you                away if you arrive in a cab.”

That got my attention.

A hospital can just turn you away because they feel like it? I’ve heard of reasons like full or understaffed- but no reason? So take a cab?

Dr. Dr. ” Also, something you may not be used to where you come from. The hospital                         Emergency rooms aren’t open 24 hours or on weekends- only certain hospitals                     have those hours.”

Just one issue-One only needs an Emergency room on weekends or in the middle of the night. Thankfully Dr. Dr. provided hand outs with the ER listings. Offspring #1 has been to the ER so many times I had to rotate between them in order to avoid Child Protective Services. I think Spouse may have even been interviewed by them when Offspring #1 accidentally broke Offspring #2’s arm but that was such a long time ago it hardly even counts now….

As hard as it is for me to admit, I went straight home, hair on fire, and re-wrote my emergency plan. The hospitals were re-mapped according to which ones had 24 hours emergency services. I double checked our family physician information for the cell phone number. Didn’t he tell me to call him on his cell phone in an emergency? Yes he did. Good. That meant I was completely covered. Ouiser’s Type A Emergency Check List was completed and “X”d.

 

Emergency List

Physician Info            X

Dentist Info                 X

Hospital (2)                X

Map                                X   All points highlighted, evac sites, English, Japanese

Taxi direc (J)             X

Etc… (You get the picture)

Armed with the interesting tidbit that people only react to information within 3 days of receiving it, I distributed the emergency backpacks to Spouse’s office, home, etc.  and refilled with small bills, maps, copies of passports, and all things needed to get out of the country. I bought gallons of water and canned food in case we got stuck for 2 to 3 weeks.

 

I briefed the Clampetts. Spouse sat patiently. The Offspring played with the new bedside flashlights and slippers. (I didn’t want little feet to be cut by broken glass in case the Big One came in the middle of the night) We were all prepared and I slept easy that night.

Ahhhh.

Then came an emergency.

A real one.

A big one.

Unanticipated.

Unimagined.

Not covered by any of the previously mentioned experts. I only tell you this in case you to experience this most traumatizing event outside of the borders of one’s own country. Ladies- you guessed it.

Yeast infection. Lord help me.

No ability to simply run over to the corner CVS and pick up an Over- the Counter cream, ointment or tablet and get on the with the day. This would now require a trip to the doctor.  I call in.

Ouiser –        ” I need to get in to the MD today- I have a yeast infection” It’s Monday.

Reception –  ” The MD can see you next Thursday.” As in 11 days later.
She must not understand.

Ouiser –         ” Ummmm- this is one of those conditions where you need to see the doctor                            urgently.”

Reception –    ” Yes- I understand a Yeast Infection, but he still can’t see you until next                                    Thursday.” How about a little help here.

11 Days? Really- I would be taken over in yeast by then. Is there a such thing as something such as this invading other parts of the body – similar to leprosy? At the very least I would be backing up to trees and fences the way horses do to scratch.

Reception –           ” Well- you can go to the Emergency Room or call the number at his                                         Hospital Clinic and they can see if they can find a doctor to see you.”

Then of course there was a third which she hadn’t covered. Call the doctor on his cell phone with my “Emergency”…I weighed the two options presented.

Emergency Room. How would this work? I go to an ER and explain my condition. I don’t speak Japanese. I could draw a picture of my condition. That would go over well. What exactly would I draw a picture of? Would it be a cartoon series in great detail? This seemed to be a rather humiliating scenario. Alternatively, I could take an interpreter- whom could I call? Our one day a week housekeeper? I doubted I could pull her away from her current nannying position at the last-minute. My Japanese sensei? Too personal. Someone with whom Spouse works? Are the netherparts covered in conversational translation? All I could hear was Offspring #2 saying “eeeeeooooowww.” In my mind the SNL George Bush Sr, “Not Gonna Happen.”

Option 2- the clinic recommendation. I called in and talked with a lovely Japanese woman who informed me that phone calls would begin immediately scoping the vicinity in search of a physician that would see me today. She would call me back. I drummed my fingers on the table. What about that MD from the UK? I was desperate.

I called- he could see me in an hour. I called the Nose in the US – she’s Ivory Tower trained- and made sure that I knew what Dr. Dr. should prescribe in case he didn’t know. Although young, and in theory most up to date in current treatment modalities, he might have learned that tree bark resin contained active ingredients effective against yeast with few known side effects. I wanted something FDA approved.

The Clinic woman hadn’t called me back yet anyway- although American, I’m more patient than the average. I’d given her 20 minutes to find someone else more qualified than the English chap. She obviously didn’t realize this was a life or death situation.
The English bloke it would be.

In his defense, he had gone to Medical School even if it was in the UK.  His knuckles failed to drag the ground and his sentences were grammatically in tact. After he gave me the correct prescription, I grilled him of several topics of interest including vaccinations and asthma treatment guidelines and his knowledge combined with accessibility convinced my elitist Patriot-loving heart that he was worthy of providing care for the Offspring as well. I switched to Dr. Dr. on the spot. I actually spent 20 minutes discussing vaccine theory with me. Imagine that- no RX throwing followed by a snort and a stamping out of the room like I’m used to- completed in 2 minutes or less.

The recurrent visions of myself dragging said hind parts along my favorite Pottery Barn  carpet in a dog lotus style position began to abate as the pharmacist filled the prescription for a substance made in the sterile facilities of a pharmaceutical company.

The lesson in all of this is to learn the Emergency procedures for the country in which you reside- as soon as possible- since each will be unique to the given country’s circumstances. Just one step left-  I can’t figure out how our American Health Insurance works here….



Posted in Medical, Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , | 20 Comments

Culture Lesson #7: Yet Another Culture Lesson Learned the Hard Way

Posted on December 13, 2010 by Emily Cannell

For the most part, Japan is a cash culture. One must be prepared to pay cash at all junctions where money exchanges take place. Finding an English-speaking ATM to give me cash was an all-encompassing quest and a source of unending stress upon our arrival that thankfully abated after four months of acclimation.

In the months post drop, I’ve found a reasonable tour guide who leads docile ExPats by their nose rings around Tokyo. Her email confirmation appears in the mail with the usual, “Fee is 5000 Yen, Please put in an envelope with your name written on the outside.” I’ve never understood her need for envelope collection since one does not get the tour map until the fee is paid. Always seeking additional ways to cut excess waste from a redundant system, I elect to skip the envelope and hand her the fee.

After the conclusion of the last tour, I was rooting through the “Year of the Rabbit” door decorations when Tour Guide meandered over.

“Ouiser- did you see the darling money envelopes over there?- You know you’re never supposed to just hand someone money- it’s considered extremely rude.”

OOPS

“The Japanese think money is dirty. You always put it in an envelope. That’s why I always ask my tour participants to put the money in an envelope.”

Well than just say so. Either I’m the only one to whom subtlety is a mystery or the other sheep already know the rules. Given that most of these women are unable to ride the subway unassisted, I suspect the former. People such as myself don’t deduce concepts- we need to be told outright.

Of course it makes perfect sense as no one actually exchanges money touching hands in Japan. Instead the money is placed on a tray and passed between individuals. I place the money or credit card on the tray, the clerk picks up tray and removes money, clerk puts change on tray and gives to me, I remove change from tray and put in my purse. Always. As a confirmed touch – me – not, I have adopted this system readily. The thought of a stranger’s hands gently caressing mine as the fondled change is lovingly placed in my hands brings bile to the throat.

In this blog- what’s the relevance? Other than another Culture Lesson learned the hard way- Gift giving and money. The big holiday celebrated in Japan- as in China- is New Years and the traditional gift is money. Usually given to children. The money is given in a special envelope called a otoshidama-bukuro.

In Japan, the envelopes are decorated and multi-colored vs. China where the envelopes are always red and contain money in denominations of 8. (8 rhymes with the word for prosperity and the character looks like the symbol for double luck with two “0” ) In both countries the currency contained within must be new.

Unfortunately, my nieces and nephews are expecting a Japanese Christmas with a full on Japanese New Years to follow. I’ll be shopping all day.

Posted in Culture Lessons, Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , | 162 Comments

The “M” Series: Mortification

Posted on December 12, 2010 by Emily Cannell

The age of awareness is a terrible thing. Especially when you are Offspring #1 or 2 in the Clampett family and become aware that Spouse and I are your parents- forever. We were otherwise engaged- not to eachother- but with other fun and maybe diabolical activities while our counterparts were nest feathering. We settled in to domestic tranquility and started our scientific experimenting with Darwinism somewhat later than our contemporaries. We anticipated the stage at which both Offspring would begin to suffer embarrassment as a result of simply having parents- what I didn’t expect was that the mortification would run both ways.

Scenario #1: All the sweet little dumplings with Offspring #1 in first grade are learning to read and write. The parents are ravenous to examine all bits of literary minutiae in order to ensure John Jr III is on track for early admission to Harvard. The first project hangs artistically framed with construction paper and  gloriously decorated with bric a brac outside the classroom. Fat Sesame street-style numbers dance around the outside of the wide ruled papers hung in a row.

“My Favorite Number is….”

Karate Kid      ” 6 because that’s how many high kicks I can do all in a row.”

Brown Noser ” 2 because my sister and me equals two”

Offspring #1 ” 42 because that’s how old my Dad is”

Mrs. Apple- ever heard of re- direction? It’s a classic in the parenting department and I’m sure teachers can use it too.

Along with age comes an acceptance of certain parts of one’s physical appearance that can’t be altered or in my case just takes too much time and non-existent energy. Hair. In recent posts, I’ve lamented this recessive gene but usually won’t take any action to counteract this identifying characteristic. After the Gulf oil spill, my Aunt called, “Ouiser, I got a phone call from BP- they want to use your hair to clean up the oil spill.” Very funny. Although age has allowed me to embrace this freakish quality about myself, Offspring #2 is still experiencing difficulty. Part of averting mortification when one is an Offspring of a Clampett is to force that particular parent to look and act as much like the other parents as possible.

Scenario 2:

“Mom, when you come in to school tomorrow, can you please straighten your hair. Oh- also, can you put on that pretty blue shadow on your eyes? You look so pretty when you do that.”

On the other hand, Offspring #1 sees advantages in the defining characteristics of his parents in certain situations.

Scenario 3: New School (again)

Ouiser  “After school I’ll be under the big tree in front of the school with the other moms- I’ll wait there until you find me.”

O #1 ” Don’t worry- you’re easy to spot- I just look for your big black afro.”

Huh? Apparently more smoothing cream is required. Or the blondes’ are getting really blonde and flat.

Let the mortification fest continue.

Scenario #4- Both Offspring are conducting interviews for Japanese classes. Naturally the questions designed by the sensei concern topics that routinely appear in casual conversation between teenagers. Topics such as hobbies, pets, and the age of one’s parents. What the Hell?

It wouldn’t be a school project unless it involved poster board, glue, markers and a hallowed spot in the hallway. Once again, Spouse and I enjoy the honor of being the oldest parents in the 8th grade. For the third time we have publicly been decreed “The Oldest Parents in the Grade” thanks to a teacher. Teachers- really- isn’t Middle School a tad old to be posting interviews outside the classroom?

Lately, Offspring #1’s does a disappearing act whenever Spouse and I appear. Admittedly, I had a slip in decorum when O #1 had the honor of delivering a speech to a gathering of his classmates a month ago. I sat a few rows from the front for stellar footage. Two of the young ladies giggled and pointed during his presentation so I did what any self-respecting mom would do, turned completely around in the chair, placed arm over the back of the chair, and gave the full on narrowed evil eye, lips disappearing in to a thin line of complete disapproval. They didn’t seem to care much but everyone around them withered on the spot. By the time O#1 got home I was famous. And in trouble.

Of course this wouldn’t be the first time I singled myself out at a school event. When O#1 was in 6th grade I separated two boys fist fighting on the gym floor while 30 other adults watched and 5 other boys cheered, “fight, fight, fight…” At that point, Offspring #1 started to understand that certain behavior was not tolerated in the Clampett family and it didn’t matter who you were.

Recently O#1 was picked to recite poetry in a contest much to his disgust and dismay. Given the honor, Spouse and I were invited to the “Jingle Jam Poetry Slam” by the English teacher and promptly uninvited by O#1. Was he afraid we’d wear black berets and snap enthusiastically upon completion of the recitation. Spouse suspects the honor is more similar to his middle school horror as the recipient of the “Chester Checker Player of the Year” Chess Award. We have to settle for the DVD.

The school International Bizarre became quite game of Hide and Seek. Him hiding, us Seeking. Growing up I had an Aunt who danced in Vaudeville. When I was 13 she was about 80 and still dressed as if she were a showgirl. She favored all purple, her hair completely white, with a disarming preference to dip the ends in black hair dye. I find myself imitating her more and more. I purposely toned down my outfit in order to “fit in” with the other moms. To no avail…He elected the BUS over the car. He gave us the slip once there since both of us worked food booths and could be easily avoided as he popped in and out of the crowded booths. Unfortunately for him, he wore a distinctive blue jacket which made him easily spotted by curious parents. Spouse and I laughed that he would eventually need money but he showed a wily side and sent Offspring #2 to fetch the additional yen. Of course, Offspring #2 is quite wily herself and could have used that as a ruse to get herself additional yen for more garbage as she’d been sucking me dry all day.

More walking around. A t-shirt booth selling brownies and shirts that said “Gay- fine by me.” Spouse bought a brownie and scanned the list of kids who had bought a t-shirt. Of the 15 kids who had bought one, right at the top was Offspring #1. Hmm. 1500 kids in the school and only a hand full who bought these t-shirts. It did our hearts proud to know that one day he will be equally embarrassing to his kids.

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A Pet Update- The Hurricane

Posted on December 9, 2010 by Emily Cannell

The wind howls and swirls in circular motion in a certain Southern state as the Hurricane continues to make her presence felt. In positive ways of course. The Hurricane attempts to teach her room-mate Odie various ways of navigating around a meticulously dog proofed palatial country estate much to the chagrin of the Nose and Dr. B’Hine.

Such an idyllic setting for this charming home. Five acres nestled by a bubbling creek in horse country. Nothing to disturb a magnificent fall evening dinner on the back deck. Except the incessant barking of 100 lbs of guard dog protecting the family from evil neighbors on all sides, the lawn mower, the mail man, that aggravating cat staring down from the top of the fence. The one distraction to this hard-wired behavior is food arriving from the kitchen along with wafting scents caught by the huge schnozz of the Giant Schnauzer. All barking ceases as the Hurricane prances toward the latched gate leading to the deck. The family digs in to the feast. The Hurricane salivates. She wants some too. Her mind instantly shifts to break and entry mode. The steps leading to the gate prevent her from jumping over. The rose bushes are too flimsy for her to climb upon and gain entry. That leaves the gate itself. She’ll try the usual way first-forced entry. A few body bumps but the gate stays put. The Hurricane must draw in to herself, gain her composure and think. This is a job requiring finesse, not brawn or physical prowess. Ahh- she has it. Her trusty mustache. So practical, however, so used to relying on sheer strength, rarely is this trick of evolution called in to play. She licks each side as if to sharpen like a knife. The mustache will now be used like opposable thumbs- she was just given an all access pass. She approaches the gate and in a second- lifts the latch with her mustache. She’s in and to the table before the kids notice. She’s tall- higher than all countertops. She’s surveyed the area on an earlier reconnaissance mission and heads for the easiest target- the 5 year old. In the blink of an eye, the 5 year old’s food disappears from her plate before the Nose has time to react. During the ensuing chaos, she gets more from another plate before the Nose is on her. The Hurricane chuckles to herself, licking her mustache, as she is chased in to the house. Odie is standing in the yard looking around, “When did the gate get opened?”

Sometimes Odie can grate on a dog’s nerves. When the Hurricane has had enough, she’ll play with Odie until the poor dog is so worn out a kennel nap is required. When Odie retires to her kennel, the Hurricane shuts the door. Odie is such a simpleton. She doesn’t know she can push the door open. Only the Nose can rescue her now. It could be hours. The Hurricane throws her head back and laughs. This time, it’s Odie’s turn to laugh last. The 5 yr old has put a leash on the Hurricane so they can walk endlessly around the house and perhaps conduct some “training” exercises. “Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, sit, down, down, down, down……”

Thanksgiving: Dr. B’Hine bought a technical innovation in the turkey frying department. For those of us suffering from the challenges of heart disease, diabetes or inability to push away from the table, this deep fryer allows one to eat your heart out since it zaps the turkey with heart healthy infrared rays instead of artery clogging peanut oil. The turkey was delicious. The Hurricane put her big schnozz to work deciphering where the fat went. Ahh- somewhere along the bottom of the fryer.

The Hurricane has to be clever in order to get the turkey drippings. Odie sits close by in moral dog support, although unaware of the objective, she of late has been negligent in her dog duties as sidekick the results of which have been positive for the Hurricane and negative for her. This time she is going to enjoy the spoils. Another job requiring ingenuity and acumen- the Hurricane’s specialty. The tray at the bottom which contains said congealed turkey fat is safely tucked underneath the entire apparatus of the fryer inside a drawer. She ponders the question- how to pull out the drawer?Sniff, nudge, gently push, apply pressure with beard and thumbs/mustache. POP- imagine that. It’s one of the drawers that a small nudge and it pops right open. Open mouth and pull the rest of the way. Begin to hurriedly devour the lard. Every dog for himself. Poor Odie is on the wrong side of the drawer but maybe something will fall out.

The Nose notices unusual activity outside. “INSIDE!” She sternly commands. They both lick faster.

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The Building Christmas Party- Bah Humbug

Posted on December 7, 2010 by Emily Cannell

My favorite neighbors are the ones that honk and wave, smiling as they drive by. Without stopping. Preferably there are 8-10 acres, a herd of cattle and a stream between us as well. This keeps idle chit chat to a minimum, forces conversation to be substantial and/or need driven. Neighborhoods that relish the dine around, impromptu Saturday night barbecue or annual Christmas Cookie Swap force me in to the role of neighborhood Scrooge minus the end of story turnaround. Spouse will be hidden during these events not to be seen until long after the last guest has stumbled home.

This basic need to be left in our cave undisturbed presented quite a delimma for the relocation company attempting to find the perfect temporary home away from home. Most Americans stampede for the ExPat neighborhood, comforted by compadres from home, familiar restaurant chains and International grocery stores. I fretted over price gauging and whining Wisconsonites crying about the lack of English-speaking cable channels. “The Tokyo American Club is just around the corner from this one,” forced the quote “Are we moving 7,000 miles from home to move to little America,” or some variation from Spouse.  Visions of  “Howdy Neighbor- where are you from? We’re having a pot luck on Friday! Come on over- great way to meet people,” danced through my head in a garish nightmare as apartments were shown to us in the traditional ExPat areas of Tokyo. Assuming I wanted to meet people, the neighbors would be on us like sticky rice. We  bucked convention and moved outside of the ExPat boundaries of Minato-ku choosing to live in a predominately Japanese neighborhood instead.

We found the perfect apartment. A low-rise, next to the Central Park of Tokyo. Three elevator banks separated the inhabitants from each other. According to my math, one-third of the building’s tenants might be encountered on a routine basis. With that third, we’d  be unable to converse. About as good as apartment co-habitation gets.

It was somewhat disappointing to discover the amount of children that went to Offsprings’ school which was an indicator of the higher prevalence of ExPats than originally estimated but on a positive note the elevator bank still remained a true barrier to verbal exchange.  The Offspring didn’t need my hovering presence at the bus stop which provided a screen from the Moms. I did meet one mom on the first day whom I nicknamed the Tasmanian Bloodhound- she was a whirling dervish of forward motion sniffing out anything and everything of interest in Japan and absolutely nothing could escape her schnozz. I liked her on sight.

A Christmas Party Invitation thrown by the Building arrived. It never got a glance as it went from the mail pile to the garbage pail. The Tasmanian Bloodhound sent a message that she had caught the scent and it was good. I resisted. She persisted- reinforcements (her friends) were being brought in from the outside just in case of an excessive and unexpected lame factor. The Tasmanian Bloodhound never leaves a based uncovered. Something occurred to me, elevator banks designed for privacy, building nestled next to a park, more families going to international schools than originally estimated- others had chosen this building for the same reasons yet I hadn’t seen but three or four including the two families on either side of us. Could it be that we landed with like-minded individuals?

I peeped at the invitation posted at the concierge counter in the lobby. “Ouiser-san, are you partying?” one of the women dressed in black asked politely. “Maybe. I hate parties unless it’s my birthday.”  Undeterred she flashed right back,” Sake, desserts, a raffle, a band.” Grown up party treats – none of interest to me. I knew a famous movie star married to a much younger golf pro lives in the building- according to our driver. He caught sight of Mr. Movie Star once and almost drove the car through the lobby trying to get a better view. Curiosity killed the cat…..but if I had to spot him at a building party cause of death would be”Bored to death.” I decided on a drive by to investigate the neighbors. Spouse claimed a late dinner meeting.

I encountered my Japanese neighbors on the way out the door whose four-year old son is my math tutor. He began to school me on 1-10. Itchi, ni, san down we went on the elevator. The doors opened and Aiki saw the scariest sight known to many children, the CLown. Too late, the clown saw him and started over. Aiki grabbed my hand and started to claw his way up my body. He looked up and realized I wasn’t his mother at the same moment the clown reached for the terrified Aiki. All HELL broke loose. All I heard was the shredding fabric of my dress as Aiki tore his way up my body, the clown clawed for Aiki, Aiki clawed for his mother, and I clawed at the clown. The Grandmother shrieked in Japanese. The party watched. This was how I introduced myself to the building- in a clown fight.

Never let ’em see you sweat. Given my hair is the texture of a brillo pad it survived in fine shape so I adjusted the remainder of my the dress, feigned my finest smile – a dysfunctional childhood allows one to do this- and sprinted for the bar. The Tasmanian Bloodhound had a mallet in one hand and a drink in the other as she raced through the crowd. Hmmm. No one else I knew. A group of French around a cocktail table. Best to bust them up. I launch in to quiz mode. Party goers- this is a best practice. Keep the conversation off of you and on to the other person. When you leave, the conversation has been all about them and not one word has been exchanged about yourself. You don’t have to say a word, divulge any secrets, and the other party usually has warm feelings regarding the conversation after. I learned that while in France, one must stand “Butt to groin” with the person standing in line in front of you or someone will cut in line.

Next table, some Americans.

American- “When are you going to the US?”

Ouiser- “We’re going for a couple of weeks in the summer”

American- “That’s IT? You’ll be the only ones in Tokyo- everyone leaves for the summer.”

Ouiser- “I think they’ll be at least one other person in Tokyo. We’ll use the opportunity to travel- see places we wouldn’t otherwise go living in the US”

American-  Snort…” You might be sorry you stayed.” I thought the French were supposed to be the Snotty ones….

Interesting ExPat habit- vacate the premises for the summer to go hang out in the US. Here the Clampett’s differ from the norm- shouldn’t one take advantage of the unique travel opportunities while here? If living in the US would we take 4 days to travel to Eastern Hemisphere countries- no.

Later I decided that the Clampetts wouldn’t be alone in Tokyo, we would have the husbands’ girlfriends to keep us company while the wives and kids went back to the US for the summer.

Time to move tables before I got in to my second fight of the evening.

At this point, a woman introduced an artistic man. The ExPats continued to talk as the man addressed the crowd while the Japanese busily took the man’s picture or video. Naturally, he was a famous artist Eldnac married to- of course- an actress. His beautiful candles lit the entryways and driveways along the building. Watching him inspired me to inflict my floundering Japanese skills on new victims. I hit a new table.

“Haichme maichite- Ouiser des- yoroshiku onigaishimas” I smiled at the Japanese couple. They looked at each other, then at me. “Hi Ouiser- I’m Sandy and this is David. We’re from Chicago.”

Another announcement and out came the reknowned chef Pierre Herme. I was star struck so I followed him around for a while. We each got two desserts. Finally an American sized portion. The building actually owed us three desserts- we certainly pay an exorbitant amount of rent.

Where was the movie star and the golf pro? They should be easily spotted- he’s in his 50’s, she barely 25. Elusive. Apparently the red headed tall Japanese man in the corner was a baseball player. That explained his presence around the building during the day- unJapanese.

I hadn’t seen Spouse sneak through. Apparently he’d opted, after many viewings of “Man vs Wild,” to enter through the 3rd floor balcony- Bear style. Pitch briefcase over first, catapult over fence, climb tree, rock climb across remainder of building via tiny finger hold crevices in granite facing until balcony destination was within reach. Voila- home- invisible.

Drum Roll. Something big. Tasmanian Bloodhound, the Artist, and two others were on stage with mallets and a sake barrel. On the count of 4- or something akin to that- the four hammered the top off the barrel. Sake was past around in square, lacquered cups. When drinking from a square sake cup- sip out of the corner. Otherwise it pours all over the face. Just saying.

Someone sidled up – Offspring #2.

O#2- “Hello”

Ouiser- “Hello”

O#2- “You’ve been down here an hour- are you ok?”

Ouiser -“Yes- thanks for checking. Do you want some sushi BEFORE YOU GO BACK UPSTAIRS?”

O#2- “No.” She watched the waiter expectantly as if he were supposed to give her a sake. He looked at me with raised eyebrows. My return look was more of a “What the Hell” and he kept walking.

Ouiser- “Interesting- ” I thought I’d told her this wasn’t a kid party. Of course that was before I fought the clown. She apparently thought that statement applied to some other kid that lived with us.

O#2- Big eyes on me now- “But Swissy came by and said there was a clown so I thought I could come down.”

Ouiser- “Actually, I’m ready to go- let me just make one sweep through to see if I can spot the movie star- you take the other side and we can walk back up together. Look for an old man with a young girl- hanging on eachother- they’re newlyweds.”

O#2- “Disgusting”

Ouiser- “That’s what I’m hoping for- find me if you see it.”

I said good-bye to all my new friends while Offspring #2 and I did the final search for the stars. We didn’t find Mr. Movie Star and Mrs. Golf Pro – that guarantees my attendance at the next Building Event.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

A Pet Update- Truffles

Posted on December 7, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Truffles- I got this and like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes. This is a speech given by Dr. Silvermug, one of the new mom’s to Truffles, in a speech given to a group of 70 High Schoolers of whom she is responsible for mentoring, fostering or providing coaching on a daily and as needed basis from grade 9 through graduation. Thank you Dr. Silvermug…

 

The message – sent from a friend who was moving to Japan – was as follows:

**** Truffles Fails Immigration Test****

“Hi all- You’re receiving this email because you have access to a classroom with guinea pigs, know someone with a classroom with guinea pigs, are a lover of guinea pigs, are a lover of animals, or may know someone who would be willing to baby sit a guinea pig for the next two years. (According to one of your closest friends- or enemies)

According to the Japanese authorities, our dear 4 year old guinea pig, Truffles, male, failed a critical immigration test. We of course know of this test and tried to pass Truffles off as a small dog- one of the lesser known Asian species of dog. The Japanese authorities gave Truffles the acid test- the leash test. When the leash was put on Truffles neck area, he of course failed the test because rodents have no neck. He was immediately identified as a fraud, labeled a “rodent” and stamped “reject” along with all amphibians and reptiles.

This leaves us in the predicament of trying to find him a temporary home for the next 2 years- maybe longer. Probably not. He’s already 4 and the life span of a guinea pig is usually no longer than 6 or 7. Either way, I will provide food, hay, and bedding (several bags- at least 6 months worth) along with his play fence, carrier, and cage.

Truffles is nice, does not bite, squeaks loudly when he needs something, and is extremely easy to take care of. He can be left alone for a long period of time since he just needs a full bottle of water and hay pellets.

We do expect Truffles back at the end of our assignment if he is still with us. I do not want to give him to a shelter which is my other option at this point. Thanks for helping us out- please pass along to anyone who might be able to give Truffles a good home. Thanks!

Ouiser

So – if a good friend offered you a “Truffles”, would you take it? I was at first horrified that I was not considered on the original e-mail list. I was then horrified to find out that no one on the original list (20 families in all) had taken Truffles.

Of course I would take Truffles! I would take Truffles because he needed a home. I would take Truffles because I had read “Dinner at the Panda Palace” to my kids dozens of times and here I was faced with the same dilemma as the owner of Panda Palace! His response whenever another guest arrived at his crowded restaurant was always the same:

“No matter how many,

No matter how few,

There will always be room

At the Palace for you!”

I would take Truffles because Ouiser made us laugh, and Offspring #2, her daughter, was one of Cutie’s best friends. And her son Offspring #1 ran cross-country for me in Middle School and her husband Spouse took great photos of Cutie during track.  I would take Truffles because my daughter Precocious wants to be a vet and she needs to see all kinds of animals. Not just our dog and cat.

Of course I would take Truffles – but it is not because I had any desire to own a caged pet – much less a guinea pig! Think of the connotation of a guinea pig – an animal used for scientific testing –and now a commonly used word in English language to connote such abuse!

Well – of course – if I am writing about Truffles – I am so happy that we took him. He does squeak – just like Ouiser said. He loves me the most because I give him the most treats. When I walk by the cage – old squeaky lets me know it is time for a treat.

I even love Truffles when I am traumatized – trying to clip his nails  – which is something Ouiser did not mention.

Anyway – when someone asks you if you could help them out – either with just a small favor or something bigger – think about saying yes. In this season of giving – it is always worth remembering that giving of yourself is still the greatest gift of all, and who knows, – you may even end up with some sweet Truffles.

Posted in Moving to Japan, Offspring | Tagged , , | 3 Comments