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Costco

May 12, 2014 by Robert Haddan

Bulk purchasing isn’t really part of our day-to-day life in Japan. Our 550 square foot apartment, which actually has quite a bit of storage, doesn’t really necessitate things like the Gorilla Metropolis Playset, a swingset that is almost twice the size of our apartment. Or even two-dozen rolls of toilet paper for that matter.

Still, visiting a Japanese Costco was on our list of things to do. In the U.S., a trip to Costco every couple weeks was part of our shopping routine. A case of black beans here, a giant bag of tortilla chips there… things that would keep for awhile. Of course, we had a big pantry and a garage to keep all these things in.

The closest Costco in Iruma was actually not the most convenient, requiring two train transfers and a bus ride, so we chose the other Saitama location in Shinmisato.

The train let us off right outside LaLaport, an expansive indoor/outdoor shopping mall with Forever 21, H&M, Columbia, Adidas; the best fashion stores America Japan has to offer. Ikea anchors the mall on one end and Costco holds down the other.

Costco Outdoor Seating — That little girl’s about to start a riot for a Costco dog!

As we approached Costco, it wasn’t any different from the ones we frequented at home. People packed the outdoor seating, attacking their ¼ pound all-beef sausage with all the toppings.

Costco Front Door — I can only assume that guy is finishing up something from the Fresh Food Hot Items menu

Just outside the main door, the giant Costco weekly deals billboard greeted us with similar bargains as we’d find in the U.S. Frying pans, reading glasses, tires and tents alongside party-sized platters of sweet rolls and sushi.

Costco Pasteries — Carrot cake cupcakes and Very Berry Mousse Cake

Inside, it was bumper to bumper. The bakery section had giant carrot cake cupcakes and “Very Berry Mousse Cake” that seemed to be popular. The specialty cake section was there too, although with a more Japanese-friendly whipped cream frosting option. It was starting to feel like the end of Wizard of Oz… “And you were there…”

Costco Sake — Enough sake to fill a swimming pool, which you can buy on aisle 10

If sweet treats aren’t your thing, maybe the giant liquor section is? I’m sure it’s not that much of a novelty outside of Oregon where liquor sales are tightly controlled, but it was odd to us to see sake, tequila and whiskey for sale alongside the beer and wine.

Our cart. I will gladly ride the train for two hours for Kettle Chips and Tillamook Cheese

All of the product signs were in both Japanese and English, so we were able to put names to items we’d seen other places, but couldn’t identify. In the end, our cart ended up very similar to what we’d buy at home. Sea Salt Kettle Chips (from Salem, OR), Tillamook Pepper Jack Cheese (from Tillamook, OR), strawberry jam, bread, pickled Jalapenos, baby kale and a bottle of Kirkland-brand Malbec. We did buy one distinctly-Japanese item: edamame tofu. The little squares had whole edamame beans (soybeans) inside.

Costco snackbar — A little taste of home and a little taste of Hokkaido

Epilogue

No trip to Costco is complete without swinging through the snack bar. The famous ¼-pound hot dog—which has a better ring to it than the “0.11339809 kilogram hot dog”, even in metric system Japan—was a crowd favorite. Pizza, coffee, churros and ice cream were paired with some new-to-us items, including clam chowder, pineapple smoothie and bulgogi (Korean barbequed meat) bake.

We ordered a slice of cheese pizza and a Hokkaido soft-cream sundae with raspberries and chocolate and sat down amongst the masses, relishing our first Japanese Costco experience.

Odds and Ends

May 7, 2014 by Robert Haddan

Notes from a laundry-filled Wednesday.

Care package!

About a week ago, I asked my mom to send me some seeds. I’ve yet to see jalapeños—or any other heat-packin’ pepper for that matter—in the grocery stores. We’ve found cilantro, but it’s about ¥220 ($2.16 USD) for a single sprig. So, I thought I’d just try to grow some myself. The climate should be great for the peppers and I’ll probably grow the cilantro inside to keep it from bolting.

The package arrived today, about a week after it was sent, although we’ve not had mail service the last two days because of the Golden Week holidays. It was a nice treat to find a little taste of home inside, although Mom already gave away the surprise when she mentioned a box, which seemed overkill for two small seed envelopes. According to the customs tag on the package, there are 75 pieces of authentic Oregon Coast salt-water taffy protecting the seed packets. Well, there are 72 pieces of taffy now…

Sentaku-ki

We’ve more or less figured out the washing machine (sentaku-ki) by randomly pushing buttons until something happened, but it seemed like there might be more to it than that. Today, with the help of Google Translate I figured out the rest of it. I bet there’s a market for someone who has nothing better to do than translate appliance instructions into English.

When I help my wife with a project, she frequently says “Are you being a perfectionist?” which means “It doesn’t have to be pretty. Can you just get it done so we can go to bed, please?!” But, when it comes to projects requiring more than one Adobe Creative Suite product, I just can’t help myself (hoping the cross-link to Adobe’s site will encourage them to sponsor my blog—”Cascadian Abroad, brought to you by Adobe” has a nice ring to it).

While likely an unnecessary exercise, it was a good learning experience. I added both the English translation and the rōmaji to help us learn the Japanese words and characters. I’m about halfway through doing the same for the heater/air conditioner remote control. Look out television… you’re next!

Harajuku

April 25, 2014 by Robert Haddan

Tokyo provides a lot of opportunity for tourism, shopping… your typical big-city stuff. But, the gems of a city are in the alleyways and parks. We found an abundance of both as our Tokyo adventures continued last weekend in Harajuku.

Dancers — The fashion scene was pretty subdued that day, but these girls were dancing in Yoyogi Park.

Our primary purpose for the visit was Tokyo’s Earth Day festival in Yoyogi Park, another of Tokyo’s fantastic public park spaces. Hundreds of vendors sold food and goods and non-profit organizations used the opportunity to reach thousands with their messages.

One booth demonstrated how you could pop corn with a reflector and sunlight.

Others reminded us of our need for the ethical treatment of animals, our food and ourselves. Not being able to read food labels is actually one of the few real downers of being in Japan. We do the best we can.

Anti-fur campaign — Booth reminding us where fur really comes from…

A live band filled the air with covers of American classics. A spot-on rendition of Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” was followed by a rockabilly take on Elvis Presley’s classic “Hound Dog.”

The biggest draw to these things is usually the food, and Earth Day 2014 provided some great eats! Veggie “meat” on a stick, steamed “pork” buns and…

Arm-length french fries — French fries as long as my arm.

Deep-fried, cheese-filled avocado. Yes, you read that right…

Then there’s the innovative, weird and just plain Tokyo. A dog in a backpack, a truck that turns plastic into oil and whatever that thing is.

After the festival, we explored Harajuku. Shopping is abundant, of course, but there are little pockets of awesome all over the district. We grabbed some amazing raw milk ice cream in coffee at Shiroichi.

These guys were really enjoying their ice cream towers from Shiroichi.

We walked up Takeshita Street, which is the crammed-with-tourists home of Harajuku’s fashion movement. The video screen captures visitors in their last seconds of freedom before crowd-induced claustrophobia takes over.

We finished our big day out at Baird Brewing. At some point I’ll write a post about the beer “scene” in Japan, but on this day, we found a good one. Bryan Baird, a brewer with Pacific Northwest connections, has brought true craft brewing to Tokyo.

Baird Brewing's Harajuku Taproom — Baird Brewing’s Harajuku Taproom

The pub food was fantastic—we had grilled tofu, shitake mushrooms and edamame—but someone should tell the Japanese that you need to serve some carbs with beer approaching 10% ABV.

Reminders of home surrounded us in the corner of the bar. A postcard from Portland sat on the shelf to our left. Oregon breweries were well represented in the swiped coasters that lined the top of the bar.

Before we left, the bartender asked where we were from. I told him Oregon and he got very excited. He says “hold on…” and heads into the keg cooler. He comes back out with a 22-ounce bottle of Portland’s own Upright Brewing “Seven” and a big smile on his face. Apparently he’d just returned from his own craft beer pilgrimage to the Rose City.

I look forward to the opportunity to explore those alleyways again soon.

Internet!

April 19, 2014 by Robert Haddan

After a month in Japan, we finally have internet in our apartment. I never thought I’d say it, but I miss the low muss, low fuss approach of Comcast.

Our service window was 1-5 p.m. on this rainy Friday, which means they showed up around 4:30. After checking a couple things, the technician makes a phone call, then hands me the phone. The man on the other end wants me to try and set it up myself.

How, exactly, would you like me to do that? I don’t have any cables, equipment…

He asks to speak to the technician, who after a short chat, hands the phone back to me. The technician will return shortly with a CD and some cable.

“Some cable” involves a roll of electrical tape, a lift truck and some serious cable splicing 20 feet off the ground. Not to mention his sidekick, a dude in a white hazmat suit with flashing red lights built into it, holding a red LED wand and directing traffic like some Darth Vader/Breaking Bad/air traffic controller hybrid.

Darth Vader Breaking Bad — To be fair, the NTT guy was not nearly as scary as this combination.

This was followed by a lot of drilling and banging as our internet, its lifeline securely strung over the street, was surgically inserted into our rented residence through the same slightly-opened window our air conditioning vents out.

All the while, the technician is perched on a wet ladder with wet shoes on our second-floor porch, inches from the railing and higher than he was when surrounded by the protection of the lift truck’s workbox. With each fumbled tool, one thought repeats in my mind:

We’re SO going to be on the news when he goes over the railing.

Fortunately, this seasoned pro dodges the precarious situation on the porch. It goes a little geek for a minute as he starts to set up the hardware and service, scanning QR codes with his phone, connecting the account to the modem.

Then he’s done. Gomenasai he says. Sorry. Basically, there’s no help for the English-speaking beyond this point. I have a stack of papers with various network names, usernames and passwords, labeled in Japanese. I have a CD with “easy” setup instructions… all in Japanese.

Suffice to say, the CD doesn’t work. I start matching screenshots and kanji, navigating my way through the setup. Fail. Fail. SUCCESS! I have internet!

I hope that was all he meant by “we’d like you to try and set it up yourself,” because I’m pretty sure none of that other stuff was happening.

Love Thy Neighbor

April 17, 2014 by Robert Haddan

In Oregon, the ringing of our doorbell usually yielded a predictable result. On the other side of the front door, we’d find a local schoolkid selling overpriced candy for a fundraiser or a pressure-washing/bug-killing/home security salesman reminding me that I needed to pressure-wash, bug-kill and secure our house.

It’s been a mixed bag when the doorbell rings here. Since we’re still getting settled, a lot of times the doorbell means added convenience. Gas service for hot water and cooking! Water pressure!

A couple times it’s been a salesman. I let one guy do his pitch for a few minutes before I finally got across that I didn’t have a clue what he was saying and that I probably wouldn’t be interested in buying it even if I did.

Sometimes, it’s just disappointment. Is it the overdue delivery of our foam mattress? Setup of the internet service? No… only the mailman with a pile of junk mail.

A couple nights ago, the doorbell rang after dark. Our hearts raced—probably more because we were in the middle of an episode of The Walking Dead than the actual tolling of the bell itself.

One of our neighbors, an older lady, stood at our door. She spoke softly in Japanese with a few English words mixed in when it was clear we weren’t following. Dining table, chairs… is she asking to borrow a chair?

We pushed one of our dining room chairs to the door, happy to help. No, no… follow me she says. I slip on my sandals before stepping into our entryway, a big-time no-no in Japan, but my transgression is either ignored or forgiven.

I walk down the street making very small talk with my limited Japanese. She’s noticed that we’ve just moved in and has a few nice pieces of furniture that she’s giving away. A dining room table with four chairs. A coffee table. She’d put the items on the porch of the apartment complex next door, but she’s giving us first dibs.

Since we’d already purchased a table and two chairs, we take a couple of the chairs for company and the coffee table. She sets each of the chairs on the porch, compares the fabric and makes sure the legs don’t wobble, selecting the two best chairs for us.

We use our combined vocabulary to complete the deal, introduce ourselves and talk about why the heck these Americans are living in her neighborhood (most of the locals have cut us some slack when they discover a sensei is living in their midst).

It was good timing. I’d been thinking a lot that day about being an outsider. In Kawagoe-proper, we’re not that big a deal. There are a lot of tourists in and out of the station. But we live in the ‘burbs. We’re in a neighborhood where I can’t say that I’ve seen another non-Japanese person. We get stares… we are different.

But, every time it feels like we just don’t fit in, something like this happens and the world doesn’t feel quite so big. Random acts of kindness… a universal language.

Wakarimasen: The Challenges of Learning a New Language

April 17, 2014 by Robert Haddan

When we first visited Mexico, I figured out how to say “I’m lost and I have lots of money” in Spanish. I joke that any time we go to a place with a different language, that’ll be the first phrase I learn. I’ll either get home or get mugged.

In reality, a more useful phrase is “I don’t understand.” The Japanese version of that is wakarimasen. However, that’s a hard thing for me to admit. I’ll nod my head and overpay for something I don’t want before I confess that I don’t have a clue what’s being said.

For the first couple weeks in Japan, I’ve been frustrated with my lack of ability to communicate. Speaking, understanding, reading… it’s all Japanese to me. I realized I needed to cut myself some slack. I hate being bad at something and I’m bad at Japanese, but we’ve only been here for three weeks. Heck, it took us all a couple years to learn our native tongues, right?

Still, most “conversations” involve piecing together a script from the phrase book, memorizing it and then reciting it. If the reply is anything more than hai or iie (yes or no), I’m screwed.

Last week, I accomplished something pretty big… I exchanged something! I purchased a few baskets at the 100 yen store to help organize our food cupboard. When I got them home, I unpacked the food shelf and organized the items nicely in the baskets. I put the baskets on the shelf and the cupboard doors wouldn’t close! The baskets were too big. I tried to figure out what else I could use them for and couldn’t come up with anything.

I needed to return them.

I pulled out the handy phrase book and got to work. I walked back to the store and recited my script along the way… Sumimasen. Kookan shitain desu ga. Ooki sugimasu. Excuse me. I need to exchange these. They’re too big.

I walked in the front door with an unexpected amount of anxiety. I delivered my lines like I was George Clooney. The clerk replied with more than hai and I got a little more nervous. So I repeated… ooki sugimasu.

She called to someone on the intercom. Her co-worker came to the register with a barcode, the clerk scanned it and the register opened! She counted out my refund and her co-worker took my faulty purchase back to restock. I did it!

It’s a good reminder to celebrate small victories. Even those as small as successfully returning 328 yen worth of plastic baskets.

Trust: Letting Go in a New Country

April 2, 2014 by Robert Haddan

Trust is a tricky thing. It can be earned, lost, regained. But most importantly, it can be given.

In an environment where you can’t read, speak, or understand the language, you find yourself putting a LOT of trust in strangers to guide you in the right direction.

For example, we just purchased a couple pieces of furniture from a great second-hand/factory store called Treasure Factory. Since they were larger pieces, we needed to schedule delivery. We’ve got the purchase thing down pretty well, but delivery was new.

Most conversations go something like this: We say something in partial Japanese, but mostly English. The clerk replies in mostly Japanese with a couple English words. We all laugh nervously with puzzled looks on our face, but eventually work our way through with a series of wild hand gestures, pointing, and more broken non-native language.

The fine folks at Treasure Factory had the added challenge of explaining a form required for delivery. The clerk had just enough English to explain that there were no returns and that we accepted the items as-is. There was also a mystery box that, after a few minutes of trying to describe its meaning, the clerk suggested “just check.” We agreed that would be the best course of action.

This transaction included a wonderful round of Pictionary as the clerk expertly drew, and we successfully guessed, “we agree the delivery person will be able to actually get this massive piece of furniture into your little home.”

We checked that box, not knowing whether or not they’d actually be able to maneuver the furniture up our narrow staircase and right-angled doorway. Watching the delivery guys work was like a life-sized game of Tetris as they twisted, turned, and flipped the furniture into our apartment.

We’ve also accepted the challenge of directions without a smartphone. This usually requires asking strangers on the street where places are located on a zoomed-out printout of a Google map. “Kore wa doko desu ka,” or “where is this?” has become a useful tool in our language toolbox.

On our search for the Kawagoe International Center, the question was met with a response in English! The wicked native tongue never sounds as sweet as when you’re lost. The man was originally from Egypt and spoke English and Japanese equally well. He took a few minutes to actually walk us to our destination and show us a shortcut out of the bustling Kawagoe Station.

The patient and helpful nature of our new neighbors continues to impress me everyday. Whether it’s someone on the street or a fellow shopper at the grocery store, we’ve yet to be brushed off when asking for help and usually it is offered before we have to ask.