Gaijitated

Prologue
Etymology of “gaijitated”-- a portmanteau blend word formed from gaijin (meaning “outsider” or “foreigner” in Japanese) and the adjective agitated In English.

I sometimes become gaijitated. That means I get irrationally and disproportionally annoyed by a minor perceived slight that happens when I violate my host culture’s norms or break some rule. I get pissed off when they become flustered, or exasperated, or rigidly ignore me. It’s self-induced frustration that’s part of the experience of living abroad. And 95% percent of the time, I cause it because I forget the guiding maxim of When in Rome, do as Romans do. And when you don’t Sometimes Shit Happens.

So here’s a story…
Although it’s my second go-round, I am still readjusting to the fine art of living well in Japan. A few months ago, we planned to dispose of two old surplus kerosene heaters by recycling. The trash disposal system here is complicated. Big ticket items (fridges, stoves, couches, any metal over 30 cm long) won’t be collected by the city garbage trucks. You must pay a separate disposal fee and arrange pickup, or drop it off yourself at a local recycling center. We're-do-it yourself types, so Naomi correctly pre-registered for a drop-off day and time and bought the requisite recycling stickers to cover the disposal cost. All set.

In Yokohama, these recycling centers tend to be staffed by semi-retired seniors. The recycling drop-off process is frenetic. There are many staff members scurrying around as the items are handed over and then quickly moved to adjacent holding areas segmented by size and use. It’s highly efficient and makes sense. With moving cars and heavy items being dropped off, safety is very important.

 

I went alone, drove in the entrance and saw one lane occupied by large trucks, so I slowly proceeded into the only other open lane. It was the wrong lane. I pulled up and stopped. A crewcut, silver-haired member of the recycling center team (the guys in the green jackets) barked at me in gruff, rapid-fire Japanese, “get in the correct lane, why did you go in this wrong lane?” I blanched and pointed to the jammed lanes behind and beside me. I couldn’t back up now anyway with the one-way traffic flow. 

“I am very sorry, and good morning. Should I go around again? The lanes are blocked,” I replied in Japanese. He just turned away. No reply. Then a flustered-looking lady with a clipboard came over and said, “Wait. Did you pre-register?”
“Yes, we did,” I said.
“Did you pre-register?” she repeated.
“Yes, my wife, who is Japanese, did call and pre-register,” I repeated. I gave her Naomi’s family name and cell number.
“Wait over there, I will reconfirm,” she replied, and walked toward her office.
I was causing quite a scene. And I was just a tad irritated by the way I was being treated.

While I was waiting for the lady, two other staff members came up to the rear of our car, per standard procedure for drop-offs, and I got out and handed them the two heaters with the payment stickers already attached. By that time, I’d decided to get out of there because I was embarrassed by my own mistake and wanted to leave as quickly as possible. Why wait for the almighty confirmation?

Of course I knew I had messed this up and this was entirely my responsibility. The crewcut guy freaked out when something unexpected occurred. Perhaps I was being too sensitive by thinking they were also uncomfortable because I was a lone foreigner and oftentimes that takes folks out of their comfort zone. They assume I cannot communicate with them.

But as I sheepishly handed the kerosene heaters over, one of the other staff guys kind of grinned at me once he realized I wasn’t being rude or cutting in line, just oblivious of which lane to drive in. He nodded toward the exit, indicating it was OK to go. I said thanks and drove out. 

Reader, you might be thinking, why is he making such a big deal about this? If you live in Japan long enough, etiquette mistakes by gaijins and the various reactions by local people accumulate. Stress builds up if you let it get to you. (And I did.) At that point, over-sensitive foreigners need to suck it up, accept their part of the responsibility for whatever occurred, and not get gaijitated.

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Work-at-home habits of the lazy and soon-to-be unemployed: Pt. 2

More coping mechanisms until La Revolution:
- Hide: Shut off the video camera. There’s no way they’ll know if you’re listening or napping. Avoid engaging in conversations or sharing any ideas.
- Eat during important calls. Don’t worry, it won’t distract anyone.
- Instill a “micro-meeting” culture by taking breaks between online meetings. (5-minute meeting, 55-minute break to reset for the next meeting.)
- Reduce meeting attendees to one person: you. Meetings held under the tree in a lawn chair, looking at the clouds.
- Go from video conferences to old fashioned phone calls to no calls. Ignore your phone for a few hours.

But if you wish to prevent the revolution:
- Promote the “mostly off” work culture as an antidote to the “always on” spirit subtly condoned by management as necessary to be competitive.
- Reduce multi-tasking to single-tasking, specifically strategic snoozing.
- Reduce distraction. Compartmentalize work tasks and focus attention by ignoring everything but Ken Burns documentaries, binge watching “The Boys” on Amazon, and periodic viewing of squirrels riding surfboards on YouTube.
- Recover some of your pre-COVID work routine. Go into the office (if there still is one) sometimes if you can. During the inbound commute, laugh aloud to jokes heard on your favorite podcast and then collect the alarmed reactions of other passengers amid the eerie silence. When homeward bound, grunt for no reason at periodic internals and energetically scratch the same spot on your lower back each time. From the train station, drive homeward recklessly to burn off your day’s accumulated exasperation. Relieve stress and feelings of inadequacy by yelling at your family for no reason at the dinner table. It’s a taste of the good ol’ days. 

So what’s the point? COVID prompted the massive shift to work-at-home that is creating some new work culture twists. Let me restate that I LOVE working at home, it’s a jim-dandy way to earn a living. What’s not to like about it? But let’s see if the virtual workers opt for a velvet revolution after all.

Hello, holodeck!

Work-at-home habits of the lazy and soon-to-be unemployed: Pt. 1

The revolution cometh, people!

I just love working at home!
It’s fan~~tastic and has dramatically improved everything in my working life!
But, some folks…feel there is no joy in Virtualville.

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Characters, places and professed work-related anecdotes either are products of the author's limited imagination or are described mostly fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual, very dutiful company employees (such as the author), places or persons, living or dead, is, again, mostly coincidental. Especially if anyone in the company I work for actually reads this. 

At first, exclusively working from home sounded ideal: no commute, no traditional work attire, and a break from office intrigue and people politics. However, the COVID pandemic lingers with waves of new variants. So there’s no definitive end in sight to this massive shift from working in an office space to rocking it in a spare bedroom. Instead of in-person interactions or conversations, at-home workers constantly rely on computers and phones to stay connected. Many are hitting the wall of technology fatigue, too, because we’re all using tech in every aspect of our lives now. Thanks very much, Silicon Valley.

“Remotely working” is the appropriate description of productivity for many these days. The pandemic continues and business has decreed work-at-home to be “the new normal” for white-collar workers. But growing numbers of them are bored as shit by it all, and have embraced stealthy rebellion. It’s becoming a growing insurrection of the virtual class.

Why are NeoLuddites growing in number?
- You know the bean counters see cost savings so work-at-home will be continued with some flimsy justifications.

- When the highlight of the week is changing your background to try and amuse your co-workers, or you’re sending never-ending salvos of cheap emotion-laden GIFs…somethings gotta give.
- Too many, WAY too many eye-draining, soul-killing online meetings.
- People miss office pranks.

Some coping mechanisms until the revolution arrives:
- Secure your own dedicated office area at home with good ventilation and a beer fridge. Ignore spouse and kids’ claims for private space…this is w-o-r-k.
- Wear shorts not skivvies for Zoom conferences when it’s hot. Exception: if forced to attend a virtual Happy Hour, skivvies OK and, indeed, recommended.
- If in a Zoom meeting with only audio: make faces at the co-workers or external collaborators you despise without making a noise. They can still feel it.
- If in a Zoom meeting with video: randomly mute others claiming a bad line creates feedback. Click mute with imperceptible hand movements, but continue nodding with the conversation flow.

Courtesy of themarketoonist.com by Tom Fishburne

- Schedule a meeting, kick off the meeting by asking another attendee why they requested the meeting and topic, savor his or her baffled look and fumbling response, then with a patronizing tone re-schedule “so people can do their prep.” At the next meeting, check the result of the meeting with another meeting. All these meetings = no paper trail.

More to come...

Scenes from the sanctum

Two months left until the Tokyo Olympics! Yet Yokohama, Tokyo, Osaka and seven other densely populated prefectures are still under the government’s coronavirus “state of emergency.” In effect, it means people refrain from pleasure travel, restaurants and bars are told to close by 8 pm and not serve alcohol or offer karaoke. The measures are intended to prevent a fourth wave of COVID-19 infections. I predict a fifth wave of aggravated boredom soon. (It’s the lack of karaoke that may kill me. Kidding.)

Like the rest of the world the Rising Family™ has adjusted. We’ve been doing what we can to get out, stay active, and have fun. So in this post I’ll share a few photos from the first half of the year that give you a taste.

January: stayed home over the Christmas and New Year holidays. We were reacquainted with the delights of downtown such as Yokohama Harbor at night.

Our Yokohama life (Phase 2) is flavored with discovering new things about the city. We went to hatsumode -- the first Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine visit of the Japanese New Year – at an ancient shrine not far from our neighborhood. It just felt right to kick off the year that way. There were fewer people there than we expected.

Lady E. celebrated her birthday at home with a homemade cake. She’s in a down-to-earth mood these days. “Just family, please!"

Warm winters mean you can trek or hike trails year round. Jumping bean Marina was so full of energy she bounced down the trail to the car.

Every month my bud James Shalikashvili and I take off for day hike somewhere in the Tokyo-Yokohama-Chiba area. Here we are at the Miura peninsula; Mt. Fuji is across the bay on the right.

When I’ve had enough and need to get away, I take off for a day drive on my trusty 125cc scooter which magically enables me to skirt traffic jams. I find serene spots for downtime. This is the view I get from one of my favorite escape destinations: staring at the cedar tree boughs, sea salt in the air....

Democracy rocks my world

In 2015, I lost the right to vote in federal elections because I had been living outside Canada for more than five years. This post is not a retroactive rant about the government’s decision to restrict the vote of more than one million non-resident Canadians like me. Rather, it’s a valentine to a system of government that can change.

Earlier this year I read the measures taken to restrict voting rights for Canadians abroad were being contested in the Supreme Court. The court's ruling led the current government to reverse course and restore the vote for expat Canucks. I soon applied online to be part of the new international register of electors. I received a notice in the mail confirming I would again be able to vote. Good stuff, right?

Canadian citizenship entails certain rights, freedoms, and responsibilities. Every citizen should have the right to vote regardless of where they live. It’s wonderful the law changed thanks to healthy civil discourse, political action, and the rule of law. That process rendered change without any violence. If that’s not another terrific example of democracy (and the Canadian social contract) in action, what is?

I need to get off the soapbox, I know. In a nutshell, I was gratified to have my right to vote returned to me. I can again be a part of the elections that steer the direction of my country. Once a Canadian, always a Canadian. And huzzah for democracy.

Courtesy of the Parliament of Canada

Rediscovering Yokohama, Part I

Courtesy of nerdnomads.com

When you’re away from Japan for an extended period and return only as a savvy tourist, the lingering image is always glossy, umblemished, as unreal as this photo. 

That’s a mental keepsake and nothing wrong with that. But your vision clears up when you come down out of the clouds above Mt. Fuji back to daily reality.

The Rising Family™ returned to Japan nine months ago during the pandemic’s apex in the U.S. Since then, we’ve been adapting again to local norms. So far, resuming day-to-day life in Yokohama has shored up my confidence in our family’s world citizenship and flexibility. It’s also triggered a fresh bout of wanderlust, tempered only by an appreciation for all the great things about living here.

These days my children’s questions about the world ebb and flow as they settle back into the rhythm and rules of Japanese society. Nonetheless, the travels of the last four years continue to yield gifts in their language ability, personal development, and processing of new experiences from an international standpoint. That’s some major value added for life, along with all the neat s**t they’ve seen firsthand. 

Living in different places and among different cultures taught us all places are quirky and special and unique in their own way. Every place takes some getting used to if you live there for an extended time. Returning by chance to rent the same house in Yokohama meant the same neighbors, the same schools, and the same office, all of which has been trippy. Like going in reverse before we can move forward again. At first, it felt like little had changed in our part of Yokohama. There were only superficial differences in how things looked from when we left four years ago. I knew it was arrogant to think that we had changed but nothing else here changed that much, especially with the temporary social measures taken to combat COVID. The so-called “new normal.” Scratch the surface and there’s plenty that is different—and good.

Case in point, a day trip in early autumn to La Soleuil, a French inspired amusement park and family-focused space on the seacoast near Yokohama. We often went there with the girls during our first round of living in Yokohama (I call it “phase one”). Naomi, M. and I returned to La Soleuil with hopes of recapturing a bit of the past. But it became a classic example of “you can never go back” in the philosophical sense. We walked around; it was a beautiful day, plenty of young families having fun. Yet after an hour of the petting zoo, something she adores, Marina looked slightly dejected. Why so? I asked. “I’m too old for most of this stuff, I’m over it.” Sobering, bittersweet reality. 

The workplace experience has been similar. I re-entered my old workspace, one that’s been altered by remote work, new faces, and a new corporate reality. Things had naturally evolved. The edge was taken off my return to this conventional Japanese workplace by fortunately joining a team that is captained by a former supervisor of mine who I knew and respected, and who knew what I could contribute. I was not a “fresh foreigner” and could get back on the horse comparatively quickly. 

Typical workplace no-nos

I also like to think I rode out the occasional work culture nuisance with only minor kvetching. I remain thankful to be employed and for the opportunities my employer has given us.

But I still detest the train commute. Social distancing, my ass. But again the flipside is Yokohamians are fastidious about wearing masks and hand washing. Somehow it works.

Let me close with this: At work and play --for the girls at school, Naomi working a new part-time job, me at mine – we are back in the groove.  I’m hitting in the sweet spot. In my next post I’ll describe another episode that prompted a slump, and how I climbed out of it.

Yokohama dazzles the eyes at night.
Courtesy of Yokohama Board of Tourism 

The gift of wanderlust has consequences. You will never feel completely at home again. Part of your heart will always be yearning for Elsewhere. That’s the price you pay for the richness of loving and appreciating more than one place. But there is also beauty in the here and now, and from appreciating the good things that make each place unique and livable.

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What we’re reading

I intend this post as a snapshot in time of the Rising Family’s current reading habits.

We’ve acclimated to our living space in Yokohama but it has affected our reading diet. To wit, Lady E. and M. have reintegrated with the Japanese school system and local media. For them, that means English is now more chore than a necessity or escape. Yours truly thus issued coercive parental diktats for the greater good of their bilingual future. And they’ve grudgingly accepted a light English reading regimen. Their mission is to read a reasonable amount of their chosen book every week, then offer up a short written summary. If they do the work, good things happen; if they skive, bad things happen. My carrot and stick approach links their monthly allowance and access to social media as the levers to comply with my demand for weekly language maintenance.

So far, so good—it’s paying off for them. My half of the bargain is that I, too, read their books, and we discuss the chapters they cover and their written recap. We’ve been following this menu for several months now. The daughters realize it isn’t a flavor-of-the-month parenting fad and I mean to see it through long term. There is the understanding this isn’t going away...

What are they reading, you ask?

Mandatory reading

Lady E. started reading Rob Aspinal’s “Truly Deadly”, about a supercharged teenage girl action hero. It was a legacy project from Elena’s pandemic stay-at-home reading list while in the States, but she lost interest. So we switched to J.K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,” which has proved more easily digestible. The only problem we’ve had is pronouncing ‘Hermione’.

Marina quickly inhaled “The Wild Robot” by Peter Brown due to her growing interest in animals. The plot revolves around a robot named Roz and her adventures on an island filled only with animals. M. is currently reading the sequel, “The Wild Robot Escapes,” wherein we see Roz working on a family farm and plotting her return to the island to reunite with her adopted bird son, Brightbill. Both books have a heartwarming and thoughtful plot.

Voluntary reading

Elena is into Japanese manga comics, and has purchased the “Tokyo Ghoul” series of bound comic books by Sei Ishida. It’s all the rage in the under-15 set in Japan.

Marina is reading the Roald Dahl storybook set she received as a Christmas present last year.

As usual, Naomi prefers to leave as few digital crumbs as possible and wishes to keep her reading choices private.

And me? I’m navigating a minor case of homesickness. I quickly read “The Never-Ending Present” by Michael Barclay, an interesting history of Gord Downie and The Tragically Hip. I’ve since  shared it with other Canuck GenXers here in Nippon pining for lost youth. Then I moved on to “Music is the Drug,” a biography of the Cowboy Junkies, another Canadian band. (Nice Christmas gift Dad and Bro!)

To celebrate my stint in the U.S., I’m reading the New Yorker maven and baseball storyteller, Roger Angell, at the same time as snacking on gonzo journalism from Hunter S. Thompson. 

I can’t figure out why I’m doing this or what it signifies. I’m just following my urges, I suppose, or showing my own ambivalence about leaving the U.S. and returning to live in Japan. It’s been a greater subconscious challenge than I expected.

But it’s all damn good writing!