Gas

One thing that you take for granted when you are around your native language is gas pumps.  Next time you buy gas, imagine not understanding any of the words on the pump.

Here, the gas stations vary.  Many are full service.  Simply tell them how much gas you want in liters or yen, and they'll pump it for you.  They also wipe your windows and give you a damp rag to wipe the interior of your car while the gas pumps.

Other stations are self serve.  Some of them are pay-at-the-pump and some require that you go in the office and pay.  One thing that is interesting about Japan: convenient stores are separate from gas stations.  I have no idea how there can be a convenient store on every corner, except that they are more convenient than American convenient stores (more on that another day).

When you first visit a gas station, you have no idea what type it will be.  Inevitably, whichever type you think it is, you'll be wrong.  You'll think it is self serve because none of the staff are outside, you'll hop out of your car, and then be ushered back in when an attendant rushes out.

Or, as happened to me earlier this week.  You'll think it is a pre-pay and try to put cash into the receipt slot.  The self-serve stations all have touch-screen pumps.  I know the symbol for cash, and I can read the katakana writing for credit card.  When you select the cash option, then it lists options for how much you want to pay.  I selected 5,000 yen, knowing I would get some change back.  I hit the button and tried to slide my cash in the slot.  It didn't work.  I was confused.  I tried again.  An attendant hurried over and explained that you pay afterward.  I'm sure it made that girls day.  Over dinner with her family she got to tell them about the dumb foreigner who tried to shove fifty bucks in the receipt slot.

I wish I could tell you that was the only idiotic thing I've done trying to get gas, but it isn't.  Just two weeks ago I was at a pre-pay self-serve.  I told it I wanted to put in 2000 yen worth.  I put the green nozzle in my car and...nothing happened.  How annoying.  I hit cancel, got my change and tried again.  Same thing.  Just as I was starting to get frustrated, ready to get my change and leave, an attendant came over and pointed out that I had the wrong nozzle.  Thank goodness there is always someone around to witness me acting like a moron.

In retrospect, maybe the problem isn't with the language barrier or the gas pumps...

Awkward Moments, Part 1

If you are ever bold enough or stupid enough to move to a foreign country be prepared for awkward moments.  They will happen.  They'll happen frequently.  Here is one such story.

A little background first.  I doubt any place on earth is much more culturally different from the US than Japan.  For instance, here it is polite to honk at someone.  A quick honk is like saying "please," or "thank you."  On top of that, people are polite drivers!  They always try to let you in, sometimes an oncoming car will flash its lights and slow down so you can make that right turn.

Last night I was driving home and the driver in front of me had left her trunk open.  I politely honked.  My horn said, "Please look in your rear view mirror and see the trunk bouncing around."  Or maybe it just said, "beep."  At the next stop light I gave to quick honks. No reaction.  I opened my door to jump out and....do what?  It would've been a huge breach of etiquette to touch her car, so I couldn't just shut it for her.  I couldn't run up to her window and tell her.  So far my Japanese doesn't cover words like "open" or "trunk" or "Don't call the cops, I'm not a mugger."  I'd have to jump out into the turn lane and Japanese roads are pretty narrow and this was a busy street.

So there I was.  I knew I had her attention.  My door was open.  One foot was out the door.  And then I did what any sane person would do.  I rationalized.  "It'll be fine," I thought, "She'll notice soon.  We're going so slow anyway it'll be alright."  I closed my door and waited for the light, figuring I'd just leave extra room between our cars just in case something fell out her trunk, like some trash or a dead body.

Less than half a block later, it started pouring rain.

I followed that car for ten miles.  She never did notice her trunk was bouncing around like a toddler on a sugar high.

I've resigned myself to these sorts of things.  What constitutes polite behavior and conversation in Japan is very different from back home.  Here's a little travel tip.  The first two phrases you should learn in any language are "Excuse me" and "I'm sorry."  In Japanese you say "Sumimasen," and "Gomennasai." So wherever you are, lady in the white Toyota with a wet spare tire, gomennasai.

Who Put the Steering Wheel Over Here?

Have  you ever been kind of zoned out and gotten in on the wrong side of your car? No?  If you ever live in Japan, I guarantee you will.  Our school provides us with a little Mazda to drive.  Our first driving lesson was a kick in the pants. 

First, the steering wheel is on the right side of the car. D'oh.

Second, the gearshift and pedals are laid out the exact same was as in our car, so first is up and away, reverse is back and close.  Left foot: still the clutch.  The blinker and windshield wipers, those are flipped.

Third, the roads are narrow.  Two lane highways are about one and a half of our lanes.  Other two way roads are about one to one-and-half lanes.

And last but not least, our car had a loose hose (we found out this week) that made it underpowered and jerk incessantly in first and second gear.

It's okay.  No one died.  A turn or two might have been made into the oncoming lane.  More than a few turns were indicated with nothing more than a cheerful wave from the windshield wipers.

The biggest saving grace with learning to drive was that the top speed limit is 50kph.  That equates to 31 miles an hour.  I finally figured out why Japan's government didn't want to question the president of Toyota.  Over here stuck gas pedals only led to a few medium speed collisions.

The only place the speed limit is higher than 50 kph is on toll-roads.  There it can be up to 100 kph.  Do the math and that adds up to 62 miles an hour.  Wheeeee.  We're flying now. 

Honestly, my fear of being pulled over in a foreign country where I don't speak the language is already being pressured by the desire to get where I'm going while the sun is still up.  Going 10 kph over is only 7 miles an hour.  Oh well.  I'll buckle down and drive safe.

I better sign off.  I need to putter off to the grocery store.