But our Mistkaes were more Sophisticated!

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Amelia and I were proud of our abilities navigating Japan. She had a hot spot and I had a working GPS. She spoke Japanese and I am experienced with train systems. So we had it made.

Except when we didn’t, but we submit that our mistakes were of an upscale variety. We didn’t get on the wrong train; we mistook a 7 for a 1 and got off at the wrong station. We didn’t fail to book accommodation; we decided to be spontaneous and carefree and the flea pit we wound up sleeping in proved a delightful adventure. Plus we avoided bedbugs. We didn’t misread a bus schedule; we spent two hours enjoying the mountain views of Minakami before scheduling a taxi ride.

Perhaps the best mistake was on our return. We flew Tokyo to Atlanta, and then Atlanta to Baltimore. Most of our fellow travelers from the East left in Atlanta.

Having delighted my heart and solved a logistical problem by buying a Woodstock and Snoopy suitcase in Tokyo, I had also proved to everyone that I would never grow up. Woodstock has been my favorite cartoon character since age 8, and as I told Amelia, I might even kill for the chance to own a Woodstock suitcase.

Which might prove necessary, Amelia said when we tried to get into the character store at the main Tokyo airport train station. Cute culture is everywhere in Tokyo. Character stores specialize in Pokemon, a cute cat company called Mofusand (I fell in love and went broke) assorted superhero collectives, and yes, Peanuts. And they are equally attractive to tourists and locals. We couldn’t even pass through the hallway outside, stuffed with people. We fled, but that night I found a Peanuts carry-on at the big department store near our hostel. Best souvenir ever, and no one stateside would own one like it, Amelia and I agreed. Well, except those 400 people in the hallway outside the character store, but they were probably going for Pokemons.

You know what’s coming, right? We got off last in Baltimore because we were cattle call passengers in Zone 8. We hadn’t paid for checked bags but I took advantage of the free offer staff usually make at the last minute to let Snoopy and Woodstock ride in the hold. When they came off the conveyor belt in the first round of cases, they proudly sported a “Delta Priority” sticker, which I assumed was because of the last-minute checking of the bag.

Nope: some guy in first class had a case exactly like mine. To be fair, it was 11pm and had been Wednesday for 32 hours, so cut us a little slack, eh?

When we reached our hotel, Amelia found a message on her phone commanding us to return and exchange cases. On the way back to the airport (fortunately just a few miles away) we discussed what sort of professional traveler businessman in first class would have a Snoopy and Woodstock bag. But we couldn’t be too judgmental, Amelia pointed out, because, you know, I had one.

The exchange was made without anyone coming to blows. When the United employee suggested to me that I had not looked carefully enough, I looked at her very carefully indeed, then smiled (it might have been more teeth baring) and said “Goodnight.” Japan can teach one a lot about polite aggression.

I never met the guy who owned the case just like mine, but did see one tall, thin Japanese man with a dignified ponytail sitting in a sad little slump outside the office where the exchange took place. It seemed best not to engage.

See? We only made upper class mistakes.

The Toilets of Japan

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Japan is famed for its toilets. Shop windows that sell these proofs of superior culture even have little signs up in English: Sorry, we don’t ship internationally.

Because when you visit Japan, you will begin to think about installing one of these bowels and whistles machines when you get back home, trust me.

Welcome to Japan

It starts in a cold airport arrival, jetlagged and confused. You stop at a toilet on the way to customs, and –what’s this? The seat is HEATED?!

Lust begins there and will build through the rest of your trip. As you sit doing what is necessary, woozy from plane sleep and international travel, music begins. Or the sounds of a soft flowing waterfall.

Japanese toilets have sensors. If you, ehm, drop a load, they start covering the activity with pleasant noises. There’s a button on the toilet marked “privacy” should you choose to work manually knowing you will deliver a physical payload.

Amidst the same row of buttons you will find something that looks like a woman sitting on a geyser. That’s for cleaning up after the payload. Another button is marked “shower” and that’s for general cleanliness. The geyser button is targeted to crevice clean. And baby, it leaves no corner unexamined.

Instruction manual

Which is essential, because Japanese toilet paper is thinner than the alibis of a cheating spouse. That stuff won’t take crap from anyone. You need to learn to use the geyser; the faster you accept this and move on, the faster the person pounding on your stall door can get in. Because you’ve probably fallen asleep in this comfy stall, equipped with its own sink for hand sanitizing, the aforementioned heated seat, and those soothing sounds–plus a baby seat for moms. Plunk your kid down, then plunk yourself down.

Those sinks are amazing things. Sometimes the spigot is atop the tank of the toilet, because the water refilling the toilet tanks pumps clean. This freaks visitors out at first: it feels so unsanitary! Which is what the Japanese people are thinking about the foreigners: why won’t they use the provided sinks; what have they got against handwashing?!

Simple enough: gender neutral toilets use all the symbols
I beg your pardon?!

Amidst these high tech rows of buttons and lights and sink choices, one will find squatter toilets. India has a high population presence in Japan, and when you walk into a public restroom, at least one “stoop and sluice” squatter toilet offers no bells, no whistles, just a handle to put water into the hole instead of a bucket. The hole is toilet shaped and porcelain lined, but squatters is squatters and you can tell who drew the losing straw in the toilet line by the faces of the women waiting, who realize they are going into the squatter. Sometimes women offer the next person in line their spot at these. If an Indian woman is in line, she’s going to be offered a pass to the head.

Then there are the signs. One says please don’t stand on the toilet seats in English, Gujarat, and Japanese. Most are pictographs, and can be open to interpretation. I never did figure out what two people facing each other meant. “This toilet available for meetings?”

Overall though, it’s not hard to be a proper toilet visitor, once you master a few simple rules:

Yes, that is a small Tupperware box
  1. Use the water features to clean and the toilet paper to dry, or you’re going to regret it. Wash your hands in whatever sink the stall provides.
  2. Do not throw trash away in the sanitary pad disposal. Trash is a whole thing in Japan; no public trash cans, and signs everywhere saying “If you didn’t buy it here, don’t throw it away here.” Pack a trash bag with you.
  3. Carry a drying towel. Per this reduce trash rule, Japan does not provide paper towels in for drying hands, and often doesn’t have air blowers either. Pack a small washcloth with you, or buy one as souvenir. These are sold everywhere with every possible character and design on them, because the locals are carrying them as part of their daily lives.
  4. Put the toilet seat down after flushing. (I once had an attendant stop me as I was leaving, check the stall, then beam at me. She hadn’t expected me to know to put the seat down. This elderly woman literally patted my hand as she indicated I could go–and with her blessing.)
  5. And whatever you do, don’t make a scatological noise without the noisemaker on. Do yourself a favor and start it when you sit down. As the waterfall and birdsong floats into your ears, and the heat of the seat works its way into what is often the fleshiest part of female anatomy, relax and enjoy it. They’re not called rest rooms without good reason.