I have always been a supporter of leaving key services up to the central government to run. Services like the police, prison, schools, universities and up until now I thought the post office of Japan was no exception. In my mind the postal system here in Japan has always provided efficient service, despite being blatantly over-staffed. That was until last week.

I could delve into the standard arguments for privatization. How the post office here has three branches: postage, banking and insurance and how the insurance is over-priced for minimal cover and how the savings accounts of nice little hunched over Japanese ladies earn a meager 0.1% and are used as a private slush fund for the ruling Liberal Democratic Party – but that is old news and fairly standard knowledge here. It is also the price you pay when you have a docile population that prefers to remain ignorant about money and compound interest. Still, I thought the postal service is pretty reliable here and they get the job done. Of course this photo gives some indication of how competent our illustrious Japan Post is. Taken from the Japan Post Annual Report, note the wonderful English at the bottom.

However, I thought I would share a more personal thing that happened at work.

We had a mail-out to do for a client and decided to stuff the envelopes in-house. Now, at work we have a long-standing relationship with the post office and have had a “postage paid” contract with them for over 10 years. So you can’t blame me for thinking this would be a cake-walk. The company has done this many times before, but it was my first time.

After ringing the post office and talking to a very friendly lady, I was assured that the post office could come and pick up our envelopes and post them the following day. I arranged a time and sure enough, 2 post office workers came and picked up the envelopes. Granted, they did say they normally wanted the number of envelopes counted, but it was no problem this time and they would be sent the following day.

The next day I got a phone call from the post office which was quite disturbing. A Mr. Hirokane of Japan Post accused me of not having a “postage paid” contract. He was accusatory and downright rude. I asked to speak with his boss. His boss was “away”.

Once I had my super efficient admin girl hunt down our contract and customer-number, which we had never been asked to provide before, Mr. Hirokane (aka chief gimp) then told me he didn’t really want to send our envelopes anyway, because they weren’t bundled into each postal code. Now, in Japan postal codes run into 7-digits, so that would have been, at worst almost physically impossible, at best taken two extra days to sort through the addresses – not an option.

I asked the chief gimp Japan Post guy if he had a solution. He suggested I send the envelopes at their parcel rate which would have jacked the price up ten times the normal amount the post office had always sent our envelopes for. I asked him again if his boss was back…to no avail. When I told him that we weren’t prepared to pay parcel rates he point-blank refused to send the envelopes. So that’s how we ended up getting our envelopes delivered back to our office by the postal workers, despite the post office having picked them up and promising to send them out, despite the same post office having done the same task umpteen dozen times for us before.

Wondering what to do, I saw our regular courier guy from Sagawa cruise by the office in his always-cheerful manner. Now this guy not only works the most hours of anyone I know second to me, he also loves his job. He is super-efficient, always has a solution and nothing is “too hard.” Rare in Japan.

I approached him, and I was pleasantly surprised when he wasn’t phased by an ever-so-slightly overweight gaijin asked him to solve our envelope send-out issue.

The conversation went like this (slightly abridged from the Japanese):

Me: Yo, courier dude.
Sagawa man: Sup?
Me: The Post Office shafted us and we need to deliver these envelopes.
Sagawa man: No worries mate. And did you know we charge 1 yen less than the post office?
Me: Really! Go for gold and send ‘em off for us, courier dude.
Sagawa man: Sweet as.

Refreshing to say the least. I breathed a big sigh of relief. Our envelopes were sent off without a hitch and I will never use the post office again as much as I can help it.

The shift to Sagawa has started to happen. I keep thinking back to my conviction that the post office was one service that should be kept under the government umbrella–and how wrong that conviction was. I would have been up the proverbial creek with not a paddle in sight if there wasn’t any competition to Japan Post. Long live privatization!

A friend of mine living here in Japan wrote this to me yesterday. Read it right to the end. It will chill you to the bone. You won’t be disappointed, and may even rethink a few things in your own life, or maybe make a different New Year’s resolution than the one you had in mind.

〜★〜

Well it’s coming up on another year here in Japan; hard to believe seven or eight years have gone by already. 2006 was a great year as was 1999-2005 here in Tokyo. I’ve got a great life here. Great friends, great job, great fiancée (oh yeah I got engaged to Kyoko last month in Italy) and low-stress which is key to having a great life! Tokyo continues to be a fabulous city. Sure it lacks in architectural finesse (I suspect it was much cooler looking before the Yanks burned it to a cinder 60 years back), but it more than makes up for it in entertainment opportunities, quality of life and the bizarre. Where else can you have thousands of people lining up for the opening day of Japan’s debut of Krispy Kreme!? There are already two huge chains of donut shops in Japan. Why another? And this one is even more fattening! Or canned oden (Japanese chunky soup) from a vending machine- a camera crew and a snaking line 20 people deep waiting for their turn at the machine (these people are so patient!), or a 500-person Japanese orgy flick that is circling the internet (not one of them wearing a condom). I wasn’t in it! Next time.

This past weekend Kyoko and I took the Shinkansen (bullet train) for about 4 hours southwest of Tokyo to Fukuyama, near Hiroshima. We were visiting Kyoko’s family (also visited some of the dead relatives’ graves) whom I have met on a number of occasions, and to meet the father’s side of the family whom I hadn’t met before. Our first stop was at one of her uncles’ house. The Japanese tend to really take to foreigners for the most part and are quite accommodating to them in their homes. We all hit it off right away and had an enjoyable time. Prior to eating, Kyoko prayed in front of the family’s Buddhist shrine (仏壇, butsudan) where the deceased members of the immediate family are honored. These shrines are found in most Japanese homes and are incredibly beautiful, ornate fixtures that are often built into the wall like a niche. There is usually some fresh fruit offered up for their souls and in this case a couple of large red and green apples and a pack of OREOS sat on a metal tray which really got my mouth watering. We had an enormous feast. Temaki zushi, which is kind of a Japanese burrito minus the beans and gas; basically sashimi (raw fish) that you roll into a sheet of dried seaweed along with rice and maybe some salmon eggs, sprouts, etc. also had oden atsukan (which is HOT sake – by the way the bad quality sake is usually heated up) and all kinds of other goodies.

I was seated next to Kyoko’s uncle whose name escapes me… we’ll call him Jessie. Simple man, has a farm that he tends, filthy fingernails, (his thumbnails looked like small inverted teaspoons absolutely caked with dried dirt from the garden) a dog tied-up in the front with muddy paws and mine-like excrement piles surrounding his limited tether (I’m assuming this was the dog’s excrement and not Uncle Jessie’s, after all he is pretty outdoorsy), a wife and three grown children, and two grand children that he just can’t get enough of. Crazy about his grandkids! For some things there just aren’t any cultural divides. Oh and he wouldn’t be seated at my mother’s table thats for sure! We immediately became drinking buddies and I could hardly get one gulp of atsukan down before he filled my glass back up. Granted, sake glasses are thimble-sized but nonetheless it was always spilling over the edge. The more he drank the funnier he got and the more embarrassed his wife looked. But I thought it was great. It was a very memorable time with my future in-laws (wow that gives me the chills) and after we said our goodbyes we were off to see MORE relatives…dead and alive. Basically the entire day was spent going from house to house to grave to rest home making introductions, offering up prayers for dead folks I’ve only seen black and white photos of, and chatting.

Towards the end of the day while in the car I received an e-mail on my phone from an old girlfriend from a few years ago. We’ll call her Keiko. Scratch that, that’s her real name, uh… Kumiko. It was a short message. ‘Hi how have you been?’ I hadn’t heard from her in probably a year and a half or so; we occasionally mail one another to touch base. I wrote back with my regards. And then she wrote back again with a message that rattled my inner core. ‘I have really bad news, I’m 6 months pregnant and I found out I have HIV’. This can’t be real I thought. I mean Kumiko is an office lady who is 26, educated, barely drinks alcohol let alone take drugs, and doesn’t sleep around. She has only had a handful of boyfriends with whom she was monogamous while she dated them. She doesn’t fit the profile. She said she was trying to determine where she got infected. I then began to fear the worst. My God, I might have it. We didn’t always practice safe sex, in fact I think we rarely did. She then said she’s already checked with her other boyfriends who all said they were tested and are HIV negative. I’d never had a test before. It was this that really made me take pause. I could be the carrier of this death-wish.

I had a very difficult time maintaining my composure for the remainder of the weekend. I continued to e-mail Kumiko for the next day trading information about her current boyfriend, who is the father of her unborn baby, and as to whether or not he has it. He doesn’t. Basically I was the only link missing from the ‘who’s got it?’ I was a mess. In my mind, life as I knew it was done, finished, in the 9th inning with 2 strikes 2 outs. My first thought was Kyoko and how could I tell her I have HIV/AIDS. This would end our marriage plans for sure. Then my mom – that would absolutely break her heart. Then the thought of calling the other old girlfriends and telling them they may have been exposed was horrifying. Then me. Lifespan with the currently available drugs for treating HIV is 24 years. From the time of infection. So that would mean I have a max of 20 years left on big blue, if I contracted this evil from Kumiko 4 years ago. I started to rethink my life’s direction. Nothing had value in my eyes anymore. Everything was superfluous. I started to think about the horrific images we’ve all seen of people dying of AIDS. Skeletal, gaunt. I couldn’t sleep at night and had the sweats and shakes. Literally every waking moment whether I was teaching a class or narrating a job, it has been at the forefront of my thoughts. We all have to die but this just wasn’t in the cards for me, I thought. George has AIDS. Mortifying! I didn’t like the ring of that one bit. I imagined myself having to clarify every time someone learned about my illness that I’m NOT gay and I’m NOT a drug-user. I got AIDS from unsafe heterosexual sex. I envied some of the people I saw on the street. A young mother with her young children in the supermarket; I’m sure she’s safe. Kids playing in a field near my apartment; they don’t know how lucky they are. But I also thought, jeez they could be HIV positive too.

I went to a Catholic church that is on my way home from work on Monday evening and prayed like there literally was no tomorrow. This went on for a couple of days (not the praying but the fear of God) until I could get an appointment to see a doctor yesterday, the 19th Dec. I went to an English-speaking clinic here in Tokyo which I usually visit for other life-threatening illnesses like the common cold and having stitches removed. I had an HIV test done and I figured as long as I was there and as long as the needle was in my arm (which by the way this was the first time I didn’t get light-headed or completely faint from a blood test) I may as well get some more blood drawn and have some other general check-up tests done as well. Never thought it would come to the tune of 50,000 yen! There are free AIDS clinics in town but the wait (one or two weeks) I think would’ve killed me. These results were promised in 24 hours. After the tests were all done I left the clinic and my blood and fate was in God’s hands. I told a friend I hope He (God) switches mine with some nun… certainly not a priest!!

The past 24 hours have been nerve-wracking as you can imagine. I’ve been absolutely on pins and needles. The doctor told me to give him a call after 4 which I did at precisely 4:00:01. The call was transfered to him and he didn’t even say hello, all he said was ‘the test is NEGATIVE.’ He knew how anxious I was about this. I could’ve hugged him. Or at least bought him tea and crumpets. An enormous weight was lifted from my shoulders. I never felt the word negative could in fact be so POSITIVE!

I immediately called Kyoko and told her the good news. She knew I had an AIDS test which I told her was just a ‘routine check, nothing to worry about.’ She doesn’t know yet just how afraid I was, or the REAL reason for the test. I’ll tell her tonight. I also mailed Kumiko. She asked that I not call her because she cries on the phone when she talks about her terrible predicament. She was relieved to hear the news. She has since pinpointed who she believes gave her the disease and has yet to hear back from him. He also is a foreigner living here in Japan. Perhaps he doesn’t know he has it? Perhaps he refuses to get checked for fear of learning he has it. Kumiko is also being rejected by her boyfriend now. They planned to marry after she got pregnant, that was until a month ago when she got the bad news from her doctor. He doesn’t want anything to do with her now that she’s been diagnosed with HIV. She told me that she will give birth to the baby and live in Tokyo for a year before moving back to her hometown to live with her father. She said ‘what about my life?’ I wish I had an answer for her. I told her to focus on the beautiful baby that she will have in a few months and that will help relieve her of the other pain.

Japan. It’s a beautiful place. The people are beautiful and kind and some of the most generous folks I’ve ever met. But these past few days have jaded me a bit. I used to think of Japan as a special place where the evils are forbidden from entering. A playground where you can laugh and sing and play along with life in a carefree and careless way – a Disneyland as such. It’s not that way. And I learned this in a very personal and frightening way. This has been an INCREDIBLY valuable lesson for me and should be for anyone who takes the time to read this. Sorry, I know it’s long but it’s important that we realize just how real HIV/AIDS is! We read about it in the papers. We see it on TV, but folks, this is mainstream. If Kumiko can get it so can I and you and your children and anyone who doesn’t practice safe sex! PERIOD! Take heed people. Please feel free to send this on to anyone you feel would benefit from it.

Oh and I almost forgot… Happy Holidays! Stay safe.

Just this past long weekend, I had the misfortune of having to call an ambulance in Japan for my girlfriend, who began writhing in pain and clutching her abdomen – all the while letting rip some of the most blood-curdling screams I had ever heard. After 2 minutes of this I made the decision to phone an ambulance for the first time since coming to Japan – Anyway, I got the number wrong…

After ringing 110, the policewoman answering kindly told me to hang up and dial the number for the ambulance and fire service. Slightly panicked, I hung up without asking for the magical ambulance number. But I had been here for 12 years and I, of course, know everything about Japan. So I went ahead and called 116, trying to block out the screams coming from across the room. Now, the ladies answering the phones at the 116 NTT call centre are usually quite nice and don’t really deserve a lot of the crap they get from random guys ringing up. They certainly didn’t deserve the stream of abuse they got from me, especially since their job description probably has very little to do with dispatching ambulances!

Right then, my girlfriend managed to whimper through her agony the number “nine” – “Kyu! kyu dayo!”. The incredulous look of disbelief on her face said it all. So I quickly dialed 119 and got an operator who asked if I needed an ambulance or fire truck. I was assured they were on their way and that the ambulance driver would call me when they were about to arrive. I had given my mobile number, so was anxiously waiting for the driver to call with my phone clutched to my chest.

Little did I know that the call I would receive would be from a PHS. Now, everyone knows PHS phones are notorious for cutting out when in moving vehicles. And this time was no exception, not that I could hear the guy that well over the siren anyway. But after receiving four calls and having as many cutting out, I realized he wanted me to stand outside my building to guide the ambulance in. I was about to grab my florescent ping-pong bats to wave but decided humour was not a priority at this time.

The ambulance arrived. To their credit, they got to my place within 10 minutes. A better time than most major cities including London and New York. A souped-up Toyota Hiace van was sitting in front of my place, lights all flickering. One problem though, no one was getting out. I banged on the window and beckoned the helmet-clad passenger to get out. It was then I realized he had been filling out some paper work. Yep, this is definitely Japan. I resigned myself to the fact that they would help my girlfriend once the forms had been filled out in triplicate.

Presently, they saw my girlfriend, barked loud aggressive questions at her then latched her into a stretcher. We were then in the ambulance together and my girlfriend had started to feel better. The aspirin had started to kick in. It was a good thing she was feeling better, because what happened next was just ridiculous. They asked me which hospital to go to. I told the driver the name of the nearest hospital. He rang it and was promptly turned down, told to try somewhere else. The next five hospitals he rang refused to treat my girlfriend, saying they were too busy. Finally, over 30 minutes later, we were on our way to a university hospital half way across town.

The drive there was something quite spiritual. In the middle of Tokyo, I was amazed how drivers refuse to make way for an ambulance. We had to wait a good five minutes at the traffic lights while cars sped across the intersection blocking our path. But once moving, gee, did we get some speed! I never thought ambulances in Japan went all that fast, so I secretly thought we were lucky enough to get a real special driver. That was until we were overtaken by a delivery truck speeding past us, and then a scooter. Still, it was a buzz when we switched over to the other lane and barged our way through opposing traffic.

We arrived at the hospital safely and my girlfriend was OK. The ambulance guys gave me a curt nod and walked off, ready to save more lives…

Has anybody else had a bad experience with something like this in Japan? Any comments are most welcome!

Japan is a country that is obsessive about packaging. From wrapping goods in simple furoshiki cloth to the thirteenth layer of plastic on your box of evening gumboots, anyone who has had anything to do with Japan knows how they love to package things here. So it makes sense that they should have a solution for wrapping certain body parts. Enter the fundoshi (above).
Simplicity in design is paramount and the “wrap around effect” is really something to be experienced. On a sweaty summers day in Japan boxers and briefs cannot protect you from a nasty rash or “overcooking the goods”. A fundoshi on the other hand is lauded for its ability to “pocket” the frank and beans, keeping those future All Blacks intact and air-conditioned. Perfect for a Japanese summer and the 98% humidity.
Fundoshi are not just about health and hygiene during the summer months. They have also been the cause of much admiration from j-girls. I attribute this to the “thong” effect (see photo). There is something irresistable about the fundoshi for chicks, which I have yet to fully understand. More research is needed.

The downside of fundoshi would have to be what I call the crapability factor. Yes, when you have a beer bog alert, there is no time to muck around with untying loincloth string. It has to be one smooth split-second movement, with the alternative not being an option when you are at the office. My advice: Use fundoshi with best effect when you are with the woman, and only if you are All-bran regular and haven’t had a bender the night before.