Bleach Free Spring Fresh - Water Bottles?
When Franny and I first arrived in Japan, I felt like I was going to the store every day. Probably because I was going to the store every day. We made daily treks to York Benimaru, the grocery store; Cainz, a Target-type store with cute pets; Nitori, similar to Ikea; and/or Daiso, which is paradise. Seriously though, a delightful 100-yen store[1] with a vast selection of quality items. Before our delayed ocean shipment arrived, the house was basically empty. Even after we received the shipment, we had to replace all the items that were stolen. I hope someone out there is really enjoying my hypoallergenic lotion and metallic sharpies. Franny started a not-so silent protest to all the shopping by taking 15 minutes to put on a sock, 30 minutes to put on her coat, etc. You get the picture.
Navigating a new store always stresses me out, even in the US. When I learned the Kroger near our house was more affordable than the Giant Eagle, it took me six months to build up the courage to switch. I even avoid trying new restaurants where you order and pay at the counter because I have a deep and sincere fear I will try to order where you are supposed to pay or try to pay where you are supposed to order. In hindsight, my anxiety about even minor public embarrassments should have been an ominous warning about moving to a foreign country where I don’t know the culture or speak the language. Fortunately, I had a complete lack of self-awareness and forethought at the time.
In Japan, shopping is even more stressful. As I mentioned, Aaron and I have been studiously learning Japanese for about a year now. While Aaron is doing well, I basically can only say “good morning” and “thank you.” I also recognize when the kids on the playground are yelling at me to watch them do tricks on the jungle gym. “Franny Momma, mite!” I spent a great deal of time learning both the Hiragana and Katakana alphabets. I have even been repeatedly told that my Japanese handwriting is exquisite, which is pretty funny considering my English handwriting is terrible. A judge who I routinely appeared before in court once asked me if I could write better so she could actually read it. I answered directly and honestly, “No.”
Despite my lovely Hiragana and Katakana penmanship, the cruel irony is that everything in Japan is written in Kanji. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of Kanji symbols. I know about two. Even those two symbols can have different meanings in different context. Thus, I must scan almost every label at every store with Google Translate so I can identify the item labeled in Kanji before purchase. As I have a mushroom allergy, I also scan the ingredients of each food item to ensure it does not contain one of the hundreds of types of dried mushrooms that are common in many Japanese broths, sauces, and dressings. Take my word for it, standing in fluorescent lighting trying to scan a shiny plastic label adhered to a round bottle is no easy task. I’m still waiting for my Profile in Courage.
But when labels are not scanned, mistakes happen.
Fortunately, Japan has Costco where I can find some familiar items whose labels I do not have to scan! In the US, Costco can be a nightmare inducing experience and in Japan even more so. There are fewer stores per capita in Japan so the store feels busier. Also, weekends are only two days long in Japan resulting in even larger crowds. I realize that weekends in the US are also only two days, but Franny swears Ohio has “three home days” every week, and we cannot convince her otherwise. Apparently, Aaron and I just don’t accurately remember because, according to her, we are old.[2]
Similar to home, Costo in Japan is a gauntlet of crowds and carts parked directly across from each other conveniently blocking the entire aisle. Like Americans, the Japanese also loiter around the free sample tables. The only difference is that in Japan the average height and weight of the consumer is much smaller and the vast majority have black hair. Sometimes I stand immobile while trapped in a Costco aisle and I just look out over the sea of meandering black heads.
Like Costco in the US, highlighted items are moved to the front of the store so customers can grab them immediately upon entering. During our first trip to Costco we were in desperate need of dishwasher pods since our dishwasher is just one seriously tiny drawer that I have to run at least three times a day. We grabbed the highlighted Japanese brand of dishwasher pods at the front of the store and proceeded into the nine circles of Hell that is Costco on a Saturday.
Over the next few weeks, life progressed and we continued to get accustomed to our new home. I began to notice that our reusable water bottles were tasting odd. Like artificial flowers, and it was getting worse and worse with every wash. I felt like a mouth breather in the perfume section of Macy’s every time I took a drink. Aaron and I assumed it was the Japanese brand dishwasher pods from Costco. Maybe the Japanese like water that taste like potpourri from the 1980s. Who am I to judge? Despite our “live and let live” attitude, we vowed to never buy Japanese brand dishwasher pods again.
One night, I was washing the water bottles by hand (as I had started to do because I really couldn’t take it anymore) when Aaron grabbed his phone. He mumbled something about a thought occurring to him and he proceeded to translate the label for the dishwasher pods with Google Translate.
Sure enough, they were laundry detergent pods. We had been washing our dishes with laundry soap for weeks.
And that is why we scan every label with Google Translate now. And why I hate Kanji.
[1] Think Dollar Stores in the US, but not shitty.
[2] Totally unrelated, another recent funny Franny quote occurred when she opened our sliding screen door in the living room and shouted out to the neighborhood, “Hey all you cats in Japan town, stop pooping in our yard!” In her defense, it’s a real problem.