December is here at last, and with it, I have taken up a new hobby: shivering. While winter temperatures in the vicinity of Osaka never get anywhere near what they’re like back home, there is a whipping wind that comes down off the mountains and helps make everything feel colder than it really is. The lack of insulation also helps with that. Anywhere in this country south of Hokkaido has an annoying tendency to skimp on materials to prevent the temperature outside from getting in, which leads to near-unbearably hot summers and – wouldn’t you know it – freezing winters. Schools are likewise unheated, though the teachers’ room ought to have heat; it’s just broken right now. And so, I throw on an extra layer, hoping to keep out the chill of what would otherwise be above-freezing weather.
That aside, I am studying like mad for my Japanese test, which is now less than a week away. As the date inexorably approaches, I am feeling less and less prepared, and more and more certain that I’ll have to take it again. Maybe it’s just pre-test jitters, and maybe it’s a reflection of the steep jump between level 2 (which I passed last year) and level 1 (which I’m taking on this coming Sunday). Either way, I’m wedded to a near-daylong test that I won’t find out the results for until February, so I might as well make the attempt.
Nevertheless, my thoughts are buoyed somewhat by the thought of the approaching holiday season. While Christmas in Japan pales in comparison to the version back home – a topic I will discuss more in a week or two – stores are still brimming with decorations, and there’s still something of that festive cheer floating about, thanks to the equally enthusiastic embrace of New Year’s as a time to eat, drink, and be merry. Just knowing that multiple end-of-year parties will be coming along after a busy month is a much needed respite from the continuing grind.
And while Christmas shopping may not be quite as big, December is still a big consumer season in Japan, for one reason in particular: the winter bonus. Salaried employees in Japan usually receive a rather substantial part of their regular yearly income in semi-annual chunks, and one of those comes right in December. Naturally, stores are keen to take advantage of this, offering sales on all sorts of items, from luxury goods, to household appliances, to gifts for that special someone. (You’d think no one told them about the recession.)
As fate would have it, though, my major purchase for this season is already determined, thanks to an ailing computer creeping ever closer to its last gasp. It gave up trying to read CDs and DVDs ages ago, and of late, it’s been making some pretty scary noises and throwing up the occasional cryptic error message. (And as I was typing this column, the sound went. I wonder if it knows what I’m planning.) But while my contribution to the Japanese economy is born of necessity, it’s still really neat to walk around and see what’s on offer.
Nowhere is this more clear than at the major electronics stores in Osaka: Bic Camera in Namba and Yodobashi Camera in Umeda. Both are sprawling, multi-storey behemoths, and both contain far more than just cameras. Yodobashi Camera in particular has not only its own food court and multiple clothing stores under its roof, but an entire floor dedicated to computers; another for peripherals and other accompaniments; one for A/V equipment; one for household appliances (and furniture!); one for toys and games; one for cameras, watches, and jewelry; and a basement level dedicated to bicycles, luggage, and other odds and ends.
Strolling through a place like this is nearly surreal, just seeing what’s on offer, but I am continually struck by the ingenuity that goes into household technology. Manufacturers are continually shrinking both the space and energy requirements of their appliances, and to stack them against their American counterparts would make ours seem big and clunky by comparison. (If that sounds familiar, it’s because it also applies to Japanese cars; I’ve simply noticed since coming here that the mindset that drives vehicle philosophy in Japan applies equally to other things, as well.) This is quite nifty, of course, but I always gravitate towards the electronics. Flat-screen HDTVs are on offer here at sizes that wouldn’t let me sit far back enough to watch them in my tiny apartment, with a host of features I don’t recall ever reading about back home. Even the stuff that’s comparatively normal seems to have a futuristic sheen about it.
Maybe time has marched on in the US, too, since I left, but when iPhone has been criticized here for lacking many of the features common to Japanese cell phones, maybe not so much. That features viewed as nifty back home are taken for granted here says a lot about the way that technology like cell phones has so completely permeated the public consciousness. And by the time that level of “standard” features reaches the US, Japan will probably have moved on to something better. The pace of development just seems that quick.
One thing that surprised me, though, is that high technology here seems at par, if not a bit more expensive, than back home. I had always thought that since so much stuff is made in Japan, it would have to be cheaper here, but that tends not to be the case. Instead, in a country where things are usually 1.5 to 2 times as expensive as in the US, it’s about the same. This makes it practically a steal if you live in Japan, though not so much for anyone hoping to find a discount by looking to the Rising Sun. In fact, it probably would work out to more money to have something shipped back, so, more likely than not, it’s best simply not to bother. Even so, I can’t help but be captivated by all the shiny things. If I can’t have it, at least I can bask in awe of its sheer awesomeness. A guy can dream, can’t he?
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