Did you hear about the new law that Obama just signed? It establishes all sorts of rules for credit card companies. So I suppose it will be harder to get credit in America. In the past, especially before the bubble burst, our mail box probably contained one or two credit card offers every day. If you had a pulse, you could get a credit card.
From what I hear, people with good credit scores can still get new credit cards in America. The credit score does not carry over to Japan. We have applied for a VISA card from two different banks and both have turned us down, without explanation.
Japan never had much of a credit card culture; it's almost always the case that you have to pay with cash except for larger ticket items, transportation, and hotels. Where credit cards are accepted we can usually, but not always, use our old credit cards we have from USA domiciled credit card companies. But we get charged 3% for each transaction and have to also pay in dollars, so the credit card company also makes money off of us when they convert from Yen to Dollars.
Frankly, I am offended when getting turned down for credit. This probably qualifies me for being an arrogant, ugly American. The truth us, I am a penny pinching person and simply want to avoid the fees.
My question: Is it so hard for the Japanese credit card companies to consider the credit score from another country? Gosh, it might take 10 seconds to look at and analyze the number, and there is no obligation to offer credit to anyone. Answer: Yes.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Zero
It isn't easy. Scoring a zero on any test. No, I didn't take a test written in Japanese Kanji characters. It was my wife, in fact. You see, here in Japan they don't simply accept your existing non-Japan driver's license as proof that you can drive. If you want a driver's license here, you must pass a vision test, a written test, and a driving skills test.
In preparation for this, my wife has taken 2 practice driving skills tests at the local driving school. She scored a zero both times.
Not that my wife isn't a bad female Asian driver, she certainly is, but she isn't all that bad. Not a zero, maybe a 50%. The main problem is that here in Japan the driving skill test is sort of like a Japanese Kabuki theater show, minus the historical garb. It isn't at all practical. Rather, it consists of a very formulaic series of steps one must take, not for any reason other than to uphold traditional appearances.
For example, you don't walk over to the car, open the door, get in, put on your seat belt, and start the engine. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong. First you must circle the car clockwise starting from the rear, checking to make sure there isn't anything under the chassis or otherwise obstructing the vehicle. Then, when entering the vehicle, make sure to put your hand on top of the open door, removing it prior to closing the door else fingers will be crushed. Finally, lock the doors, adjust the seat, check all three mirrors, and prepare to get your zero.
My favorite part is when stopping prior to a railroad track near an uphill slope you are supposed to put the car in park, look both ways to ensure no train is arriving, begin to accelerate, and then after pressing your foot on the accelerator, put the car into drive and proceed. Transmission repair shop owners must have paid dearly to have this specified in the driving rules.
After 4 or 5 more expensive lessons, I figure my wife will have learned the Kabuki steps and will be able to pass the test.
By the way, the drivers here in Japan are more polite, as one might expect, but they are otherwise just as lousy at driving as any American or anyone else.
In preparation for this, my wife has taken 2 practice driving skills tests at the local driving school. She scored a zero both times.
Not that my wife isn't a bad female Asian driver, she certainly is, but she isn't all that bad. Not a zero, maybe a 50%. The main problem is that here in Japan the driving skill test is sort of like a Japanese Kabuki theater show, minus the historical garb. It isn't at all practical. Rather, it consists of a very formulaic series of steps one must take, not for any reason other than to uphold traditional appearances.
For example, you don't walk over to the car, open the door, get in, put on your seat belt, and start the engine. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and wrong. First you must circle the car clockwise starting from the rear, checking to make sure there isn't anything under the chassis or otherwise obstructing the vehicle. Then, when entering the vehicle, make sure to put your hand on top of the open door, removing it prior to closing the door else fingers will be crushed. Finally, lock the doors, adjust the seat, check all three mirrors, and prepare to get your zero.
My favorite part is when stopping prior to a railroad track near an uphill slope you are supposed to put the car in park, look both ways to ensure no train is arriving, begin to accelerate, and then after pressing your foot on the accelerator, put the car into drive and proceed. Transmission repair shop owners must have paid dearly to have this specified in the driving rules.
After 4 or 5 more expensive lessons, I figure my wife will have learned the Kabuki steps and will be able to pass the test.
By the way, the drivers here in Japan are more polite, as one might expect, but they are otherwise just as lousy at driving as any American or anyone else.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Hitori
Hitori means "one person" or "by yourself" in Japanese.
My wife is concerned over my near complete lack of ability in Japanese language so she signed me up to take a free Japanese language class for foreigners that our local town offers once a week. I show up for the first class unprepared and make a hasty introduction to the head teacher, which is quickly followed by her saying things to me in Japanese that I did not understand or respond to.
She quickly calls over a volunteer lady teacher who speaks a little English. I am asked if I am by myself, hitori. Well of course, no one came in the room with me, I say to myself as I respond "hai" which means yes in Japanese. I was too thick to realize that the head teacher wanted to know why I didn't bring anyone to help me.
So they ask for my name, address, age, and job background and I explain that I would like to sit in on the class today to observe and learn how the class works. The head teacher explains I must have a text book to be in the class and I ask, in my best bad Japanese, where I can buy the text book. No response. Hmmm.
So they sit me down to "mit-e" which means watch what is happening and I am seated with the volunteer lady who speaks a little English and her Chinese student who speaks Japanese at an intermediate level. Seems like all is well, but I notice the head teacher has left the room and that seems odd.
After 5 or 10 minutes of listening to the lesson, the head teacher re-enters the room with a young Japanese lady. The young lady, Ms. Sasaki, works across the street at City Hall and she went to college in Baltimore, so she speaks English. We introduce ourselves and Sasaki-san explains she is there to help translate.
At first, I think how nice and thoughtful, coming over just to help me understand what is going on in the class. But all is not well. Sasaki san has an apologetic look on her face and rather than sitting near to me, she positions herself in a place that forces me to turn towards her in a manner that will no longer allow me to participate in the lesson.
She very kindly and politely explains that the class offered in my new home town is not right for me for a variety of reasons and that I should take a different class in a city (called Honjo) that is at least an hour and a half round trip away. Do I have any questions?
Where is the Honjo class and at what time does it start? She doesn't know exactly, but they will be able to help me there on Friday night. I show her the beginners test book I already completed and she can not believe it is commonly used to teach Japanese to Americans. I ask where can I obtain the text book for this class? She looks at me with pity and explains I can get the text at a book store, but that the class in Honjo is better for me.
She asks about my prospects for a job in Japan and then says I really should take the class in Honjo. She asks about my wife's prospects for getting a job in Japan and then says I really ought to go to the Honjo class. OK, I am obtuse, but even I can finally get it.
We exchange email addresses as she wants me to notify her if I intend on coming back to take another language class in my new hometown. Seems like an odd request as she works across the street and is only helping to translate, but I suppose she wants to warn the head teacher if I am going to show up again.
Sayanara all around and a few hours later I get an email from Sasaki-san, thanking me for attending the language class. She helpfully includes a link to a website for the Honjo Japanese language class.
In Japan, it is not wise to show up "hitori" for something important, like a language class. The relationship must be properly built in order to pave the way for future success. You don't just show up and wing it like you might in America.
My wife is concerned over my near complete lack of ability in Japanese language so she signed me up to take a free Japanese language class for foreigners that our local town offers once a week. I show up for the first class unprepared and make a hasty introduction to the head teacher, which is quickly followed by her saying things to me in Japanese that I did not understand or respond to.
She quickly calls over a volunteer lady teacher who speaks a little English. I am asked if I am by myself, hitori. Well of course, no one came in the room with me, I say to myself as I respond "hai" which means yes in Japanese. I was too thick to realize that the head teacher wanted to know why I didn't bring anyone to help me.
So they ask for my name, address, age, and job background and I explain that I would like to sit in on the class today to observe and learn how the class works. The head teacher explains I must have a text book to be in the class and I ask, in my best bad Japanese, where I can buy the text book. No response. Hmmm.
So they sit me down to "mit-e" which means watch what is happening and I am seated with the volunteer lady who speaks a little English and her Chinese student who speaks Japanese at an intermediate level. Seems like all is well, but I notice the head teacher has left the room and that seems odd.
After 5 or 10 minutes of listening to the lesson, the head teacher re-enters the room with a young Japanese lady. The young lady, Ms. Sasaki, works across the street at City Hall and she went to college in Baltimore, so she speaks English. We introduce ourselves and Sasaki-san explains she is there to help translate.
At first, I think how nice and thoughtful, coming over just to help me understand what is going on in the class. But all is not well. Sasaki san has an apologetic look on her face and rather than sitting near to me, she positions herself in a place that forces me to turn towards her in a manner that will no longer allow me to participate in the lesson.
She very kindly and politely explains that the class offered in my new home town is not right for me for a variety of reasons and that I should take a different class in a city (called Honjo) that is at least an hour and a half round trip away. Do I have any questions?
Where is the Honjo class and at what time does it start? She doesn't know exactly, but they will be able to help me there on Friday night. I show her the beginners test book I already completed and she can not believe it is commonly used to teach Japanese to Americans. I ask where can I obtain the text book for this class? She looks at me with pity and explains I can get the text at a book store, but that the class in Honjo is better for me.
She asks about my prospects for a job in Japan and then says I really should take the class in Honjo. She asks about my wife's prospects for getting a job in Japan and then says I really ought to go to the Honjo class. OK, I am obtuse, but even I can finally get it.
We exchange email addresses as she wants me to notify her if I intend on coming back to take another language class in my new hometown. Seems like an odd request as she works across the street and is only helping to translate, but I suppose she wants to warn the head teacher if I am going to show up again.
Sayanara all around and a few hours later I get an email from Sasaki-san, thanking me for attending the language class. She helpfully includes a link to a website for the Honjo Japanese language class.
In Japan, it is not wise to show up "hitori" for something important, like a language class. The relationship must be properly built in order to pave the way for future success. You don't just show up and wing it like you might in America.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Delivery!!!!
Late Friday afternoon we were discussing a small number of food items that we enjoyed in America, but could not find here in small town Japan. After just a few minutes searching the web, we found a speciality grocery store located in Tokyo that carried some of the items we wanted.
Yuriko called them and a helpful person answered the phone. Within a couple of minutes everything was handled. We didn't get put on hold, did not speak with someone who couldn't help or didn't care, and for just $6 extra worth of Yen, we arranged for delivery. Did I mention we didn't have to pay until the package arrived, which it did in time for lunch on Saturday, less than 24 hours later.
Go ahead, call up a grocery store in America that is a thousand miles away late on a Friday afternoon and see what happens when you try to get some freshly ground almond butter shipped to your house for lunch the next day. In Japan, customer service is real, not just some phony corporate slogan.
Next blog: why the used car market in Japan is insane.
Yuriko called them and a helpful person answered the phone. Within a couple of minutes everything was handled. We didn't get put on hold, did not speak with someone who couldn't help or didn't care, and for just $6 extra worth of Yen, we arranged for delivery. Did I mention we didn't have to pay until the package arrived, which it did in time for lunch on Saturday, less than 24 hours later.
Go ahead, call up a grocery store in America that is a thousand miles away late on a Friday afternoon and see what happens when you try to get some freshly ground almond butter shipped to your house for lunch the next day. In Japan, customer service is real, not just some phony corporate slogan.
Next blog: why the used car market in Japan is insane.
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