Surviving Covid in Japan: wear pajamas and eat lots of garlic

Is there a positive side to social distancing? For garlic lovers there is. Here I round up a few oddities from Japan without meaning to imply that the pandemic is worth the price we all pay.

To start off with the pungent bulbs, apparently selling garlic during Covid soared in Japan. This may be related to the unproven rumor that it can eradicate unwanted mouth microbes, but I suspect it is mainly due to how many people enjoy the taste but at the same time are sensitive to what others think of the doors their consumers emit. However, if no one is close enough to complain about your bad breath, pour it out.

This category of visitors does not include many my washo purists. The tradition in this country is to indulge the taste buds with a variety of subtle flavours, none strong enough to overwhelm the other. Even the wasabi was just a quick jolt that didn’t last long enough to keep out the whiff of the vinegared fish. Washoku more of a ballad than a hard rock festival.

Nevertheless, there were those who snuck a few Allium sativum into their soy sauce or rice. Some dishes are borrowed from Korea or China, eg Kimchi or gyozavery popular, though you won’t find it served in the same place as sushi or tempura.

The dress code changed during the pandemic, at least temporarily. I might have thought any modification would be welcome in an office that appears to be staffed by employees darkly cloned, but I didn’t expect fashion chain Aoki to come out in a pajama suit. It’s pretty neat for online conferencing, and seems to feel comfortable, but can’t say I was ever tempted to buy one.

I vividly remember giving online classes barefoot, and I had no idea what my students were wearing because in most cases only their names appeared on the screen, but buying Covid-only wardrobes still not approved by the CDC doesn’t catch my fancy. Least of all pajamas.

While garlic sales soared, Fall cosmetics, because the morning routine is greatly simplified by not having to do lip and cheek makeup. A carefully chosen mask, the color matches the outfit of the day, plus a bit of attention to the eyes (don’t ask me about the good points), is all that is needed.

I suspect this may be one of the motivations behind my students still wearing masks (as of this week, almost 100 per cent). I’m not betting that Japan will end this practice; It seems it’s not just a matter of following the recommended health protocols.

Students in recent years who saw their senior year trips cancelled remain grateful that some of the job-hunting races can be taken while sitting at their PCs (admittedly, this is of little consolation to those who find their first-choice employer didn’t hire that year).

This one-and-a-half-year ritual starts with attending seminars at their colleges, gathering information and suggestions; resumes sent to 50 or even 100 companies; go to setumeikai, where employers give their spiel; one-way leggings for interviews in a two- or three-level process; workshops, internships and office visits, sometimes in different cities.

Shukatsuas it is called (short for shushoku katsudo, or seeking employment activity), are standard reasons for declining other engagements. At least for the Covid generation it costs less to footwork and travel expenses.

One cultural icon saw the mold finally break: the Hanko(personal stamp). I’m not referring to the officially registered ones jitsu-inwhich has a legal value equivalent to a signature, and is still used to sign contracts and other documents, but mitome-in. Hanko (also called things or essay) is a stick about the size of a lipstick tube.

The flat end (approx. 1.5cm in circumference) has the owner’s name engraved on it. For most Japanese, this means about four Chinese characters. If you have a phonetically written name like Dorothy Johannsen, you may prefer to use your initials or insist on using your signature. Pressed onto a small pad of red ink, the hanko is then stamped onto the paper to show approval.

In a typical office in this consensus-based culture, employees will brand them Hanko on several papers per day. Once a paper has been created, it will be forwarded to a series of people for their approval. Auditors will ring alarm bells if they find papers without much hankos to them.

Thus, a strong preference for paper persists even as the world becomes increasingly digital. People will ask you to fax them dozens of pages long, in part because some responsible party can then place them Hanko on it and keep it in the proper binder. It’s not uncommon to avoid working digitally because if there’s a revision the document has to be printed and circulated again to get everyone Hanko on the latest version.

Enter lockdown. Even when the authorities plead with people not to use public transport, many office workers will take the commuter train to their offices simply because projects cannot go ahead without them. Hanko. That is, until the Prime Minister himself publicly said that it seemed appropriate to reconsider this practice.

I don’t want to count how many hankos stamped on it.

David Kolf teaches English in Japan and is living proof that one can live there without ever touching a PS console. More by David Kolf