Author: Alisha

IC Cards for Transportation (IC card series #2)

Published March 19, 2014 by Alisha

Welcome to post #2 in my five post series on the IC card! As I mentioned in the beginning of the last post, I’ll be writing about Suica/PASMO (and IC cards in general) in hopes of helping out international travelers (and residents too, perhaps).

The last post was loosely focused on acquiring a Suica card for the first time. It’s not too difficult to do, provided you have legs, fingers, and yen. Of course, once you have a Suica (or another IC card), you’ve got to know what you want to do with it.

Roughly 98% of my Suica use is for transportation purposes. Anecdotally, I would also venture to guess that the majority of the population uses their Suica cards similarly. Suica can also be used for shopping, but that’s a topic for another post. This post is really meant as a sort of troubleshooting/how-to guide for newcomers. If you’re a resident, I’m guessing you won’t find much here that doesn’t bore you to tears. With that in mind, onward!

IC cards can be used on trains, subways, buses, and some taxis. Depending on your location, you may also find it can be used on tramways, monorails, etc. Let’s break down how to use the card in some of these situations:

Subways and trains:

Step 1: When you approach the ticket gates for any train or subway line, you’ll see a panel on top of each turnstile. Here’s the entrance to one of the subway platforms. Very exciting.

When the turnstile is ready to admit someone, the panel will glow blue. If someone is currently using the turnstile, there will be no light on the panel. If an error has occurred, the panel will be red. Touch your IC card to the blue light (when it’s ready) and walk through the gate as it opens for you. It’s very hard to take a non-blurry picture of yourself touching a PASMO to a turnstile in Tokyo station as you walk through. If you stop, you will irritate the person behind you. Oh well.

You get the idea. On the end of the turnstile is a small screen where you can see how much money you currently have on your card, for reference.

Step 2: Take the train/subway somewhere.

Step 3: When you arrive at your destination, touch your card to the turnstile on your way out of the station. The required fare will be automatically deducted from the balance on your card and the gates will open to let you out.

PROBLEMS YOU MAY ENCOUNTER:

1. The balance on your card is running low and you cannot enter the train platform area.

How you know this is the problem: When you touch your card to the blue light at the ticket gates, the turnstile will turn red and the gates will close (if they are not closed already). A short error message will sound. An error message will be displayed (in English and in Japanese) on the screen directly above where you just touched your card.

Solution: Charge your card at one of the nearby ticket vending machines.

2. You do not have enough money on your card to cover the fare required at your destination.

How you know this is the problem: After you’ve taken the train/subway to your desired station, you try to exit the ticket gate. The gate turns red and an error message is displayed on the screen above where you’ve just touched your card. It’ll say something about your fare.

Solution: Head to the “Fare Adjustment Machine”. It looks like a vending machine, but you use it to ensure you pay the correct fare at the station where you arrive. They are typically near the ticket gate exits at each station. Put your card inside (press the English button if necessary), and follow the instructions. You can opt to charge your card or to pay the remaining balance required to get off at this stop. If you charge your card, your IC card will be returned to you and you can proceed through the turnstile as usual. If you choose to pay the remaining balance, the machine will return your card to you and you will receive a regular paper ticket. Use the paper ticket (at a turnstile with a paper ticket slot). You will need to charge your card to continue using it.

3. You didn’t touch your card to the turnstile.

How you know this is the problem: The gates close on you suddenly and the turnstile turns red. An error message sounds. The screen near where you touch your card might display the message “please touch your card again”. This sometimes happens if you’re following the person in front of you too closely and touch your card to the panel when the machine isn’t ready. It happens.

Solution: Touch your card to the turnstile again.

4. Forces beyond your control have caused a problem.

How you know this is the problem: When you touch your card to the turnstile, it turns red. The screen near where you touch your card reads something like “please speak to staff for assistance”.

Solution: Go to the station staff at the nearest desk.

Problem #4 doesn’t happen too often. When it does, it’s usually because of an unusual circumstance. For example, one time I hopped on the subway from Shibuya station, received a message from a friend inviting me to dinner in Shibuya, and decided to come back (via the same subway line). When I got to the ticket gate and attempted to exit, I got an error message. I simply handed my card to the station staff (I may have offered a brief “I came back” explanation) and it was fixed in a few seconds.

In other cases, more mysterious forces seem to be at work: perhaps you did not touch your card to the turnstile at the station where you got on the train, but were able to gain access to the platform. This can sometimes happen in cases where you’re following the person ahead of you very, very closely – the turnstile doesn’t register your card (or that two separate people are in the turnstile at once) and lets two people pass through at the same time. When you get to your destination, then, the ticket gate has no idea where you’ve come from (because you do not appear to have entered the transportation system) and has no idea how much to charge you. In these cases, you’ll need to take your card to the station staff. If this happens to you, just say the name of the station you came from. In the few times this has happened to me, I usually just say the name of the station plus から (kah-rah), meaning “From [station]”. They’ll push a few buttons, deduct the correct fare, and hand me back my card.

Yes, some of you will note that situations like these create opportunities for people who are looking for a free ride (literally). I would not be surprised, however, to find that after a few “strange problems” on the same person’s Suica, however, one might lose privileges for unquestioning station staff help. Your choices are your own.

Let’s talk about the bus system next.

If you’re interested in playing the Tokyo public transportation game on intermediate-advanced mode, try taking the bus. Using the bus is pretty simple with a Suica. I have encountered two types of buses:

1. Touch your Suica card to a card reader when you board the bus. Everyone is charged one fare. You can get off the bus at any point and your fare will be the same. These buses are typically city buses that circulate in the vicinities of large-ish stations.

2. Touch your Suica card to a card reader when you board the bus AND when you depart. You’ll be charged a fare in accordance with how far you have traveled. These buses are more common in suburbs or rural locations where buses travel much greater distances.

PROBLEMS YOU MAY ENCOUNTER:

1. You cannot get/off on the bus because you do not have enough money on your Suica card.

How you know this is the problem: You’ll hear a little error sound when you try to get on/off the bus (i.e. it’s not the short little beep sound). The card reader will turn red.

Solution: Go charge your card (and then wait for the next bus), or pay the regular fare using change (there’s a cash deposit next to the card reader).

That’s pretty much it. As long as you know where you’re going, you’re set.

The last system is one I have not personally used, but the internet tells me it is possible: taxis.

Taxis in Tokyo are notoriously expensive. It is 770 yen (around $7.70) for the first 2 kilometers (yes, that’s right, just getting in a taxi costs you). After those first two kilometers, you’re then charged an additional fee for a set number of meters traveled (I wanna say 200 meters. I cannot remember and am too lazy to look it up. Let’s go with 200). Yikes. For reference, a taxi ride from Shibuya to Shinjuku, two popular hubs in Tokyo (about 10 minutes and 160-190 yen on the train/subway or $1.50-$2.00), will set you back around 2000-2500 yen ($20-$25), depending on exactly where you’re coming from and where you’re going to.

It seems some (NOT ALL) taxi companies now include card readers in their vehicles to accept payment. When you arrive at your destination, let your driver know you’d like to pay with an IC card (I imagine just saying “Suica” or “Pasmo” or whatever is fine. Maybe indicate your card if things still aren’t clear for whatever reason), and touch your card to the reader. The amount will be deducted from your card balance.

I do not carry a very large balance on my card. I once lost a Suica charged with around 2000 yen in the middle of Ikebukuro station. I bought a new one (of course) and have since tried to maintain a low balance on my card in case the same thing happens again. It’s important to have an idea of how much money you have on your card if you think you want to pay for a taxi ride with it. Of course, if you don’t have enough money on your card to pay for a taxi ride, you can always use cash (or a credit card, provided the company accepts them).

Whew! That’s a lot of information, now that I think about it. If it’s your first time encountering all of this, it might seem a little overwhelming, but once you do it a few times (and run into a few problems) you’ll get the hang of it. I do all my best learning through my blunders. I imagine many other people are similar.

One thing I will note that I was not aware of until speaking with the representatives in charge of this project: as of October 2013, these IC cards can now be used in any region of the country, regardless of where you originally purchased it. There may be a hiccup when you first try to use the card to enter a different region, but this can be quickly fixed by simply handing your card over to the station staff (again, the phrase [station/city] から (kah-rah) might be of use here), who will get you all sorted out. That means if you’re visiting the country and purchase an IC card at Narita, when you travel to another region of the country (like Kyoto, Osaka, Fukuoka, etc.) you can use the same card for transportation, for shopping here and there, whatever. You do NOT need to get a card from each region (unless you want to start a collection, I suppose). Nifty.

In the next post I’ll write a bit about how to use an IC card for everyday shopping. I went a bit nuts in Tokyo station with the PASMO card I was supplied for the purposes of this promotion. I was told to do things “in my style,” so I DID!

Check that out in the next post!

Get yourself a Suica (IC Card series #1)

Published March 17, 2014 by Alisha

Get yourself a Suica (IC Card series #1)

Today will begin a five post series about the Suica card (and IC cards in general). In this series, I’ll share some info about how you can go about getting a Suica card (if you don’t have one already), how to use it for transportation, how to use it to buy things at vending machines and convenience stores, and how to charge the thing once you’ve got it. The last post in this series will be a little anecdote about my first day in Japan and how having a Suica would have saved me a little embarrassment.

With that out of the way, let us begin.

Suica is a little piece of plastic used all over East Japan. It’s pronounced “sooey-kah” (like you’re trying to call pigs to dinner? I guess? Kinda?). In katakana, it’s スイカ. According to the Suica Wikipedia page, SUICA stands for “Super Urban Intelligent CArd.” The plain old vocabulary word means “watermelon” in Japanese. The mascot (everything needs a mascot in this country) is a penguin. Suica cards are bright green and silver, and they fit inside a wallet, pocket, or purse just like a credit card. The cards are magical little pieces of plastic you can “charge” with money. Once charged, these cards can be used to quickly and easily pay for everyday shopping and transportation expenses. There are several different cards like Suica all over Japan. They are collectively known as “IC Cards” (Integrated Circuit Cards). The card in your region of Japan may have a different name and a different design, but you can use it just as you would a Suica (or PASMO, the other common IC card in East Japan). Below is my actual daily use Suica and a PASMO card given to me for this promotion. The only difference between these two cards is that one is JR (Suica) and one is…everything that isn’t JR in Tokyo. There are a number of privately owned transportation systems in the Tokyo area. The cards can be used interchangeably.

99% of my Suica use is for transportation. Many commuters in Tokyo use a ticket that allows them to pay a fee up front to travel between two points an unlimited number of times during a specified period. I do not use a ticket like this because of the way my work schedule is organized. Instead, I use a regular old Suica to get where I need to go.

For my first week or two in Japan, however, I traveled old-school, buying tickets wherever I went (this caused me a few moments of public embarrassment, but we’ll visit that topic later). I’ll point out that you can do this, but you should be prepared to stop at each station, look at the station map, find the place you want to go (which may or may not be written in your language), and buy your ticket. When you get to your arrival station, there’s a chance you will have made the wrong choice in terms of ticket fare and will have to make a fare adjustment. These processes take time. Not a lot (I hope), but it could make a big difference if you’re running late for work, have a train/flight to catch, etc. If you have Suica (or whatever the IC card in your region is), you only need to worry about whether or not you have enough money on your card to get to where you want to go (or really, just enough money to get access to the platform area).

To get one of these Suica cards, head to your nearest JR station. If you’re coming from Narita, you can pick up your Suica card right there at the airport at the JR ticket machines. While I have never done it, a quick Google search indicates there is a Narita Express + Suica package you can grab at the airport. I hear that this is a “campaign” – this package is sometimes on, and sometimes not (sorry). On the bright side, even if the package deal isn’t on offer, you can still buy your Narita Express ticket and a Suica! You’ll just have to get them separately.

I remember the day I got my first Suica card. It was 2009. I’d been in Japan less than a month, and I was still living in Akihabara (HA!). I had been reading on the internet about this mysterious piece of plastic. Before coming to Japan I had never heard of the thing. I looked everywhere for information about how to acquire one.

Here I will note that I am a rather quiet, “just let me figure it out myself” sort of person and was thus terrified to go to the station, attempt to get my card, and have something embarrassing happen to me (LIKE SOMEONE COMING OVER TO HELP ME OHMYGOD). I avoid drawing attention in public whenever possible.

On the day I finally decided I was going to get my Suica, it was the middle of summer, and I was disgustingly sweaty by the time I arrived at my nearby JR station (I went to Kanda because I figured there were fewer people to laugh at me, should I fail miserably). I apprehensively approached one of the black ticket machines that said “Buy a new Suica” in white letters and pressed the “English” button. I was then mortified to hear a kindly female voice from the machine suddenly announce to all in the immediate vicinity “ALL FARE INFORMATION WILL BE DISPLAYED IN ENGLISH.”

I’m certain that only one person in the entire station cared that day that I had pressed the English button (me). Once my totally unfounded shock and embarrassment subsided, I…followed the onscreen directions. It took me more time to dig money out of my wallet than it did to push the buttons on the screen. I shelled out 2000 yen (around $20) for my card. There’s a 500 yen “deposit” for each card that is automatically applied when you get one (you can get this back if you return your card at a JR station, should you decide you no longer need it). The other money (in this case, 1500 yen) will automatically be added to the card so you’re ready to go from the moment the vending machine spits out your shiny new Suica. I’m not exaggerating when I say it probably took me less than a minute to complete the whole process.

I felt a) dumb for having not done it sooner, and b) waaaaaaaay too excited to use it. I even went home and immediately made a video about it on the day. You can watch my horrifyingly nooby, sweaty, excited experience here if you like (though I highly recommend not watching that video because it is terrible. I’m sorry, internet. If you watch it…don’t say I didn’t warn you).

Of course, the first time I used it I felt like a GOD.

“HAHA! WATCH AS I MERELY PASS MY HAND ABOVE THIS TURNSTILE AND AM ADMITTED BEYOND!”

Of course, the excitement wanes rather quickly when you realize everyone else around you has been on board with this for a long time. Regardless, I was still excited to introduce the thing to my parents when they visited for a couple weeks later that year. It was handy and really helpful for us because it meant we didn’t really have to stop at train stations together whenever we wanted to go somewhere (thus avoiding the “clueless tourist” look).

The process really was simple, even for a Tokyo newbie like me. Your experience may vary (though I’d be surprised if it did). Here it is, broken into tiny steps:

Step 1: Enter any JR East station.

Step 2: Find the JR ticket machines.

Step 3: Find a black ticket machine. It will likely say “Suica” or “Buy a New Suica” at the top. The image below is of one such ticket machine in Shibuya station. The notice taped to it is temporary. It’s about upcoming changes in ticket pricing which reflect the tax increase we’ll be experiencing in April (if you have an IC card, you can still use your card in exactly the same way).

Step 4: Press “English” button (or not, if you’re comfortable in Japanese).

Step 5: Follow on-screen directions (you want the bottom left button in the above picture if you want a new card. The blue one.).

Step 6: Insert yen.

Step 7: Take shiny new Suica card.

Step 8: Go forth and frolic on the public transportation network (until the charge on your card runs out).

Naturally, the card DOES require management; 1500 yen isn’t going to last very long if you’re traveling a lot or use the thing to pick up snacks and drinks throughout the day. That will be the topic of another post in this series! More THRILLING INFORMATION (and tales of public embarrassment) on the way.

How to get a Hanko (or an Inkan): Your own $30 Stamp!

Published May 30, 2013 by Alisha

How to get a Hanko (or an Inkan): Your own $30 Stamp!

My personal seal from hankoya.com in action

You experience a lot of “firsts” when you come to a new country. They pile up right at the beginning of your experience, like when you use a new currency for the first time, eat a meal for the first time, have your first (stumbling) conversation with a local, etc. It’s all very exciting (and in some cases, overwhelming), but with each step you feel like you’re scaling a mountain of newness.

Those experiences grow fewer and further in between as time goes on. This goes for life in general, not just for visiting a new country. Things pop up here and there for you to take care of: filing your taxes, perhaps applying for a driver’s license, maybe planning a wedding, or buying a house. When you encounter a “new” thing after a long time of the same-old same-old, you might find yourself thinking: “wait, I have to learn again? Oh no.”

I found myself in this boat recently. I had to open an additional bank account at a new bank. “No problem!” I thought. I’d opened my first bank account years ago with no problem. I headed to the bank branch with my identification in hand and approached the reception area, where I was very promptly greeted in excessively polite Japanese.

“Thank you very much for coming to our bank today. How may we be of service to you?”

Me: “I’d like to open a new account.”

Bank reception worker: “Thank you very much. Do you have personal identification and your personal seal?”

Me: “I have identification, but not a seal. I don’t have one.”

Bank reception worker (GASPING AUDIBLY): “I’m very sorry, but you MUST have a personal seal in order to open a bank account.”

Me: “I can’t just use my signature?”

Bank reception worker: “No, I’m very sorry. To open a bank account in Japan you MUST have a personal seal.”

It was at this point I thought briefly of arguing with this person and pulling out the bank card I had from my other account at another bank, which I had used my signature and personal identification to get with ZERO hassle. I could see no way this information would benefit either of us.

Me: “I’ll arrange to get one, then. Thank you.”

Bank reception worker: “You could try at the 100 yen shop to get one…”

Me: “Thank you.”

I exited the bank and Googled around for a bit on my phone. There seemed to be many online resources, so I resolved to check them out when I got home to my PC. The 100 yen shop suggestion was completely out of the question for me. Why? Think about the little personalized stamps and key chains you see in little shops in your country. They have common names from your culture printed on them. In the USA, there are dozens to choose from with names like “Jeff”, “Kevin”, “Melissa” or “Liz”. There is never an “Alisha”, even in the states. Knowing this information, I was fairly certain that in a country where I live surrounded with names like “Tanaka” and “Watanabe” there was zero chance of me finding a stamp to suit me in a cheap shop. I figured I could just buy ANY stamp and call it my hanko, but I’m too stubborn for that. Besides, who knows? I might use it in some other capacity someday.

While Japan is world renowned for being a very technologically advanced society, there are many aspects of regular life here that are also very, very traditional. The “personal seal” (called a hanko or an inkan, depending on small differences) is one of these such traditions. Individuals and businesses can create customized “stamps” or “seals” bearing their name (in the case of personal seals) or business name and address (in the case of company seals). These can be very simple stamps, or they can be extremely elaborate. Prices can range from 100 yen (if you have a common name and want to pick one up at the local 100 yen shop) to hundreds of dollars, if you’re willing to shell out for fancy materials.

These seals/stamps can be officially registered at city offices as your “official” seal. It is “connected” to your identity and is yours alone.

With these ideas in mind I took to the internet. A quick Google brought me to Hanko-ya.com. I was initially rather overwhelmed by the sheer number of options there are available for personal stamps. I was interested in the cheapest, simplest option I could find. I started on the sidebar on the left, where I chose “Bank Stamps”, which is indicated with the red box below.

Part of an image guide for purchasing a hanko from hankoya.com

I thought my choices would narrow down quite a bit once I selected a category, but I saw there were still several to choose. I, being motivated by price, immediately had my eye caught by the kanji for “cheap”! Perfect!

Clicking the link automatically scrolled me down the page to a shiny section where I got some more information about this “cheap” stamp. The site also displayed estimated delivery dates, product ranking information, and three different sizes I could choose from. There’s also icons for guarantees, design checks, and add-ons. My goodness. Once more, because I wanted the cheapest option humanly possible, my mouse immediately went to the shopping cart button for the cheapest of the three sizing options.

I was next greeted with a very exciting confirmation page. “Yes, indeed, that is the product I just selected,” I thought, before pressing the “Continue with Order” button.

Then I got to the fun part. This is the page where you get to choose your design (in theory). It is on this page that customers get to choose how they would like their name to appear on their personal stamp; vertically or horizontally. There are also a number of different designs and presentations customers can choose from. Apparently some have to do with luck or prosperity. I simply chose the one I thought looked nice and would display my name clearly. Once I chose my design, I had to enter my name. The site specifies that you must enter only one name (meaning either your first name or your last name). I went with my first, in katakana: アリーシャ (Arisha, the Japanese pronunciation of Alisha).

Also on this page are a number of add-ons you can choose to go along with your order. These include swarovski crystal decorations and fancy stamp cases. I opted for none of these.

The one option I did select was the “design confirmation via email” option, which was free (it’s the center radio button in the below image).

Once I confirmed my selections, I navigated to the checkout page, entered my shipping and payment information, and finished my order. The whole thing cost about 3,100 yen (around $30). About a day after placing my order I received an email from the website with an image of the design they had created for my stamp. It looked fine to me, so I followed the directions in the email to give them the go-ahead. A few days later, I received my package in the mail.

A personal seal package from hankoya.com

Inside the brown box my package was shipped in, I found these things: an informational pamphlet, a receipt, and a very exciting looking box.

Inside was a thrilling card promising 10 years of faithful service from my shiny new hanko.

Inside a small paper baggie inside this box was my personalized seal. It was, of course, shiny and new when I first looked at it, but by the time I took the pictures for this blog entry I had used it a couple times and it is therefore slightly discolored.

No ink for stamping with was included in the set. I opted to purchase my own case/pad/ink at the local 100 yen shop. It was much cheaper for this all-in-one case than it was for any of the add-on options on the website when I ordered.

My hanko in its case from the 100 yen store.

With all of this in hand, I headed back to the bank where I approached reception and confirmed that yes, I did indeed have my personal seal and was therefore ready to open my account. I was taken to a table to begin paperwork. Victory! After a long sales pitch for a credit card, I got to sit across from a customer service person where I made very important decisions like whether or not I wanted Disney characters on my new bank card. The customer service person checked over all of my information; inspecting my ID, my personal seal, and my application so carefully it was almost funny.

Finally, we reached the point I had been waiting for. CONFIRMING THE APPLICATION TO OPEN THE ACCOUNT. Positively giddy with excitement, we (together) once more went over my application, and I confirmed that yes, indeed, I had correctly written my name, phone number, address, and work contact information. In confirmed that yes, I was NOT going to choose the card with the Disney characters printed on it. I confirmed that I would like access to their online banking system (seriously tough decisions, here). At last, the clerk asked me to add my seal to the application.

I picked up the little piece of wood and gleefully mashed my stamp into the ink so hard it bubbled up a little on the sides. I then planted that sucker right smack dab in the middle of the indicated little box on the application. I held it there for an excessively long time with extra pressure to make sure the whole design transferred to the paper. When I finally lifted it up (triumphantly), my name was there in red ink. SUCCESS.

I exited the bank that day with a temporary bank book, a new account, and a promise my card would come to me in the mail (sans any Disney characters, thank you).

With the bank account thing done and over with, I now leave my little stamp at home near the front door in case I ever need to use it again. I always figure I could use it to sign for packages the post office brings, but hey, THEY have no problem with me signing for anything. Besides, they’ll just put a pen in your hand and flat out say: “could I have your signature, please?” Perhaps there will be a use for my stamp someday. I have not registered it yet at my city office, but I might in the near future.

Overall, procuring a hanko was a pretty painless process for me. I got one I’m happy with in a quick, easy manner, and I can use it for all sorts of dorky things. A Japanese friend maintains that she cannot read my hanko at all, which I find very odd and weirdly satisfying.

$30 for one little stamp I have needed exactly 1 time in the last four years. Regardless, I am now the proud owner of a hanko. I like to think that I have now joined the ranks of one-name people like Prince, Beyonce, or Madonna; others that are officially recognized by one name, and one name only. Yes, that’s right, Tokyo.

I am アリーシャ.

Grow your own (veggies) in Tokyo

Published May 26, 2013 by Alisha

Grow your own (veggies) in Tokyo

Planting vegetables and herbs on an apartment balcony in Shinjuku, Tokyo

When I was growing up, the bane of summer for my brother and I was gardening related. If my parents are reading this, I’m sure they already know well and good what I mean.

WEEDING.

We had stubborn weeds encircling our home, and we were engaged in a perpetual, futile battle to pull them all each summer. Perhaps it was because of this important and cherished past time I never had a particular interest in gardening. As far as I was concerned, gardening was tough, relentless, sweaty work at the hottest time of the year. And for what? To make the yard look nicer? Yeah, yeah. What did I care? I just couldn’t wait to get back to my computer when I was relieved of weeding duties.

Not a whole lot has changed.

The part that has changed, however, is that I somewhat recently grew (HA!) an interest in that other part of gardening that teenage Alisha didn’t quite understand:

You can grow your own stuff.

My parents planted beds of flowers outside my window, in planters on the back deck, and even stuck a wall of sunflowers on their side of the house. They went nuts. They even grew some peppers hydroponically. There were flowers in the front yard, houseplants dotting the living room, and even a special little window over the kitchen sink where tiny little buds were cared for. I never really “got” it.

Last year, whilst having a wander through the inexplicable fortress of stuff that is Don Quixote, I found a couple little “planting” sets. Nothing more than a miniature water bottle, some seeds, fertilizer, and a sort of cottony filter thing to grow them in, I was dubious. The things were only about $3, so I was rather skeptical. I picked up a basil set and a tomato set. Gleefully, upon arriving home, I followed the directions for planting the tomato plant. In autumn.

A number of days later, after waiting very impatiently and beginning to wonder if I were fit to care for any living creature, I arrived home from work one night to find, lo and behold: a SPROUT!

I was unreasonably proud of my ability to follow directions, and even briefly considered giving my new plantbaby a name, but decided against it. In case, you know, I killed it or something.

Feeling very pleased, I continued caring for my plant as it grew bigger and bigger in its little watery pot. I transferred it to an actual flowerpot with dirt and minerals when it became too big for its plastic first home. Then, winter hit. It spent a few months looking bedraggled and weary in the corner of my bedroom. I watered it, kept it in the sun, and propped it up on days when it was particularly wilted. Somewhere around January-February, I resigned myself to the fact that at last my plant was dead. I even moved it out of the direct sunlight and more into the vicinity of…my closet doorway. I kept telling myself I needed to remove it, but due to a combination of hope and laziness, I let it stick around.

Spring came this year, and with it a renewed interest in having some plants around, despite my failed attempt with my tomato. I was looking for a budget friendly way to do this, and wanted to make sure this was a concerted effort to get some useful plants going in the small space I had available on my balcony. I enlisted an enthusiastic comrade to help me in this adventure this past weekend.

Across the street from my apartment is a small flower shop selling houseplants, veggies, herbs, and flower arrangements. We hit them up for eggplant, cucumber, green pepper, and basil for a whopping total of 400 yen ($4). Next, my comrade and I explored the Shinjuku area, where I live, in hopes of finding some more options for this veggie/herb balcony garden. It is surprisingly difficult to find much variation in flower shops in urban areas, but find it we did! On the rooftop of the Keio department store on the West Side of Shinjuku station, shoppers can find a small pet shop, some large pokemon-themed play structures, and a great little garden section!

The outside gardening center at Keio department store, Shinjuku, Tokyo

Vegetable Seeds available at Keio department store, shinjuku, tokyo

Flower seeds available at keio department store, shinjuku, tokyo

This garden shop seems to have everything one might need to garden in the city; flower and vegetable seeds, house plants, outdoor plants, and an extensive collection of potted plants waiting to be taken home. Here we picked up thyme, mint, and red peppers. That set us back 1,155 yen ($12). A quick stop in to the nearby Tokyu Hands secured a packet of coriander seeds (just because) for 157 yen ($1.50).

My local 100 yen shop had all the supplies one could ever need. I already had a couple of pots I purchased for my aforementioned tomato plant, and a few other items including a bag of dirt, some rocks for the bottom of the pots, and a small bag of fertilizer pellets. We grabbed two small planter box/tray sets, 2 more pot/tray sets, and 3 more bags of dirt.

Nothing makes you feel like a dumbass city dweller quite like buying DIRT.

With supplies in hand, we set to work preparing the planters on the balcony. Step one : break out gardening goods and choose a home for each plant.

Step two: transplant to new homes.

This cucumber plant was a little on the wobbly side. Chopsticks serve as excellent plant crutches.

While working on this little balcony garden project, my neighbor, a 60-70 year old Japanese man living by himself, popped his head out his door to see what we were up to. Pleased with our efforts, he informed us that he didn’t think he could ever keep a garden. His reasoning? He’d have too much to drink and forget that his plants needed any. Regardless of his faith in his own gardening skills, he bid us good luck.

Step three: when planting is complete, water plants and admire work.

This is the same tomato plant I thought was long gone in winter! Amazingly, somehow, the plant survived. It really hung in there. On the day I planted all its new garden friends, I even noticed it was finally growing its own little tomatoes for the first time ever. Hooray!

And there we have it! A tiny little urban balcony herb and veggie garden. I imagine I have made some terrible mistakes already with regard to what plants I chose and my placement of them, but I’m sure I’ll learn in time (and with some research).

Aside from this being a fun project, my hope with this little garden was to help offset some costs in the long run. I use a lot of herbs when cooking, and fresh herbs can often be hard to find and/or expensive. Having a few oft-used fresh goodies in my “backyard” might end up being a tiny money-saver! I imagine some of these plants will eventually outgrow their current homes, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get there.

I’m very happy with my little garden. It was surprisingly cheap to do! Cost of all items (dirt, fertilizer, plants, pots, etc.) comes to only about $35-$40. I can’t wait to see how these little creatures grow and produce in the coming months. It’s like my own happy little green place right here in the middle of the city. I was advised to “not forget to water” them (of course) and to “speak kindly to them” by my local gardener, which is also advice I’ve heard from other gardeners.

I can already see why my Mom and Dad were so into plants every spring and summer. There’s really something satisfactory about growing something on your own and enjoying the fruits of its (and your) labor.

Just…keep me away from the weeds.

How to Act like an Actor

Published February 28, 2013 by Alisha

How to Act like an Actor

I do a couple of “odd jobs” in an effort to gain a variety of different experiences here. One of those jobs involves working with a company that produces language learning materials for people all over the world. They don’t just produce Japanese language materials, but dozens of other languages as well. Some readers of this blog might be familiar with the Japanese Pod 101 series of materials. That’s the company I work for!

I do a couple different things for this company. Initially, I was hired to be the host of a web series called “English in 3 minutes”, a short series seeking to instruct students of English in more natural phrases and manners of speaking. The series is entirely in English, and is geared toward people who have already studied English and have a decent grasp of communicating, but need work improving their studies to be more “natural” and less “textbook”. It’s an effort to get away from the: “How are you–I’m fine thank you, and you?” That every textbook teaches, and replace it with: “How’s it goin’?” “Not bad!” Here’s an example (excuse the horrible preview photo):

I am told that the channel has been exploding with popularity. In December, the company told me that the channel had been getting 700 new subscribers every week. I remarked: “Hey, I should just be doing these videos myself!” To which my director replied: “Yeah, you’re not supposed to realize that.” The company also claims that I am their only host not to receive any negative comments. The only thing I’ve ever seen on YouTube is a snarky quip about my eyebrows, and some occasional mutterings that English being taught in English makes no sense. Oh well. Can’t please everyone.

In addition to this web series (for which I am contracted for 25 episodes, 24 of which are filmed), I also do voice recording for audio programs. Thus far, I’ve helped in the production of an Arabic series, a Spanish series, and today am heading off to do the final recordings for a Swedish series. Each series is 25 lessons in total. I don’t actually speak any of these languages (except for a little Spanish). Rather, my role in these lessons is to be the English guide. I’m the voice that asks questions on behalf of the listener, banters with the native speaker host, and tells listeners: “repeat after the host!”

Occasionally I also come in to record English vocabulary; they stick me by myself in the recording studio, and I record a few hundred words and phrases for vocabulary lists. This is arguably the hardest job because I do for them because I am placed in a dim, warm studio with my only job being to push a button and speak a word or two at a time. I won’t lie; I once nodded off.

Before I began doing this sort of work, it all sounded very fast-paced, exciting, and, well, “glamorous”. The reality of it, however, is that it’s pretty normal. It’s fun to have the chance to work with people from all over the world, but it does have downsides.

The studio I shoot the videos in is actually just the office where entire company works. There is no separate space to shoot in. There’s just a green screen on the back wall, and the camera, lighting, and mics are all setup in a space in the back of the office. Because this is the setup, every video has to be shot really, really early in the morning – before the other staff comes in and starts making noise. We often have to stop recording and do re-takes because someone sweeping outside or a car door slamming gets caught on tape, and ruins the shot. We all have to be at the office and ready to go at 7 AM. This means on my shoot days I get up at about 5 AM to get camera-prepared and get to the place for shooting. Following the shoot (which can sometimes last up to 2 hours), I then go to my regular day job. Admittedly, these shoots happen very infrequently, so it isn’t an issue, but it does make my days rather long.

The audio recordings happen once or twice a month, and I have an agreement with my current company where I can plan in advance to leave the office a couple hours early in the afternoon to go and take care of my voice recording responsibilities. The sessions usually involve 2-3 hours sitting across from the native speaker in a tiny studio, and a supervisor sits outside, cutting in occasionally to tell us to re-take lines.

It’s an interesting, fun thing to do occasionally, and it’s just another little tidbit of experience to add to a resume. The studio folks and the people I record my videos with tell me that I’m actually pretty good at it, but I like to think it’s because I have the rather unfair of advantage of doing all my work in my native language.

So, how does one go about getting a job like this? There are a couple things you can do to increase your chances. One is to sign up with an agency. There are a number of agencies throughout Tokyo that do extra work, or have connections for TV or voice recording jobs. I’m signed up with Group Echo, an agency based in Tokyo. The owner, Hikaru, is a very nice bilingual woman who runs things. Show up for a short interview and an introduction to the work, submit a few photos, and they contact you whenever work comes up. I get emails perhaps once a month about jobs I’m eligible to apply for, provided my schedule is open on the days specified.

In the case of this job specifically, however, I found a posting on craigslist and responded to it. I was looking for a little extra part-time work at the time, and although I didn’t have any professional experience in front of a camera, I figured having done a few YouTube videos was at least a foot in the door. I applied, and did a screen test. They liked me, and I got the job! Pretty straightforward.

I will warn people getting into this sort of thing that it does not pay the bills (at least on this level). The pay for the video work and the infrequency with which I come to the office means I get very little in my bank account from this company each month. It’s usually only about $50 a month or so, but I do it because I enjoy a little break in my routine now and then, and it’s a good chance to learn a little bit and meet some interesting people.

The agency I’m signed up with is much the same; jobs are infrequent. I receive emails now and then about upcoming positions that I fit the client’s needs for, and the agency sends out a call to all eligible individuals, asking if they are interested and available. Pay varies from job to job. Average for most one day jobs (as an extra), is about 10,000 yen a day (about $100). I did see one job come through recently for a very high profile video game client, however, where pay was more like $700 for a job. In almost a year of being signed up with the agency, however, I’ve only ever seen one job opportunity like that. The agency pays on time, but it’s usually two months after the date of the actual job.

If you’re interested in this kind of work, get yourself signed up with a few agencies, and have another job or another source of income. Unless you’re wildly successful and famous, chances are that you will not be supporting yourself solely with a career as an extra in Tokyo.

I’m not an actor, but I do act like one from time to time because it’s something I enjoy doing, and it’s a straightforward, interesting job. Many other Tokyo residents have dabbled in this kind of work, and there are a wide range of experiences. As with all career choices, how far you go is up to you! My only recommendations are to be smart, only do work you are comfortable with, and have another source of income. If you think you’re going to be the next big star, you’re setting yourself up to have your hopes dashed. If you’re going into the experience just looking for an couple interesting little jobs here and there, you’ll be in good shape.

Shiken: TEST LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT

Published February 26, 2013 by Alisha

(Remember how I said I was going to just write about stuff without so much unnecessary nitpicking? Yeah, my computer crashed and burned a little while after that and I still haven’t got it fixed. I have bad luck with them.)

What if your whole life depended on a test? I’m not talking about a medical test in this case (though I’m willing to bet that quite a few people have had their lives hang in the balance of one of those). Instead I’m talking about an educational test. I can’t quite fathom the amount of stress that must get put on a person when they know that their ability to to pass an examination could be a huge determining factor in the groundwork for the rest of their life.

What were you like when you were a high school student? I think I was a pretty average kid. I did pretty well in school, took some honor classes, and had some friends. I generally did my homework, played some sports, and hung around my house doing normal teenagery things. If you had told teenage me that my entire future could potentially depend on a test I’d be taking my senior year of high school with no real chance for a “re-take”, I’d probably have been a little worried.

Yes, American students do have the SAT test, which is a general aptitude test. Some might argue that the SAT is a future-determiner of a test, but I disagree.

I remember my very first full day in Japan. Jet-lagged though my Grandmother and I were, we hopped on our trusty yellow Hato Bus and took a day tour. That tour included a visit to Meji Jingu, right smack dab in the heart of Tokyo. Part of just about any religion I can think of is prayers (or some variation of that; you might call it a “wish”). Shintoism incorporates prayers/wishes as well. At shrines, visitors can purchase small wooden placards, write their desires on them, and hang them up in the shrine, hoping to get a little extra attention from the powers that be.

Our tour guide asked us what we thought was the most wished-for thing. Of course, we guessed: “Health?” “A happy relationship?” “Money?”

Nope.

The #1 wish is to pass the university entrance exam.

Every year, in winter-spring, universities have tests. Part of the application process for university in Japan means you take this test (and pass) to become a student. There are some tests that can be applied to several universities, but many universities also have their own tests year after year that students must study specifically for.

Yesterday (February 25th), happened to be “shiken” day, or “test” day at the university where I work one day a week. Exam day is taken very seriously. I had to show ID to gate guards just to be let on campus in the morning. Motley crews of what were obviously high school students milled around looking nervous.

It’s easy to forget what it’s like to be a high school student when you are not one yourself, and you don’t really spend much time around one. Could you imagine being that high school student and being asked to take a test that might determine the rest of your life? One of my coworkers explained that there really are no options for “transfer” within universities, or “community college” options for students who cannot pass these tests. Admittedly, some tests are much more rigorous and difficult than others, but could you imagine what life must be like in the lead-ups to these exam days? When I was teaching, I remember learning about how some of my senior-year high school students no longer studied regularly for the last half of their final year. Instead, their curriculum shifted exclusively to studying for these tests. Thankfully, my students all passed their university tests and got into universities they were very happy about.

I suppose when this sort of educational culture is what you grow up in, it’s perhaps a little less terrifying to think about (but maybe only slightly). I’d have been a ball of stress and angst at that age without the fear of such a test looming overhead, but I like to think I could still have done it.

It’s an interesting and different approach to higher education, and it makes me think about what sort of programs and curricula are in place in other countries.

What do you think? If your future, your education, your job, and your livelihood could all potentially ride on a pass/fail on a single test, do you think you could pass? Or would you turn into a shriveled ball of terrified humanity? Would you even try?