Published: 18.11.2025
I must say, the Japan information from yesterday didn't really sit well with me. Behind every friendly smile and every polite gesture, I sensed some insincerity today.
But then I remembered how I spent the first few years in Finland trying to convince my students that Central European friendliness and politeness, and especially American friendliness, are not just superficial and not 'genuine'. I talked incessantly about how, when someone is warm and friendly, it is always meant that way in the moment, even if you don’t necessarily become lifelong friends. I vividly recall how outraged I was by these doubts and how I couldn’t understand them at all. And I thought that the often-lacking Finnish friendliness and politeness isn't simply 'honest', but rather just rude and cheeky. They really couldn't stand that….
So today, throughout the day, I decided to brush aside these uncomfortable thoughts and joyfully appreciate how well one is treated here and how pleasant it feels when everyone around is kind and accommodating, regardless of whether they mean it seriously or not!
For example, this afternoon in a new sento I tried, a very elderly lady suddenly took my small washcloth from me, tossed it into her basin, and began washing it with a lot of cold water. I was shocked and thought I must have done something wrong again, but then she wrung it out and placed it on my neck to cool me down, nodding kindly! And I’m quite sure she meant it sincerely!
Another person started a conversation with me in one of the whirlpool baths in very rudimentary English and wanted to know everything about the Finnish sauna. Really brave and very very friendly!
This time, there was no television in the sauna, but a loudspeaker was blasting pop music into the room. Clearly, silence does not seem to be one of Japan's favorite pastimes.
During one of my long walks in the morning, I found three interesting new places. The first was the prison, a vast complex surrounded by a high long red brick wall and a magnificent entrance gate. It was labeled as a 'former prison' but looked rather active, with everything totally fenced off and several guards walking around. It had a somewhat ghetto-like feel to it, and unfortunately, you couldn't get close enough to peek over the wall. Later, I read that it's undergoing renovation and is supposed to become a hotel!
Next, I stumbled upon a farm right in the city, with a huge open cow shed where cows and calves were chewing away together, and people were allowed to wander around everywhere. The cattle appeared particularly large to me, though that might also be because I'm afraid of them.
Then I found yet another real gem, a completely overgrown garden where cosmos flowers were still blooming in all colors, interspersed with countless Buddha statues and a few small but elegant temple structures, unfortunately with sculptures that can't be photographed, and a thirteen-story stone pagoda: Hannya-ji.
And during the entire walk, I actually didn’t encounter a single soul, while the Great Buddha and the park were once again bustling with activity!
What I also learned: I kept wondering why there were neither paper nor towels at the sinks in front of the toilets to dry one's hands, nor any air dryers. Now I know that everyone here carries around a small towel, which is also used to wipe off sweat and dab the nose when it runs, since you can't blow your nose publicly, and paper tissues are unknown here.
The trees that look so Japanese in the small front gardens are pruned once a year by a professional tree trimmer. Be it cherry tree or pine.
In the hostel, you wear four different pairs of shoes: 1. your own when entering the house. You have to take them off at the entrance and place them in a rack. Then you get 2. plastic sandals, which you wear in the foyer, where the bar and reception are. Before stepping onto the wooden floor in the actual living area, you change to 3. felt slippers. And when you go to the toilet, there are 4. special black plastic sandals that are used only for this room and then left at the door to be returned for the next person coming in.
