At first glance, Japan seems to be one of the most polite places on Earth. There are twenty ways to modify your speech to make it more polite (of course, there are forty ways to be offended, so it sort of balances out). You can pretty much throw a 'gozaimasu' into any conversation to make it more polite, and you can always be one upped if someone throws a 'domo' in there. I've exchanged twenty arigato gozaimasu's with our local convenie clerk just trying to get out the damn door. At some point, you forget who is doing the thanking and why.
In stark contrast, there is election time. As I write this, there is a car cruising through our neighborhood at a low rate of speed blasting messages at a very high volume through massive speakers mounted on top of the car. The message is in Japanese so I can only assume they are saying 'give up all hope because we will continue to broadcast until despair settles into your bones like soy sauce on a fatty tuna roll.' I've been working on sushi similes and metaphors.
This broadcast is so deafening that you cannot have a conversation on the street without shouting at each other.
AMY: WHAT SHOULD WE COOK FOR DINNER?
ME: THE EXPANSE?
I've begun to think that the car intentionally slows down as it passes the older gaijin couple shouting at each other. At the end of the message, the person says 'arigato gozaimas' to take the sting out of the auditory barrage.
The oddest thing is that no one seems to mind. I want to run screaming into the street and throttle the driver, but every Japanese person takes it in stride and sometimes waves back at the car as if to say 'keep up the good work' or 'maybe even turn it up a notch' or 'could you say that again? These gaijin don't seem to be leaving.'
Another facet of the politeness paradox are the maps in Japan. I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say that most people regard maps as helpful if not inherently polite. I thought so too, until I encountered the Nagoya Parks and Rec Department, which randomly changes the orientation of the maps in the parks.
Sometimes north is up. Sometimes it's down.
For example ... this lovely hike we took.
When we started out, North was to the right. Not exactly what I'm used to, but I can adapt. We struck off in a northwesterly direction confident in the universal belief that a map is designed to be helpful.
Twenty minutes later, we came upon this sign, which indicated that we were in an entirely different park. This freaked us out a bit, especially with the 'no humans' sign on the left.
However, closer inspection revealed that the sign designers changed the orientation of the map. North is now up.
In reflecting on this experience, I've come to think this is how Amy experiences the world in general. In the best of circumstances with the best of maps and a seeing eye dog, Amy has the potential to get lost walking out of a familiar store. Years ago when we were living in London, Amy and I were walking into Harrods and we passed a Gap. After wandering around the first floor (and realizing how expensive everything was), we left by the nearby side exit, upon which Amy exclaimed "There's another Gap! They're everywhere." As I'm sure you've guessed, it was the same Gap.
This continued to happen over the years, but Amy learned to bluff. If you are planning any road trips with her in the near future, bring some paper maps and make sure north is always up.
