Yesterday was Groundhog's Day. It was nine years ago today, that I took my very first Bikram Yoga class with Jordan. He told me that I'd love it; he had no idea. Bikram Yoga has changed my life in such profound ways. In one particular sense, my life has been like Groundhog's Day for the past nine years: the same thing over and over. Well, at least for ninety minutes per day. This afternoon was a little bit different though because I took a Bikram class in Tokyo! Who ever woulda thunk it?!?! I hopped a train from the airport and wandered the chilly streets for a bit before making my way to the Giza Bikram studio. I saw cooked corn on the cob in shrink wrap; I saw strange tofu packages floating in water alongside hot dogs; I found onigiri which I've been dying to try but I was afraid because I couldn't read what was inside. It easily could have been meat. The people hear hang all of their laundry on their balconies to dry. They may be pristine in appearances and highly advanced in terms of technology but, for some reason, their laundering methods seem to be about as primitive as they come.
I found here that the people also seem to respect conservation of energy. It's nice that the showers automatically shut off after a designated duration. Think about how much water could be saved if the water stopped every time you were busy lathering up. It just makes sense. And I somehow didn't feel chilly when the water took its brief hiatus. Now the escalators, though ... that's a different story. It's very jarring when you mount an inactive escalator which starts propelling you forward only after you've descended a stair or two. It definitely caught me off guard.
I love the blue ceramic tiles on the roofs of some Japanese houses. It truly is the prettiest roof material I've ever encountered. I first saw it this summer in Hawaii. Some day I'll build a house with such handsome amenities. You just wait and see. There seems to be such a cultural trend toward being meticulous. I swear, the metallic surfaces on the airport express train were more reflective than most mirrors.
The flight was a bit stressful and it was clear that the choir of crying babies was rehearsing for an upcoming performance. I just cleared customs in Bangkok and I'm already reflecting upon how sweet and outgoing all of the Japanese people were. (OK, I encountered two exceptions, but well overlook those incidents.) In a state of complete exhaustion, disorientation, and a bit of frustration (thrown in for good measure,) I was eager to get some help. One Japanese guy abandoned his post at the airport juice bar to scuttle down the corridor — with the energy of a sugared-up four-year-old — in order to grab me a map and direct me toward the nearest ATM. The desk attendant at the Bikram studio spent almost fifteen minutes helping me map the best route back to the airport after class. At one point, I was lost on the streets and inquired with an office building doorman about the specific location of a subway stop. Not only did he point me in the right direction but he walked with me around the corner and down the street two blocks to make sure that I made it to the correct entrance. Everything I've read about Thai people is that they're so kind and accommodating. It's still quite early in the game to make this type of determination but so far, the Japanese are in the lead. The Japanese people even go to the extent of showing some sort of intense respect for your credit card. You hand it to them and they cup both palms to receive it and even add a little bit of a bow as they accept the payment. It's so interesting. I understand that they respect my business but this extra gesture is such a nice touch. I find myself comparing it to the countless instances of store clerks in the U.S. who don't want to be there, don't want to help you, and strive to make their lives as effortless as possible. I never once came across such disregard in Japan.
