A couple of weeks ago, I got an email from Sabrina, my former
assistant in Shanghai. My old company was changing offices. During the packing,
Sabrina found a thick envelope with personal pictures of mine. She told me to
she was sending them. A few days later the pictures arrived in a DHL envelope.
Opening that package with dozens of pictures from my first
couple of years traveling to Asia was like shifting through items in a time
capsule. Looking at the images brought back memories from the time when travel
to Japan, Hong Kong and Singapore seemed so exotic to me. In the 1990s, the
thought of actually moving my family to Japan was unimaginable. China was not
even on my radar as a place I might visit let alone live for five years.
These days flying to Tokyo or Shanghai is as normal as
taking a flight from Charlotte to NYC but to the younger man I see in those
pictures traveling to Asia every six or eight weeks during the late 1990s was a
constant source of wonder. I had forgotten many of the people and places from
the early days. I now realize how much I miss the joy of getting to know a
culture so different from my own but one that made me feel at home even as a
complete stranger. I would never presume to say I am an expert in any Asian
culture but after traveling all over Asia and living in Japan and China for
eleven years I regret to say I lost the sense of wonder that made the first trips so
special.
Some of the people in the pictures are no longer living. A
picture of my late friend Fukuma san brought back wonderful memories of traveling
cluelessly all over Japan on my first few trips. Perhaps to keep me from
learning too much about business details our Japanese partner sent me off for
several days of customer visits with the non-English speaking Fukuma san. We
both felt a little awkward to start but quickly developed a great friendship
despite the language barrier. In meetings not having a translator had some
advantages – the natural Japanese inclination to be good hosts seemed to
overcome me not knowing protocol. My handler was powerless to counsel me given
the lack of a common language. Fortunately, every customer had a “write board”
and markers. I used chemical formulas,
numbers and filled in the gaps as much as I could by drawing and diagraming my
questions. Those early meetings were a bit like a game of Pictionary on steroids. It became obvious to
me that most of the “non English speakers" were English readers to some extent
which helped a great deal. Most of the people I was meeting were not used to
dealing with foreigners so it was a new and different experience for them too. It
was a first step in doing business but I didn’t want to stay at that childlike
level for too long.
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| Fukuma san smiling after golf |
On my next trip to Japan a few weeks later, our partner took
a different strategy with the “returning gaijin” and sent me off to visit
customers with two English speakers or more correctly two speakers of “Japanglish”
that linguistic twilight zone where sentences contain words in both languages
and understanding the intended meaning is not always the end result of the
dialogue. One of my companions was Murai san. Twenty four years my senior and
blessed with a near photographic memory, Murai san liked the fact I came with
more questions than answers which was a new experience for him when dealing
with “one trip wonders” from America. Eighteen years after our first meeting,
Murai san has retired but remains a friend. We still meet for dinner and play
golf from time to time. Murai san was in elementary school when WWII ended
which gave him a great perspective on the rise of Japan from the postwar ashes.
His perspective on Japanese relations with Americans and his encyclopedic
knowledge of the lithium business in Japan was invaluable to me. I loved the
fact that although polite, Murai san was tough. He accepted me as someone
sincere about learning Japanese business style and culture but was not
hesitant to make me the butt of his good natured jokes. Once I decided to study
Japanese, I provided an almost endless stream of linguistic errors that kept
Murai san and his colleagues laughing more than I thought possible for the
normally serious Japanese salary men.
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| Murai san (on the left) was also my karaoke sensei |
As I made my way through the stack of pictures, I came
across a picture of Miyata san – in front of his dental clinic in the Okura
hotel complex in Tokyo. By the time I met Miyata san, I had been traveling to
Asia for more than two years. In a dozen trips I had become very comfortable in
Tokyo, Osaka, Hong Kong, Singapore, etc. One afternoon in Taipei I encountered
a “hard foreign object” in a plate of fried rice. Unfortunately a tooth in the
back my mouth did not survive the experience. Suddenly I had tooth fragments in
my mouth and after taking a breath it was obvious I had an exposed nerve. I was
three days into a twelve day trip and scheduled to fly to Tokyo a few hours
later. My host offered to try to find me a dentist but I knew my travel
timeline did not allow for an afternoon dental visit. I had never fainted in my
life but the dull pain was growing and I was feeling weak in the knees. My
company provided international travelers with an SOS card which allegedly
enabled you to obtain emergency assistance anywhere on the planet. I got to a
phone and called the number. This was before the “call center” craze and I was
connected with someone in Philadelphia rather than Mumbai. Unfortunately when I
said I was in Taipei, the reply was “where?”. I said “Taiwan – close to Japan,
not too far from Mainland China”. “Sorry I need to check a map” was the reply. Sensing
a lack of competence on the other end of the line, I hung up and called the
Okura hotel in Tokyo where I was staying that night. I explained my situation
and after a short wait they said a dentist would meet me at the hotel when I
arrived at 11PM. I had hoped the hotel could help but was shocked that I could
have a dentist meet me late at night.
I suffered through the intervening few hours of travel,
checked in to the Okura and was escorted to the dental clinic which was
conveniently located between buildings in the hotel. Miyata san was in his 20s
and accompanied by his girlfriend who was fluent in English. I explained my
situation and he asked me if I wanted a temporary fix or a crown. He went on to
explain that if I got a crown I would need to have three appointments. He said
that he would be able to schedule them in the early morning or evening so I
continue with my business schedule. I liked this guy and was happier when
I found out he went to dental school in the US. I was sure his English was ok
but he insisted his girlfriend would be there each time to make sure I could
fully understand him. He smiled and said his practice was new and I was his
first gaijin patient. He then told me the price, which was very high by
US standards, but a low priority compared to the pain in my mouth. He took care
of my pain and we agreed to meet again early the next morning.
I skipped breakfast and was a little early for my appointment.
There was a book in the waiting room, I began to read. The book was a
fascinating story about the first Japanese person to have a seat on the New
York Stock Exchange. The days past, the extra visit I needed was to meet a
coloring specialist to ensure the color of my crown matched my other teeth
perfectly – “Miyata san”, I protested, “this is the back of my mouth and my
teeth are not so perfect anyway – don’t worry about it”. Miyata san smiled and
said “Lowry san, your teeth are a long lasting record of my work, please be
patient”. I was already hooked on Japan but come on – this guy is worried about
the color of a tooth in the back of my mouth that I have trouble seeing in the
mirror.
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| Miyata san - after taking care of his first gaijin patient |
On the morning of my last visit I paid and handed the half
read book back to his receptionist. I said that I regretted not being able to finish
the book but was happy my mouth was back to normal. Miyata san walked me out. I
thanked him, we bowed and parted.
The rest of that day was filled with meetings and dinner. I
returned to my room and my message light was on. I called the front desk. “We
have a package for you.” In the package was the book I had been reading. I read
the note attached to the cover which said that Miyata san was happy I enjoyed
the book and he wanted me to finish it. The author had autographed it inside
the front cover. The author was about to become Miyata san’s father in law.
Each picture in the envelope brought back a great memory. Thanks Sabrina.
