WHAT TOURISTS IN JAPAN RAVE ABOUT — NOT ITS POETRY OR POTTERY OR CHERRY BLOSSOMS.
Whatever the Japanese do, they don’t rest till they perfect. Give them a mountain and they will come back with the impossibly symmetrical Mt. Fujiyama. Give them a train and they will take it apart, muffle the rattling parts, infuse it with rocket science, and give us the Shinkansen. But impressive as all these things are, it is universally — if discreetly — acknowledged that nothing offers as much comfort in privacy as the room known by its many euphemisms — washroom, toilet, cloak, the gents, the John. Or as the Japanese call it, otearai.
A Japanese toilet is a multi-sensory experience. Tech is at hand to assist you from the minute you enter the room right till the finishing touch. There are buttons for every conceivable function — to regulate flow of water, to control direction of said water’s twirl, and even to switch on piped Tchaikovsky should you so desire. It may not qualify as one of the wonders of the world, but it certainly is a wonder among WCs, a loo that belongs at Louvre.
Where did it all begin? A story goes that it’s the apotheosis of an ancient Japanese quest to blend form with function. Nothing of the sort. It was imported in rudimentary form from the West in the last century, and adapted to the needs of a progressive society, proving conclusively that aatmanir barta has its limits.
Given its nature, the bengo, as it’s colloquially known, cannot feature as one of the ‘sights’ of a country. The Japanese haven’t even got to a brochure. I suppose it’s native modesty that inhibits them from shouting from the rooftops about the wondrous features on offer in hotel rooms. They leave such publicity to foreign tourists who come to squat but remain to applaud.
Living as we do in an age of anxiety, the morning newspapers are sure to bring unsettling tidings. Well, no matter what troubling headlines you encounter, you know you can count on the kawaya to ensure that all’s well that ends well. Maybe your Japanese hosts would consider it disrespectful that you return from a tour of their land, neglecting their gossamer poetry and pottery or their famed cherry blossoms in your compliments. Yes, these are all certainly exquisite. But at the end of the day, or more often at the beginning of it, we have our individual preferences. And my vote goes to the otearai.
Thank you, Japan, Aarigato.
