move in.

C-O-N-S-I-D-E-R-A-T-E.  I no longer believe that Americans know what this word even means.... or it's possible that I have just been so overwhelmed by the hospitality of the Japanese, I have forgotten that anyone was ever nice to me at home. They are the nicest people I have ever encountered... even nicer than people from Auburn on gameday... and that's saying something! Seriously, the only rude people here are the Americans that live here... this is a fact that is equally fascinating and disappointing to me. America would be an entirely place if we could pick up just a third of the politeness of the Japanese. A prime example of this was my move-in experience....

These are a few pics from the day... this is all the furniture I have thus far because I had already picked it out at a mom & pop resale furniture store that my sweet housing agent took me to a couple weeks ago. The white cabinets are in my kitchen, the Japanese style dining table will move into my tatami room. This sweet older Japanese couple saved these two pieces for me because I liked them but didn't have my apartment when I first saw them. They then delivered for free, didn't make me pay until they arrived at my apartment, and brought me a gift (see above hand painted platter) just for buying from them.... now tell me which of those events would have occurred in America?? That's right, none.

In addition to this example of extreme customer service, my movers willingly rescheduled for me at the last minute due to a work conflict AFTER they had arrived at my door in my absence..... I was mortified and so apologetic and they acted glad to move their day around for me. AND, they do this all wanting NO tip... it's incredible. My evil Japanese version of Charter Cable even came in super accommodating and brought their own towels to ensure that they didn't scratch my wooden floors while installing everything, set my google up in English for me, and left me extra cord in case I decide to rearrange my living room at some point.

Finally, the best act of the entire day was the fact that my saint of a housing agent, Saito, brought me lunch and spent all day with me translating and helping me unpack. (In fact, she may now think I am an alcoholic now due to the number of wine glasses and shot glasses she helped me unpack.) I would never have been able to communicate with everyone who came to set things up without her... she has been such a blessing to have around... she even signed an email to me: Love, Mom Saito. Someone clearly was looking out for me when they helped me stumble upon her number a few weeks ago...