I am in Japan. I can finally enjoy the smell of tatami that is so unique to Japanese old homes. I can eat delicious food and speak Japanese every day. I am in Ojika, a small island off the coast of Nagasaki. It almost felt like a miracle to step into a country that as of September 2022 is still closed to normal individual travellers and requires a visa and a sponsored stay to be able to cross the border. Yet it was no surprise to see that life in Japan goes on as usual, with people drinking in izakaya small bars after work and commuting to office on trains packed of people.
Japan is a country that enforced strict border measures throughout the whole pandemic, yet never implemented lockdowns as the ones European citizens have experienced: heavy fines for people who went out without wearing a mask, the need to print a piece of paper and declare where you are going to, being able to go out for a short walk just once a day, or in some cases not even once a day, not being able to be on the same car despite being relatives and a whole set of rules that Japan never even gave a thought to.
It was never prescribed by law in Japan to wear a mask, yet most people did. As for now, not everyone is wearing one. Some just go about without, others keep it below their nose, some others under the chin. This shows how there is still some sort of social pressure preventing people who would rather not wear a mask from taking it off completely. At worst, you will run into quirky covid rules or places that tirelessly have people follow some rules that probably do little to reduce the spread of coronavirus.
The most interesting of the measures I experienced was being told to have to sit diagonally when I arrived with a cameraman at the restaurant. We had just spent more than an hour in the same office without masks talking to one another, so having to sit diagonally at a table already separated by high plastic barriers from the other customers was a funny scene. When the food arrived, it was also served diagonally on the table. To avoid the anger of the waiters we kept on sitting that way and talking with one another in a diagonal way. Another interesting rule was to have to have a plastic curtain on the same table between friends. The highest level of politeness I have experienced in these weeks was a man seeking permission from the waiter to be able to place his mask into his own bag.
Yet again life here goes on mostly as normal, visitors of the public baths, probably on of the few shared spaces where no one wears a mask, come every day to wash their bodies and relax after a day of work, Shinjuku’s Omoide Yokocho—also known as the “Piss Alley”, with its tiny bars and barbecue stands, is also brimming with customers that sit in a row on long and narrow wooden benches, one close to the other.
Life on the island, and most likely in other countryside areas, also goes on as normal and the biggest fear are the typhoons that greet the island quite often these days. People protect the windows with tape or build wooden walls to protect their homes from being torn apart by the strong wind.
Being in Japan, a country that almost seemed impossible to get into, is a dream and at the same time experiencing the irony of a country where life is bustling as usual yet foreigners are not allowed into the country as pre-pandemic times is priceless.
