Honor Thy Handicapped

When I was a student at Vanderbilt University many light years ago, I had a Classical Mythology professor, F. Carter Philips, who was an advocate for access for the physically disabled. I never recalled him mentioning anything about it in class, but one day, I saw him in a wheelchair, wheeling himself to the lecture hall. I thought that he had been in an accident, but as it turned out, once a year in Vanderbilt, he encouraged the students to pick up a "disability" and to act like it for an entire day to see how life could be for a person with a disability. I chose to be blind for a day, but nary an hour passed before I chickened out. To be blindfolded, holding a stick, standing in a busy intersection, and attempting to cross the road was way too nerve wracking for me. The exercise had an obvious objective: until we experienced how it was to be in such a condition, we would never be able to understand how frustrating it could be to live with a disability. The exercise also taught us to appreciate what we normally took for granted.

Long before professor Philips, however, my parents had taken us as children to the school for the blinds (my father was an ophthalmologist). Further, my high school (Loyola College Prep in Shreveport, Louisiana) obliged us to complete certain hours of volunteer work, which I chose to do at the Shriner's Hospital for Crippled Children. In the 70s, my maternal grandfather was semi-paralyzed from stroke, and decades later, in 1995, my father survived a massive stroke but ended up in a wheelchair. Disability is therefore rather a familiar sight, and I thank my parents, Loyola, and Vanderbilt for further educating me on the subject.

Compared to some other countries, the U.S.A. to me is very accessible for people with disability. Ramps leading to buildings, wider bathrooms in public restrooms, Braille on the elevator buttons, TDD (Telecommunications Device for the Deaf) and elevators are things that we tend to take for granted. In Hong Kong and in Japan, I see "guiding mark" on the sidewalks and lobby of certain buildings. These marks are rows of dashes (for straight walks) and rows of dots (for intersections or the beginning of steps). People with visual disability (the blinds) will "walk" their canes along these lines and dots to navigate them around the city. There are chimes or some sound that some traffic lights make to guide the blinds in crossing the roads. Other places in Asia, such as in Indonesia, attempt to accommodate people in wheelchairs by creating ramps, but these ramps are usually too steep (think about a 45-degree ramp) and/or too slick (in Asia, polished tiles are the norm in malls and shopping centers). None of these facilities will have any meaning without an understanding from the general population. In Indonesia, when my father was on a middle level of any shopping center, he had difficulties getting an elevator to go up and/or down; no one would yield to him. If we waited until the elevator came back down, it would be full; by the time it came back up, it was already full again. The elevator attendant, if there was one, most likely did not react to anything except for some pocket money.

In Takashimaya, a huge department store at the heart of Shinjuku, there are elevators designated for people with disabilities, parents with strollers, and seniors. One elevator even has two uniformed attendants, while the other ones are on the honor system. When there are attendants, it becomes much easier because they can bar unqualified people from boarding, but with the other no-attendant handicap elevators, it is a hit and miss.

At one time, when one of these designated elevators opened, it was chock full. This was not the first time that it had happened. Quickly I scanned the elevator and saw that 90% of the occupants were mostly young people who did not seem to need such an elevator. They all just stared at us and at the people with strollers behind us, but not a single person volunteered to get out. I paid no attention and decided to push my father's wheelchair and take my 72-year old mother and squeezed all of us in that crammed elevator. They were aghast that I would push the wheelchair into such a crowded elevator, but I simply met their disbelieving stares with daggers flying out of my eyes. Still, no one got off, but they can suit themselves. Few floors down, the door opened, and a befuddled woman with a stroller looked disappointed at the crammed elevator. I shot glances at the people around me to get them to understand that someone else more qualified needed the space, but either they were oblivious or they avoided eye contact. Behind the woman, four other sets of parents with strollers frowned.

Clearly no one in Japan wants to offend. On the one hand, the woman and the other parents with the strollers did not raise any voice, not wanting to confront; on the other hand the people in the elevator avoided eye contact and were either oblivious, inconsiderate, or just too ashamed to do anything else. I wanted so much to drive another point by getting out of the elevator and give my space to the woman with the stroller facing me, but as it was, my parents and I had been skipped by several elevators, too. Maybe I, too, was too selfish and inconsiderate.

The week before, in the same department store, we had been waiting for a long time, but when it opened, five healthy-looking ladies got on it and were turned down. The ladies did not budge, and as a result, we were asked to wait. Forget it; I seized the first available regular elevator and went up all right. It was a good thing that the store provided these designated elevators and the attendants, but as I said before, without a general understanding from the population, this would be worthless; even the attendants needed to be sterner.

The Narita Airport has an acceptable wheelchair facilities. Just like it is in most of the international airports in the world, it sends a staff member to aid the handicapped, including a separate lane for immigration and customs.

Tokyo has done some good in providing access to the disabled, but it could do more. The many subway stations still need better access, such as elevators, even platforms or designated ramps for boarding the trains (in some stations, a Metro staff, when alerted, will stand and wait for a train that carries a handicapped person; the staff will then lay down a wooden ramp that bridge the gap from the train to the platform.) Major stations do provide these, like the Tokyo and the Omotesando stations. There have also been many people who had provided help without being asked for; those Good Samaritans do exist. In Roppongi Hills one Saturday, unsolicited, two people rushed to help my partner and me lifting my father's wheelchair while descending a flight of stairs. At another time, a woman about to cross the road helped hold the door to a taxicab while I was trying to position my father. She missed her cross, but her help was much appreciated. The society does revere the older generation, and the older generation seems not to want to be dependent on the young ones. I am very confident that the people with disability here, just like disabled people elsewhere in the world, would like very much to be independent; however, for that to be realized, much more had to be done, and it can start simply with an understanding and appreciation from the people around them.

The Disappearing Acts

Finally the humidity in Tokyo subsided, giving way to the Fall weather. Since my return from Indonesia, I have not been savagely attacked by the darned mosquitoes, although I had stocked up on the repellants. It is quite pleasant to ride the bike in the evening.

Another thing that has been missing from my neighborhood here is the sound of the cicadas. In the summer, like clockwork, the cicadas will make their noise from dawn until dusk, but these days, I have yet to hear a single cicada sing.

Today is the National Holiday for the Aged. Ironically, some young people rushed to an elevator that was reserved for the handicapped and parents with strollers, and the meek elevator operator turned away my father (who was on a wheelchair) and me (the wheelchair pusher). I hope that the holiday still means something, not just another reason for a sale, the way it has seemed to be in the United States.

Australian Embassy Attacked

Poor Indonesia, like she needs another terrorist attack. This secular country, widely thought of to be an Islamic nation, suffers another blow just eleven days before its upcoming election on September 20. A friend of my cousin's had just passed the area when he heard the explosion behind him; he was all right. Another cousin thought that a mighty lightning had just struck because of the sudden blinding flash. Details are coming out as I write this.

BBC: Massive Blast at Jakarta Embassy
CNN: JI Claims Jakarta Car Bombing
MSNBC: Islamist Group Appears to Claim Jakarta Blast

The accompanying photograph was lifted from the Wikipedia.org website

Bloompy in Indonesia

I will be away from Tokyo but hope to report back soon. Destination: Indonesia. I hope the weather in Tokyo will be much cooler by the time I return.

I'd Like a Champagne with that Popcorn, Please.

All cinemas in Tokyo offer a ¥1000 admission price on the first day of the month. Without this discount, a ticket could be close to ¥2000 (bearing in mind US$1 roughly equals JP¥109). For the first time since my arrival I took advantage of this deal. Mind you, there is not much of a choice here with regard to the movies because of my language limitation. My European languages ability cannot carry me through an entire movie on one viewing only. American –mainly Hollywood– movies are indeed available, but they do not play at about the same time the American cinemas are playing them. According to a Japanese friend of mine, the theatres in Tokyo wait until a big holiday to launch a première for select American movies to ensure a big turn out and a sizable box office gain. Some movies play six months after its American première; but hey, a good movie is a good movie no matter when it is viewed.

The AMC theatres' reclining seats in the U.S. are so darned comfortable that I could fall asleep in that plush seating in a dark and cool auditorium; not necessarily so in Tokyo, at least not in the two cinemas I have attended thus far. The Shinjuku Takashimaya’s seats are stiff, making me think that the backing and the seat part are made of wood covered with felt: it has a plushy appearance but the feel of an old style school bench. The good thing is that this kind of seating will keep you awake to see the movie for which you had paid a lot of money. The rows are so narrow that basically your shin can tell you whether the person seated in front of you uses gel, mousse, foam or a hairspray to keep that funky hair-do.

The Virgin Cinemas at the new Roppongi Hills complex fares a little better in this department: plush seats and ample amount of leg space, but the theatre imposes a seat assignment when you buy the ticket. This reminds me of the cinemas in Indonesia in the olden days up until the late 80s, when you had to specify which seats you wish to take unless the ticket seller already assigned one for you. Like the ones in Indonesia, this Virgin Cinemas ticket seller showed me the map of my auditorium and offered me a few available seat assignments.

Once when I was in New York watching a matinée, I smiled as I saw the offering in the concession stand: alongside of the regular movie junk food like popcorn, nachos and the plastic cheese, gummy bears, there were baked goods, such as: carrot cake, blueberry pie and apple pie. These were not packaged pie or ready-to-go cake wrapped in cellophane. The server had to cut a slice from an entire cake. It was served in a mini paper plate (with a doily, no less!), a plastic knife and a paper napkin. I thought at the time that it was a novel, yet quaint, idea, until I saw what the Virgin Cinemas (and possibly in other Tokyo cinemas) listed the following in their concession offerings: beer, wine (red or white), or Champagne. Yes, maybe in other theatres, on any day these mood-altering drinks will definitely help us forget how much we had spent on the theatre to see a movie in a very cramped space.

Pointo Cardo, Anyone?

Customer loyalty is very important to any company. I know this. I have been a frequent flyer member since my university days back in the mid 80s; then came the other ones, like Ben & Jerry's ice cream; the AMC Theatres; a Sausalito T-shirt design store; Macy's (they calculate the amount you ever spend in the store card, and one day when you least expect it, they send you a gift.) But no city has ever inundated me with so many loyalty programs as Tokyo has. In the short time that I had lived here since February 2004, I had accumulated many more of these cards than I ever had while living for almost two decades in the United States. It is unbelievable the amount of cards that had taken residence inside my wallet. Anybody remember George Costanza's wallet (from the Seinfeld sitcom)? Mine is about to wrest the thickness record away from George’s wallet.

Sumimasen, koko de, pointo cardo ga arimasu ka? Excuse me; is point card available here? I have begun to recite that question every time I go to a new store (or any store I in which have never shopped before.) Mind you, retailers already make so much money from me, the least I could do is trying to get as much back from them. Sure, I am being their faithful dog, letting them have my address so that they can spam me and tracking my shopping habit. I don’t care; just give me back my bone! Arf arf!

Let me see what point cards this dog has dragged so far:
2 major department stores (not their credit card, but point card; there is a distinction here)
1 electronic store
1 pharmacy & sundry store
1 grocery store
1 coffee shop at the Century Hyatt Hotel
1 toy store (this will cease to exist once my nieces and nephews grow older)
1 noodle joint
1 ice cream parlor
2 soup places
1 crêpes stand (I am telling you, this is a street vendor giving out point card; what if it no longer vends the item at the same location?)
1 drycleaner
1 HMV (music) store, except that the iTunes music store causes slow growth in the point accrual in this card
1 art store
1 Roppongi Hills community card
1 Virgin Cinemas card

Some cards have an expiration date, and others impose a small fee to own them:
The toy store card – you will have to shop three times there before finally getting a point card.
The art store card – it costs ¥500, and subsequently, any transaction will have to be in cash, but you do get a whopping 24% discount (this one is actually the most direct in giving the discount, and a big discount at that).
The dry cleaning card - ¥500, and if you will receive a 10% discount, plus if you pick up the item(s) on the appointed day, then an additional discount of 5%.
The Virgin Cinemas card-¥500

Sometimes, these cards actually work against the vendors. One time, my partner and I were strolling in the adjacent neighborhood when suddenly he suggested grabbing something quick at the soup café. I welcomed the idea until I realized that I had forgotten to bring that particular card. When I was adamant not to lose a single point, he responded that the card had betrayed the café; it lost two sales that night because I had forgotten to bring the card. He said, get another card, then the next time, bring both and consolidate them into one. Ha! Did he not think that I had tried that before at a different store? Most of the stores would not bend the rules: in some, they actually stated it in the Terms and Agreement (not even in fine prints) that they would not consolidate two cards into one. Curses! Somebody must have told ‘em about me.