Some notes on daily life in Tokyo

Thought my reply to an e-mail from a friend who is coming to study here in Tokyo might benefit others too...

"Dear Achoi,

Congratulations on being granted Mambusho scholarship to do your MA in GRIPS.

Since we are in different programs, I could only hope that my responses to your queries would be relevant. Yours is a one-year MA program, while mine is from being a research post graduate student and could be extended until I finish my PhD should I wish to do so. (I had only asked for extension until I finish my MA though). However, you will receive higher monthly stipend. Right now while under Cuti Belajar Bergaji Penuh, JPA is paying my salary but I am not sure about your program, so you might want to check with JPA on that.

Ok, now to address your questions.

While Mambusho does not provide family allowance, you are entitled to get monthly child allowance from your ward/city office. The rule of thumb is 5000 yen per child for 1^st and 2^nd child and 10,000 yen for third and subsequent children. However, if your 1^st or 2^nd child is under three years of age, then s/he is also eligible to get 10,000 yen monthly allowance.

As for medical expenses, if you sign your family up for National Health Insurance plan, chances are your children’s medical expenses would be subsidized, either partially or fully, depending on your locality. For instance, when I was living in Chiba, any medical treatment for Huzaifah costed 200 yen and his medicine costed 40 yen. Here in Asakusa, where we pay higher premium for health insurance, medical expenses (both consultation and prescription) for children under 6 (or is it 9?) year old are fully subsidized.

As for part-time jobs – it might be easier for a person who can speak nihongo to get it. You also must apply for a work permit if either you or your wife wishes to engage in some baito (as we call part-time job here). Since you are going to be a full-time student, you /your wife could only work up to 28 hours per week, and 8 hours per day during vacation. You can check with GRIPS office on the procedure to apply for a work permit – I got one for my hubby and the procedure is quite tedious even though there is no charge for it.

As for kindergarten (hoikuen) or nursery (youchien), you have to check it with your ward/city office on the availability and charges. Sometimes the ward/city office also provides daycare and charge it per hours for children who are not attending either hoikuen or youchien. Again, you might want to check this with your city/ward office.

Ramai tak melayu kat sini?
Heh. Relatively speaking – boleh tahan ramai. But whether you get to meet/interact with other Malay on daily basis is another issue. Should you feel like staying in a kampong Melayu, you might want to consider staying in Gyotoku or Hachioji. There are many post graduate Malay students living there, where monthly rental for a two room apartment would be around 60,000 - 65,000 yen.

There are plenty of halal shops in Tokyo, and my personal favorite is Nasco. You could purchase halal stuff by going to the shop yourself, by calling the shop or shopping online.

I am not sure of the exact population of Muslims in Tokyo and surrounding areas, but there are plenty of mosques and musollas, so I guess Muslims here pun boleh tahan ramai jugak la kot.

You have to buy electrical appliances here due to differences in voltage and plug used. Malaysia uses 240 volts whereas in Japan the voltage is 100. You can buy certain used appliances such as rice cooker, fridge, heater, washing machine and gas cooker at recycle shops.

As for formula milk and cereals, you might want to consider bringing a lot of stock from Malaysia. Relatively speaking, disposable diapers are not that expensive, but children wear could burn a hole in your pocket. Many friends here buy used children wear at flea market or recycle shops – especially those thick warm clothing that you won’t consider bringing back to Malaysia. Sometimes though you might want to consider buying brand new t-shirt or two at bargain price when there’s sale going in Gap or Uniqlo outlets (I personally found that Gap outlets in Shinjuku and Ueno usually carry more stock on children wear on sale).

Based on past experience, it could be rather chilly in October, but not quite cold yet. So, you don’t have to buy winter clothing yet, but do be prepared with some sweaters/jackets upon arrival.

A good car is worth buying only if you intend to bring it back to Malaysia because cars are costly in many respects. Parking is expensive (it’s around 20,000 yen monthly in Tokyo, less in outskirts). Gas is expensive. And Tokyo has lots of tolled roads. Not to mention taxes, insurances and maintenance. That being said, buying used car here could be quite an investment if you intend to bring it back to Malaysia. For example, a 2004 used Toyota Wish is about the same price with a brand new Perodua Kancil – so that could be a factor to consider.

Chances are you might be traveling a lot using trains. Life here is organized around train stations, and distance is usually counted in minutes (by foot) from the nearest train station. Housing prices fall as one moves further from the station. You can use Hyperdia to help planning train travel between any two stations in Japan, complete with information on cost and time. For travel in and around Tokyo, you could also refer to Tokyo Transfer guide page.

And you might want to consider buying a bicycle. Almost everyone cycle here – from young kindergarten kids in cute bikes to frail 80 year old grannies in tricycles. Men in suits, women in skirts and high heels, students - from elementary school through college – all could be seen riding bikes. Children under 6 years old are allowed to ride on bikes with child carrier seats. Maintenance is all time low – air for tires could be found at bike shops or paid public parking areas, free parking areas are plenty and bike owners don’t have to worry about gas prices or toll rates.

Mak-mak dulu...

I have a lot respect for mothers in the old days – during those times when a family usually consists of 6, 8 or more kids, when the father was the sole breadwinner and the mother the sole domestic manager.

This morning I read a blog where the writer confessed that she had never felt so challenged in all her life as a mother now that her three children are all young adults.

This morning I also received an email from an old friend who, like me, has two sons - a toddler and a newborn baby. She confessed a sentiment which echoes my own – “rasa hidup terkejar-kejar ke sana ke mari”.

Just the other night, Mak remarked that the challenges of being a mother is never ending - from day one until she exhales her last breath, only it varies in forms and manners.

Imagine those mothers in the old days.

Back in the days with no water or electric supply in the house, what more microwave oven, fridge, blender, washing machine, vacuum cleaner or dishwasher. No disposable diapers, prepared sauces and flavorings, frozen meals or canned soup.
Back in the days when they never heard of child psychologists, motivators or family counselors.

Imagine their physical strength – to do all the water fetching, wood cutting, spices grinding, sambal pounding, cooking, washing and cleaning from dawn to sunset. And they had to wake up in the middle of the night too – to change diapers, nurse the baby, calm a child who just had a bad nightmare, sooth the child who was down with fever…

Imagine their emotional and mental strength – nurturing and catering the differing needs of kids from various stages – newborn, toddlers, schoolchildren and young adults - all simultaneously.
Sometimes they even took in their young grandchildren under their wings.

Imagine their spiritual strength – for despite all their never ending hard works, the same mothers could find time for long solat (as against 'touch-and-go' ones like many busy mothers resort to nowadays – and I am no exception), for pre-dawn heartfelt zikir, and to patiently teach their own children how to perform solat, to read the Quran and some basics of Islamic teachings.

I only have two kids right now and already I feel so overwhelmed at times.
I don’t know how I am going to survive after Mak goes back and Mak is returning to Malaysia in less than a week time.
Huzaifah is as active as ever, paying little attention to his Ibu’s pleas not to do this or that.
Humaidi could not be left alone for long before he starts crying.
Humaidi’s diaper leaks also mean additional hand washing as laundry now need to be rinsed thoroughly first before being dumped in the washing machine.
Cooking had to be done in the early morning before Huzaifah wakes up.
Any writing or reading has to be done when I could find time to do so in between trying to console a wailing Humaidi, preventing Huzaifah from endangering himself with his aksi lasak, maintaining a livable home and looking like a respectable human being…

So, to console myself, I imagine the hardships that mothers in the old days had gone through.
And I quickly count my blessings as I remind myself that I am in no position to moan.
At all.

Dah habis pantang dah...

My pantang was over last Saturday.

I started the day with having an egg sandwich with a mug of tea – two no-no food/drink during confinement.

Since the weather was splendidly-oh-so-sunshiny yesterday, I decided to take Mak along with baby Humaidi out shopping while hubby took care of Huzaifah at home. Mak wanted to buy some souvenirs and she had expressed her desire for a return trip to “that big 100 yen shop we went to last year”. The big 100 yen shop she meant is the 7-floor Daiso 100 yen hall in Funabashi, Chiba, which is about 45 minutes from our home by bus (to Asakusabashi) and train (JR Sobu line from Asakusabashi to Funabashi).

I did not bring the baby stroller to carry Humaidi, instead I asked Mak to help tying the knot for a traditional sling using kain batik. Hah, it’s very Indon like, if you ask me, but I like having my two hands free and not worrying about carrying the stroller up the stairs at the train station (there’s neither elevator nor escalator at Asakusabashi eki).

Right after we finished shopping, we went to a Tenya just across the road. Mak had jou tendon while I had a plate of mix tempura – prawn, squid, fish, pumpkin, eggplant and snap bean. All save for the fish were no-no food during confinement. Not to mention the free flow ice cold tea. The prawn tempura tasted especially delicious, perhaps because I’ve been tempted with prawns a few times before. The two big pieces of juicy ebi-furai for congratulatory meal in the hospital, the mouth watering sambal udang in Taj Mahal the previous week plus some home made sambal udang by Mak at home…

By the way, alhamdulillah, a thorough check by the gynae a month after Humaidi was born, confirmed that everything is fine with me. I miss not having any tukang urut or a traditional bidan around though, if only to get second opinion.

Humaidi too is growing well, alhamdulillah. He hasn’t gotten any immunization injection yet, but he has gained over 1kg since birth. He has learned to suck much better now compared to the first few weeks when I had to pump my milk for him. Unfortunately I am not producing enough milk to breastfeed exclusively, but so long as I get to feed him, I am not complaining. I already lost that connection with Huzaifah, so I really appreciate the opportunity I have right now.

Actually I am appreciating and re-appreciating a lot of things now that the confinement period is over- including a small pack of Green tea Haagen Dazs in my fridge waiting to be consumed soon after I post this entry…

The day Mak turned 60

Mak turned 60 on May 12th.

And due to a call from Rika-san the previous day, hubby was free from teaching obligations that day. He initially thought of treating Mak and I for a birthday dinner, but since he was free for the day, he made a change of plan…

So he led us to a day out in the park – at Shinjuku Gyoen.
Hubby had a blast taking photos here and there – and it so happened that our visit coincided with the opening day of LOHAS Design Award 2007.

Mak had a back ache – from all the running in her attempts to catch up with Huzaifah.

I had a lot of quiet moment with Humaidi, sitting under the roofed arbor, munching on castellas, wishing hubby would hurry up so that we could go back early and Mak could pray Asar at home as per her request before we left home. Oh, and I met one obaasan who also happened to live in Asakusa but went for a walk in Shinjuku Gyoen. She asked me to try out Hibiya Koen on another day, since it's also a splendid garden, or so according to her.

If anyone would like to visit Shinjuku Gyoen, I would suggest doing so during Sakura season for hanami, or in autumn for momiji. It’s pretty ordinary during late spring/summer - lots of greens and nothing much else, except for some varieties of roses in the French formal garden area.

Despite Mak’s pleas to go back early, hubby insisted on visiting the Greenhouse, which we did. I’m quite relieved we did so though because only after visiting it we realized that the huge Greenhouse would be closed for renovation beginning May 14^th and only would be reopened in 2011. (Most of the plants found there could be seen in Malaysia, but we seldom get to enter a greenhouse though...)

We left the park at almost 3.00 p.m, by which time the adults were all hit with the 3 Ls – Lapar, Lenguh and Letih. Huzaifah was already dozing off in his stroller, while Humaidi was sleeping rather peacefully in my arms.

Hubby called Brother Harun, who acts as chef at his own restaurant, Taj Mahal in Matsudo, in advance to let him know that we would be coming – a lot early for dinner, but a little late for lunch. Brother Harun is a regular attendee for Jumuah prayer at Asakusa mosque. I had been to Taj Mahal once before and was treated to a nice supper. On that occasion, Huzaifah even broke a glass, but Brother Harun refused to accept any payment for neither the meal nor the broken glass. We said that we would like to visit his restaurant another time, but he must accept our payment the next time.

Right after we exited the train at Akasaka Mitsuke station, to change from Marunouchi to Ginza line, hubby exclaimed that he had forgotten his knapsack on the overhead rack in the train. I rushed to the station’s Lost and Found office, quickly reported our loss, hoping that we would be able to retrieve it as soon as possible.

After getting some details from me – the color of the knapsack, the brand, the content, which coach we were in, which side of the coach – the person in charge called Ochanomizu station, asking the person there to look out for it. The efficiency of Japanese customer service was proven yet again, for it was less than 10 minutes before I overheard the call confirming that the bag was found in Ochanomizu. I was then advised to go to there since the person in charge was waiting for me to come and claim my bag.

So, instead of going to Ueno to catch another train to Matsudo, we had to detour to Ochanomizu first. Not long after we entered the train, Humaidi woke up and demanded to be fed. Since both his feeding bottles were in the temporarily missing bag, I had to ask hubby to act as a shield as I tried my best to sorok-sorok breastfeeding my hungry baby. Lucky for me, when they are on board a train, most Japanese tend to be either very occupied with their handphone/reading materials or asleep, and those who are neither tend to be rather zombie like, staring ahead until they reach their station without turning around much. Thus I did not receive any lecherous grins or improper attention at that time.

Huzaifah too woke up just as we were about to exit the train in Ochanomizu, and badly needed a diaper change as his pants were already wet. So, while hubby gave him a change of clothes, I quickly went to claim the lost bag, leaving Mak with hubby and kids. After confirming that the found bag was mine, the content intact and filled in some form, I joined my family, just in time to board the train heading back the way we came from. Since we were in Ochanomizu, we decided to change to Hibiya line at Ginza. Instead of stopping at Ueno, we exited at Kita Senju and boarded a Joban train there to Matsudo.

It turned out that Brother Harun had prepared special dishes for us when we reached there. Mak and I had been looking forward to having nan and tandoori, but what we were served was that and so much more.

For appetizer, we were served gado-gado and tomato sauce spring rolls.
For main course, we were served seafood nasi goreng, sambal udang, vegetables fried with minced beef, Bengal-style fried fish, tandoori chicken, dhal curry with white rice and nan.
We had yummy yoghurt topped with real strawberry, kiwi and banana slices for dessert before finally we were served chai.

Ok, for the record, I didn’t eat the sambal udang, nor any of the ‘angin’ veggies, but I just couldn’t resist the chai. Besides, I figured since it was brewed with “warm spices” - cinnamon, ginger and cloves - surely it couldn’t be bad for a mother in confinement period. Ehcheh... Honestly, since my first sip of the distinct chai there months ago, I was simply hooked, and I have always been a teh tarik lover anyway…

The meal was lovely – and really felt special as exquisite dishes were served one after another. Mak asked hubby if he had ordered in advance, to which he admitted that no, he did not order anything in advance, that it was all to Brother Harun’s credit. We felt like we could not thank him enough; he even went the extra mile to prepare ‘nusantara’ dishes which were never listed in his Indian restaurant’s menu.

When we finished the meal, hubby went to the cash register but Brother Harun adamantly refused to receive any payment. He insisted on it being his gift – for Mak’s birthday as well as a belated congratulatory dinner for me on Humaidi’s birth. (He even asked me to bring Mak there again before she returns to Malaysia, for yet another treat.)

So that's the story of the day when Mak turned 60…

If you want to be fair...

"Let's not ask Barbara Walters about how a Muslim woman feels.
Let's not ask Tom Brokaw how Muslim women feel.
Let's not ask CNN, ABC, Fox
Let's not ask The London Times or The Australian Times
Let's not ask non Muslims about how Muslim women feel, how they live, what are their principles, what are their challenges.
If you want to be fair, ask a Muslim woman...
Ask a Muslim woman that knows her religion, who has a relationship with her Creator, who is stable in her society, understanding her responsibilities, her relationships.
Ask her.
And after that, I think you should be fair, and you don't need to ask someone else...
But the problem is, no one really wants to ask Muslim women"

Sheikh Khalid Yasin during a talk on "True success of Life"

10, 20 years ago

My birthday was last Thursday. A non-event if you asked me, what with me still being in confinement period and all. Mak made ‘birthday lempeng” for tea, but hubby promised a birthday treat for both of us on Saturday, Mak’s 60^th birthday. Ayah just turned 60 the previous Saturday, on 5^th May, when Humaidi turned a month old (and had to see a doctor because his temperature was a bit high. Huzaifah too had to be brought to the clinic because of high temperature – alhamdulillah, they are both okay now).

I received two parcels this past week. One was from Malaysia, containing 20 extra large cotton diapers meant as kain bedung for Humaidi. The other parcel was from ICOJ President and his family. It contained a birthday card, some new clothes for Huzaifah and Humaidi and a 2000 yen voucher. Seems like this year, my birthday presents are really meant for my children, but I am happy. And especially happy when Humaidi – who was not sleeping well the previous night due to probably gassy tummy - was given a clean bill of health by Watari-san, the public nurse who visited us on my birthday to check on him.

Anyway, birthday meant another year gone, and shorter time left for me on this earth – so I have thought of how things, personal views and perspectives have changed for me in the last 10, 20 years. Here are some of my thoughts:
On writing
At 12, my short composition was published in the school yearbook
At 22, my articles had been published in the New Straits Times and The Star, and I had my own column in a bi-monthly (or was it monthly?) publication albeit with a small distribution.
At 32, my rants and ravings are published only on my blog.

On marriage
At 12, not wanting to repeat the failure my biological mother was in her marriages, I had resolved never to marry.
At 22, I had came to accept that we are different people and that kind of failure is not necessarily inherited
At 32, I am quite positive that we are different.

On education
At 12, I never thought I was going to be a law student in a prestigious school in the UK
At 22, I was struggling to get a law degree with honors in Leeds University.
At 32, I am pleased to admit that I got a law degree from Leeds University.

At 12, I never really thought about education further than, errr SPM maybe…
At 22, I thought of getting my MA by the age of 30, and maybe get my PhD by the age of 40
At 32, I am still struggling to finish my MA (while many of my friends are currently pursuing their PhD)

On career
At 12, I never dreamed of becoming a lawyer
At 22, I knew I wasn’t cut to be a practicing lawyer
At 32, I am happy I am not a lawyer

At 12, I wanted to be an archeologist
At 22, I wanted a job with a decent pay after graduation (and prayed hard for it because it was during the recession)
At 32, I am no way near being an archeologist, but am content with my current job.

On being a worthy person
At 12, I wanted to be someone “berguna”
At 22, I just knew I was going to be someone “berguna”
At 32, I hope I am actually “berguna”, not merely "kena guna" (because sometimes being a machai could be really frustrating especially when you have lousy leaders and you have to follow them because doing otherwise is not an actual option)

On savings
At 12, I saved up for a Nittaku ping-pong bat
At 22, I saved up for a tour around Europe
At 32, I am saving to help the family get rid of some debts and after that, perhaps for a car

On travel
At 12, I had wanted to visit USA so bad (that I even fabricated stories about my “trip” in the USA, based on stories I heard from my aunts and uncles who studied there)
At 22, I had wanted to visit Hong Kong and China so bad (partly to visit Muslims there, partly because I was a Hong Kong drama fan, partly because Hong Kong was the home of Aaron Kwok)
At 32, I want to go to Makkah and Madinah first and foremost, travel elsewhere but I don’t mind not going to USA at all

On photography
At 12, I had no idea of the joy in taking pictures
At 22, I loved taking pictures (Mak kept complaining that I was spending too much on photos)
At 32, I am married to someone who loves taking pictures even more than me (sometimes he get so carried away with it that he just abandoned other tasks at hand)

On ice cream
At 12, I loved ice cream, especially aiskrim mangkuk
At 22, I loved ice cream, especially McDonald’s hot fudge sundae served with hot apple pie (they don’t serve it that way in Malaysia though)
At 32, I love ice cream – and can’t wait for my confinement period to be over so that I could indulge in a cup of Haagen Dazs – or better, a treat at Cold Stone Creamery.

Bag of Potatoes

Found this one as I was browsing through old e-mails and thought it's worth sharing...

"One of my teachers had each one of us
bring a clear plastic bag and a
sack of potatoes. For every person we'd
refuse to forgive in our life, we
were told to choose a potato, write on it
the name and date, and put it in
the plastic bag. Some of our bags, as you
can imagine, were quite heavy.

We were then told to carry this bag with
us everywhere for one week,
putting it beside our bed at night, on
the car seat when driving, next
to our desk at work.

The hassle of lugging this around with us
made it clear what a weight we
were carrying spiritually, and how we had
to pay attention to it all the
time to not forget, and keep leaving
it in embarrassing places.

Naturally, the condition of the potatoes
deteriorated to a nasty slime. This
was a great metaphor for the price we pay
for keeping our pain and heavy
negativity.

Too often we think of forgiveness as a
gift to the other person, and
while that's true, it clearly is also a
gift for ourselves. "

-Author Unknown