While waiting the other day at an intersection I traverse often (under a huge maze of overpasses), it suddenly struck me that the name of the intersection might look funny to an English- (but not Japanese-) speaker: Ouchi. It's pronounced “oh-ooh-chi”, and sounds like the fictitious Irish name O'Coochie without the 'k' sound.

It's just a name, but for what it's worth, the component characters mean “big” and “inner”.

Unlike America where a driver's license is easier to get than a dog license, Japan makes you go through a lot of very time consuming, expensive pain (roughly five thousand dollars worth) before you can get a license.

Wonderfully, though, it used to be that if you had an international driver's permit, you could pretty much drive indefinitely on that (with minimal cost each year to renew it in your home country). And, if you had the foreign license and met a few simple criteria, you could just pay a few bucks and get a Japanese license issued from it. This was super nice for the visiting foreigner (or the Japanese who had been abroad for “long enough” — six months — to qualify).

However, as of recently, you can drive on an international permit for at most one year; any longer and you need a Japanese driver's licence. And, now instead of just giving you a Japanese license, you must take a (somewhat reduced) written and driving test before they let you convert an American license. (The licenses of some countries, such as Canada and Germany, do not require the test, because those governments have submitted the proper applications to the Japanese government.)

The written test is kindly offered in English, is only 10 questions, and contains such brain teasers as “True or false: it's important to know traffic rules in order to drive safely?”. I think I might be able to squeak by on this one.

The driving test, on the other hand, is notoriously difficult, with a first-attempt passing rate of just 30%. The thing is that it does not test whether you can drive safely, but whether you can pass the test. There is one way to do things (which is not necessarily intuitive nor safe, in some cases), and only if you can do every move exactly perfectly, and don't make a heinous mistake (such as chewing gum while taking the test), you can pass. Otherwise, you fail.

So, there are places that let you practice the test, teaching what to do in order to pass the test. With the 70% first-time failure rate in the forefront of my mind, last week I plunked down $50 for an hour-long practice session at the Kyoto Prefecture southern driver's licence testing center near Nagaokakyou City.

With the instructor's kind permission, I'd tape-recorded the entire thing, and so what follows is are some of the advice he provided along the way:

(Note: Japan drives on the left side of the road, like England/Australia, and unlike mainland Europe and North America)

• Before getting into the car, conspicuously check in front of it and behind it, and all around it, looking to ensure that it is clear of obstructions.

• Before actually opening the car door to get in, make a show of looking both ways (toward the direction where the car is facing, and the opposite way as well) to ensure that it's not dangerous to open the door (that a scooter isn't about to fly right past the spot on which you're standing, for example).

• After getting into the car, do these steps in this specific order:

  1. close door
  2. lock the door
  3. adjust the seat
  4. check/adjust the mirrors

     (now ready to start)

  5. hold down brake pedal and...
  6. release the parking brake, and
  7. start the engine

     (when told to start moving...)

  8. make a show of looking forward and backward to ensure it's safe to move the car. Conspicuously check mirrors.
  9. release the break pedal
  10. pull out

• When turning right, the left side of the car should pass just inside (to the right) of the center of the intersection. The center of most intersections at the test center are marked with a large orange painted dot the size of a beach ball — you'll want to just graze it on the smooth arc of path from the rightmost lane of the road you're turning from to the leftmost lane of the road you're turning onto.

• When turning, don't accelerate. Accelerate after the turn is complete.

• When turning left, be sure to not briefly counter-steer out toward the right just before the sharp turn to the left. I had this tendency (to provide a better approach angle), but he said that a turn should begin from a straight-on position.

• When turning (especially left), go slow. Very, very (walking-speed) slow. I kept going way to fast, even though I went much slower than I thought was reasonable.

• When approaching an intersection at which you intend to turn left, drift over to the left side of the lane to pinch off the side of the road such that it's less inviting for a scooter/motorcycle to try to zip past you between you and the curb. (This helps avoid them speeding along the side of the road and impaling themselves into your car door as you suddenly turn.)

• Note that there are very few places on the test track where you must stop. There is one railroad crossing (which is really just some lines painted on the ground — be sure to remember that they're supposed to represent a railroad crossing!), and one stop sign. You don't stop at any other place unless other traffic dictates (e.g. when you're on a smaller road and wish to enter a larger road that currently has traffic).

  I had to fight the test-taking try-to-exaggerate-safety urge to stop more often. At the test track where I did the practice, there was in intersection with traffic signals, but the lights were not in use. I don't know if this is because they were broken, or because they are not used for the test. In any case, unlike America, an unworking traffic light is apparently taken as a no-stop situation (while in America, an unworking traffic light is taken as an all-way stop).

• When you do stop somewhere, stop just before the line (but exaggerate a bit, so that it's clear you're clearly not on/over the line).

• Before changing lanes:

  1. Turn on turn signal
  2. Look behind over your shoulder, on the side you'll be turning (to see whether where you intend to go is empty/safe)
  3. Start and complete the lane change.

  You want about 3 seconds to elapse from #1 to #3. Be sure to pause slightly between each step (I have the habit of doing the first two at the same time). Be sure the lane change is smooth.

• When preparing to turn, turn on turn signal 30m (visualize 3 full-size tour bus lengths) before you turn, even if there are other intersections, turnoffs, or 90-degree bends in the road during that 30m. (I think it is quite dangerous, as it means that you are required to go straight through some intersections with your blinker running.)

  Follow the steps above... 1) at 30m before the intended turn, turn on the turn signal, then 2) look back over your shoulder to check for safety, then 3) continue forward until the turn point and turn.

• If you're on a road which has two lanes in the direction you're traveling, you'll want to generally run in the left lane (since that's the “slow lane”). If you intend to turn right at an intersection, you'll need to move to the right lane before doing the turn. You'll want to pick a point to start the lane change such that when you're done, you'll be about 30m from the intersection. Thus, you'll have your turn signal on for three seconds (for the lane change), and by the time you're done you'll need it on because you're about 30m from the intersection, so the turn signal stays on the whole time. (I wanted to turn it off for a moment in between, to differentiate my actions from someone forgetting to have turned the turn signal off).

• When preparing to stop, don't just slowly get onto the brakes until you stop, but rather do it in a few steps (e.g. letting off them for a bit halfway through a slow slowdown). The reason for this is to cause your brake lights to flash a time or two, thus being more attention-getting to those behind you. (In the test car, on the dash in front of the instructor, are lights which indicate your use of the break, accelerator, turn signals, etc., so during the test, no action or inaction will escape notice.)

• When making a turn which requires quite a bit of steering-wheel movement, be sure to turn it with a hand-over-hand motion, not a shuffle-shuffle type of turning. (Tip from someone at JAF, the Japanese version of AAA).

• When coming to a stop, complete the stop and then make a show of looking both ways to ensure it's safe to move forward. Be sure you're well and truly stopped (say, for two or three seconds at least while you're looking around). Only then can you start to move forward.

• When stopping at the pretend railroad crossing, put down your window a bit to listen for sound from the (nonexistent) crossing signal.

• When approaching an intersection where you don't have the right of way, if there's any other traffic even remotely close, stop and wait for them. Be sure to wait back at the line where you're supposed to wait, and not up sort of closer to the intersection where everyone actually does wait in real life (or, where they would, were they to actually ever wait for someone else.)

• Some of the small roads are so narrow that I instinctively placed the car in the center of the lane-width road, but (unless it's a one-way street) if there's no centerline you at least want to be toward the left side of the road. So, be sure to note if there are any one-ways on the course you'll take, and if not, don't mistakenly drive in the center of the small roads.

• After parking at the end of the test:

  1. engage parking break
  2. put car in park
  3. engine off
  4. seat-belt off

• The test for gaimenkirikae (the converting of a foreign license) is pretty short and simple, with a few intersections and turns (including one cramped “S” curve encased in tall traffic cones just waiting to be bumped), but no backing up or parking.

• You really need to memorize the route (you'll be given a map when you file your paperwork and take the written test). The tester may well tell you “turn left at #14” (in Japanese, of course), but by the time he says it, it may well be too late. So, memorize the course.

• You can walk the actual course during lunchtime, when it is otherwise closed.

• There may be other traffic on the course while you take the test.

The site www.japandriverslicense.com has a lot of information in English about Japanese driver's licenses, and driving. It's very helpful.

With both my brother Mike and good friend Rick each expecting their first child in May, I made a quick list of things a new parent should have on hand. Many are obvious, but in any case, here's the first pass at a list, in no particular order:

• no-tears shampoo - remarkably, they don't have this in Japan, so if you get the least bit of (Japanese) baby shampoo in the baby's eyes, you have a very very unhappy baby. Note that there's no baby bath in my list, as I found it substantially easier to cradle Anthony in one arm, bring him into the shower, and wash with the other.

  We used a baby bath just once (for his first bath), and had a perfectly awkward time with it, and never used it again. (Well, never again for a bath — we did use it, with appropriate padding, for his bed for many months).

• “blue chux” — disposable waterproof sheets generally used in the hospital for a variety of keep-body-fluids-from-leaking tasks. They are absolutely fantastic for the new parent, for use in the baby bed, car seat, your shoulder, on the floor — anywhere where baby might go (because baby might “go” anywhere, ifyouknowwhatImean.)

  You can get them in bulk for about 10 cents each (in a 2-foot by 1.5-foot size) from a medical supply store. I've given these to many new parents, and invariably the initial reaction was “uh, well, thanks, I guess”, but after a while they invariable came back with “my gosh these are fantastic, where can I get more?”. Unfortunately, in a quick search for “disposable underpad” on Yahoo! Shopping I see only expensive ones. You need a medical supply store to get the good / lowcost ones in bulk, and the one from which I bought them years ago is no longer there.

  UPDATE - My sister found a place that sells them in bulk: dhmedical.com.

• Acetaminophen (Tylenol) suppositories - In the US, Tylenol is the fever-reducer of choice for infants, joined by ibuprofen (Motrin) at around six months. When Anthony had his fevers and colds, I would dutiful go out to the store and get Infant's Tylenol drops, and give to him in the dosages as per the doctor's instructions. It's a liquid that is given via an eyedropper or mini plastic syringe “injected” into the mouth.

  Unfortunately, there are a number of extremely bad things about Infant Tylenol:

  • it's artificially colored with a deeply red dye, so that when the baby spits it out or spits it up (both of which the baby most certainly will), it ruins anything it touches. (Another vote for the blue chux mentioned above).
  • It's sickenly sweet, a characteristic perhaps enjoyed by some four-year-olds, but to an infant who has never had anything except milk, it's utterly disgusting. Hence, the aforementioned spit up/out.

  I spent a lot of time and energy and frustration trying to get Anthony to take the medicine (which works wonders, once it's down and stays down), and even learned a special way to hold him (that allows me to lock his arms and legs and yet still have a hand and a half left to administer the red gunk) from my emergency-room-nurse sister.

  So, it was with wonderful amazement the first time I brought him to the doctor in Japan that I beheld fever-reducing suppositories. I don't know what medicine they had in them, although I suspect it was acetaminophen. Anyway, in a few short seconds, I can pull from the package, cut to the proper size (to adjust the dosage to his weight), and stick up his butt. He certainly doesn't care for the experience, but unlike his ability to spit out anything put into his mouth, in this case he doesn't have much choice about it (and also unlike the liquid version, and it's over in 5 seconds anyway). Wow, these were wonderful. I would have given my firstborn to have had these when Anthony was young. Er, um, well, maybe not, but you know what I mean.

  I don't know if they're available in The States, but it's worth it to ask your doctor. (UPDATE: see comment by my sister below)

• non-bulbous snot sucker — babies can't blow their nose, and at first can't even breathe well through their mouth, so if they get a stuffy nose, you're in for trouble. The only way I've seen to clear a baby's nose in The States is with a bulb sucker — squeeze bulb, insert thin end into nose, and let go to suck snot out of nose and into bulb. It often works. At least a little.

  In Japan, Fumie found a product called “mama hanamizu totte” (literally, “Mama snot pluck”). This is two tubes connected to a little jar — put one tube into the baby nose, the other into your mouth, and suck. Snot comes up the one tube, and into the jar, mercifully stopping short of continuing up the other tube into your mouth. You can get a serious amount of suction. Excellent.

• thermometer — a fast butt thermometer, along with disposable sheathes to keep things simple and clean.

• “kimono” clothes — when Anthony first came home from the hospital and we were faced with removing the shirt the hospital had put on him, I opted to remove it with scissors rather than try to get the little thing over his huge (relatively speaking) baby head (which, as a new parent, I worried would pop off his body with but the slightest of tugs)

  Fumie had some infantwear from Japan which was fashioned like a robe, rather than like overalls or a shirt. It was wonderfully simple to put on and take off — no fighting with heads and arms and legs. Invaluable during the first month.

• good lactation consultant - If you're going to breastfeed, do the research beforehand as to who is a good lactation consultant in your area, so that you'll have her available if needed. We used Bev Morgan, who was just wonderful (and who is now apparently in Austin, Texas).

• microwave sterilizer — to get bottles and stuff really clean (or, more precisely, dirty or clean, but at least sterile), we found this sterilizer to be super handy.

• A Costco membership — the cost of a Costco membership are easily recovered with just diapers (and particularly formula, if needed).

• other obvious stuff — diapers, wipes, diaper-rash stuff (A&D ointment is just fine), infant/car seat, socks, blanket, hat, bottle, formula (hospital will give you some), bottles, breast pump

Buying a car in Japan is a daunting task. Or, to be more precise, selecting a make/model of car to buy in Japan is a daunting task. Considering only domestic (Japanese) cars, there are nine major makers (Itsuzsu, Daihatsu, Honda, Suzui, Toyota, Mazda, Nissan, Mitsubishi, and Subaru) representing an incredible 217 models (a stunning 69 from Toyota alone). Then there are about 15 major foreign makers, representing another 120 different models.

To go along with all those models are a lot of different classifications. In addition to the normal sedan, SUV, wagon, minivan, and sports/specialty classifications are super-mini and “2BOX”. It turns out that the cars Fumie and I were interested in buying were in the “2BOX” class, although I have no idea what "2BOX' means.

With so many models, names are, uh, “creative”. Some of the ones we initially considered included the Honda FIT, Toyota Corolla SPACiO, Toyota RAUM, the Toyota Corolla RUNX, and the Mitsubishi Colt (unrelated to the Dodge vehicle by the same name). Toyotas include a litany of names that would bring the best spell-checker to its knees, including the Toyota ist, Toyota WISH, Toyota Opa, Toyota bB, Toyota Brevis, Toyota Crown Majesta, Toyota WiLL CYPHA, and the Toyota Cami. The starting price tag of these Toyota cars (before options, etc.) range from under $9k (Toyota Vitz) to $100k (the Toyota Century). The ones we considered were in the $17k-$21k range.

In the end, we bought a Toyota Sienta, and like it a lot. According to the old web site's “from the chief engineer” page, the name Sienta comes from the Spanish “siete” (“7”, as it can hold seven passengers) and the English “entertainment”. Ugh. The car is much nicer than its name entomology etymology.