







Let’s get this straight, living in Japan is a great option for the misanthrope. At times though, this doesn’t manifest itself in the healthiest of ways. Japan has an army of closeted, socially-stunted 30 somethings that have barely graduated from their teenage bedroom in mum and dad's house and there are plenty of services and medium in place helping these people to stay there, however unwittingly.





Hikikomori ( 引き籠り) is the Japanese term for a recluse, although the latter doesn’t really cut the mustard in describing this often times serious affliction. “Recluse”, in some interpretations, can almost have a romantic nuance to it - the image of the darkly attractive hero of a movie who shuns the limelight is far removed from someone who might be considered hikikomori.





Perhaps the well-oiled, all-emotions-removed machine that is Japan’s service industry goes someway to exacerbate the plight of the hikikomori, taking out any meaningful, genuine, and potentially terrifying human interaction as it often does.





But this piece is about living in Japan as a misanthrope, which seems to this expat to be more of an active choice to avoid human interaction (or take a masochistic pleasure in being annoyed by it) rather than something that has deeper psychological / social implications. And anyway, this isn’t supposed to be such a serious piece, hence we use the term “misanthrope” lightly.

















"After years of living in Japan, I’ve been left taken aback by staff of shops, banks, and post offices back home who take the chance to actually have a chat to me …"













Perhaps what we are driving at here is best described through examples of service that the expat living in Japan might receive during visits back home, which perhaps offer a stark contrast to those received here. After years of living in Japan, I’ve been left taken aback by staff of shops, banks, and post offices back home who take the chance to actually have a chat to me … even when others are waiting to be served. This is something I’ve seldom, if ever, seen happen in Japan. To qualify, this might be down to the majority of my time having been lived out in the city together with the inescapable fact that I am foreign (in Japan, at least). In this regard though, the cold, dead-eyed and brutally rehearsed interactions of Japanese service might suit the misanthrope perfectly.





The inspiration (if you will) to write this post now comes from DVD / video game rental mainstay, Tsutaya. First of all, “Yes!”, this expat is still renting DVDs. (What of it?!) In the case of Tsutaya though, and I can’t speak for others, but the service there, although perfectly paced, has often come with a kind arrogance on the part of staff who seem to look down upon the customer as if scanning, stocking and dishing out DVDs was some heroic burden that others couldn’t possibly bare. (Back home, working in a DVD rental shop, if there are still any around, is generally the job of choice for those who can’t be bothered to work.) It came as a perverse pleasure (and with a touch of disappointment) then, to see that recently this expat’s local Tsutaya has installed self-service, touch-screen machines to take out the human element of renting a DVD. Warning! They don’t come programmed with foreign languages.





Tsutaya then, has thrown its hat into the myriad other options available to the misanthropic of avoiding human interaction (or keeping it to a bare minimum) in daily-life Japan.





Of course, it’s been quite possible for years now to stay fed, hydrated and drunk in Japan making use of only the nation’s vending machines, although the food is a little harder to come by (and its choice a bit limited). These staples are added onto to more … curious items that can be purchased through vending machines in Japan.













(Japan's vending machines, a long-standing resource for the misanthrope)









While it’s not possible to avoid human interaction altogether, Japan’s “native” fast food joints (Yoshinoya, Matsuya, Ichiran Ramen et al) strip it back to the bare minimum with orders made from ticket machines at restaurant’s entrance meaning one only need hand over said ticket (and possibly respond to a question about portions) to then get served. Why, Ichiran Ramen even section off each customer and have them tick boxes on a bit of paper to facilitate the customization of orders. It’s all about enjoying the ramen apparently, but for the misanthrope living in Japan it could be about something else!





This expat remembers when supermarkets back home first introduced “self checking” machines. It seemed staggering at the time, something just begging to be taken advantage of. It’s arguably a sign of misanthropism (?) and plain good spirit then that these things have gone on to become a staple across the country. Back then I hadn’t any concept of how well “self checking” machines would be suited to Japan, a nation with such a well-behaved populace that few would think, let alone dare, to take advantage (except for those old people they film shoplifting from supermarkets - all in the name of good / crap TV). I was also yet to become aware that supermarkets in Japan didn’t have those conveyor belts at the cash registers and that staff feel the need to pack everything neatly into your basket only for you to take it all out and throw it at random into your shopping bags. It came as little surprise then (although a pleasant one) when my local supermarket here in Japan introduced their own such machines, maybe a year ago. And these ones even speak to you in English! You do have to interact with staff though, when it comes to discounted items and those that require age verification. Still, misanthropic progress of a kind!





One of the things that had the eyes popping when this expat started living in Japan was the touch-screen ordering systems in some family restaurants, izakaya and, of course, sushi train joints. In fact, even the humble buttons to summon wait staff seemed intuitive beyond my wildest reason. (Getting the attention of bar / wait staff can be a stress back home.) Of course, navigating the things was a significant challenge, although surely now, in Japan’s feverish Olympic build-up period, they come with a multilingual setting.

















"The increasing opportunities available to avoid human interaction in Japan might well bring about a situation in which such interaction no longer has to be avoided, it has to be sought out!"













In fact, Japan really is a nation that loves the touch screen, from the self-imposed isolation you see on the nation’s commuter trains (the screens here being those belonging to smartphones) through to those covered in grease and questionable stains in an izakaya. Why, even the vending machines over here are going plasma. The increasing opportunities available to avoid human interaction in Japan might well bring about a situation in which such interaction no longer has to be avoided, it has to be sought out! Perhaps we can see this now, where services provide dates for rent, platonic cuddles, and those services where money is swapped for mere conversation (albeit with someone dressed to the nines and adept at making punters feel like the greatest thing since sliced bread).









(Touch-screen ordering in a sushi restaurant)









It’s a situation so depressing it could make us want bury our head in the sand and hide away from the dystopia of it all. Luckily then, Japan has manga kissa - the ultimate shut-everything-out-and-pretend-it-doesn’t-exist establishments. Dark, quiet, sectioned off, and without windows, Japan’s manga kissa (read - internet cafes) don’t miss a beat. Everything is provided; comfy chairs, big headphones, ashtrays, snacks, free drinks, manga, porn, movies, games, TV … everything but the chance to be social (except for that bit at reception). The perfect resource for the misanthrope living in Japan.













(Japan's manga kissa offer minimal interaction)

















"Perhaps Japan’s most indulgent misanthropic experience is born from the nation’s sometimes disturbing attempts to pander towards that image of Japan as being “weird”."













Perhaps Japan’s most indulgent misanthropic experience is born from the nation’s sometimes disturbing attempts to pander towards that image of Japan as being “weird”. Quite frankly though, the robots that “staff” the Henn na Hotel in Sasebo, Nagasaki look terrifying enough to send even the most staunchly misanthropic racing into the warm bosom of human interaction from the nearest person willing to provide it. I should say at this point, that I’ve never been to robot-staffed Henn na Hotel (recognized by Guinness World Records as the first of its kind) but if the future of hotel service is to come from a robotic dinosaur dressed in a bowtie then maybe those personable family-run BnBs where you have to tell people about your day might not be so daunting after all.





The point here, if there is one, is that living in Japan, while perhaps not for everyone, needn’t be an experience limited to those who might be described as “outgoing”. Those that shy away from interaction, the misanthrope in some cases, will find in Japan a nation more than capable of making them feel welcome (although the first few weeks “in country” might be a bit demanding in this regard).





















Got any misanthropic tendencies? How does life in Japan accommodate them? Let us know in the comments (if you can)!!

























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Images:

Sushi restaurant: Karl Baron Flickr License

Manga kissa: Banalities Flickr License



