The Land od the Rising Yen

the carriage in
a slightly theatrical scene. They march to the middle of the coach, bow
ceremoniously in both directions and then start checking the tickets. In one of
the parks of Nara I met a deer. I bought a pack of food for him. He came up to
me, looked into my eyes and bowed deeply. It was no chance gesture: it was a
proper and courteous bow. Perhaps deer are more imitative than I knew; perhaps
if they see people bowing all the time they get into the habit too; perhaps it
is something genetic and is in the blood of Japanese deer. I do not know; but I
do know that the deer bowed to me, then jumped at me and snatched the little
food-bag from my hand.

    In this, too, the deer was a true
Japanese. You can often see people bowing to each other with ceremonious
serenity at bus-stops. As soon as the bus arrives, the bowing gentlemen are
transformed into savages, they push each other aside, tread on each other’s
toes and shove their elbows into each other’s stomachs.
     
    You will also notice that many people
carry beautifully wrapped parcels. These are gifts, another charming Japanese
courtesy amounting to a mania. They bring gifts on every possible occasion,
almost matching our own frenzy at Christmas-time. Not that in addition to the
permanent gift-seasons they do not have their special seasons. They have, in
fact, three such seasons: New Year, mid year and end of the year. At least we
call gifts ‘gifts’; in Japan they have a different name for each occasion ( otoshi - dama for the New Year, chugen for the mid year and seibo for the end
of the year gift). At least we can send our gifts; the poor Japanese has
to call on the recipient and hand them over personally, bowing deeply.
    The rules about wrapping-paper seem a
trifle intricate at first sight but this is not really so. For the foreigner it
is enough to know that hosho, noriire, hanshi and noshigami are
considered the best papers, and that for certain lesser occasions danshi,
torinoko, sugiwaragami and nishinoushi are less pretentious and so
more appropriate. Once this is remembered the gaijin does not need to
bother about details. But that much he must memorize, otherwise — well, I do
not wish to sound insulting but such things have happened — he may wrap
something in nishinoushi instead of noshigami.
    The method of wrapping is, of
course, of decisive importance. ‘Wrinkling must be avoided and the folding must
be precise. Ordinarily the paper is wrapped so that the last fold comes up on
top of the package at the right-hand edge with the end of the paper extending
all the way to the left-hand edge of the package. One must be careful about the
way this paper is folded, for people are sensitive about it, and it would be
rude indeed to send a gift folded as for an unhappy occasion on an ordinary or
happy occasion.’ Reasonable enough; no one likes to be congratulated on his
death.
    However, if you send fish, fowl, some
other foodstuff or animals (birds, dogs or race-horses) you do not need to wrap
them up. You arrange the gifts ‘on leaves of Mongolia oak, Japanese cypress,
Japanese cedar, pine or nandina’, and place them on a tray or basket.
    You must be extremely careful with
this kind of gift. Once I committed the faux pas of sending a lady a
racehorse on Korean cypress instead of Japanese cypress. I was never received
by her again.
    ‘Gifts with a red-and-white cord
should be tied so that the red cord is on the right; and when using
gold-and-silver cord, the gold should be on the right.’ But as time marches on,
fewer and fewer people commit harakiri on realizing that they used the
gold-and-silver cord with the gold on the left.
    This information comes from Japanese
Etiquette, by the World Fellowship Committee of the YWCA, Tokyo, 7 an indispensable little book, full of useful hints
about such things as how to bow when sitting on the floor. (‘One places the
hands on the floor, palms down, four or six inches apart and bows between the
hands, bringing the head to within four or six inches of the floor.’) It also
teaches you that when leaving a Japanese house in which you are staying you
always have to declare ‘Itte mairimasu’ (I am going now), and on
returning ‘Tadaima’ (I am just back). To say on arrival that you are
just leaving or on leaving that you have just come back is seen as trifling
with your hostess’s feelings.
    There is, of course, another way.
Just treat everyone as your normal instincts prompt. Do not regard anyone