Lessons I've learnt while pooing in a Japanese toilet 💩

Day 96: A short reflection on toilet bowls, rain covers and Japanese packaging.

Have you ever felt embarrassed while taking a dump in a public toilet because you've accidentally let out a big fart mid-poo, or felt self-conscious about the sound of your poop splashes?

I know I have 💩

Photo by Ante Hamersmit on Unsplash

I’m taking a shit in a random public toilet, and my ass is warm even though the temperature is below 10 degrees today.

I stare at the plethora of buttons on the control panel beside me. By now, I’ve grown accustomed to the heated toilet seats and have started to take for granted the multiple washing bidet options for my various sanitary needs.

One of them surprises me though – “privacy”. 

Out of curiosity, I press it. Suddenly, I’m transported to the scene of a waterfall with the sound of birds chirping and water flowing.

Only in Japan, I’d never have to feel embarrassed about doing a solid poo. I’m impressed.

In another public toilet cubicle I walked into, the door closure clasp doubles as a holder for your phone and wallet. It’s space saving and convenient, plus you would never forget your belongings this way.

Just realised that there’s also an umbrella holder lol.

But Japan’s attentiveness goes far beyond toilet cubicles.

I’ve visited multiple galleries and museums that provide baggage storage services for free, just so you can enjoy your museum visit without fussing over a backpack or a sling back on your shoulders.

For the same reason, shopping here is more fun. The experience of buying something doesn’t end after you’ve handed over the money. There are so many more details to observe, so many more meticulous steps that shopkeepers have taken to make their customers feel taken care of. Details that you continue to discover long after you’ve left those shops.

Rain covers on a rainy day. Apparently this is a very “Japanese thing”.

Unwrapping this package gave me the thrill of Christmas Day, even though I bought it and know exactly what’s in it.

Small nerd moment: These interactions remind me of lessons I’ve learnt from the design thinking methodology and the importance of a highly empathetic customer experience. 

There’s a learning in here somewhere about understanding your customer’s pain points and considering their interaction with your space, service and/or product every step of the way. 

When I was in Tokyo, I spoke to a Japanese friend about this observation. What he said surprised me though, because I hadn’t considered it from his perspective.

“In Japan, we’re taught that the customer is king. It’s nice for the customers, but sometimes it gets very tiring for workers.”

I imagined myself working at these places – he’s right. I’d probably be cursing my boss under my breath for all the extra work that I assume most people probably gloss over and take for granted.

I suppose also, that when taken to the extremes, the same meticulous attention to detail can be frustrating, suffocating and even overbearing. Sometimes it also manifests as unnecessary bureaucracy, when detailed procedures aren’t updated to keep up with the times. It’s a common pain I often hear about from those who have to go through administrative procedures in Japan.

But if it’s any consolation to Japanese workers, it is exactly this attentiveness (when done right) that makes the country so exceptional to travel in.

Once, a konbini staff in a small rural town spent one-hour(!) patiently problem-solving with me, as we figured out if my luggage could be forwarded to one konbini to another. (Turns out you can’t.)

Before leaving Singapore, I had been apprehensive about whether I’d be able to adapt well to Japan. I heard a lot about how its people are shy and can often come across as cold or reserved. But in my experience, that is far from true.

Most of the time, we don’t even speak the same language – I rely heavily on Google Translate for any exchange that requires more than a yes/no reply. Yet, I’ve had countless warm encounters with shopkeepers and strangers-turned-friends, many of whom have gone out of their way to look out for me when they didn’t need to.

Admittedly, I’m just a traveller passing through the country with my tightly fitted rose-tinted glasses on. But still, I’m appreciating the comfort of Japan’s thoughtfulness, especially in the countryside, where its people have more time for my slowly spoken, broken Japanese.