Ubiquitous Japanese elegance

I was sent to Tokyo to work for a software company within the group. "Don't worry," said the boss. "It's all taken care of for you. You just have to bring your clothes."

I got on the plane with a pinch of salt. The plane landed at Narita airport and I followed instructions to Roppongi's apartment. Took the key from the caretaker and walked in the door.

It was a rectangular apartment, twenty square and complete. I didn't know it was a Tokyo mansion. I walked around, what moved me most was the refrigerator. It wasn't the size or brand of the fridge that moved me, it was a note on the door. It read in neat English, "Welcome to Tokyo, Mr. Wang! The refrigerator has prepared some basic food for you, please forgive me if there is not enough. May you sleep."

I opened the fridge in the dark, and what was inside was a revelation.

What are the "basic foods" inside? A box full of magnificence. The color of fruit is better than my color, and the color of milk is whiter than my teeth. I'm just a rookie from the head office, and they've prepared the best dishes and birds for my fridge.

From that moment, to the next ten months, I thoroughly appreciated the delicacy of the Japanese people. They come up with products and services that take care of every detail. In Japan, every once in a while you will be pleasantly surprised and feel: Wow! It turns out life could be lived with such grace and dignity.

For example, after I ran out of food in the fridge, I went to the supermarket to buy a watermelon and found that the big one was cheaper than the small one. It turns out that Japanese watermelons are priced according to sweetness, not weight. Measure the sweetness of watermelons after harvest. The sweeter the more expensive, it doesn't matter the weight.

Europe and the United States also have exquisite products or services, but they are often reserved only for VIP guests who can afford five-star hotels. The Japanese put delicate thinking into the everyday objects of ordinary people. So in Tokyo, you can feel happiness not only in Omotesando, but also in general cosmeceuticals.

Take, for example, the unhappiest of all, public toilets. In order to make people dare to sit on the seat covers of public toilets, cosmeceuticals sell a spray to sterilize the seat covers. To keep your butt from being splattered with toilet water, cosmeceuticals sell coagulants that solidify the water when dropped into the toilet. No matter how hard you "drop" the bomb, it will not cause a "bounce". As the Chinese say, "the way lies in the ground", the Japanese have put it into practice most thoroughly.

In addition to physical comfort, the Japanese also care about the psychological feeling of customers. In department stores, you can ask for a "Do not Disturb" sticker and stick it on your chest to keep the salespeople from approaching you.

The Japanese love cleanliness, even in weathered areas. I was there for a week when I found out that roppongi Station, where my apartment was located, was in fact one of Tokyo's famous music districts. But I pass the subway every day on my way to work, and you wouldn't think to look at the hot girls handing out flyers about places of decency, dressed, made up and carried like civics textbooks. But maybe because of that, there's more room to imagine.