Fun With Japanese Plumbing.
Apr. 9th, 2007 06:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sechan19Despite the fact that my host family are American, the house we live in is most assuredly Japanese. Neat and compact, with sliding screen closets and tatami mat floors. The living room is outfitted American-style, with a large, blue plush wraparound couch and an HD widescreen television, but there's no getting away from the strangeness of the bathroom.
The WC is separate from the bathing room (a la much of Europe), but the real weirdness of Japanese plumbing was revealed to me during my first morning in the house - when I went to use the toilet. The porcelain god is outfitted in state here and looks super high-tech in nearly every aspect. I sat down, noting a series of buttons for bidet-type functions that glowed to indicate their operativeness. Not sure how to feel about them, I decided to ignore them for the time being and settle in for a regular toilet-going experience.
As I was sitting, however, I began to notice an odd sensation along my thighs. They were getting warm; scratch that - they were getting hot. This was particularly noticeable in the chilly morning air. Suddenly it dawned on me. Yes, friends and neighbors, the Japanese have heated toilet seats. How chic is that? And the water filtration system is extremely aesthetic in design too. There's a queer little fountain that runs after every flush - like an outdoor water feature - refilling the tank. I have some pictures that I'll post later with the rest of the week's offerings.
I had more fun in the Japanese ofuro (bath). The bath is in a room that also acts as a shower. One is generally expected to shower themselves clean before entering the ofuro. In the showering room, I stripped down and tried to get the water going. Nothing. Twist of the hot knob, twist of the cold knob. Nada. Turn of the hot knob, turn of the cold knob. Zero. Back around again with both knobs. Zilch.
Eventually, I called Fujiko-san and asked her about the water. She pointed me in the direction of an entirely separate knob, located below the others, that controls the actual release of the water. The hot and cold knobs are just for finesse, apparently.
So, a little embarrassing. I can navigate a busy Tokyo subway, but don't try to make me bathe. Still, I don't think I'd feel like a real foreign exchange student if I didn't have trouble with the shower. I remember when I was in Costa Rica that I used to have a devil of a time setting the hot water on. It was controlled by a little electric switch, located just behind the shower head, that had to be flipped after the water was running. A little scantily-clad quest for assistance with a pesky Japanese water faucet seems tame by comparison.
The WC is separate from the bathing room (a la much of Europe), but the real weirdness of Japanese plumbing was revealed to me during my first morning in the house - when I went to use the toilet. The porcelain god is outfitted in state here and looks super high-tech in nearly every aspect. I sat down, noting a series of buttons for bidet-type functions that glowed to indicate their operativeness. Not sure how to feel about them, I decided to ignore them for the time being and settle in for a regular toilet-going experience.
As I was sitting, however, I began to notice an odd sensation along my thighs. They were getting warm; scratch that - they were getting hot. This was particularly noticeable in the chilly morning air. Suddenly it dawned on me. Yes, friends and neighbors, the Japanese have heated toilet seats. How chic is that? And the water filtration system is extremely aesthetic in design too. There's a queer little fountain that runs after every flush - like an outdoor water feature - refilling the tank. I have some pictures that I'll post later with the rest of the week's offerings.
I had more fun in the Japanese ofuro (bath). The bath is in a room that also acts as a shower. One is generally expected to shower themselves clean before entering the ofuro. In the showering room, I stripped down and tried to get the water going. Nothing. Twist of the hot knob, twist of the cold knob. Nada. Turn of the hot knob, turn of the cold knob. Zero. Back around again with both knobs. Zilch.
Eventually, I called Fujiko-san and asked her about the water. She pointed me in the direction of an entirely separate knob, located below the others, that controls the actual release of the water. The hot and cold knobs are just for finesse, apparently.
So, a little embarrassing. I can navigate a busy Tokyo subway, but don't try to make me bathe. Still, I don't think I'd feel like a real foreign exchange student if I didn't have trouble with the shower. I remember when I was in Costa Rica that I used to have a devil of a time setting the hot water on. It was controlled by a little electric switch, located just behind the shower head, that had to be flipped after the water was running. A little scantily-clad quest for assistance with a pesky Japanese water faucet seems tame by comparison.
