Oh, the ofuro of Japan! So deep, so warm and so, so lovely. When we were in Japan, we took a bath every night. It was like a tour of the ofuros- a traditional hinoki wood tub in Anjo, an almost square shaped, space -saver tub in Tokyo, a modern metal tub in Machino, a peaceful, tucked way in the back of the house so no one can hear you when you are yelling for a towel tub in Wajima, a packed with toys and little girls tub in Hiroshima, and western jacuzzi style tub in Fukuoka. As most Japanese houses only have one ofuro, everyone takes turns. Every night, as the guests of the house we would be offered our turn first. The girls and I would collect our pajamas and bath things and head for the bath. Next to the tub there is a place with a shower head and a spout, along with a bucket and a stool, so before getting into the tub we scrubbed and washed the day from our bodies. Then either as a group or one by one we took our turn soaking in the neck deep water, always feeling like we wanted to stay just a bit longer but knowing everyone else needed a turn as well. I remember when I lived in Japan by myself, in the winter I would take a bag of mikans (clementine oranges) and just sit in the tub for hours eating, reading my book and soaking. Pre-kids, of course. If we ever get the chance I will with out a doubt put a Japanese style soaking tub in the bathroom. Such luxury!
When we arrived back in India, I definitely did not want the hot water, but I missed the tub desperately. One morning I was talking to Srinivas and telling him about Japan the topic of the tub came up. As I was describing the tub and how everyone took a bath at night, I watched his face slowly change into a face of disgust.
"Everyone shares the same water?"
"Yes, but they wash before they get it so it is clean."
"But, Akka, they all get into the same water."
It didn't matter how much I tried to describe how nice the tub is or how Japanese have very strong rules about what you can't do in a tub, Srinivas' face never changed from one of digest.
Later as I watched him remove the layer of fat from the milk with his hands and then roll his finger together to make all the left over fat move down to his fingertips and then scrape his fingertips on the side of the bowl to make sure he got all of the fat into the bowl, I remember how that practice used to absolutely disgust me and make me loose my appetite for a whole day. I avoided the kitchen so I could not have to see people's hands touching and scraping all over my food. Now, I am amazed by it and I try my best to emulate this only-Indian talent without much success. It saves washing a spoon and it is much easier to get your little finger in and under places to get all the food out of the bowl.
Different is a word we try to use a lot of in our house. We do our best to not describe things as wrong or right, especially when referring to another person's practices. We hope it help our kids open their minds to a "different" way of doing something and it constantly reminds Marvel and I that our way is not always the right way. And we need a lot of help sometimes in that department. It has taken me years, years I tell ya, to be able to back down from the argument that cold water and ice cream can give someone a sore throat. Biologically, it makes no sense to me. But you know what, it doesn't matter. I have a bottle of water always in the fridge. My kids eat popsicles whenever they want. And no one is forcing room temperature Coke down my throat -eww, the thought! But it has taken me years to get here. I can't even count the number of times I have probably hurt my relatives feelings dismissing their very real arguments about how they became ill.
I think every parent has a dream for their child. They want their child to succeed at something they themselves were not able to do. For me, I want my children to be more flexible in their thinking. I want them to think of ideas as "different" and ways they haven't learned yet. I want them to want to try something new before thinking of the reasons it won't work or how it is flawed. I want them to want to say "I told ya so" a little less.
When we arrived back in India, I definitely did not want the hot water, but I missed the tub desperately. One morning I was talking to Srinivas and telling him about Japan the topic of the tub came up. As I was describing the tub and how everyone took a bath at night, I watched his face slowly change into a face of disgust.
"Everyone shares the same water?"
"Yes, but they wash before they get it so it is clean."
"But, Akka, they all get into the same water."
It didn't matter how much I tried to describe how nice the tub is or how Japanese have very strong rules about what you can't do in a tub, Srinivas' face never changed from one of digest.
Later as I watched him remove the layer of fat from the milk with his hands and then roll his finger together to make all the left over fat move down to his fingertips and then scrape his fingertips on the side of the bowl to make sure he got all of the fat into the bowl, I remember how that practice used to absolutely disgust me and make me loose my appetite for a whole day. I avoided the kitchen so I could not have to see people's hands touching and scraping all over my food. Now, I am amazed by it and I try my best to emulate this only-Indian talent without much success. It saves washing a spoon and it is much easier to get your little finger in and under places to get all the food out of the bowl.
Different is a word we try to use a lot of in our house. We do our best to not describe things as wrong or right, especially when referring to another person's practices. We hope it help our kids open their minds to a "different" way of doing something and it constantly reminds Marvel and I that our way is not always the right way. And we need a lot of help sometimes in that department. It has taken me years, years I tell ya, to be able to back down from the argument that cold water and ice cream can give someone a sore throat. Biologically, it makes no sense to me. But you know what, it doesn't matter. I have a bottle of water always in the fridge. My kids eat popsicles whenever they want. And no one is forcing room temperature Coke down my throat -eww, the thought! But it has taken me years to get here. I can't even count the number of times I have probably hurt my relatives feelings dismissing their very real arguments about how they became ill.
I think every parent has a dream for their child. They want their child to succeed at something they themselves were not able to do. For me, I want my children to be more flexible in their thinking. I want them to think of ideas as "different" and ways they haven't learned yet. I want them to want to try something new before thinking of the reasons it won't work or how it is flawed. I want them to want to say "I told ya so" a little less.
Interesting ofuros, will ask my colleague Hiroshi when I get back to work tomorrow :). Btw, I fully agree with Srinivas! Although I suppose one could make the argument abt how the swimming pool is very similar...
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