He was reading a porn magazine when I got into the back of the cab at Chikusa. That's not such an unusual thing to see in Japan. Men read comic style porn magazines with nude photos on trains and all other public places. The driver put it away and we headed off.
"Were you waiting long," I asked.
"No, not so long."
"How long?"
"About 20 minutes," he replied.
Long enough to have a good effective look at a porn magazine, I guess, if you're lying in your bedroom, but a taxi cab sounds less accommodating.
"How long is a long wait?"
"An hour."
"What do you do while you're waiting?"
"Books."
"Yeah right," I thought, and added aloud, "what kind of books do you like?"
He paused a moment and said "well, not really books. I like the news. You know, newspapers. Yes, I like the newspaper."
I guess that most people like the kind of news that appears naked and sexy in front of them. Fair enough, he's an honest chap.
"Have you been a taxi-driver for long?", another of my standard questions.
He didn't seem quite so in the mood to talk after my remarks about his reading choice, but finally he muttered "five years."
"Do you enjoy it?"
"No. Not really. But I guess that all work is pretty hard."
Drawing on my embarrassing desire to work NLP on everyone, I ask "what would be the ideal job for you?"
"A cook."
"What kind of food?"
"Chinese. I used to be a cook?"
"Why did you give that up?"
"Iro-iro."
That's one of my favourite expressions in Japanese. I use it myself all the time. Iroiro, means 'many thing' or 'different things' and can be used to answer questions without actually saying anything. It really means something along the lines of "I'm not going to answer that because I think it's really none of your business, or possibly I'm just too caught up in my post-twenty minute porn break that I really couldn't be bothered explaining to a half-wit like you."
It's quite a polite expression. I tried a different tact.
"Where are you from?"
"Nagoya."
Back to NLP mode to counter his one-wordiness, "is there any place that you'd like to visit?"
"Hokkaido."
I tried to elicit a few more comments, but wasn't getting much out of him. His pent-up penthouse energy was probably depleted and he wanted some peace and quiet, not a curious gaijin in the back.
As I was getting out of the taxi, I said to him, "good luck in getting to Hokkaido some day."
He ignored me and I went to the house.
I looked back and he was calling out the taxi window. I went closer thinking that I had forgotten something.
He was saying "thank you."
Sometimes, it's hard to know which of the words you say reaches someone.
