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Illustration by Dot.   Email: dotdogdot@hotmail.com

As November draws to a close, chronology dictates that December is not far behind. And with December comes the Christmas season. My heart grows heavy, and my brows begin to furrow, as there are few things I dread more than Christmas in Japan.

On Christmas Eve, trains will be packed to shame any weekday morning. Every single road on the map will be fender-to-fender. Cell phone lines will cease to function, due to an overload of calls being made by couples trying to find each other in packed train stations. Oh, and don’t even bother trying to find a hotel room. Yes, Christmas Eve in this country frightens me to the very core.

For those of you who have just arrived in Japan, Christmas here has been turned into some kind of second Valentine’s Day. Spending Christmas Eve alone is the most degrading thing in the world for a young person in Japan. Apparently, the correct way to spend Christmas is to go out to an overpriced restaurant (usually of the French or Italian variety) with a member of the opposite sex, and then, after a few minor detours and an exchange of overpriced gifts, to end up in an overpriced hotel room with a view and share more than just presents.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a cultural Scrooge. Even (or do I mean especially?) as a former resident of the US, I can live with the overdone shopping mall displays that are cheesy enough to put the entire state of Wisconsin to shame (anyone been to Shinjuku station recently?). I will accept it if the Japanese advertising industry chooses to conjure up a singular spelling of the holiday (Merry Xmas, everyone!).

I observe with a blend of amusement and disbelief the distinctly Japanese (commercial sector-generated) custom of combining strawberry shortcake (don’t forget to light the birthday candles and blow them out while making a wish) and Kentucky Fried Chicken (make sure you reserve it well in advance, or you might have to stand in line for two hours to get the 12-piece party pack) on the Christmas dinner menu. Good food with atmosphere for two on Christmas Eve may be arguably understandable, even if said food is eaten in a packed restaurant that must be reserved anywhere from two to three months in advance and is priced about as twice as high as it would be any other time of year. However, I tend to find the hotel room bit two steps short of absolutely incomprehensible, especially given the nature of the birth being celebrated in this case.

So I think, in order to avoid the traffic and the misplaced hype, I will spend Christmas Eve at my parents’ house, where my mother will cook a nice meal while I gaze with nostalgia at the Christmas tree decorated with elementary school art project ornaments, come back to my apartment, and go to bed early. I already know I have to show up for work the very next day, and put up with people in the workplace discussing how non-degrading their Christmas Eve was. My BS tolerance level tends to go down when I’m sleep deprived.

Many thanks to Yukiko Miura for this Rant.