Of bicycles and umbrellas

IN THIS AGE of Windows XP and Pentium 4 processors, there are people whose brain power appears stuck on 386 and whose vision remains in the Windows default setting of 16 colors. Typical examples of these dimwits are the guys who recently stole my bicycle and umbrella.

While Japan is primarily oriented towards private ownership, there are two things that people here, and even the police, consider as “common” property. You guessed it right: bicycles and umbrellas. In a sense, when someone decides to pick an umbrella at the genkan (front door) to brave through a downpour, he doesn’t necessarily “steal” but “borrows.” It doesn’t matter if the “borrower’s” final destination is 20 train stops and a few hours away.

The umbrella that was “borrowed” from me wasn’t actually mine but a female friend’s. She had left it in my car and it came handy when I dropped by one of these second-hand shops that dot Tsukuba. Typically feminine, it was accented with minute flowers that covered its entire breadth, akin to a French impressionist painting by Seurat. In other words, it was expensive.

Since it was dripping, it had to be left outside, together with countless other umbrellas. As far as I can remember, it was the most colorful of all the umbrellas in the stand. After checking out the prices of used stereos, cameras and electric guitars, I decided to leave, only to find my umbrella missing. I have to commend the thief for his taste, and if he’s reading this, he should contact me promptly for a certificate.

They say that losing a loved one turns us into philosophers, and the incident surely made me ponder on this interesting phenomenon, as I ran soaking wet towards my car. It’s not that I had an emotional attachment towards the umbrella; I was just certain that the thunder and lightning outside was an accurate mimicry of my friend’s cantankerous anger when she finds out.

It’s indeed amazing that even if Japanese houses and shops tend to spill over into the streets, everyone seems to perfectly distinguish between genuine gomi (trash), house overflow, or merchandise. With Japan’s almost spotless reputation for honesty, it isn’t often that you hear of someone shoplifting a 24-roll pack of tissue paper even if it’s just stacked outside. Everyone seems to know that the elegant bonsai on the porch is private property, while the 25-inch Trinitron a meter away from the trash bin is free-for-all. Not so with umbrellas, which seem to have the words “take me” written all over them.

Same is true with bicycles, whether locked or unlocked, as I had recently discovered. That someone would take an interest in my dilapidated bicycle escapes even the crudest of logic. Straight out of a horror movie, its tires were flat, the chain was rusty and dry, and its frame was dotted with nicks and dings as if it had survived an al Qaeda terrorist attack. Undoubtedly, the thief’s brain was running on Windows 3.1.

Surely, locks are no deterrent, as friends tell me tales of their triple-locked 12-speed, 60,000-yen beauties being knocked out of their railings an hour after they’re moored. Contrary to rumors, there have been no sightings of aliens or David Copperfield in the vicinity. The alternative, of course, is to bring along superglue; however, that would be too showy and inconvenient.

There is no point in reporting it to the police, as they don’t particularly regard this as a heinous crime. The most attention that you’ll probably get is to have your name recorded in their logbook under the category: “Stolen Bicycles, Case no. 1,450.” And it’s just the middle of the year. Don’t even bother calling your insurance agent.

On the other hand, if an amateur ninja breaks through your window and gets away with your prized portrait of Norika Fujiwara, expect your six-tatami room swamped with forensics experts mapping every fingerprint and footprint imaginable, even interviewing your goldfish for an eyewitness account. Thanks to Japanese efficiency.

The problem with this bicycle and umbrella phenomenon is that when gaijins (foreigners) figure it out, they often quickly join the game. Just ask any gaijin how many umbrellas or bicycles he owns, legally or otherwise. The logic is that if everyone does it, it’s an acceptable social behavior. Yeah, right, in some tribal societies, cannibalism is also an acceptable social behavior.

I am at peace with the thought that I will probably never get the bicycle and umbrella back. Losing them is part of the Japan experience. After all, there’s really nothing we can do about people whose brains seem to be virus-infected, running on Windows 3.1, with only 8 MB RAM.

Let’s just hope that they don’t get caught. Otherwise, I don’t know if shifting to Macintosh would help. *

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