
DO YOU HAVE LINE? YES, AND YOU'RE NOT HAVING IT
Thirteen years of collecting LINE accounts from strangers who never message again. A field report on the great tatemae friendship performance, and why I've finally stopped pretending.

Thirteen years of collecting LINE accounts from strangers who never message again. A field report on the great tatemae friendship performance, and why I've finally stopped pretending.

The nihongo jouzu compliment lands the second any foreigner produces a single Japanese sound. Here is what thirteen years of being told your Japanese is very good after saying 'konnichiwa' actually does to a person.

You're having a perfectly decent conversation with a Japanese woman on a night out, and then he appears. The Japanese cockblock is real, it is systematic, and it deserves a proper autopsy.

Ten years of living here and I've made my peace with a lot. The queuing theatre. The plastic bags. The fax machines. But the indicator — the humble, legally mandated, two-second flick of the wrist — apparently remains optional.

Ordering hot food at a Japanese convenience store should be simple. But dare to ask for three pieces of fried chicken and watch the entire konbini counter reboot into existential shock.

Japanese online reviews are a masterclass in tatemae: glowing paragraphs of praise attached to a savage 2/5 rating. Welcome to the most passive-aggressive scoring system on Earth.

Umbrella etiquette in Japan is a nationwide referendum on the weather, held hourly, in which half the country votes for rain that isn't happening. A field guide to the great Tokyo umbrella panic.

Japanese football fan culture has a fascinating quirk: the national team only exists when it wins. Lose, and the entire tournament is quietly erased from history. A field report on selective national pride.
Half gaijin, half samurai, all out of patience. The fury is the bill the love has run up. Send us your worst day at the ward office. Read the Manifesto →