“Atarimae (当たり前)” is a phrase often used by the Japanese to mean “of course”, “obviously” or “it goes without saying”.  Usually, we use it for things we “do”, such as customs, traditions or the way things are done. Everyone is in agreement that the statement is “true” and “obvious” – no one would question or argue against it. “Everyone knows/does that,” is the assumption.

For example, to go into a public bath or onsen (hot spring bath), it’s “atarimae” that you take your clothes off, leave them in a cubby, and walk into a giant room full of bathtub(s) with nothing on. No swimsuits are allowed. Not even a bath towel. Depending on where you come from, this can be shockingly embarrassing – having to walk in NAKED into a room full of total strangers. 

I experienced this “atarimae” - on a moral level - during my cycling trip in Japan when I lost my iPhone…!

Cycling around Shikoku

Earlier this spring, I was living in Kyoto for two months (more on that in my future blogs). At the end of my stay, my daughter, Sammi, joined me on the island of Shikoku so we could travel by bicycle to see parts of Japan we’ve never visited.

I lost my phone on our LAST day of our cycling trip. The day before, Sammi took us on a detour to stop at an antique store that happened to be next to a small train station, roughly 10 minutes from the main train station in the region called Kochi. While we chatted with the wiry and friendly owner in this treasure trove of a tiny store, we told him that it was our last night of our cycling trip. We needed to find a shop that would buy our bicycles TODAY, so that in the morning of the following day, we could just drop them off before catching our express bus from the Kochi train station. He pointed to a bike shop not too far from his store. 

It was the easiest transaction – once we explained to the bike shop owner that we HAD TO sell our bikes today to complete our journey, he agreed to buy both of our bicycles. It was just a stone’s throw from a train station, so it was perfect. 

The only hiccup was that the shop wouldn’t be open early enough for us – we had a bus to catch from Kochi at 10:00am. He, however, didn’t even think twice about it – right there and then, he gave us cash for our bikes, and said he trusted us. We just needed to come back early the next morning, unload, drop off the bikes in the back of the shop and leave the keys in the mailbox. We were so touched by this gesture of trust.

Now, having everything all lined up for the final day of our cycling journey, we were going to enjoy our last night of camping! And we did.  

In Search of My Phone

The following morning, we woke up with the sun as always, and headed back toward the bike shop. Just as we rode past the antique store we were at the day before, the owner happened to come outside to open the store. We greeted him like school children riding by a store they passed every day as we zoomed by on our bikes, and stopped under the train station to start unloading all of our gear. 

As I started emptying out the front basket, I could feel the blood drain from my face… I realized I had lost my phone somewhere along the way! Throughout the trip, I had been extra careful about keeping my phone zipped up in the basket. In a panic, I started back-tracking our route in my head to see where I could have lost it. Our last stop was at a Seven Eleven convenience store about a mile before the train station. I was quite certain that’s where I left it! Luckily, our whole family shares our locations, so Sammi’s “Find My” map confirmed the location of my phone.

So confident that I had left it in the bathroom of the store, in my rashness, I dashed off on my bicycle leaving Sammi behind with the pile of our stuff – without taking her phone with me (because I felt like she should have it so I could message her).

When I arrived at Seven Eleven, I made a beeline to the bathroom. Wait, why wasn’t it there?? I came out, and grabbed one of the store clerks to ask if anybody had turned my phone in. But even before asking, I could see it in their body language that nothing had been turned in. I was crushed… Still, they all helped looking inside and outside of the store – one of them even went through their trash bins. Nothing… 

By now I was fully convinced that some “bad” person stole it from where I had left it at the store. You have to appreciate that I spent the last 30+ years living in Oakland, CA, and sadly, have been conditioned to assume the worst…

When I went back to find Sammi, she had moved all of our gear from below the train station to the outside of the antique store. The store owner had kindly offered to let her wait there for me. On her phone, my phone’s location still showed it was near the Seven Eleven store, but it was floating back & forth… I decided to go to the police box which was located between Seven Eleven and this antique store. It was more of an insurance – on the off chance an honest person came across it, it would eventually come back to me if I had filed a report. Maybe…

After filing the police report, I felt compelled to go back to the Seven Eleven store one more time. By then, the store manager was there. He spent a good 20 minutes watching the security camera’s video footage. He came out apologizing. No clues. 

In his very earnest manner, he assured me that they would keep looking. So I left my mother’s phone number with him, and went back to Sammi, completely dejected.

At this point, we were going to miss the bus. I called the bus company and explained the situation. They changed it to one that was leaving six hours later. We also had a reservation for a rental car in Tokushima – the plan was to drive into Iya Valley with a famed vine bridge to camp two more nights in Shikoku, before heading back to Kyoto by car. They expressed sympathy for my situation and canceled our reservation without charging me. 

Deflated, I asked Sammi if we could change our plans and just go back to Kyoto… At least, I would regain access to my data on my laptop. Thoroughly convinced that my phone was already traveling far from where I had lost it (I didn’t even trust the Find My feature at this point…), I didn’t even think to stay in Kochi. I just knew that we, rather I, could no longer enjoy the rest of the trip in Shikoku with my mind on what to do with my phone… So we booked another express bus from Tokushima to return to Kyoto that same night.

Kindness of Strangers

I know what you’re thinking. Knowing what I know now, there are probably a few things I could have done differently…. But then, I wouldn’t have this beautiful story to share with you:

Because we arrived in Kyoto very late that day, I called my mother the following morning. I kept my mother in the loop from the moment I lost my phone. Her house phone was the only working number I could give out to people to reach me (Sammi did not have a calling plan – just data in Japan). So, when I called her the next day, she sounded agitated and alarmed that I was already back in Kyoto.

You have to know my mother to appreciate our exchange: she’s almost 84 and has always been an extremely detailed and slow talker. It always takes me half an hour to say goodbye to her on the phone... When she tells you a story, she starts from time immemorial and outlines every character in the story before she gets to the main point.

As she started telling me about the cast of characters first, I could hear my brother yelling in the back – ”Just get to the point that Miho wants to hear!”

“Oh – they found your phone!!!”

WHAT? HOW!?

This is what happened: As we came out of Seven Eleven, I stuck my phone in the pocket of my baggy pants - instead of under the zippered basket - because we just had a few minutes of riding to the final destination. The store was on the corner of a fairly wide and busy intersection with no pedestrian crosswalk, and we rode across the street to the other side when there was a quick break in the traffic. I do remember there being a bump – and it must have fallen out of my pocket! It all made sense now. That’s why it was showing on Sammi’s phone to be “near” this Seven Eleven, but NOT at the store…!

Come to think of it, when I went back to the store the second time, I did back-track my path, scouring the ground I rode on, but not as thoroughly as I should have... I must have missed that last 50 yards or so, because I crossed the street prematurely to the other side in a hurry to get back to the store. Ugh.

It was a morning rush hour around 8:00 am when I dropped my phone. By 10:00 am, I had given up the search and used Sammi’s phone to deactivate mine. I didn’t know you could do this, but when I followed the steps, there was an “option” to have a message appear on my phone. If any “bad guys” tried to fiddle with my phone (deleting my data or stealing my identity – that’s all I was thinking), I wanted them to see it. I wrote a stern plea trying to invoke massive guilt on the part of the perpetrator, and included my mother’s phone number in the message. Just in case.

Around noon, Seven Eleven’s store manager called my mother - unsolicited - giving her an “update”, even though they hadn’t found my phone. According to my mother, he called to tell her they were still looking. She said he was so kind and polite that it really impressed her, and she was proud to have remembered his name (remember, she’s 84). 

Shortly after, my mother received another call, this time from an unknown female. She explained to my mother she had picked up a phone on the street, and saw my message on the screen! My mother thanked her profusely - on my behalf - and was about to ask her to take it to the police station. But she caught herself, and asked the finder to take it to the store manager at Seven Eleven instead. My mother was certain he could get my phone back to me faster than the police. Good thinking, Mother!

As I was listening to my mother, my mind was already rushing ahead: Gosh, we are not even in Shikoku anymore to pick it up… How am I going to ask him to ship my phone to me in Kyoto? 

Then I chuckled to myself – Oh, I love Japan!

Ta-Q-Bin To The Rescue

You see, every convenience store in Japan is an authorized outlet for a service called Takkyubin (宅急便). You can ship packages of just about any size and in any form – for a minimal cost. It’s the greatest service available throughout Japan (Definitely helpful at the airports!): for example, if you pick up too many souvenirs in the countryside during your travels (guilty as charged), you can put them in a shopping bag, seal it at the top, and ship them back to your lodging. You can choose a very specific window of time for delivery too.

Being Japanese means not to burden (負担/ふたん) or trouble (迷惑/めいわく) others, so my primary goal at this point was not to inconvenience the store manager any more than I already have. I was so relieved once I realized that he can ship my phone without leaving his own store! 

Once he figured out how much it was going to cost, he called back for my “permission” to select the option for payment upon delivery. When he told me it was going to cost me 860 yen (not even $6!!) for an express overnight service, I laughed out loud. Of course I was happy to pay.

Well, that’s how I got my phone back – carefully packed in a special envelope for digital devices. All within 48 hours of losing it. 

“Anyone Would Have Done The Same”

Next day, I called the store manager back to let him know that I received my phone safe & sound. Had he not called my mother - just to give her a courtesy update - she would not have known to ask the finder of my phone to go to him, I told him. Or, had he not been so kind and sympathetic to my mother, she may not have even remembered who or what he was… She said he really made an impression on her. But he humbly brushed aside all of my profuse words of appreciation, and said, “Oh, no, I just did the most “atarimae” thing – anyone would have done the same”!!! 

Since then, I’ve recounted this story many, many times to my friends from all over the world. They all echo the same sentiment: What may be “atarimae” in Japan is certainly NOT atarimae in most other countries. May Japan never, EVER change…