Kit Kat culture

Nothing says Japan louder than flavored Kit Kats. Soy, green tea, cheese cake, cherry blossom, vinegar, melon and only 69 calories per mini bar. Nestle Japan produces nearly 100 types of KitKats, many limited edition for seasonal occasions. Every Wednesday I used to lay out Kit Kats on a tray beneath the envelope in which the English Conversation ladies placed their coffee money. "Kit Kat sounds like a phrase in nihongo that means 'you shall succeed',"  tomodachi san told me. "This is why students like to eat KitKats at exam time." Any excuse to eat KitKats will do.

This explains why upon turning in my gaijin card to an Immigration officer wearing a white mask, I decided to reward myself with the most exotic KitKat at Narita Airport. Within 10 minutes I chose wasabi (Japanese horse radish). What works for sushi might work with chocolate, and certainly the box  was pretty. And why not throw in a lemon flavored pack as well? Treasure in hand, I boarded.  "My name is Steve, drink?" offered the flight attendant with a tray of sparkling wine. "What's wrong, you want orange juice?" he asked when I hesitated. Ten hours into the flight I requested coffee. "I'd have to make a new pot," was the Yankee response. Wakarimashita (I see).  

At Narita the Airport Limosine Bus runs on a schedule with assigned seats, no tipping allowed with attendants who bow as the bus pulls out. At JFK the Manhattan Express runs haphazardly. "Wait five minutes" I was told. A bus marked Manhattan Express pulled up in five minutes: "Not that one-- the next one." So desu ne, a bus marked Parking Lots was actually the Manhattan Express. A Japanese couple followed me on board; the husband nervously gobbled an onigiri (rice ball with savory filling). The bus was plastered with signs: "Tips Welcome." At Grand Central Station a bus employee announced, "The bus driver will be pleased to accept your tip." Along 42nd Street a chauffeur waiting for his client called out to me, "Hey, honey, how you doin'?" Good question.