Tokyo Notes

My bicycle had been impounded. This happens if you park it illegally for too long. Every morning, everyone parks near the station in places where it's not allowed, and everyone gets a pink parking ticket attached to their handlebars, which they remove on their way home in the evening. If, however, you're foolish enough to miss your last train, and to take a taxi home, your bike still has a pink ticket the next morning, which is the traffic wardens' signal to take it away to the pound. This happened to me about 2 weeks ago. I tried to get it back last Monday, but couldn't find where they'd taken it. I asked at the police box. The policewoman told me, "straight on! It's a long way! Next to the railway. About 15 minutes walk." It wasn't, and I couldn't find it. I went again with Takako yesterday, and she, by the simple but cunning device of reading the directions selotaped to the pavement next to where it had been taken from, found it easily, and I am mobile again. The episode highlights one of the problems that the semi-illiterate have: not noticing notices. I, in fact, could have read enough of the directions notice to find the pound. I didn't because I hadn't really seen it. My level of literacy is such that extracting meaning from any written material requires a significant investment of effort, with no guarantee of success, whereas in English I can, at a glance, determine what a sign is about. So, I don't even try to read signs unless I'm pretty sure they're of relevance, or I'm waiting for something else and have time to kill.