Glimpses of Japan and Formosa

The undoubtedly many attractions of the island empire for the mere traveler are, unfortunately, greatly offset by the high cost of living there. The rapidity with which letters of credit are depleted turns almost to naught the well nigh frantic efforts of such publicity agencies as the diligent Japan Tourist Bureau to attract visitors. Two or three years ago those who cater to and depend upon the passing foreigner comforted themselves with the thought that his scarcity was merely a temporary aftermath of the World War. Now that he still fails to come in appreciable numbers, there is dismay in such quarters, though it is characteristic of the Japanese temperament to assert that "the increase is gratifying. " Word has drifted to the ear of many a prospective tourist that life is unreasonably expensive in Japan, or he hears proof of that fact in crossing the Pacific and goes on to China without landing, or cuts to a fraction the time he planned to spend in the mikado's realm. If even Americans feel that way about it, one can easily imagine the sensations of those from war-impoverished lands with a feeble currency.

Some of this raising of prices is justifiable; much of it is not. The Japanese working-man has recently won a wage commensurate with a citizen instead of a serf, and the consumer must take care of it. But the war engendered the profiteer there as elsewhere; it left behind newly rich to set bad examples and crowd the heels of their more honest brethren; a great increase in taxes has popularized the pastime of seeing how much of them can be passed on to the next man. Then there is what a Tokyo editor calls "expensive face-saving. " In olden days the Japanese "saved face" in other ways; it is no doubt in keeping with the general westernization of their standards that the modern method of doing so should be by ostentatious extravagance. The ordinary Japanese business man who would keep up with the procession and not give his colleagues and his clients the impression that he is hovering on the verge of insolvency must waste much money on mere show. Completely separate wardrobes for the four seasons, often European as well as native style, are indispensable. When he entertains his friends or customers he can scarcely invite them to his home, not so much because of domestic seclusion as because it is the fashion to have such gatherings in a tea-house, where geisha-girls may be summoned to serve or dance. Not only do the more famous of these expect an opera-singer's fee, but the _chaya_ itself has boosted its prices to the new-rich level. Then there is the very serious matter of tipping. In the United States this vicious importation from Europe has swollen almost beyond recognition of its origin, but the extra fees exacted there are mere flea-bites compared with the _chadai_, or "tea-money," of Japan. On the amount of it depends the reputation for importance of the giver, and it is a common failing to wish to impress the world with one's importance. The Japanese of any standing who puts up in a native hotel, for example, and is handed a bill for twenty yen at the end of a three-day stay, is expected to send at least half that amount as a tip to the proprietor, to give another five yen to the maid who brought his food and kept his room in order, and generously to remember the bath-boy and the shoe-man. "Is there any other country," asks the irate editor, "where such a ridiculous custom as tipping to eighty per cent of the bill prevails?"