Some people are just more sensitive to noise than others. Most of my time in Japan was spent in a three-mat tatami apartment over a rahmen shop, five feet off a major highway called the Omekaido. As if that weren’t enough, shortly before I moved in, the Ward Council decided to allow construction of an underground bicycle parking garage beneath our sidewalk.  

I should add that in Japan, construction is traditionally done at night, when there is the least amount of traffic— three a.m. being a prime time, apparently, for jack hammering. But most astounding of all, when I complained to my roommate, who was from Los Angeles, she said, “What noise?”  

Call me old-fashioned, but I grew up in a small town where it was dark at night, and if somebody sneezed a block away, you heard it. I am so hyper-sensitive to noise that even a mosquito buzzing around the house can keep me awake. My list of singers who should be shot includes Edith Piaf, James Brown, Aretha Franklin, and anybody whose delivery can be described as screaming, shrieking, or belting.  

In Tokyo I finally learned not to sleep with my futon directly on the floor where the clinking of the industrial dishwasher downstairs was transmitted into my ear like Morse code in a spy movie, but rather to raise it up onto a mattress. I also learned to set my CD player to “repeat” one of my favorite classical music albums all night long to block unwanted street noise. When it came to protecting myself from unwanted noise in public toilets, however, the Japanese were way ahead of me.  

It seems that Japanese women, like myself, are ultra-paranoid about hearing the bathroom noises of strangers—and they used to waste millions of gallons of water each year by running the sink taps while otherwise engaged. Therefore, many “conservation” toilets in Japan now come equipped with noise-maker buttons. For birds, press one. For waterfalls, press two. For bulldozers, press three. And so on.

Now if only I could figure out how to shut up those obnoxious young mothers who always need to ask their toddlers if they have to do a Number One or Number Two. There is  such a thing as too much information!  

Author's Biography

Holly Chase Williams is an Idaho native whose greatest fear is becoming a bag lady with a liberal arts degree. 

After teaching English in Tokyo for two long, loud years, she moved to the East Coast where it was still not quiet enough. Currently she resides (with earplugs) in Washington State.

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