Living in Japan for decades has its perks. I’ve been here long enough to know the quirks of the culture, the nuances of daily life, and—most importantly—how to make full use of a Japanese toilet. With more than twice as many years spent here as I lived in the States, the land of sumo and sushi has become my home in more ways than one.

But every so often, I make the long, arduous journey back to the "Land of the Big PX". The last trip was in late 2019, just before the world shut down thanks to COVID-19. It was a well-timed visit to see my aging mother, and despite the long flights and jet lag, it was near-perfect except for one thing… American toilets.

The Porcelain Time Machine

Picture this: You step into a bathroom in the States, only to be confronted by a stark, lifeless porcelain bowl. No buttons. No lights. No comforting glow of modernity. Just a gaping void of minimalism that screams, "Good luck, buddy!"

After years of blissful bum luxury in Japan, where even the cheapest convenience store lavatories offer heated seats and bidet sprays, this was a shock to the system.

In Japan, toilets are a marvel of engineering. Sit down, and a heated seat welcomes you like an old friend. Odors? Vanished by the time they even think about offending. Need a little music to mask the symphony of your bodily functions? Just press a button. And then there’s the pièce de résistance—a gentle, warm spray down below that leaves you feeling cleaner than the day you were born.

Back in America? It’s just you, some thin, crinkly paper, and the sinking feeling that you’re a pioneer on the frontier of discomfort.

Day 1: The Struggle Begins

The first day of my trip back to the States, I faced the inevitable. There it was, a lonely, basic toilet staring at me, a gaping maw almost mocking me with its lack of functionality. I genuinely considered holding it in for the next 10 days and waiting to return to the land of high-tech hygiene.

As the trip progressed, so did my discomfort. Nature’s call waits for no man, especially one subjected to the rich and grease-laden American diet. Each visit to the bathroom felt like a cruel joke. I missed the comforting spray of my Japanese toilet. I missed the buttons. I even missed the little fake flushing sound effect.

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How I Learned to Love the Washlet

When I first arrived in Japan, I was skeptical of these high-tech contraptions. Why would anyone want an overly enthusiastic robot splashing water around their most delicate areas? But after weeks of gentle persuasion (read: nagging) from my wife, I finally caved and gave it a go.

And my life had changed forever.

The warmth. The precision. The sheer luxury of feeling like royalty on your porcelain throne. I was hooked, and there was no going back. So, imagine my despair when, in 2019, I found myself back in the Dark Ages of toilet technology.

Why, America, Why?

This is a question that has haunted me for years. Why has the country that gave us the internet, put a man on the moon, and invented Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups clung so stubbornly to basic, no-frills toilets?

Some say it’s the cost—after all, high-tech toilets don’t come cheap. Others suggest it’s cultural, a lingering disdain for anything resembling a bidet (French origins, you know).

What I do know is this: Every American who visits Japan and uses a Japanese toilet becomes hooked. They rave about it. They miss it. They wonder why they can’t get the same experience back home.

Be Brave. Be the Button.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of using a Japanese toilet, I sincerely hope you get the chance. It’s not just about hygiene—it’s about experiencing a tiny piece of Japan’s cultural genius.

So, when you finally make it to Japan and find yourself sitting on a toilet with a bewildering array of buttons, do yourself a favor: press the spray button.

You’ll thank me later.

What’s Your Toilet Story?
Have you ever experienced the wonders of Japanese toilets? Or suffered the heartbreak of going back to basics in the U.S.? Share your thoughts—I’d love to hear them (and commiserate)!