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The last time I was in Tokyo， I made an 1）excursion to the 2）Nihonbashi branch of 3）Takashimaya， a chain of department stores founded in 1831， because a friend told me to ride the elevators. Architecturally， the elevators aren’t anything special—the building dates back to 1933， and it looks like other grand department stores from that era. But it’s staffed by employees so attentive and polite that they transform the act of moving between floors from a 4）mundane， even annoying， task into a 5）pageant of 6）ritualized 7）courtesy.
It starts as you approach the elevator bank. An attendant in the well-tailored uniform of a 1960s stewardess （jacket， skirt， gloves， 8）pumps， 9）jaunty hat） welcomes you with a series of bows and spoken greetings that continue， without pause， as she pushes the call button and directs you to the arriving elevator with an arm held at a perfect 90-degree angle. When the elevator door opens， an operator—dressed like a stewardess from a competing airline（different color jacket）—welcomes you with more bows and greetings. This is when the display of politeness turns into a delicate series of 10）choreographed movements： You step into the elevator； the operator 11）pivots and extends her arm to protect you from the closing grate； and the attendant in the lobby turns to face you and bows deeply， holding the position with practiced stillness. Third floor， please.
Is it too much？ Maybe. The bowing and gesturing might be unnecessary—if you’ve made it to Tokyo， you know how to work an elevator— but it sends a message： From the moment you walk in the door， the employees are completely attuned to you.
Even though I was impressed with Japanese 12）civility from the moment my passport was stamped at Narita airport， I didn’t fully appreciate the extent of the country’s service culture until I was partway through a multicourse meal at Ishikawa， a small Tokyo restaurant with three 13）Michelin stars. I was sitting at the counter， directly opposite chef Hideki Ishikawa. At times he explained to me what he was preparing， but he left other dishes to my waitress， who spoke excellent English. After asking her a quick question， I noticed that she 14）kneeled before answering. In fact， she always kneeled before speaking. She wore a slim-fitting 15）kimono， and when she lowered herself she gracefully corkscrewed her body so that her knees settled on the ground without her needing to steady herself. I felt awful—and 16）elated. What a wrong， beautiful manner in which to be guided through dinner. At the end of the meal she， Ishikawa and what seemed like the rest of the staff escorted me to the sidewalk. They stood in a line and bowed. At the end of the block， I glanced over my shoulder. They were still in formation， and when they saw me turn they bowed again.
“You have a three-star restaurant in Japan， the famous chef with all the awards—and he’s not only preparing the food， he’s preparing it for you，”says David Kinch， the chef and owner at Manresa， in Los Gatos， California. Kinch， who once worked in Japan， and he tells me that my meal at Ishikawa is how it’s done in Japan. “He actually hands it to you. He asks you， ‘How are you？ Are you enjoying it？ Is it to your liking？’ It’s a sense of hospitality that comes across as 17）genuine， not as part of a training program，” says Kinch.
A job means more than just checking off a couple of boxes. According to Masaru Watanabe， the executive director and general manager of the Palace Hotel Tokyo， a grand hotel overlooking the grounds of the 18）Imperial Palace， it demands an emotional commitment. “Although Japanese hospitality， or what we call omotenashi， has developed a reputation outside of Japan as being a 19）benchmark for exceptional service， it can be very difficult to define.” says Watanabe. “To me， it is hospitality that’s extended with the utmost sincerity， grace and respect， however big or small the gesture or the task. Not to be mistaken with the other， perhaps m o r e c o m m o n l y experienced version of service， which is superficial service delivered out of a sense of obligation and with an expectation of reward.”
I experienced that one night when I went for a 20）nightcap at the New York Bar on the top floor of the Park Hyatt Tokyo， where I was staying. The staff reopened the bar—even though it was well after last call—because it was my birthday. How did they know？ My mother had a cake delivered to my room earlier， and it seemed the entire hotel was notified. Looking out over the blinking red lights that punctuate the Tokyo skyline， with a long pour of a Yamazaki single 21）malt， I thought about what might have happened at a similar hotel in London or Paris： I would have been given a 22）courteous but firm no， possibly offered a glass of Champagne in the lobby or my room. It’s a safe bet the hotel wouldn’t have reopened its marquee bar for one last $14 whisky.
According to Merry White， author of Coffee Life in Japan and professor of anthropology at Boston University， what I experienced at the Park Hyatt Tokyo was an example of omoiyari. “It means the active sensitivity to other people，”she tells me. “It anticipates the needs and desires of other people. It’s not broad-brush， it’s fine-tuned.” White explains that omoiyari is taught to children and praised in school. When the staff reopened the bar for me， it was because they could tell it would make me happy to play out my Lost in Translation fantasy.
I found omotenashi in a municipal agency that rented bicycles for what worked out to 85 cents a day. I walked down a flight of stairs into a windowless storage room located under the sidewalk and was greeted by an elderly gentleman who welcomed me， carefully went over the contract， then personally checked the wheels， gears， brakes， handlebars and seat before escorting me to the street. The attendant wasn’t being 23）servile or 24）obsequious or overly concerned by my obvious foreignness. When he bowed and wished me well with what seemed like heartfelt sincerity， he was being professional.
上次在东京时，我游览了高岛屋的日本桥分店，只因一个朋友告诉我要去坐它家的电梯。这家连锁百货商店创建于1831年。从建筑学上来说，这些电梯并没什么特别之处——这座建筑可以追溯到1933年，看上去跟那个年代延续至今的百货商店也无甚差别。但其出彩之处是电梯还配有细心周到、彬彬有礼的服务员工，他们将“在楼层之间移动”这一乏味甚至是恼人的任务变成了一场仪礼盛会。
这一切从你走近电梯门就开始了。一名身着剪裁考究制服的侍者，以一系列的鞠躬和问候欢迎你的到来，那制服就如同上世纪六十年代空姐的装束（外套、短裙、手套、单鞋、漂亮时髦的帽子），接着无片刻停顿，她便按下呼叫按钮，手臂举成完美的90度，指引你走近上升的电梯。当电梯门打开时，一位操作员——着装酷似对手航空公司的空姐（外套颜色不同）——以更多的鞠躬和问候对你表示欢迎。这时，礼貌的表演变成了一系列设计精妙的舞蹈动作：你走进电梯；操作员旋转并伸展她的手臂以保护你不被正在关闭的门闸夹伤；接着大厅里的侍者面向你深深鞠躬，以熟练的沉静保持姿势不动。请到三楼。
这是否太过了呢？也许吧。这样的鞠躬和手势或许毫无必要——都能来到东京了，你总不至于不会自己坐电梯吧——但这样的仪礼传达了一条信息：从你走进大门开始，这里的员工们就完全以你为尊，体贴照顾。
尽管自从我的护照在成田机场盖上戳伊始，我就已被日本人的礼仪所打动，但直到我在石川餐厅——一家被评为米其林三星的东京小餐厅，享用一顿由多道菜组成的大餐且吃到一半时，我才真正欣赏起这个国家的服务文化。我坐在柜台边，正对着大厨石川秀树。有时候他会对我解释他正在准备的菜肴，而其他菜肴他则留给那位英语说得很棒的服务员来解释。问了她一个简短问题后，我发现她在回答前会跪下来。实际上，她在说话前总会跪下来。她身着修身和服，而当她弯下腰时，她会优雅地曲折身体，这样她的双膝就能落在地板上且不需要稳定身体平衡。
我觉得太可怕了——却又很高兴。以这种礼仪贯穿指导你用餐，多么的不对劲，而又多么的美好！在用餐结束后，她、石川，还有似乎餐厅其他所有的工作人员护送我至人行道。他们站成一排向我鞠躬。走至街尾时，我越过肩膀瞥了一眼。他们依然保持着队列，而当他们看见我转头时，他们又鞠了一次躬。
“在日本有一家三星级餐厅，著名的大厨赢得过各种奖项——而他并不只是在准备食物，他是在为你准备食物，”大卫·金奇说，他是加利福尼亚州洛思加图斯市曼雷萨餐厅的大厨兼店主。金奇曾在日本工作过，他告诉我说，我在石川家的用餐体验其实在日本实属寻常。“他真的会端到你面前。他会问你说：‘你好吗？你喜欢这道菜吗？这合你胃口吗？’这种殷勤款待的感觉是真诚坦率的，而非某种培训方案的一部分，”金奇说。
一份工作的意义远非勾选几个选项就可以概括的。东京皇宫酒店，一家能俯瞰皇居庭院的大酒店，其执行董事兼总经理渡边贤认为，工作需要情感投入。“尽管日本人的好客，或者我们所谓的“以诚待客”在日本之外已经声名鹊起，成为了卓越服务的标准，但要想予以定义还是很难的。”渡边说。“对于我来说，无论那些心意之举、所劳之事是大是小，都是饱含极度真诚、涵养和尊敬而展现出来的殷勤好客。这与人们更常体验到的另一类服务是不一样的，那种只是肤浅表面的服务，是出于责任而给予别人的，而且给予的同时期待回报。”
某天晚上，当我去到自己下榻的东京柏悦酒店顶层的纽约吧想来杯睡前小酒时，我体会到了这一点。那里的员工重新打开了酒吧——尽管已经过了打烊时间很久——因为那天是我的生日。他们是怎么知道的呢？我母亲在早些时候向我的房间快递了一个蛋糕，而似乎整个酒店都知晓了。看着窗外闪烁的红光不时划破东京的天际线，伴着一大杯山崎单一麦芽威士忌，我想象着如果是在伦敦或巴黎的某间相似的酒店会是怎样的待遇：我会被礼貌却坚定地拒绝，或许会在大厅或是我的房间给我送上一杯香槟。但我敢打赌那间酒店肯定不会重新打开其顶层酒吧，只为某人最后来一杯价值14美元的威士忌。
《日本咖啡人生》的作者兼波士顿大学人类学教授梅里·怀特认为，我在东京柏悦酒店的体验便是“关怀”精神的一个实例。“这意味着对他人需求保持敏感，”她告诉我说。“这种敏感度能让人预见到他人的需要和渴望。不是简单粗略的，而是细致周到的一份关怀。”怀特解释说，日本人自孩提时代起便开始学习“关怀”精神，而“关怀”精神在学校也是深受颂扬。当员工为我重开酒吧时，是因为他们能够猜到，如此一来我可以走入《迷失东京》的某个场景幻想中，这会让我感到快乐。
我在一家负责出租自行车的市政机构发现了“以诚待客”，出租费用算下来不过85美分一天。我走下一段楼梯，走进人行道下面一间没有窗户的储藏室，受到了一位老先生的接待。他对我的到来表示欢迎，仔细查看了合约，接着亲自检查了车轮、车档、刹车、把手和座椅，然后护送我来到大街上。这位接待员并非奴颜婢膝，或是逢迎谄媚，或是对于我显而易见的外国人身份过分关心。他鞠躬并带着似乎是发自内心的真诚祝我安好，那是敬业专业的表现。
It starts as you approach the elevator bank. An attendant in the well-tailored uniform of a 1960s stewardess （jacket， skirt， gloves， 8）pumps， 9）jaunty hat） welcomes you with a series of bows and spoken greetings that continue， without pause， as she pushes the call button and directs you to the arriving elevator with an arm held at a perfect 90-degree angle. When the elevator door opens， an operator—dressed like a stewardess from a competing airline（different color jacket）—welcomes you with more bows and greetings. This is when the display of politeness turns into a delicate series of 10）choreographed movements： You step into the elevator； the operator 11）pivots and extends her arm to protect you from the closing grate； and the attendant in the lobby turns to face you and bows deeply， holding the position with practiced stillness. Third floor， please.
Is it too much？ Maybe. The bowing and gesturing might be unnecessary—if you’ve made it to Tokyo， you know how to work an elevator— but it sends a message： From the moment you walk in the door， the employees are completely attuned to you.
Even though I was impressed with Japanese 12）civility from the moment my passport was stamped at Narita airport， I didn’t fully appreciate the extent of the country’s service culture until I was partway through a multicourse meal at Ishikawa， a small Tokyo restaurant with three 13）Michelin stars. I was sitting at the counter， directly opposite chef Hideki Ishikawa. At times he explained to me what he was preparing， but he left other dishes to my waitress， who spoke excellent English. After asking her a quick question， I noticed that she 14）kneeled before answering. In fact， she always kneeled before speaking. She wore a slim-fitting 15）kimono， and when she lowered herself she gracefully corkscrewed her body so that her knees settled on the ground without her needing to steady herself. I felt awful—and 16）elated. What a wrong， beautiful manner in which to be guided through dinner. At the end of the meal she， Ishikawa and what seemed like the rest of the staff escorted me to the sidewalk. They stood in a line and bowed. At the end of the block， I glanced over my shoulder. They were still in formation， and when they saw me turn they bowed again.
“You have a three-star restaurant in Japan， the famous chef with all the awards—and he’s not only preparing the food， he’s preparing it for you，”says David Kinch， the chef and owner at Manresa， in Los Gatos， California. Kinch， who once worked in Japan， and he tells me that my meal at Ishikawa is how it’s done in Japan. “He actually hands it to you. He asks you， ‘How are you？ Are you enjoying it？ Is it to your liking？’ It’s a sense of hospitality that comes across as 17）genuine， not as part of a training program，” says Kinch.
A job means more than just checking off a couple of boxes. According to Masaru Watanabe， the executive director and general manager of the Palace Hotel Tokyo， a grand hotel overlooking the grounds of the 18）Imperial Palace， it demands an emotional commitment. “Although Japanese hospitality， or what we call omotenashi， has developed a reputation outside of Japan as being a 19）benchmark for exceptional service， it can be very difficult to define.” says Watanabe. “To me， it is hospitality that’s extended with the utmost sincerity， grace and respect， however big or small the gesture or the task. Not to be mistaken with the other， perhaps m o r e c o m m o n l y experienced version of service， which is superficial service delivered out of a sense of obligation and with an expectation of reward.”
I experienced that one night when I went for a 20）nightcap at the New York Bar on the top floor of the Park Hyatt Tokyo， where I was staying. The staff reopened the bar—even though it was well after last call—because it was my birthday. How did they know？ My mother had a cake delivered to my room earlier， and it seemed the entire hotel was notified. Looking out over the blinking red lights that punctuate the Tokyo skyline， with a long pour of a Yamazaki single 21）malt， I thought about what might have happened at a similar hotel in London or Paris： I would have been given a 22）courteous but firm no， possibly offered a glass of Champagne in the lobby or my room. It’s a safe bet the hotel wouldn’t have reopened its marquee bar for one last $14 whisky.
According to Merry White， author of Coffee Life in Japan and professor of anthropology at Boston University， what I experienced at the Park Hyatt Tokyo was an example of omoiyari. “It means the active sensitivity to other people，”she tells me. “It anticipates the needs and desires of other people. It’s not broad-brush， it’s fine-tuned.” White explains that omoiyari is taught to children and praised in school. When the staff reopened the bar for me， it was because they could tell it would make me happy to play out my Lost in Translation fantasy.
I found omotenashi in a municipal agency that rented bicycles for what worked out to 85 cents a day. I walked down a flight of stairs into a windowless storage room located under the sidewalk and was greeted by an elderly gentleman who welcomed me， carefully went over the contract， then personally checked the wheels， gears， brakes， handlebars and seat before escorting me to the street. The attendant wasn’t being 23）servile or 24）obsequious or overly concerned by my obvious foreignness. When he bowed and wished me well with what seemed like heartfelt sincerity， he was being professional.
上次在东京时，我游览了高岛屋的日本桥分店，只因一个朋友告诉我要去坐它家的电梯。这家连锁百货商店创建于1831年。从建筑学上来说，这些电梯并没什么特别之处——这座建筑可以追溯到1933年，看上去跟那个年代延续至今的百货商店也无甚差别。但其出彩之处是电梯还配有细心周到、彬彬有礼的服务员工，他们将“在楼层之间移动”这一乏味甚至是恼人的任务变成了一场仪礼盛会。
这一切从你走近电梯门就开始了。一名身着剪裁考究制服的侍者，以一系列的鞠躬和问候欢迎你的到来，那制服就如同上世纪六十年代空姐的装束（外套、短裙、手套、单鞋、漂亮时髦的帽子），接着无片刻停顿，她便按下呼叫按钮，手臂举成完美的90度，指引你走近上升的电梯。当电梯门打开时，一位操作员——着装酷似对手航空公司的空姐（外套颜色不同）——以更多的鞠躬和问候对你表示欢迎。这时，礼貌的表演变成了一系列设计精妙的舞蹈动作：你走进电梯；操作员旋转并伸展她的手臂以保护你不被正在关闭的门闸夹伤；接着大厅里的侍者面向你深深鞠躬，以熟练的沉静保持姿势不动。请到三楼。
这是否太过了呢？也许吧。这样的鞠躬和手势或许毫无必要——都能来到东京了，你总不至于不会自己坐电梯吧——但这样的仪礼传达了一条信息：从你走进大门开始，这里的员工们就完全以你为尊，体贴照顾。
尽管自从我的护照在成田机场盖上戳伊始，我就已被日本人的礼仪所打动，但直到我在石川餐厅——一家被评为米其林三星的东京小餐厅，享用一顿由多道菜组成的大餐且吃到一半时，我才真正欣赏起这个国家的服务文化。我坐在柜台边，正对着大厨石川秀树。有时候他会对我解释他正在准备的菜肴，而其他菜肴他则留给那位英语说得很棒的服务员来解释。问了她一个简短问题后，我发现她在回答前会跪下来。实际上，她在说话前总会跪下来。她身着修身和服，而当她弯下腰时，她会优雅地曲折身体，这样她的双膝就能落在地板上且不需要稳定身体平衡。
我觉得太可怕了——却又很高兴。以这种礼仪贯穿指导你用餐，多么的不对劲，而又多么的美好！在用餐结束后，她、石川，还有似乎餐厅其他所有的工作人员护送我至人行道。他们站成一排向我鞠躬。走至街尾时，我越过肩膀瞥了一眼。他们依然保持着队列，而当他们看见我转头时，他们又鞠了一次躬。
“在日本有一家三星级餐厅，著名的大厨赢得过各种奖项——而他并不只是在准备食物，他是在为你准备食物，”大卫·金奇说，他是加利福尼亚州洛思加图斯市曼雷萨餐厅的大厨兼店主。金奇曾在日本工作过，他告诉我说，我在石川家的用餐体验其实在日本实属寻常。“他真的会端到你面前。他会问你说：‘你好吗？你喜欢这道菜吗？这合你胃口吗？’这种殷勤款待的感觉是真诚坦率的，而非某种培训方案的一部分，”金奇说。
一份工作的意义远非勾选几个选项就可以概括的。东京皇宫酒店，一家能俯瞰皇居庭院的大酒店，其执行董事兼总经理渡边贤认为，工作需要情感投入。“尽管日本人的好客，或者我们所谓的“以诚待客”在日本之外已经声名鹊起，成为了卓越服务的标准，但要想予以定义还是很难的。”渡边说。“对于我来说，无论那些心意之举、所劳之事是大是小，都是饱含极度真诚、涵养和尊敬而展现出来的殷勤好客。这与人们更常体验到的另一类服务是不一样的，那种只是肤浅表面的服务，是出于责任而给予别人的，而且给予的同时期待回报。”
某天晚上，当我去到自己下榻的东京柏悦酒店顶层的纽约吧想来杯睡前小酒时，我体会到了这一点。那里的员工重新打开了酒吧——尽管已经过了打烊时间很久——因为那天是我的生日。他们是怎么知道的呢？我母亲在早些时候向我的房间快递了一个蛋糕，而似乎整个酒店都知晓了。看着窗外闪烁的红光不时划破东京的天际线，伴着一大杯山崎单一麦芽威士忌，我想象着如果是在伦敦或巴黎的某间相似的酒店会是怎样的待遇：我会被礼貌却坚定地拒绝，或许会在大厅或是我的房间给我送上一杯香槟。但我敢打赌那间酒店肯定不会重新打开其顶层酒吧，只为某人最后来一杯价值14美元的威士忌。
《日本咖啡人生》的作者兼波士顿大学人类学教授梅里·怀特认为，我在东京柏悦酒店的体验便是“关怀”精神的一个实例。“这意味着对他人需求保持敏感，”她告诉我说。“这种敏感度能让人预见到他人的需要和渴望。不是简单粗略的，而是细致周到的一份关怀。”怀特解释说，日本人自孩提时代起便开始学习“关怀”精神，而“关怀”精神在学校也是深受颂扬。当员工为我重开酒吧时，是因为他们能够猜到，如此一来我可以走入《迷失东京》的某个场景幻想中，这会让我感到快乐。
我在一家负责出租自行车的市政机构发现了“以诚待客”，出租费用算下来不过85美分一天。我走下一段楼梯，走进人行道下面一间没有窗户的储藏室，受到了一位老先生的接待。他对我的到来表示欢迎，仔细查看了合约，接着亲自检查了车轮、车档、刹车、把手和座椅，然后护送我来到大街上。这位接待员并非奴颜婢膝，或是逢迎谄媚，或是对于我显而易见的外国人身份过分关心。他鞠躬并带着似乎是发自内心的真诚祝我安好，那是敬业专业的表现。