“Herbivorous men,” “fast fashion” and a “change of government.”

Clean, fast and punctual, Japan’s rail system is normally a pleasure to ride.

"In America, don't lay even a finger on anyone," I tell my 10-year-old son as I pack his bags for summer camp in the U.S.

My brother peered into the coffin lined with dry ice and tugged at the sheet of gauze that had frozen onto my grandmother’s cheek. “Let me do it,” I said, pulling the cloth away with the sound of tearing Velcro.

If sound travels 331 meters per second in zero degrees Celsius, and the speed increases 0.6 meters as the temperature increases by one degree, what is the distance between a person and lightning if the person hears the bolt 5 seconds after he sees the lightening in 5 degrees Celsius?

As I plan our spring vacation, I’m dreading how much homework my 8-year-old son will have.

I witnessed a bizarre scene at my son’s primary school earlier this year. A dozen or so school mothers had encircled a teacher and were bowing deeply.

Every day in Japan I face etiquette dilemmas.

When I picked up my son Yataro last spring after his ski camp, the train station was abuzz with children talking about who got which certificate.

Pity the lonely Japanese salaryman, or white-collar worker, who wrote that ode to his electrically warmed commode.

Today is Thursday, so I meet my 7-year-old son after school at the bus stop and nag him to walk home quickly so we can make it to soccer practice on time.