Connected

I picked a Japanese restaurant to celebrate the fifteenth wedding anniversary this year. That's a restaurant with open kitchen, by itself a good place to keep my daughter amused. Jasmine spent more time watching the chefs than having her dinner. Within five minutes, or ten minutes, no more than that, the chef made a new dish from the teppan, the way a magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. I stayed with her in front of the kitchen, delighted. That may seem hard to believe, but I forgot to pay the bill - my wife did that.

The beauty of an open kitchen, of course, is more than children's entertainment. Recently, an opinion piece in the Harvard Business Review caught my attention, and it was titled "Cooks Make Tastier Food When They Can See Their Customers." It was about a research carried out by Harvard Business School's assistant professor. The experiment is about diners and cooks in a real cafeteria. There are four scenarios. In the first, diners and cooks could not see one another; in the second, the diners could see the cooks; and reverse in the third; and in the fourth, both the diners and the cooks were visible to one another.

So what does the customer satisfaction survey tell us?

The food quality was rated better when the cooks could see their patrons. Peculiar indeed. And even higher rating when they saw one another. As it turns out, cooks appreciate the chance to see the diners - a human connection that seems to speak to the power of being appreciated. So much so, in fact, that transparency matters not only to the chefs, but many others. Not too long ago, we've heard about similar research on radiologists' earnest wish to connect with humans. The idea of the experiment is pretty similar to that of Harvard Business School. The story begins with 318 patients referred to a hospital for CT, or computed tomography, imaging examinations. The researchers took pictures of the patients and added their photographs to the medical images. In other words, the photograph appeared automatically when the radiologists opened a patient's CT file.

You should have guessed the study result by now.

Yes, the radiologists reported more empathy, read the medical images more meticulously, and ferreted out many incidental findings beyond the scope of the original examinations. The researchers then picked 81 CT scans with incidental findings and showed them to the same radiologists in a blinded fashion three months later, this time without the photographs. In the end, almost 80 percent of the incidental CT findings were not reported, simply because of omitting the patients' photographs.

Blush

The upsides of the blush or guilt have long been observed. Imagine the following question chosen by Dacher Keltner, a psychologist with special interest in positive emotions, when he had to choose his mate by asking a single question at a speed-dating event.

"What was your last embarrassing experience?"

It turned out that Keltner chose this question to watch for blushing, lip-presses, and averted eyes - all of them being surrogates of his mate's respect of others. Embarrassment reveals how much the individual cares about the rules that bind us to one another, he writes.

In case I'm being asked Keltner's question, my answer will definitely be my recent experience in Nara.

Would you be surprised if I told you that feeding deer around Nara-kōen isn't that much fun? Maybe not, when you consider the pushy table manners of those hungry animals. If you'd like to buy some deer crackers, please be forewarned that deer in Nara are second only to Jerry Mouse as a champion for pushing your buttons. They roam the park, and literally ambush anyone carrying deer crackers. But then it's often the poor little kid who is carrying crackers, and the kid could hardly compete with deer in terms of running.

This hungry deer had yummy cracker. That little deer had none. And this little boy cried wee, wee, all the way home.

Things got a lot more topsy-turvy once the number of deer exceeded that of the crackers. The very thought of deer kidnapping Jasmine's cousin set my heart aflutter. So when the poor boy cried louder, I began to get a little edgy. Okay, I panicked and followed my instincts, shouting and kicking at the deer.

Within minutes, my daughter froze, sucked in her breath, and broke into tears.

Shrieking with pain, guilt written all over her face, Jasmine exclaimed, "Dad, stop it. Stop it. That would hurt the little animals. You should be kind to everyone."

I looked at my daughter as long as I can without blush, and then hugged her, as if I'd made the silliest mistake. And it was.

Kansai trip

Mention Osaka and most people think of Osaka Castle. For most of us, Kyoto means the UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Oh, and gracious geisha. But that's another story when we travel with kids.

This isn't to say I don't fancy those feudal castles and colourful shrines. Soon after my first few trips with my daughter (before the age of three), I simply discovered that there is no all-purpose definition of must-sees with children. It's worth taking a look at the Lonely Planet chapter, but a big part of getting the planning right is to keep the itinerary flexible.

When we travelled with Jasmine and her cousin to Osaka and Kyoto last week, we just made up our own version of holiday. The hotel in Osaka didn't take extra charge for kids sharing bed with us, and we're glad to know that. But then my daughter told us, upon arrival at the hotel, she wanted to create her own tatami (and there is another name for such arrangement: sleeping on the floor).

For most children (and, to be honest, for many adults), it's tempting to break the rules during holidays. The first rule, I'd say, is to withhold our judgements as long as we can - and then a little longer. For instance, when we went to the onsen in Kyoto, Jasmine asked to go to the men's baths (to make for a happier experience with her cousin).

If you love to travel with kids you can probably recall a time - plenty of times - when they come up with crazy new ideas. That's fine. One of the nicest things about travel is a break of the routine and letting the rules go out the window.

New Age

One of the thorniest questions that intrigued my daughter, when I borrowed the picture book Die neue Omi by Elisabeth Steinkellner, is the book's title.

My daughter didn't expect the title, which is translated as "my new grandma." That's a bit tricky - that grandma in her 80s is getting dementia. She forgets the way to take bath, not to mention the know-how of cooking. The theme is among a growing number of children books trying to guide the kids living with their forgetful grandparents.

My daughter will face an even greater grandparent gap, I was reminded by the Time magazine columnist Susanna Schrobsdorff. She was almost 39 when she had her child. Me too. If Schrobsdorff's daughter has a child at the same age, she'll be over 80 when that grandchild enters pre-kindergarten.

My unease doubled after I'd read the special health double issue of Time magazine. The baby in the recent magazine front cover was predicted to live to be 142 years old. That means our lives are getting longer. With that trend of longevity, alas, I'm going to live till 100.

Try as you might, it's very hard to take the news with aplomb. Even as we look forward to more years ahead, the idea of becoming a centenarian is not as funny as we might wish. At least three things dwindle as our body ages: our wallet, hard disc memory space, and muscle mass.

Think of the pectoral muscles that are going to sink with age. Gosh. I was also told that men tend to be less flexible and carry more abdominal weight (which can strain the lower back). The new age is worth preparation. And prepare I did, doing push-up and superman exercise every night since this week.