Japandra

Because it is dangerous you may not enter

2012-01-25T12:59:00.001+09:00

There are dangers

We're back in Japan after another two-week, four-state, five-bed tour. We were mostly lucky with the weather while we were there. Maryland was bizarrely balmy and New York, while ear-bitingly cold, was not covered in thick ice and slush this time. We left dogged by storms, though. The six-a.m. road to the airport had already had a few inches of sleet plowed off it. The freezing rain didn't stop us from taking off, but thunderstorms in Atlanta sent us into a holding pattern and finally to a refueling stop in Columbus, Georgia. After waiting in line and then on the phone and then in line again for a few hours, we slipped out between thunderstorms on a flight to LA with reports of tornadoes behind us. Jim's dad picked us up at John Wayne International and took us out for fish tacos and fries. We paused for a digital refueling in a Starbucks parking lot, sipping a little free WiFi to send emails explaining our half-day delay, and then he dropped us off for a midnight flight out of LAX. From LA it was smooth sailing. Behind us, though, we again left a trail of rain, as the City of Angels was soon hit with unusual downpours. We arrived at five a.m. to clear skies in Tokyo. By afternoon it was raining, and that night the city got a few record-breaking inches of snow and commute-ruining ice. Frozen sidewalks and streets are no joke. There were almost three thousand car accidents and hundreds of people went to the hospital with injuries. On my walk to work, I saw a few old men scraping the sidewalk with coal shovels. Friends reported shop owners pouring hot water over the ice to melt it. Er. I didn't see any salt or sand. The picture above is my favorite strategy for keeping people from slipping: roping off the dangerous area and putting up a wonderfully generic danger sign.

Recycling day, Roppongi

2012-01-05T09:25:00.001+09:00

Each truck has its own cargo and its own personality.

Yakudoshi: My horoscope said it would be a bad year

2012-01-02T03:00:00.000+09:00

Happy 2012! Would be a shame if anything bad were to happen to your nice new year...

Your yakudoshi is an "inauspicious year," or a "year of calamity." Other translations put a more positive spin on the expression as a "critical year," but overall, during the ages 24, 41 and 60 for men and 18, 32 and 36 for women, you should stay sharp. You are supposed to be extra vulnerable to sickness and general poor luck during these years and the years immediately before and after. Luckily, you can go to a shinto shrine and have the bad juju removed by purchasing some combination of charms and purification rituals. And lest you think you'll take your chances with the less-bad luck of the year following the main yakudoshi, my friend says that this atoyaku is trouble for the people around you, you selfish bastard. Have they got every angle of this protection racket covered or what?
This photo is at Meiji Jingu. I strolled over in the late afternoon today. There were hundreds of people lined up waiting to go for first prayer at the shrine. I stuck to my new year's resolution to stay out of insanely long lines and just walked around. I had a bowl of restorative tonjiru pork soup and enjoyed the atmosphere. Most of the friends and families were casual, and some were in suits or kimono. It was crowded but relaxed, except near the subway entrance that appears among the trees only once a year and opens directly onto the shrine grounds. Here uniformed traffic controllers with bullhorns stood every few yards.
I imagine there were a few prayers that the deep earthquake this afternoon is the last one for a while. This is year Heisei 24 on the Japanese calendar. Entire countries can't have a yakudoshi, can they? I'd buy a charm if it would help.

Evil earrings

2011-12-30T22:41:00.001+09:00

This came out blurry. One-handed iPhone photos are almost impossible to focus. This Harajuku shop, Before the Boom, has ten thousand pairs of sparkly pretty earrings and then this guy, lurking around on a knee-high rack. Don't tell him your secrets!
----
"I have your secret. Can I give it away? HA HA HA"

I wrote a novel (more or less)

2011-12-27T14:23:00.001+09:00

I wrote a novel for National Novel Writing Month.
The main tools I used on my computer were Scrivener, LeechBlock and SimplyNoise. The main things that helped offline were coffee*, a daily word-count requirement, and a few real and virtual writing buddies. The main things I avoided were how-to-write articles and editing as I went. The main thing I learned was that writing fiction, at least the first draft, can be a lot of fun. Also, people seem to be inordinately impressed that a person with nothing but time on her hands can string together 51,000 words in a month. I'm super impressed at anyone who did it while holding down a full-time job and/or feeding and cleaning up after other people. But me? I've got room.

I don't know if I'll do anything with the thing. It's about some foreigners in Japan, which -- hey, come back! The villain is a naturalized Japanese citizen of Canadian descent, and the heroine is a headstrong woman from the US who doesn't know (or care) a thing about Japan before she comes over in pursuit of a vague job. The company she and her fellow recruits work for turns out to be quite sinister. There's a friendly ex-yak and an unlicensed accupuncturist.

Anyway, it was fun. A lot of people I talked to said they'd been thinking of trying NaNoWriMo sometime. I had heard of it a long time ago and thought, There's something I'll never do! But then the day before it started this year I thought I'd give it a try, and the next day I thought I'd keep going for another day or so and here we are. I figured out the plot, such as it is, in the third week. It might want some revision.

*Everyone always says "Coffee! Ha ha!" and I felt compelled to include it, too, but more because I did a lot of writing in coffee shops than because I was staying up all hours alternating between pounding caffeine shots and tearing out my hair. I think we novelists** like to project the latter image, but, unusually for me, I did most of the work*** during daylight hours.

**Oh, please.

***It also feels silly to call it work in this case.

Merry Christmas from Tokyo!

2011-12-25T23:32:00.001+09:00

You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling

2011-11-07T22:10:00.001+09:00

Is it weird to have a favorite piece of trash? Because now I do. This thing made my day.

I love this place: Tenzan

2011-11-05T00:39:00.001+09:00

The library. Shhhh!

Today, we made it to Hakone and my favorite onsen, Tenzan. It's a hotspring complex nestled along a river about ten minutes from Hakone Yumoto station.
We did the Hakone conveyor-belt–like scenic course of train-cablecar-gondola-gondola-gondola-boat-bus. (The Odakyu Hakone Free Pass is a great value if you do this. It saves 20 bucks or so if you do the whole circuit.) We had lunch near the lake before taking the bus back to Hakone-Yumoto station. From there, we took a 100-yen shuttle bus to the onsen.
It was my third time at Tenzan. All the baths are outdoors. One of them goes into a cave, and a sign near it suggests you meditate inside and "absorb some of the power of the mountain." I like that they are all different temperatures. The mildest one is milky with microbubbles and covered with shady, trellised vines. Everyone who gets in says "ah! nurui!" How often do you hear people smile and say "Oh, it's tepid!" in everyday life? The cedar bath is so hot it makes your hands and feet feel almost numb. The cold plunge bath is so cold that it does make everything numb. Then there are two long, stone-lined baths that are comfortably hot. There's a stand of tall bamboo trees behind the wooden sauna hut and pine trees on the mountainside that slopes toward the baths.
As relaxing as the baths are the resting rooms. There are several. Inside the women-only area, there's a tatami room with bean bags and massage chairs overlooking the baths. (There's a sign that says in Japanese, "Although you may be able to see into the men's baths from here, the reverse is not true.") There is a spacious patio and at least three other rooms in the general area. One is open tatami and has low tables where people snack and play go. Another is tatami with rows of mats, pillows and blankets facing the river. (The only disturbance is the occasional clunk of the beer vending machine in the back.) The smallest public room is separated by a glass door. The button to open it is at eye level -- a subtle enforcement of the no-kids policy. This is called the library and it's my favorite, though you should bring your own reading. Their collection is pretty motley. There are only a handful of lounge chairs and leather recliners in here, and the front wall opens completely to the river. The woman next to me was inking cartoons that looked startlingly professional. Others were reading magazines and books.
There are a few restaurants, too, with traditional Japanese food, not cheap but not too expensive. We took the Romance Car home, which I can't recommend strongly enough. Not because it's romantic -- it's just a normal train with reserved seats, but it's a "special express" and very efficient. I've taken a combination of local trains home before, and every train change chips away a little bit of the day's relaxation.
Tenzan is big, but it doesn't have the pack 'em in commercial feel of LaQua or other spas in the city. Everything is simple, elegant and understated. I can't think of a more relaxing way to spend 1,200 yen.

Back to the Future: 10 am movie madness!

2011-11-03T22:05:00.000+09:00

We celebrated Culture Day by going to see Back to the Future in the theater this morning. That's culture, right? And did you kind of feel like no part of that sentence made sense? We had, um, a sudden change of plans this morning (cough-missedourtrain-cough) and were looking, at 8:30, for something to do. One of the theaters near us plays interesting old (mostly) American movies at 10 am. We've never made it to one, because we always see the listing in the mid-afternoon when we're looking for something to watch in the evening. Not today! I checked the schedule on my phone and saw that it was Back to the Future. Right on! Just the right amount of time to get over there, have another coffee and buy tickets. Which were only 1000 yen, about half the regular price. Bonus.

What time was the train?

I was surprised that the huge theater was packed, and almost the entire crowd was Japanese. (Someone told me later that this movie and Michael J. Fox are hugely popular in Japan.) Nobody budged during the credits, and there was applause when the lights came up. Everyone was disappointingly silent during the movie itself, though. I didn't get the buzzy sense of camaraderie you get from watching a movie with a ton of other fans. I loved seeing it on the big screen anyway.

But it gets better. I checked to see (finally) what this ten o'clock movie thing was about. Turns out, it's part of a nationwide campaign called the "Ten am movie festival" of "50 movies that are great no matter how many times you watch them." How great is that? This has been going on all year. Better to find out late than never, I guess. You can find your local theater in the previous link; this is the list of movies and dates at Roppongi Hills. Each one plays at 10 am every day from Saturday through the following Friday. The list is in Japanese. It's good katakana practice; Next week is Amerikan Gurafiti. When the titles get translated instead of transliterated, it's fun to guess what the original was. The week after next is a good one: Ganbare! beaazu!

Fruit burger

2011-10-28T00:40:00.001+09:00

Hamburger topped with half a mango, to be exact. Meeting a demand expressed by nobody, now, at a Freshness Burger near you.

See the Yokohama Triennale, but not on the weekend

2011-10-25T17:55:00.001+09:00

Have I mentioned I don't like crowds much? I don't, and I'm sure I have. So I took advantage of my easy-living lifestyle to see the Yokohama Triennale in its final days on a weekday, the way god intended. The show is in four venues spread out over a fairly wide area. I followed my friend's advice and went through the main venue first, at the Yokohama Museum of Art, and then I took the free shuttle bus to the NYK Waterfront Warehouse. Then I walked to Sakuragicho Station, which is not the fastest way to get back to Tokyo, but it is the best way to get a slice of delicious apple pie.

I guess a lot of the art I didn't 'get.' Like, the audio guide said that this piece below "looks like a wall covered in pure gold, but it's actually 60,000 individual thumbtacks." As if therein lies the amazement. But it looked like a lot of thumbtacks to me. I mean, it looks neat. The foreground is, I believe, 28,000,000 Fake Diamonds and One Real Diamond, which is intriguing and fun to look at. The museum guard leaned over the pile to straighten the Do Not Touch sign or to shoo some wayward gems back into place and her pen fell into the pile. I wondered how much of a breach that was. It's her job to keep people from chucking stuff into the art and there she goes dropping her pen in.

28000000 fake diamonds... and no people

I liked a few pieces. Damien Hirst's stained glass windows made of butterfly wings were gorgeous and, up close, macabre. Far and away the most amazing thing there for me was Christian Marclay's 24-hour-long film The Clock. Here's 00:04 - 00:07. (For best results, watch it at that time.) I went back a second time on a weekend to see it and it was still worth seeing another thirty minutes of it, even after waiting 20 minutes in line to get in. (Seriously. Don't go places on the weekend.)
The show is only on through November 6. If you won't make it, Tokyo Art Beat has a great photo report of many of the highlights. MTokyoblog has a nice overview of the Triennale and great pictures of the critters outside the museum.

Adventures in Japanese cough medicine

2011-10-23T19:02:00.001+09:00

Tablets, capsules or powders. Cough syrup doesn't seem to exist.

It's my fault I was playing trial and error all through a nasty and persistent case of acute bronchitis. I went to the doctor as soon as my temperature hit 104. After a glance down my throat and a second of listening to my breathing, he said, "If it's the flu, you'll have to stay home. Otherwise, you can take medicine and go to work tomorrow." He ruled out the flu by sticking a cotton swab so far up my nose it hit my brain. The nurse came to where I was slouching in the waiting room and said, "You're negative for flu. You can go downstairs and get your medicine and pay."
"If it's not the flu, what is it?" I croaked.
"It's not the flu. You can go downstairs and get your medicine."
"I have a temperature of 104 and you can hear how this cough sounds. I'd like to know more than 'not the flu' if possible," I said Americanly.
"You want to talk to the doctor again? Fine." She was annoyed.
I waited another hazy block of time in the theater-row seating of the waiting room til the doctor called me back in.
"It's not the flu," he said.
"I'm sorry to bother you again," I said Japanesely, "But my family seems to get pneumonia rather easily and I've never had a cough and fever like this before. I just wanted to ask what you think I might have."
"It's bronchitis," he said. "I'm prescribing a fever reducer, cough suppressant and antibiotics."
I blame the fever. And past experience of leaving the doctor with a bag full of medicine that didn't help much and cost a fortune. I panicked: I had drawers full of Advil, Tylenol and Nyquil at home. I told him I had stuff I knew worked, so I'd just take the antibiotics, please. He shrugged and unticked the boxes and said take care.
I'd always considered Nyquil the nuclear option in cold fighting. That night, I took a full dose (half usually knocks me out cold) - and woke up coughing every 45 minutes. The next night I took the full dose and then, a mere few hours later, took another full dose, afraid it would put me into a cold-med coma. It didn't, unfortunately.
The next day I shuffled to the nearest pharmacy and asked for their strongest cough medicine. The pharmacist grabbed a box of Nobikku powder and said it was the best. It tasted like burnt cinnamon and left me coughing all night.
I went to a different pharmacy the next day and again asked for their strongest stuff. They'd never heard of Nobikku, but gave me the capsules in the gold box above, Nuspol. It had the same ingredients in slightly higher amounts. (One key ingredient in all of them is Noscapine, also known, awesomely, as Narcotine. A mild hallucinogen.) I went on it full time, and made sure to stay away from heavy machinery and social media.
When I ran out, I hit a third pharmacy where they'd never heard of either of the other two medicines. Even though they aren't branded with the pharmacies' names, the drugs seem to be proprietary to each place. This third guy brought out a pile of boxes and finally recommended Cool One, apologizing that it was tablets instead of capsules. Down the hatch four at a time.
I wish I had a more helpful report, but ultimately, whatever and however much I took, I ended up waking up constantly. I coughed so hard one night that I injured a rib or two, adding a stabbing pain to every cough from then on.
I also went through a whole bottle of honey and a pile of lemons.
The take-home lesson here is this: at least try the prescription medicine.
Better yet, don't get bronchitis.

Meiji Jingu Doll Appreciation Festival

2011-10-03T14:33:00.001+09:00

Meiji Jingu Doll Appreciation Festival, a set on Flickr.

In Japan, a person's doll is thought to be animated with a spirit, so when it's time to get rid of the dolls, you can't just throw them in the trash. You take them to the shrine on Doll Appreciation Day to be blessed or exorcised. A donation of 3000 yen or more is required. Judging by the people we watched handing over department store bags full of dolls and stuffed animals, it seems like this amount might cover as many as you like. A guide who was walking around with an info sheet in four languages said that they expected about 40,000 dolls to have been brought in on the one day. Even if a few people squeezed in an attic-ful of dolls in one go, that's a lot of money for the shrine.
They were separated by type to some extent: a row of tall southern belles with cartoon eyes here, some kewpie dolls there, an assembly of seated porcelain emperor and empress dolls spread out at the front. The variety was astonishing. There was a patch of Winnie the Poos (including one huge fellow with stuffing puffing out of where his right arm had been) from different eras clustered like a multi-year class reunion. There were traditional wooden kokeshi and the square Ainu figures that resemble totem poles. A few brand new Pokemon, as bright yellow as the day they were won (surely) in a street fair or amusement park. One or two old toddler-sized hard plastic dolls with eyes that slide open when they sit up, like we used to have in our own attic. In fact, I felt like I recognized at least a dozen as dolls that I'd had or seen growing up.
At four pm, a priest in white robes and tall black lacquered clogs sanctified the dolls by waving a bundle of young bamboo branches over them. Immediately, a team of older people with participant armbands began unpacking shopping bags and cardboard boxes to take them away. I asked the guide where they would be burned. "Someplace else," she said, and closed the conversation.
There were two dolls so caked in dirt that I couldn't help wondering if they'd drowned in the tsunami. I went back to take a picture of them and noticed they were gone before the collection started.

Please don't eat the hell flowers

2011-09-30T12:53:00.001+09:00

Hell flower

I left the house early this morning, looking for a flower. I thought the nearest likely place would be the grassy park behind Meiji Jingu, so I grabbed a cup of coffee and walked, happily shabby, against the tide of pressed and polished commuters. I read about the "flower of the dead" on my Twitter friend Uchijin's site yesterday. I've never noticed these bright red flowers before. I hadn't realized there was any flower that signaled the end of summer. Like the yin to the sakura's yang. Or vice versa? I can never keep them straight.
Anyway, I was enjoying the park and the half dozen people dotting it: one guy on the grass reading a newspaper, a woman doing NHK-approved morning stretches under a tree, an angry-looking old lady hobbling fast with a cane, and someone wearing head-to-toe denim fast asleep on a small tarp. I'd forgotten what I was there for when a spray of red under a tree caught my eye. That was it! I felt like I'd conjured the plant. I hadn't really expected to find one. Up close, it was beautiful and covered with black ants.
Do check out Adrian's post and the ones linked within it for lore on this flower and some incredible pro photos.

Child's play in Ishinomaki

2011-09-24T13:36:00.000+09:00

The bus was crowded before anyone got on.

A bunch of us piled into a small rainbow-painted bus in a Tokyo suburb in the middle of the night. I was joining a group of parents from Abiko on their third relief run up to Ishinomaki City on the tsunami-scrubbed coast of Miyagi prefecture. The first two trips, they'd taken up truckloads of the necessities people were doing without as they lived in shelters or crowded into upper stories of half-gutted houses. This time, they were taking a children's fair. A midnight caravan to set up a one-day festival? There's something a little bit Something Wicked This Way Comes about it, except that the kids were already in a nightmarish situation and we were going just to bring a little cheer. The rented bus was crammed from the storage space underneath to the ceiling with donated snacks, games, toys, dolls, bicycles, generators, balloons, bingo cards, two sturdy trampolines, a cotton candy machine, and gear and ingredients to make 60 jars of homemade ice cream.

Fifteen of us wedged ourselves into the spaces that were left and drove from midnight til about 7:30 in the morning, stopping frequently. (Some strange goings on at the rest stops, but that's for another post.) As we drove through central Ishinomaki, organizer Yoshie said it was unbelievable how much better it was. At first, it looked like Main Street in any pre-dawn small city in Japan, with awnings running over the sidewalks on both sides of the street and neat shutters pulled down over each shop. A few places were boarded up like they were awaiting a hurricane. But then, some looked like they'd been kicked apart in a rage from the inside.

We set up in a grassy park near a temple at the top of a high, steep hill overlooking the water. The high ground saved a lot of lives during the tsunami. We had to carry all the boxes and bundles about 200 meters from the parking lot to the field. Happily, Jamie, Manish and a few other local volunteers from It's Not Just Mud met us at the site in the morning with hot coffee and plenty of enthusiasm.

We had a low table in the shade for kids to make name cards and a spot under a trellis where one crafty mother led the kids in making little animals and charms out of branches and pine cones. Some local volunteers made giant soap bubbles using bamboo sticks and string. The first kids to arrive batted around an oversized badminton set, and then ran around swatting volunteers with the rackets while we were setting up. The hardest part was setting up the steel-pipe trampolines donated by a school in Ireland via a Quakebook contributor. (Actually, taking them apart was even harder, as one little girl started crying and yelling at us to stop, clinging to the one she was on while we pried, pulled and kicked apart the other.) One of the most popular activities on a hot day was making icecream. An ingenious combination of two-liter bottles, ice, salt, jam jars and fifteen minutes of shaking -- plus a little cream, vanilla and sugar -- yielded a solidly frozen treat that one of the test-tasters said "tastes like the expensive icecream."

Icecream making was a big winner

Throughout the day, more than 200 people came through. Most of the kids seemed like they were about seven or younger. We hadn't known what to expect - fliers had been put up in elementary schools and public places where kids might be in Ishinomaki, but we had no idea how many or what age kids would come. At the end, when kids were lining up to get the overstuffed goodie bags that corresponded to the numbers they'd found in a balloon scavenger hunt, we were pleased to see that the rations fit the numbers quite well.

Yoshie said that while most people she talked to during the weeks of preparation loved the idea and many people pitched in with all kinds of help and donations, some told her it was a bad project, because the children don't need games, they need x. Or because you shouldn't help like that, you should help like y. Their ideas about what the children needed were simply their ideas; they weren't privy to any better information than anyone else. This is a painful thing that happens around volunteering or donating. Did you do enough? Did you do the right thing? The fact is, you can never do enough and there isn't one right thing. So if you have something you can do that will make some kids smile for a few hours, why wouldn't you do it? Back in Tokyo 24 hours after we left, we were all glad we did.
Yoshie put up a Freetohoku blog post in English and Japanese with lots of great pictures and details, including the off-hand comment that broke our hearts.
The photographer who went along with us posted some great photos from the day here.

Funny weather icons don't lie

2011-09-22T13:38:00.000+09:00

The typhoon went right over Tokyo yesterday evening, right at rush hour. Many companies sent people home at three pm or so. From what I hear, trains were crowded then, but running normally. People who waited until the usual time to leave had a lot of trouble. Trains stopped, traffic was blocked by downed trees, and train and bus stations were packed solid. Because it was the middle of a typhoon. Why didn't companies let (or better, make) people leave earlier? The storm track was pretty clear early in the day. There was heavy flooding elsewhere, but Tokyo was, again, mostly okay.
The good thing about the storm is that it was moving fast, so the rain had stopped where we are by 7 pm or so, and the worst of the wind seemed to have died down within an hour after that. The group to suffer the greatest number of casualties was, as predicted by the morning news, umbrellas.
例のマークシティ下の傘の山 on Twitpic

Typhoon Roke: A hard rain

2011-09-21T10:13:00.001+09:00

Japan is battening down the hatches (does Japan have hatches?) for Typhoon Number 15, or Roke. Look at this thing. Amateur linguists, please note that Roke does not mean "15." I don't know what it means or why there's a name and a number. Presumably these things are knowable, but you're not gonna find 'em out hanging out around here. Instead, I have amusing icons and some free association for you. First, the most sadly apt weather icon since the angry sun. If it's that windy, probably best to leave the umbrella at home and go with a raincoat. Or leave yourself at home and don't go out at all.

Second, they're trying to evacuate over a million people from the Nagoya area. Rivers are rising and streets were already flooding all over this morning before the storm had fully hit. Tokyo will get rain and wind, and there will surely be train and traffic trouble. We're not expecting severe flooding, though, I don't think. (We're up on a hill anyway. So if it gets bad, come over.)

The free association part: Almost exactly six years ago, I was flying into Houston to wait for Hurricane Rita as the city was evacuating some three million people - still the largest evacuation in US history. The storm was heading for the Gulf Coast just three weeks after Katrina, so the Tokyo Shinbun sent my boss and me there to see how badly it would go the second time around. There were only a few people on the plane. On the ground, fewer people were taking chances with being left behind post-Katrina, and the view from the sky of cars packing one side of the highway as far as we could see was incredible. Our hotel was attached to the shut-down airport. A few dozen airport employee families were sheltering for the night around the baggage carousels. I talked to some of them and then spent the evening wandering around, riding the little Disney train alone through the empty terminals. I'm not sure why I was able to do that, now that I think about it.
Rita didn't do much damage in Houston, so we drove east until we found flooding. Here's a set of photos from that night and the drive the next day. Some of the captions aren't bad.

Disappointingness in a bottle

2011-09-16T15:40:00.001+09:00

Everyone's been making fun of this new tea called Pungency, for obvious reasons - it's a terrible name for a drink. It has bad connotations, and it isn't a normal part of speech for a brand name. But I have to admit, I was hoping it was right on. Bottled 'royal milk tea' is always too sweet and mild. In the last few years, there have been drinks that claimed to be stronger - double tea leaves, espresso brewed - but it all tastes mostly like milk and sugar. They were all missing a certain... pungency.
Alas, this tastes the same as always. No bracing bitterness to balance the sugar. They should have called it Regularness. Or Normalcy. Maybe next year's attempt will be called Same-as-before-ish.
Also, "pungency" is not a well known English word around here. The entire Pungency ad campaign revolves around answering what the word means. Is that really where you want to start?

Earth Celebration on the internet!

2011-08-27T16:57:00.000+09:00

It's not the same as being there, but world-famous taiko group Kodo put HD video of last weekend's Earth Celebration concerts online. It's streaming on-demand for free, but only until August 31. Check it out while you can! They really are incredible. Watch here on Ustream.
Being there was great. It was another world from Tokyo. The fauna was prehistoric - I found a six-inch long poisonous centipede. In the bath. A moth that looked like a fat bird. A lizard that was fat and shiny. The coast was jagged and the greenery jungle lush.
There was plenty of great food, like Brazilian pastels, Italian sausage, and Turkish kebabs. A lovely coffee roaster guy was grinding his beans to order and brewing individual cups of coffee that were worth waiting 20 minutes in line for.
The social media coverage thing went pretty well. Turns out that people who come out to camp and chill out on the beach with an acoustic guitar aren't necessarily into tweeting every second of their day. Weird, right? But there were people watching our reports from Hong Kong, England and the US.
As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the experience, I didn't fall under the spell of the festival like all of my friends who get that faraway look in their eyes when they talk about EC. I think that level of intoxication probably demands late-night beach parties, intense and doomed three-day love affairs and, well, intoxication. As staff, we stayed in a beautiful tatami-matted building that was near all the action - it had a kitchen, nearby onsen and kept us snug despite the rain, but there were no bonfires or parties.
My phone shut down on the last day. Kaput. I lost all the photos I had taken that I hadn't posted online. Luckily, Jim brought his camera along and got some nice shots.

Earth Celebration on Sado Island!

2011-08-18T18:52:00.000+09:00

Taking the midnight bus tonight to an island all the way on the other side of Japan. We've been hearing about how amazing Earth Celebration on Sado Island is since we got here, and now we're finally going to check it out. And taking you along! This is a music festival that's always welcomed the world by hosting international guests and acts - this year the festival is reaching out, too, via streaming video and social media stuff. The festival has Twitter, Facebook and -- if it goes as I hope -- Storify pages. It would be so great if you would follow, like and check out those pages for the next four days. You might say there's a little bit of Japandra in all of them. If I can get my phone battery to last for more than an hour at a stretch...

So, please! Get a little taste of all the music, dancing, art and good good vibes. Maybe if we all celebrate the Earth real nice, she'll go easy on us for a while.
Follow Sado_EC on Twitter
Like Earth Celebration on Facebook
Share the link for Storify.

And please check out the streaming video on Ustream. We'll announce on Twitter when video is going up.

Palace of Fine Arts

2011-08-16T18:04:00.001+09:00

This Palace of Fine Arts is beautiful and makes no sense as an outdoor structure. It's not much of a garden, it has no facilities and isn't really big enough for a city-scale public event. So what is it? Turns out it had a fascinating role in revitalizing San Francisco and the surrounding area after the devastating 1906 earthquake. The building that's there now is just a small, fully reconstructed part of the sprawling 1915 Panama-Pacific Expo.
It also had a role in The Rock, and I looked everywhere but did not see Sean Connery.

Give me back my finger

2011-08-16T00:21:00.000+09:00

Speaking of posting old stuff... this has been sitting for a year. A year since we sat at a restaurant that no longer exists with friends who are no longer in Tokyo.
Talking about a guy who no longer has a pinkie.
Our friends Alex and Alwyn had wandered into the festivities at Yasukuni Shrine right on August 15 -- a big rallying day for nationalists. Going to see the right wing protests there had become sort of a tradition for the two of them, ever since they had ended up there during their first week in Japan five years earlier. This time, as they were getting ready to move out of the country, they found the ultimate souvenir on the ground behind the crowd of young and old in WWII costumes: a prosthetic pinkie with dirty gauze still stuffed inside. We all handed the finger around the dinner table with equal revulsion and merriment. Yes, that is terrible on many levels.
I miss them.

The blogging equivalent of jetlag

2011-08-13T00:10:00.000+09:00

Well. We've been back from vacation for almost two weeks now. There are still pictures and little non-stories from the trip I'd like to post. (There's still stuff from Turkey from a year ago I'd like to post, but that's another story.) Meantime, there's life going on here. (Nothing too exciting, just, you know, life.) But I feel like going back and forth with stuff from Japan and the trip is like flying too often across time zones. Like when you wake up trying to figure out why all your furniture is in the wrong place. What's that behemoth Korean taco truck doing in Tokyo? What's that Japanese pop group doing at a train station in Seattle? They're wearing sweaters, they're complaining about the muggy heat, she's eating an icecream sandwich bigger than her head and yet sorting trash into burnable and non. And why are there suddenly tall buildings outside? I secretly look forward to that moment of utter confusion between sleeping and waking when I open my eyes in a strange place at an off hour. If you kind of like that too, stick around.

Catastrophic molting

2011-08-04T23:18:00.001+09:00

On the second day of the drive, after an afternoon at Hearst Castle, we pulled off the road in San Simeon to see the elephant seals. There's a beach that they come to throughout the year to do what elephant seals do -- mate and shed. In July, they're shedding. Signs explained that they weren't sick, they were undergoing a "catastrophic molt" in which all their skin comes off at once. This does not leave the elephant seal-shaped rugs lying on the beach that the description suggests. The skin just rubs off in patches. While they wait for their skin to fall off, they mostly lie around in groups packed tight against the chilly wind, rearing up once in a while for a quick skirmish, then flopping back down with mighty thuds. (They say they can be up to 5,000 pounds.) The viewing platform is maybe 100 yards from where the seals are. Through binoculars, they had the funniest faces. The lighter ones look like they have pretty eyeliner -- and hideous floppy, whiskered nose flaps.

We were planning to drive to a beach another hour north or so to catch the sunset and then keep going til we found a place to stay. Maybe it was the jetlag, but watching these slothful heavy beasts, I realized there was nothing I'd rather do than thud down and just lie around. So we decided to stop nearby for the night.

World Spice Merchants, Seattle

2011-07-30T14:26:00.004+09:00

A trip to World Spice Merchants has become a mainstay of our visits to Seattle. (I always remember it as Spice World. Isn't it amazing how much cheesier it sounds that way?) It's a wonderful little shop a street level down from Pike Place market. We go mostly to get a ton of chili powder, one ingredient that eludes us in Tokyo. I was extra excited to go this time, though, because somehow my brother had never been in almost a decade in Seattle. He's a fantastic cook and I had a feeling he'd find a lot to love at the spice shop. He went straight to the rows of jars with Chinese spices and showed Emily one that he hasn't found since he lived in Tang Shan. Success! Jim was opening and sniffing the variety of chili powders, and I checked out the loose tea downstairs. (And the veggies and spice dips they'd laid out. I was hungry.) By the time we left, we had a brown paper bag packed solid with vacuum-sealed pouches of seasoned salts, spice blends and chili mixes. How did that dense parcel get waved through airport security while my travel-size Listerine got a full interrogation?

Ostrich Land

2011-07-29T08:27:00.001+09:00

We made an unscheduled stop to visit Ostrich Land in Solvang on the first day. There were so many signs with warnings all over the farm that by the time I got my dustpan of pellets to feed the ostriches, I won't lie -- I was pretty wary of them.
We made a lot of unscheduled stops like this. That's why it took four days to drive from LA to San Francisco. That's also why our trip was great.

Check out more of Jim's ostrich photos.

Mad Homes Seattle

2011-07-28T23:30:00.003+09:00

We only found out about this on the day we were leaving Seattle because we got up to have coffee with Andy and Emily before they left for work. The local news did a little segment on these houses in Capital Hill that were given over to an artists' group for a last hurrah before getting torn down. We found the intersection they mentioned and drove over. Just a residential street with four weird houses in the middle of the block. The houses were really cool. The scale was impressive. One had been completely wrapped in shipping plastic and another had been cast in latex and then the sheets of latex were hand stitched into a skin of the house. Inside, there were some pretty amazing optical illusions. There were just a handful of other people wandering through. Mad Homes is up through August 7 and is free. If you live in or near Seattle or know someone who does, it's definitely worth checking out.


Check out how mind-blowingly nifty this is in the photo set.

Of all things, a Hostess cupcake?

2011-07-27T18:27:00.001+09:00

And an orange one, at that? With all the delicious food - the fresh cherries, home-grilled carne asada, the whole dungeoness crab - we're starting the trip recollections with the cupcake?
----
Yup. I eat one every few years. Like maybe this time it will be as delicious as I remember. It never is, but I sort of enjoy that, too.

Back again again

2011-07-27T00:02:00.000+09:00

Flying into Haneda is a breeze. Touched down at 4:55 am, waited a bit for our bags and still made the 5:27 monorail. It's a neat ride, especially at sunrise.
The west coast trip was great. I'll try to post a few pictures and things in the next few days. Thanks lots for all the suggestions of things to do. We hit most of them and then some.

Cool, dude

2011-07-10T06:13:00.001+09:00

I'm in LA! But before I left, I put together a round-up for Japan Pulse of products made to keep you cool. If you look back through the last few posts there, you'll find cool clothes, cool foods, how people feel about cool clothes, and official national policy on what to wear to beat the heat. Are we unfairly painting Tokyo as a city obsessed with the temperature? From this sunny, breezy back yard, I say no. The first thing I noticed when I woke up today is that it wasn't hot. My suitcase looks like it was packed for a trip to a desert. Even though I'd checked the weather forecast, from Tokyo, I couldn't imagine it not being oppressively hot and humid. With occasional bursts of chill. Getting into an airconditioning blast when it's that sticky out feels like going underwater with a tank of oxygen. Even though you can breathe, you don't forget that you're wrapped up in a temporary reprieve from an inhospitable environment.

Anyway, my favorite find of the warehouse of wraps, fans, creams, shades, sprays, gel cushions, bath salts and hair gels was this thing, Neck Fresh, a mentholated sticker that goes across your neck to cool down at least that patch of your neck for up to eight hours. Nothing too new about that, but the packages are great. The 70's-guy cartoons are the "new guy," the "sexy section head" and the "dandy president." They wear fresh citrus, sexy musk and dandy green. And you know my suitcase is full of them.

Aloe sashimi and the quiet city

2011-07-03T21:45:00.001+09:00

That's all. I just wanted to show you this. It's at Kotatsu in Azabu Juban, and aloe sashimi is what it's called on the menu. The sauce is a spicy mustard miso. The aloe has an unusual texture, firm then a little slimy and then gone, like it was never in your mouth in the first place.
The restaurant was conspicuously empty for a Saturday night. They usually have enough traffic to have lines out the door and menu items that they only serve after 1 am, but when we got the check at 1:30, we were the only people in there. The barman was nodding off on his feet. A friend out in another part of town said both places she went were also empty. Did we miss a memo?

Green curtain revolution

2011-07-02T19:24:00.001+09:00

Companies have been told to cut power use or face fines and people at home are valiantly reducing their AC to avoid losing power altogether. Is the power situation really as bad as they say? Worse? Does anyone actually know at all? In a bid to provide some free shade and make people feel like they have some control over the totally confusing situation, some local governments have been giving out "green curtain" kits -- a flower pot, netting and a few bitter gourd seeds. My local plant store has a whole "green curtain corner" of viny plants like cucumber, Goya and what I can only guess from the florist's pantomime is some kind of loofah.
I got some Goya and a cucumber plant, hoping to grow a little shade on the balcony. They're climbing, but they're so wispy that they not only aren't shady, they're almost unphotographable when back-lit, which is always.
Instead, here's a building that may have gone a little overboard with the green curtain thing. Wasn't there a Stephen King story about this?

Izu overnight

2011-06-27T20:54:00.002+09:00

A quick getaway, just one night. Beach time, a good dinner, up for sunrise, and a dip at a famous hot spring. The last time we were there, it was so crowded that the "thousand-person bath" felt like it was living up to its name. This time, almost noone was there. Much better.
Beach season doesn't really start until rainy season ends, so prices are good and crowds are thin for at least another week or two. By August, all bets are off.

Fire and ice, in a can

2011-06-22T09:27:00.001+09:00

I don't love canned coffee anymore. I still think it looks cool and it's neat that it exists, but I can't say I love drinking it. So I usually don't. But it's hot out. An icy "not too sweet" iced au lait might be just the thing...

Ice, ice Oreo

2011-06-21T17:17:00.001+09:00

What does ice flavor taste like? In Oreos, lemon.
There's sort of an asterisk at the bottom (one of these guys: ※) explaining that "a cool-feeling creme is used in this product." As if to quiet the people complaining, "Hey, these Ice Flavor Oreos don't taste like ice!"

The other Tokyo subway manners posters

2011-06-20T17:07:00.000+09:00

There are two separately administered subway lines in Tokyo. (I'm on one right now, so I can't look up the details.) As the manners posters on Tokyo Metro get cuter and cuter, the ones on the Toei line are getting punchier. Look at this. Kapow!

How many yen per meter?

2011-06-08T23:51:00.001+09:00

Another thing I've failed to get excited about is the Sky Tree. It's a big TV tower. The tallest tower in the world and the second tallest structure, after the Burj Khalifa. And, if I'm reading Wikipedia right, it's also the tallest structure on an island? Couldn't they just stop at "tallest tower in the world"? Anyway, yesterday they announced the price to go to the observation decks: 2000 yen to go to the lower deck at 350 meters and 3000 yen to the upper deck at 450 meters. That's almost 40 bucks, with the yen as strong as it is. On Twitter yesterday, Nikkei Trendy set off a wave of price comparisons for tall buildings around Japan when they calculated a trip up Tokyo Tower at 5.68 yen/meter and Sky Tree at about 6.67. One reader pointed out that the Shin Umeda Sky Building in Osaka was a bargain at just 4 yen/meter, but my pal Durf won the day with some back-of-the-envelope math.

You've seen someone like this

2011-06-06T11:26:00.000+09:00

A single bound!

When we came back to Tokyo in the beginning of April, the first foreboding change I noticed was a big fat cat lounging around in the subway station. On the wall. The clever yellow “Do it at home” and “Do it again” posters had apparently been replaced by the lowest form of art: a cute cat photo. At the risk of alienating you: I hate cute cat photos. Was every month going to be a different cat? The new slogan is “We’ve seen people like this,” or, “You’ve seen this type of person.” The message of the fluffy fat cat was that you shouldn't take up too many seats on the train. Would they have soft-focus cats illustrating all the bad subway behavior? Shoving adorably to get on first, endearingly grooming themselves on board, slurping ramen with their widdle paws? The horror. The obvious answer to this concern was, of course, “Hang in there!” Luckily, May brought a sort of funny flying dog, (why are dogs okay and cats annoying? I don’t know. They just are.) and now June’s poster is totally appropriate and more cringey than cute: this wet dog shaking himself off, warning people about not splattering each other with their umbrellas. A timely message, since rainy season officially started here on May 27, a little earlier than usual.
The new manners posters are collected on the Tokyo Metro site.

Here’s a bonus page of umbrella-handling etiquette for those who read Japanese. I never thought about how to open and close and umbrella before - handy. People follow many of these already. Most folks almost always wrap their umbrellas neatly before getting on the train, and most adults are more likely to tap the points on the ground to shake off water than to pinwheeel them around. The worst offense I spot is people holding their umbrellas pointed almost horizontally out behind them, like swords they’re about to draw with a flourish. Not to give anyone any ideas.

Tokyo magic

2011-06-03T12:51:00.003+09:00


Joker in a bottle

I wanted to do something fun for Jim’s birthday, but nothing too crazy for a Thursday night; a hangover on a busy, early work day isn’t much of a gift.

A few times he’d snapped cellphone pictures of lit signs outside of “magic bars,” saying “we’ve got to come back and check one of these places out sometime.” Magic bars are a thing in Tokyo. Sometime had come!
The bunch of people who agreed to come out may have had their doubts, but they all showed up at the fifth-floor bar in red-light district Kabukicho. The other establishments in the building looked like they’d make your money disappear with different kinds of tricks.

The cab dropped us off near the place, halfway between the only two places we ever go in the area: a loud, loud rock bar that we’ve never left any earlier than 3 am and a cheap karaoke bar that attracts all of the neighborhood's angriest gaijin. Jim said later he was sure we were going to one of these two and was secretly disappointed that this was the birthday surprise. But no! Up the steps of the shady building and through the door with the manga magician! The bar is called Calvados, but it says “Cuore the Magnificent” on the door. Hey everybody!

We sat at the center of a long, curved bar, and a young magician named Kokoro did close-up magic, like fork bending and card tricks. As promised, he made a birthday cake appear in a flash of fire. He took a group polaroid of us that turned out to be the end of another trick. Most confounding of all, he put a happy birthday card inside that bottle of green tea.
Another magician set up soon after with rope tricks, disappearing coins and mutilated 1000-yen bills. He taught us all how to do a disappearing tissue trick.

There was a short stage show with audience participation. It was all pretty good. Kokoro emptied a paper cup full of water that I was holding over my head. He “hypnotized” a friend into not being able to pick up a light wooden box. (Dan got him back, though, by accidentally swinging the box up to reveal the trick bottom.) The best trick was when he made a real bowling ball and pin fall out of a floppy paper notebook. Actually, the best trick was getting a guy who was in the middle of a long week and who’d had his vacation revoked, again, to grin like a kid on his 40th birthday. Shazam!

Why Japanese people make the peace sign in photos, or, "Say Veeeeee"

2011-05-31T18:04:00.000+09:00

The thing about those two titles for this post is that one is misleading and the other is impossible to search. And it's not SEO trouble I'm worried about, it's my own search ability. I've sort of lost tons of my own posts because I can't remember what I called them and the obscure titles had nothing to do with the content. (That is, lost like something you know is in the living room somewhere is lost.)
Jake asked me to write a post for his site two months ago* explaining why Japanese people have such an overwhelming tendency to make the peace sign when a camera is pointed at them. I was excited to write it so that I could finally find out for myself. I found quite a few posts and articles in both English and Japanese that, like this one, dangled the promise of an answer. Also like this one, they didn't deliver it. I'm going to go ahead and spoil the ending of my Japan Subculture post: I never did find a definitive answer. I did make up a theory, though. So, why do Japanese people make the peace sign in photographs?

*I put off posting here for a few days and then it kind of fell by the wayside.

Camping for city slackers

2011-05-31T12:53:00.003+09:00

I have mixed feelings about camping. I like it if the weather's perfect and there's a decent bathroom and running water and we don't have to carry anything too far. And the floor's not lumpy and there are no bugs. Otherwise, it all seems like a little too much trouble and too little sleep. Hm, I guess that's not really "mixed" feelings. My co-writer Felicity at Japan Pulse wrote a post about camping in Japan for amateurs. These campsites put up the tent for you and provide all the goods for a campfire meal. You just roll up with a change of clothes and maybe a toothbrush. The fanciest level of service was "princess camping," which comes with a butler. You know, a camping butler. (Surely this calls for Photoshop.)
I met up with some friends of a friend for a night of camping over Golden Week. It was an old cabin campground on the bank of Lake Saiko, one of the five beautiful lakes around Mt. Fuji. It's a nice site, compact. Over the years they kept adding cabins in the spaces between cabins until it reached its current slightly crowded state. The public toilets there were cleaner and nicer than in any train station bathroom. The group of people I was with go camping once per season and always put up a banner that says "Sound of Mountain." They keep a group journal and split up the equipment, from folding tables and cast iron pans to a tightrope to sling between trees for fun. They didn't choose the campsite for its mod cons, but I appreciated having them. The gravel parking lot is just steps from the cabins - all the easier to lug the cardboard boxes of food, spices and even a kit they used to smoke cheese and salami over sakura wood chips. The cabins have tatami floors and the front office rents thin futon mats and wool blankets for an extra 100 yen apiece. There was also an overhead fluorescent light. It had an outlet where they plugged in a computer for music and an electric water pot, rigged securely with the tightrope to hang from a ceiling beam, because its cord was too short to reach the floor.
We made a huge pot of curry for dinner with vegetables from a roadside stand -- and a can of tuna fish someone had brought. At least cooler heads prevailed when someone wanted to throw in a ton of celery greens.
We sat around after dinner, shivering, leaning into the fire for warmth and squinting against the smoke from damp pine branches and dried needles. They asked for some American kids' camp songs. I tried to explain the lyrics to There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly. I said, hearing the strangeness of it for the first time, "Anyway, it goes on like this til finally, she swallows a horse." The guy in the group asked, skeptical, "And she was okay?" And it was a shame that we were speaking Japanese and not English, because the translation wasted that perfect set-up for "she died, of course." It's funny, sort of, if it rhymes. If not, it's just bizarre.
The only thing missing was marshmallows. I would have brought some, but I didn't think of it til we were all staring into the embers around 10 pm. I could really use that round-the-clock camping butler.

TEDxTokyo

2011-05-21T00:18:00.000+09:00

TEDxTokyo is tomorrow. I'm excited to be there as part of the social media team. I'll be one of the people tweeting from the @TEDxTokyo Twitter account. (I wonder if you can tell which ones are mine?) The presentations will be live streaming from 9 am to 6 pm Japan time from TEDxTokyo.com in both English and Japanese. Tune in! Everyone in rehearsal today looked good. Lots of smart people with ideas about getting Japan back up and at 'em. Also, a juggler and a yo-yo guy. Get some friends together and check it out, why not?

Born on the 梅雨

2011-05-12T19:12:00.000+09:00

It's rainy this week. People have been talking about whether this is the beginning of rainy season. It's earlier than it usually starts - typically around the first week of June for the Tokyo area. But, it is raining a lot. In Japanese, rainy season and the rains it brings are called (o)tsuyu or bai-u, both written as 梅雨. It's a faithful question on kanji quizzes for those unusual readings. The basic readings for the evocative characters that make up the word, "plum" and "rain," would be "ume" and "ame." (Do you want to argue about how I'm simplifying the explanation? Do you, punk? I didn't think so.)
What's my point? I just wanted you to chuckle with me by humming this whenever anyone mentions 梅雨. Of course, depending on who you hang out with, this may not be too often.

Incidentally, I posted a link to Hank Williams singing Jambalaya on the Bayou on Twitter. I wasn't really thinking of the lyrics. I knew it went "crawfish pie, something something bayou" and thought it was bay-oo. Listening to it now, it doesn't rhyme with the Japanese at all.
Me-oh-my-oh.

Quick, cheap business cards

2011-04-24T19:22:00.000+09:00

No extra charge for the fancy box

I've gone empty-handed to a bunch of events lately where showing up without business cards is about as smart as showing up without pants. I ran out of Moo cards a while back, and, in one of those stupid paradoxes, didn't order them right away because they said delivery would take two or three weeks. So now it's three or four weeks later, and, you know. I never did find a local place that would do them quickly and simply. One wanted me to send them my design as an Illustrator file, which I don't have, and another had a complicated ordering process that involved two somber sales people, a huge binder, and two more return trips to the shop for checking proofs. Not cheap, either. I remember seeing machines in the past that spit out insanely cute cards while you wait, but insanely cute cards make grown-ups look, well, insane.
[Image] No extra charge for the fancy box. On my way to another meeting the other day, kicking myself for still not finding cards, I stopped into one of those digital photo printing places on a whim and asked if they made meishi. The woman said they did, but that they didn't have too many options. Fine. I didn't need too many. They produced something simple in 25 minutes with my name, number and email address on it. Granted, they, er, got the email address wrong. But she was very apologetic, and had a new stack of 50 done in less than 10 more minutes. The Rs are kind of top-heavy. Maybe someone who knows fonts knows what it is? I had to pick the font based on Japanese examples, so I had no idea how the English would come out. Oh, well. You know that expression: Cheap, fast, great - pick any two. If you've been around here a while, you know I love nice stationery. But sometimes good enough is good enough. Like when you're on your way to a networky (shudder) thing with no pants business cards.

The place I went is called 55 Station, and they're all over the place. Their main thing is printing digital photos.

Quakebook

2011-03-27T07:01:00.000+09:00

Quakebook is coming together with unbelievable speed and grace. We hope to have it in your digital hands by the end of the weekend. Please follow the new #quakebook account on Twitter, if Twitter is something you're into. Give the Quakebook Facebook page a thumbs up, if you do that kind of thing. Please ask your friends to, too. Why? More recognition means more sales means more money to the people who need it n-o-w. 100% of everything from this book will go to Japan Red Cross. Thanks. And if you're in a position to help spread the word in any other way, please let me know in the comments, by email, on Twitter, any way you like. Or, heck, just do it. You don't need permission. Thank you.

Where I'm at

2011-03-25T10:51:00.000+09:00

Quick catch up. Short answer: in an LA suburb at Jim's dad's house. In the past week, I've been profiled as a "level-headed source of information" amid the confusion and as a spokesperson for the reviled subgroup of non-Japanese people who left Tokyo as the Geiger counters started clicking. Since I haven't written about either here yet, I'll point you to those until I can keep my fingers on the keyboard for more than three minutes at a time. I seem to be having trouble writing about what's going on and where I'm at.
Probably because I have no idea.

I am excited to tell you that I've had the privilege of helping out with a book from which all proceeds will go to the Japan Red Cross. I've been editing essays people wrote in the aftermath of the quake from all over Japan and a few from abroad. I will post details on how to get it as soon as they're available.

Prepared

2011-03-15T11:28:00.002+09:00

They're talking about aftershocks. Throwing around numbers that don't make any sense to me. What are you supposed to do with an x percent chance of a y magnitude quake? People love numbers, but generally have no idea what they mean. not helpful. Anyway, we'll take at face value the idea that it's not unlikely that we'll have another good rock or two in the coming days. Like David Bowie says, Let's Sway!

Kitchen cabinet taped up. Good thinking, Jim!

Water. Honestly, we could probably use a little bit more. We’ve got a few gallons spread out over a bunch of bottles. (A friend had filled every juice and wine glass in the house. Could get messy fast.) I cleaned out the bathtub and filled it with cold water. I hope we don’t have to drink it, but if the power goes off, we can use it to flush the toilet, wash or drink in a pinch.

To avoid having to wash in cold water, I’ve also laid in an extra pack or two of body wipes. Japan is rich in body wipes of all varieties. I also have some waterless shampoo that I got when I went to check out Katrina.

Safety. We’ve got first aid kits, headlamps, and a crank-powered radio. Headlamps may sound a little over-the-top, but Jim made the excellent point that if you’re in a situation where you need a flashlight, probably better to have your hands free. I took the picture frames that fell off of shelves and laid them flat. By the door, I have hiking shoes and a bag packed with mixed nuts, dried cranberries, water, a blanket, extra socks and underwear, a notebook, toiletries, my camera battery charger, and instant coffee and chocolate.

Food. Luckily, we went to Costco last week and stocked up on non-perishables. We have enough fixings for pasta and nachos for the whole neighborhood. Tuna. Olives. Brie. Peanut butter. We run a greater risk of getting fat than of being hungry.

Iodine. I have mixed feelings about this. If I think there’s enough of a chance of radiation poisoning that I’m laying in iodine, should I just leave? The fact is that I don’t think we’re going to get dosed. I guess I’m looking at it like putting on a seatbelt - I don’t expect to crash when I get in the car, but I put it on anyway. Further mixed feelings, because what I bought is not the potassium iodide that you’re supposed to take one dose of post-exposure. The pharmacist told me you can only get that from clinics here. He said a lot of people were buying the povidine iodine anway, which is basically meant for gargling. It’s the red stuff that comes in a dropper bottle. He said that if there were an announcement of contamination, the best thing to do would be to get to a hospital where KI was being distributed. The next best thing to do would be to put three drops of the povidine in water and drink it. He said he was worried that people were buying the stuff up and trying to take it in advance, which is not good for you. To be clear, there is absolutely no indication of how many people might or might not be doing this. I imagine the numbers are small.

Me. Doing some stretching, making a conscious effort to notice whether or not I’m breathing normally. I wasn’t for a while, which I didn’t even notice until I started again. Keeping myself fed. I forget to eat until I’m way too hungry in the best of times. A little added stress, and I don’t get hungry for hours and hours. Trying to read good sources of info, avoid sensationalist media, and consider carefully things that sound scary or unlikely. Learned last night that the Japanese equivalent of hearing a rumor from “a friend of a friend” is often “my friend’s father.” Interesting, because I did hear the rumor about acid rain from a friend who said it was her friend’s father who told her directly. It turned out not to be true.

First person accounts

2011-03-14T13:13:00.003+09:00

Here's a small sample of Japan bloggers' first-hand experiences on the day of the Touhoku quake. Many of these bloggers have already written second update posts. Consider this list a bit of a time capsule of that day and a jumping off point for reading more. I'd be happy to add others you can send links to, especially from anyone who was closer to the main impact. In no particular order, using the names I could find for them online.

James Simpson,
writing at the New Pacific Institute

Angela Salisbury, Sake Puppets

Loco of Loco in Yokohama

Our Man in Abiko

Eboni at International-E

Tim, at Life Enhasa

"Caroline" at Spooning with a Schoolboy

Vblogger RobinDave (video)

Paul, at Just Another Day in Japan

Eryk S., This Japanese Life

Kamuchan, Fearfully Made

Green-eyed Geisha

Foreign Salaryman in Japan

From Osaka, Vivian Morelli, at Lost in Translation

Quiet Kabukicho

2011-03-14T00:49:00.002+09:00

Neon lights on, but video screen off. People are calling for companies to turn off unnecessary signage to save power.

You can only stay inside tweeting for so long, right? Eventually you have to go outside... and tweet from there. Kidding. (Kind of. Apologies to my friends who have seen way too much of me staring into my phone.) It was sunny and warm on Saturday. We headed out in the afternoon to meet our friend Miki in Shinjuku. She wanted to eat fresh vegetables and so suggested Sizzler. I had no idea we even had Sizzlers. And I have no association of it with fresh vegetables - more like vats of mashed potatoes, and croutons and Bacon-bits with French dressing. But it turned out to be a good call. Quite a nice salad bar (though no Bacon-bits), decent little steak, and something comforting about canned peaches. There were a few Japanese families with small kids there and one other non-Japanese family. It was only about a quarter full. It was painful to see that big salad bar sitting there, untouched for minutes at a time, knowing it's not that far away that people are huddled in emergency shelters with only, at best, cold rice balls.

After dinner, we had a wander through Kabukicho, Shinjuku's bar and red-light district, just to see how it was. It was quiet. Granted, it was a little early. But almost all the people in the street were touts, just standing and waiting for customers to take to their bars. Quite a few hosts, in loose clusters with their meticulous mops of cartoon hair, and a few African guys. One walked along side us for a minute - "Hey, you want to--" and then gave up. His heart wasn't in it.

We stopped for a little karaoke on the way back to our bikes. When I was trying to sing Kiss' "I was made for loving you," I realized two things: I knew none of the lyrics besides the refrain, and I hadn't taken a really deep breath since the shaking had started. We had fun. I'm not the biggest karaoke fan - my brother got all those genes. But I definitely recommend it if you're needing a break from constant vigilance. I checked Twitter later, and there had been lots of aftershock reports. We hadn't felt a thing inside.

We couldn't believe how quiet the area right around Shinjuku station was. Aside from one semi-boisterous group of a dozen or so guys with the kind of matching shopping bags you get at weddings, there was almost nobody there, even though trains were running. Shinjuku is usually cited as the busiest train station in the world. I walked back to where I'd left my bike, near a Starbucks that had been closed in the afternoon. There was an escalator near there, rolling silently up and down. A group of cops passed me and I gestured to the escalator and said in Japanese, "Why not turn that off?" One of them said, "Hai, O.K. Down." "No," I tried again. "Nobody's using this. Wouldn't it be good to turn it off to save electricity?"

"Ah," he said. "Yes, saving electricity. Ah."

Oh, well. I tried. Eastern Japan is looking at rolling blackouts starting tomorrow, Monday morning, for the next week or weeks to save power. They say demand will exceed capacity by 25 or 30 percent. I'm always torn over whether or not, in these things, every little bit really helps. Does it matter if I leave my cellphone charger plugged in when all of Kabukicho is bathed in neon? Usually, I think it doesn't. Given the sudden dramatic reduction of Japan's power generating capability, for now, I'm going to try to believe it does.

Pachinko. Pachinko? Is there anything that uses more power for less good?

Earthquake

2011-03-12T14:21:00.002+09:00

Aargh. Computer just crashed on my long and thoughtful background about writing about the day of the quake. Just read this for now? Bout to head into Shinjuku and see what's what.

Mt. Fuji is looking a little frizzy

2011-03-03T23:44:00.001+09:00

Beautiful sunset yesterday. You can see the snow blowing off of Mt. Fuji, especially if you click on the picture to enlarge it a bit.

When life gives you lemon-scented toilet paper

2011-02-26T18:16:00.003+09:00

The smell of lemon means one of two things: a refreshing drink or a toxic cleaning product. And there are places where neither of these things should ever go.

It happens that I wasn't the one who bought this pack, but I've done the same thing. Recently, and in bulk. In this land where celery is sold by the individual rib and one styrofoam tray of ground beef is just about enough to make two meatballs, I managed to pick up an eight-pack of floral-soaked rolls. Toilet paper is just about the only thing that is actually sold more often in big economy packages than in scanty micropacks. I think the wrapper boasted of 360 meters of smelly paper.

I don't know why I hate scented toilet paper so much. Beyond the cloying smell and the idea of blatant chemicals where I don't want them, that is. I guess that's enough reason. But I understand some people do like it. I mean, I don't understand why they like it, but I hear that they do. So whatever your preference, let this be a warning. Take a second at the store to give a closer look to any cute little drawings of flowers or fruit on your toilet paper, and make sure it passes the sniff test.

Hey, I put some marathon music in your bananas

2011-02-23T16:28:00.003+09:00

I was walking around Aoyama one sunny day when I stumbled on a Tokyo Marathon pop-up shop. They were selling bright lime green and pink running gear and giving a presentation on how to do your hair and make-up for long runs. (Did you know there's a "golden point" where your ponytail should be?)
The woman running the thing offered me some mineral water and a sports banana. Sports banana? Yes, they're launching a banana at the marathon that's smaller than usual and higher in citric acid (Japan loves citric acid! Why?), making it the perfect banana for sports. (Not like those other bananas, that are a real pain to carry.) Between you and me, it kind of sounds like they found a new way to sell runtier bananas for the same price as bigger ones. But still, kind of interesting from a marketing standpoint. And then she dropped that oh, by the way, they're getting the bananas ready for the marathon by blaring a Japanese pop song throughout the enormous ripening facility for a week. Check out the whole story on Japan Pulse. It's bananas!
This is the song.
It's kind of the Eye of the Tiger of Japanese pop music.

Get out the way

2011-02-22T16:34:00.003+09:00

I hate to generalize, but these posters have left me no choice. Maybe if I hadn't been dragging an overstuffed wheelie bag from the airport, up and down the steps of the train system the first time I saw them.

I read pictures slowly. Looking at the left panel, the next panel my brain (or was it my aching back?) drew was of the guy helping the woman with her bag. Wrong! It's the woman getting her stuff out of the way.
You do see a lot more people dragging wheeled bags here than elsewhere - they seem to be the (smart) accessory of choice for people on big shopping sprees or... actually, I don't know what everyone is doing with suitcases all the time. I understand the cosplay kids use them to carry their gear around. This picture seems to be a business traveler, though. (Projecting?)

Here's another Clueless Cathy bringing the works to a halt with her bag. Jerk!
Japan has an image of being polite to a fault, and New York of being hard and heartless. But I've seen a hell of a lot more people helping each other lug bags and baby carriages up the steps in NY than in Tokyo.
How about that for a poster?

Another piece of my heart-shaped pizza

2011-02-14T23:15:00.003+09:00

I should send a valentine to Papa John's PR team. They bought a hashtag on Twitter about their heart-shaped pizza. That sent me to my old post about Japan's much cuter version. Next thing I knew, I was clicking through delivery options on the Dominos website, scheduling a pizza of love for two hours later. By the time it arrived, Tokyo was getting a surprise snowstorm. Jim trudged home from work in it and got home wet and freezing. A hot novelty pizza went over better than any fussy homemade candy could have. I think his exact words were, "This is way better than chocolate!"
Hear that, Hallmark?

I made a movie

2011-01-17T22:23:00.000+09:00

This has nothing to do with Japan, but I made a little Xtranormal movie. I'm pretty sure it's just on the cusp of going viral. Click now and you can say you saw it back before it was famous.

Okay, okay, maybe not. But this is only the beginning, I tell you.

Touchscreen gloves!

2011-01-15T01:11:00.000+09:00

It was cold in Hokkaido a year ago when we went for the Sapporo Snow Festival. Jim tried to operate his iPhone without taking his gloves off by swiping the touchscreen across the tip of his nose. It didn't work too well. Since then, I've read about crafty hacks like sewing conductive thread into the fingertips of regular gloves, and possibly apocryphal hacks like using convenience store sausages in place of fingers. I've always preferred gloves with no fingertips at all (I cut them off if necessary, which is about as crafty as I get). Before Christmas this year, I was excited to find a big selection of touchscreen gloves at Tokyu Hands. Here's a little post I did on Pulse about some of the touchscreen gloves that are out now.

One kind didn't make it into the story, because I couldn't remember what they were called. I got them for Jim for Christmas. They have arrows on the fingers pointing to the conductive bits. Kind of a low-rent Tron effect. A few weeks later, one of the gloves still works great. The other one... like Jim said, they work a lot better when you don't lose them. Ah, well. Maybe they'll come out with a line of snazzy mitten clips next.

99 bottles of sake on the wall

2011-01-10T13:31:00.003+09:00

I'm probably the millionth blogger to post this picture and this title, but so be it. It is what it is: 130 varieties of sake in little dispensers, on the wall. This is Ponshukan, a sake shop tucked deep in the back corner of a market in Echigo Yuzawa train station in Niigata. It's not especially well signposted; I never would have known it was there if a friend hadn't told us it was a must-see. For 500 yen, you get five tokens and a little ceramic ochoko or two to drink from. Each token gets you one choko-full of any of the sakes. Four that we tried were smooth and delicious; one tasted kind of fishy. If we'd had a little more time at the train station, I would have tried the sake onsen next door, too. You're not supposed to drink before you bathe, but I guess it's okay to bathe in what you drink. Drink or soak in sake: either one's a nice way to relax before a 90-minute shinkansen ride back to Tokyo.

Help/frighten the locals

2011-01-06T12:36:00.002+09:00

Here is your bag. Now I will eat you.

Update. Funny, I saw this poster and immediately thought of a small black and white picture we have of a distant Italian ancestor of mine. Everyone on Twitter thought of Matsuko Deluxe, a Japanese drag performer (who I only really learned about when I was writing about Japanese Twitter bots, and found out hers was one of the most popular.) It's not just the resident aliens who saw the resemblance - my friend Takaaki pointed me to this Japanese story on Rocket News 24 that says everyone thinks it's Matsuko Deluxe. I guess only Bunpei knows for sure. Stay tuned...
.

Rolly, the world's oddest toothbrush

2010-12-28T14:05:00.002+09:00

Smallest, I mean. The world's smallest toothbrush. It's from Italy. So, not actually Japanese, but I did find it in RanKing RanQueen. It looks like a thorny, alien seed spore and feels like an intensely minty toilet scrubber inside your mouth. The idea is that you roll it around inside your mouth with your tongue, discreetly giving your teeth a scrub. I couldn't actually see myself while I was trying it, but from the reaction of my friends, "comically" would be a better description than "discreetly."
It is more discreet than the guy who used to brush his teeth at the desk next to me. I looked up, startled, the first time I heard what sounded like tooth brushing in the office, and he got embarassed and skulked out, brush still clamped between teeth. Later I heard him complaining to someone else that I'd "looked at him funny" while he was brushing his teeth at his desk.
So. Maybe Rolly can bridge the cultural differences that divide us. Just watch where you spit it out. Ick.

Happy merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T11:02:00.002+09:00

A student tattled to me that an American colleague had wished her "a merry Christmas." She watched my reaction, waiting for the laugh. I asked delicately what she thought was wrong with that.
"Well, don't you need a.... an adjective before "merry Christmas? I mean, "merry Christmas" is the full, or... formal name for "Christmas," right? So shouldn't you say "Happy merry Christmas" or "good merry Christmas?"
She's a good sport and thought it was as funny as I did.
So, good happy merry Christmas to all, wherever you are and whatever day it is right now. Please enjoy this playlist of J-pop Christmas songs compiled by my Twitter friend Tim. There are some classics on there, like Christmas Eve, My Lover is Santa Claus, and the one I dare you to get out of your head, Jin-jin-jingle Bells.
No need to thank me! Let me know if you find a favorite.

Caution! Don't do things while walking

2010-12-21T13:43:00.001+09:00

We've got the reader, the emailer, the book reader and the drunk, all creating moving hazards on the train platform. I like the drunk the best. He's either cursing up a bluestreak or singing an incoherent little song. Probably the latter.
----
Wow, I just almost walked into a platform pillar while writing this on my phone. I guess you teach what you need to learn or something. Anyway, be careful out there.

Thumbs up, Chinly McSuave

2010-12-07T11:20:00.002+09:00

December's Tokyo Metro manners poster. Tokyo Reporter explained it (and others) rather fabulously. I'll just leave it at a nod of approval for smooth exits and thumbs-up (thumbs-ups?) to strangers. And, is that an ascot?

New math: liquid menthol cigarettes

2010-11-21T23:38:00.002+09:00

Advanced charcoal filter times menthol flavor thread equals SkaMen!

I can't tell if the "flavor thread" in these cigarettes is really liquid or if they deliver "menthol feeling UP" in some other form. All the ads for them have these photos of emo guys with blue and green waves splashing against their heads. If the pictures were in black and white, you'd swear it was meant to be a freeze frame of a fatal head wound in progress.
There's another brand of Japanese cigarette that has a crush capsule of menthol in the tip. A slower--and more refreshing--alternative to cyanide capsules.

Terrorists, 1; Care packages, 0

2010-11-17T01:06:00.003+09:00

It's kind of good, in a way, that the Japan Post announced last Friday that tomorrow was the last day they'd ship anything over 453 grams (a pound) to the US. Only in one small, specific way: I've had a package sitting on my desk (and before that, on top of the magazine rack, and before that, under the coffee table) waiting to be mailed. It's been sealed so long that I don't remember exactly what I put in it. I finally took it to the post office today while I still could. The woman, who is my favorite post office worker of all time, weighed my box as usual and didn't mention anything about the new restrictions. When I asked about it, she handed me the Japan Post press release that had been making the rounds online and said it was true that they wouldn't send anything over the weight restriction after tomorrow. She pointed out that the box I sent today was just a few grams over and wouldn't have gone. I asked, in an awkward sentence, if that was by order of the US. She said yes, and emphasized that they didn't know how long it would last. Her tone of voice was not too far off from the one you'd use to say, "Well, Andy's locked himself in his room again and he's never ever coming out. You know." But, until further notice, this is the deal.
So, this stupid new rule is good news for Crystal, who will finally get some nifty Japan goodies.
It's terrible news for everyone else. Because they won't get as many KitKats sent in a single box. And because this security thing feels farcical. Even if it isn't---even if there's some excellent reason why 452 grams of explosives is not a concern, or, for that matter, a few milligrams of anthrax---even if the people making these disruptive decisions do know what they're doing, it doesn't feel that way. It feels like they're running around, again, screaming DO something!! at each other and tossing out useless band-aid suggestions. (Remember the duct tape?)

This is Japan Post's tag line. One way to translate it is "Creating a new normal." Let's hope that is isn't what's happening.

They are really, really sorry about the construction

2010-11-15T13:03:00.002+09:00

Signs that say "Sorry for the trouble caused by the construction" are pretty common in Japan. They usually include a mix of pre-printed and handwritten info about exactly what is being built and how long it will take, and a cartoon of a construction worker standing with shovel in hand, head bowed, often caps it off.
This construction site in Roppongi took the apology sign to the next level with a cartoon worker doing dogeza, a deep, solemn bow formerly common and now mostly reserved for the most serious of offenses. The text is straightforward (no jokey "pardon our dust!" tone), but I imagine the image is meant to be humorous. Er, right? Sometimes it's hard to tell.
Speaking of apologetic bowing and hard to tell, this oldie but goody is one of the subtly hilarious videos from the series "The Japanese Tradition." Not too long ago, a website with a famous truthy name posted this as if it were a helpful cultural guide. I think the editor should try one of the last few bows in the video for that one. Please enjoy. But don't go doing the ninja bow the next time you're late for work.

Turn off your phone, fancy man

2010-11-10T21:05:00.004+09:00

This Tokyo Metro Manners poster has a lot going on. Background: there are signs and announcements on many trains asking that cell phones be turned off near the priority seats, ostensibly to protect people with pacemakers. Don't get me started on that one. Though, if I had a pacemaker and there were any chance, however minimal, that having a few square feet in the city where there was a slightly reduced amount of electromagnetic radiation trying to scramble my heartbeat, I guess I'd want people to turn off their phones there. I suppose. But I've digressed.

So, here, we have the usual put-upon poster lady sitting in a priority seat with her child. (And what's happened to her usual partner in moroseness, now that she's had the kid? Has he abandoned her? Is that why she looks so glassy and vacant?) Lurking above her is a golden-haired man (foreigner? host?) in a flashy white coat. He whips his phone out and holds it aloft. Is this some kind of a threat? Is he going to throw it? Make an inconsiderate phone call? Zap all the pacemakers in range? No! This prince of a man is simply shutting off his phone. He is surrounded by a sparkly aura of good manners. Mother and child are agape.
I would be, too, if I ever saw this happen. Shutting off phones near the priority seats is the most flagrantly flouted of all the manners.

Crowdsourcing earthquakes

2010-11-06T22:24:00.004+09:00

What are you doing now? Shaking.

Well, not now now. Yesterday. "What are you doing now?" is Twitter's ice-breaker question. Everybody knows you don't have to answer it literally, and usually people don't. But they do when there's an earthquake.

I haven't noticed too many recently, then I felt two good long jolts yesterday. One early in the morning, and one after work. I happened to be sitting at home looking at Twitter during the evening one, and apparently, so was everyone else I know. Those screen captures from my phone are just a small segment of all the quake messages. And those are just from the people I follow.

In the ensuing chat about how ha, ha, everyone tweeted the same thing at the same time, I mentioned that I thought I'd read or heard on the radio that the US Geological Survey used Twitter as one way of tracking quake activity. Talk about monitoring -- I got a message from @USGS about a minute later that said "You heard right," and included a link to this story about how the USGS uses Twitter to track and map earthquake experiences around the world. The agency is doing all kinds of interesting things with social and interactive media. It will be fascinating to see what they can develop with it, and how similar work can be used in disaster and public health scenarios. They mention filtering for "earthquake" in a few other languages. Hope they've got 地震 (jishin) on their list.

Wish upon a pudding

2010-10-07T09:41:00.001+09:00

Cute ad for a convenience store dessert, a "layered dolce" with four kinds of melt-in-your-mouth.
"Here's hoping there's no one cuter than me at the blind-date party," it reads.
Whatever. You're eating a yummy marscapone and chocolate dessert the day before a date party, which says you don't have insane dieting tendencies. And you're wishing on that dessert, which means you're kind of quirky. Quirky and pleasure-loving beat dull and skinny any day. Hit the goukon with confidence, and don't trust anyone who doesn't order dessert.

Lost and found, after a quick lap around Tokyo

2010-10-03T22:35:00.036+09:00

We were trying to go to Costco. We had a backpack with a cooler pouch inside to bring a few of the groceries home. Jim put his Japanese text book in the bag, too, to maybe study on the ride back. On the Yamanote train, he put the bag up on the rack over the seats and said to remind him to take it on the way out. I said sure. A few minutes later, we got off the train at Shinagawa, went upstairs and through the wickets to our next train, and realized we'd left the bag behind.

The stolid man in the platform office made a few calls to see if someone at another station could pop aboard and look for it. We had retraced our steps and were able to tell him which car, which door and which side we'd left it on. But the train was running seven minutes behind schedule, so they wouldn't be able to do any checking until the train stopped for the night in Ikebukuro. He said it would just loop around and around for the next five hours. He said we could wait until the same train came back through the station, in forty or forty-five minutes. Or, we could wait until the next day then call the number on the card he gave us and see where in the train system, if anywhere, the bag had turned up. With that, he looked down, started shuffling paperwork and was done with us.

We went back on the platform to where we'd gotten off before and watched as lime green train after train pulled up, each stopping at exactly the same spot, each papered with the same combination of iced tea ads in the same frames around the priority seats, all with empty overhead racks.

It was an outdoor track on a pleasant evening, and the ridiculousness of the situation overshadowed the annoyance of it. Right around the 42-minute mark, almost exactly an hour since we'd abandoned the bag, a train pulled up with the backpack sitting where we left it, untouched. Jim grabbed it, and we hopped into the train on the other side of the platform and went back home.

I really didn't want to go to Costco, anyway.

Hey, no ditching!

2010-10-02T23:13:00.001+09:00

Everyone's saying the same thing about this subway manners poster - it's not the kids who cut in line, it's the old ladies. It's true, if anyone will elbow past you to get on a bus or train, it will be someone who looks like she might blow away in the gust of wind from the oncoming subway, but turns out tone anchored to the platform and to have elbows made of steel. And she's not afraid to use them.

When this happens, I always think, reflexively, "Ah well, go ahead, you'll be dead a long time before me. You've probably been through a lot. Grab a seat." Is that horrible? I get pretty weird looks when I admit this. I don't mean it to be. It's a sympathetic thought.
That said, getting elbowed is still annoying.

Is that an umbrella in your waistband?

2010-09-28T19:35:00.001+09:00

Why yes, yes it is.
----
Despite specific reminder announcements on the train, lots of people leave their umbrellas behind. I see one orphan on the floor by the door now, and I took an empty seat next to one hooked over a handrail this morning.

Quite a few guys use this foolproof, if slightly unelegant, method: the belt hook.

I use a variant when I'm carrying too many things, hooking the umbrella onto my bag. I often forget it's there when I do this, though, sending it clattering to the floor as I get off the train. Talk about not elegant. I'm tempted to try to pull off the belt-hook manoeuvre, but even though another youngish guy in a nice suit was doing it on the train tonight as well as our rumpled friend above, it still reeks a little too much of absent-minded old man.

Deer in a bubble

2010-09-26T23:16:00.002+09:00

I went to an art opening this weekend at SCAI the Bathhouse. I used to go to quite a few in New York as a press-pass-carrying party crasher. This was the first time in Tokyo. Quite similar - white walls, vehement opinions and clear plastic cups of white wine. The venue was different, though. The gallery is a beautiful old sento, or, you guessed it, bathhouse. The outside is intact and the inside is completely renovated as a gallery, though high original windows are retained.
I liked Kohei Nawa's exhibit. The centerpiece is two deer coated in clear balls. I wonder if Lady GaGa or her bubble dress designer has seen it?
SCAI the Bathhouse is between Nippori and Nezu stations. It has a nice website with lots of pictures and info in English. This show is up until October 30. Check it out.

We're closed: a word of encouragement for language learners everywhere

2010-09-20T13:55:00.001+09:00

I walked into a local restaurant yesterday evening for about the dozenth time. The lights were off in the open kitchen. One guy was at the register counting money. The other was sitting at a table, doing something on a laptop. Chairs were stacked on top of most of the tables around him, and the front door was propped open awkwardly. I needed to talk to them about something, so I paused in the threshold for a moment, nodded, and walked in. They both sort of recognized me and and smiled, but then the money-counting guy frowned and said in Japanese, "Sorry, we're closed." I smiled, "Yes, I see that. But I'd like to talk to you about something." The money counter walked toward me and, looking stressed, said, "Sorry, but we're clooooosed."
I was pretty sure I'd used the right, rather simple, words and sulked internally that my pronunciation was so bad that they hadn't been able to understand me. As I was trying to find another way to say it, the guy at the computer said, "She knows that. She said she wants to talk to you about something." He had a heavy trace of "What're you, thick?" in his voice that was most gratifying.

And then we all chatted for a few minutes. But I'm going to end the conversation there, because that's where my point is for you, language learner. Sometimes people can't understand you because your pronunciation is bad and your word choice is way off. But sometimes, people can't understand you because they just can't. For whatever reason. Maybe they're not paying much attention. Maybe they don't hear so well. Maybe they don't expect that someone who looks like you would be able to speak their language. Those particular people, they probably wouldn't understand you even if you were both native speakers of the same language. (People with a common native language have trouble understanding each other all the time. This bears repeating when you feel like you're hopeless at learning a new language. Notice one day how many times you say "What?") On the other hand, some people will probably get you, more or less, no matter how badly you mangle the words.
You won't always be lucky enough to have that second guy-who-gets-you sitting right there. But for every person who gives you a blank, slightly panicked look when you start talking, remember that there's someone else out there who not only would have understood you, but who wouldn't even have known why anyone else would have trouble understanding you. Don't be discouraged. Keep talking, and you'll find those people.

Whirling Dervishes

2010-09-10T00:25:00.001+09:00

There was music and entertainment in Sultanahmet Square every night for Ramazan. We stopped to watch some traditional musicians on stage for a few minutes at the small amphitheater. We were picking our way carefully over bulky cobblestones to head back to the hotel when I saw the next act standing to the side of the stage - three men in tall hats and floor-length white skirts. Dervishes! Lots of the restaurants in the area advertised evenings of fixed menus and performances. This seemed so much cooler, since we just stumbled upon it. The audience seemed like locals. There was a low-key street fair vibe, with families moving in and out of the long bench seats, kids getting restless, men talking on phones. The woman in front of me recorded video on her cellphone.
The whirlers were like nothing else. All they did was spin, slowly and then more quickly, raising their hands overhead. What was most fascinating was that even though they were doing the same thing, each had a distinct style. After a few minutes, I felt like I knew their personalities. The guy on the left was an artist. The one in the middle gets into really intense discussions. And on the far right, a hippie poet for sure. Maybe.

Last things first

2010-09-09T01:08:00.000+09:00

While I was waiting at the gate for our flight home to board, wallet empty, I found a final five-lira note ($3.30) folded up in my pocket. I traded it with this machine for a bar of pistachio chocolate. (A can of Coke cost even more.)
A delicious last taste of Turkey.

Don't make your fellow passengers disappear

2010-09-07T09:35:00.001+09:00

I couldn't make any sense of this and could only think our poor antihero finally got a win by staring at the space-hogging newspaper guy until he disappeared.
----
But now I see he only used his magic hand to squish everyone together. Practice using the Force... at home?

Re-entering Tokyo's atmosphere

2010-09-07T01:19:00.003+09:00

So, today was my first day back at work. My smarter half had arranged to take the day off. So he's all relaxed, has his pictures sorted out and thinks it was as cool and pleasant out all day as it was when he first set foot outside at dusk. Ha! I'm handling re-entry kind of like a piece of shuttle debris handles re-entry. But not quite as gracefully. I don't even know what the problem is, besides that my house key is AWOL, a lot of our friends left for good while we were gone and although it is as steamy as a hamam, there are no tan Turkish men standing by for scrubs and massages. I went to the loveliest of shady cafes yesterday, but couldn't get my head around an "appetizer assortment" of 5 olives, a few shavings of prosciutto and a few gumball-size orbs of mozz for 1200 yen. Bread? Extra. And jet lag kept me from falling asleep until four. Lack of sleep is my quickest personal shortcut to misery. Also, an old man elbowed me getting off the bus this morning. I swear he had to actually go out of his way to do it, too, because I wasn't blocking his path. It was like he was swimming up the aisle with a wide stroke, looking for something to jab. Feh.

Anyway, here's a few seconds of anti-commute. Repeat as needed. And like CNN and AP say when they don't feel like editing user footage, this video is raw. That is, the only sound on it is wind distortion. Sorry, video editing is next on my list of things to learn. Maybe mute it and put on some music you like?

And the answer is...

2010-09-06T01:34:00.000+09:00

And wouldn't you know, it's nobody's business but the Turks.

(Come on, any other answer would have disappointed, right? Right?)

The trip was great. Turkey was hospitable beyond any expectation. Pics and posts to come. Jim has already put up some photos on Facebook (cough-overachiever-cough). So if you're friends with him, check 'em out. Also, he bought a fancy new camera right before the trip. When I compared what he was getting to what I was, suddenly, it seemed almost pointless to take pictures with my trusty point and shoot with the broken screen. (No, I'm not competitive, why?) But I did end up just kind of making suggestions about what would be good to take photos of with that nice camera instead of shooting my own sometimes. (Doesn't that sound charming?)

Highlights included an eating tour of Istanbul, abandoned buildings full of unexpected inhabitants on a Danube Delta island and a hot-air balloon ride over a surreal dawn landscape in Cappadocia.

Check back soon for these adventures and more!

Keisei Skyliner to Narita, Turkey

2010-08-22T10:34:00.001+09:00

We're taking the new Keisei Skyliner to Narita. It's about 10 minutes shorter and 1000 yen less than the Narita express from Shinjuku for us. The transfer was easy. Five minutes was more than enough, even with a do-over needed after I explained to Jim that you put the ticket through first and then tap the Pasmo card - and then did the opposite. There was no line. Ideally, I'd leave probably 10 minutes or so to buy a ticket, just in case there's some dumb foreigner in front of you putting the tickets in wrong. The trains are brand new, with outlets at each seat. The seats are thin, dense foam over silver plastic shells. They look futuristic and chintzy at the same time, like the free digital alarm clock the bank gives you with a new account.
Anyway, we are going to Romania to birdwatch, meet a friend and drive "the best road in the world." And to Turkey to find out once and for all why Constantinople got the works.
I'll report back in about two weeks.

Wear it again

2010-08-03T16:51:00.001+09:00

I think I'll just post this without comment and see if anyone who's known my family a long time has any observations to share.

Jello shots in a can

2010-07-29T16:23:00.002+09:00

More of a bottle, I guess, a screw-top aluminum bottle. Of "decadent mango gelee alcohol for adults." It's meant to be shaken, then slurped.

Trouble Bagel

2010-07-23T08:28:00.004+09:00

This "ethnical tuna" kind of encapsulates everything that makes going to Bagel and Bagel a dissonant experience. They put some tuna salad with Thai chili sauce on a bagel - that's fine, sort of. But what to call it? The Japanese has it as "ethnic," which is not wrong, just lazy. And then the English? "Hey, let's make the vague adjective a little adjectivier! Some English words have 'al' at the end, let's go with that." Grr.

In the same way, Bagel and Bagel itself looks like a familiar experience, but isn't. And that's what makes it tricky. Say I go eat ramen for breakfast. I know I'm having a Japanese experience and I expect it to be unfamiliar. But I see all these bagels, a list of cream cheese options, three sizes of coffee in paper cups - I feel like I'm on familiar ground. The little differences stack up and I realize, again, I'm not in Brooklyn anymore.

I order the coffee and bagel set, with cream cheese. Oh, you'd like a cream cheese sandwich? Er, okay, sure. Well, that will be 75 yen more. If you want it as a set, you have to get the cream cheese and honey bagel sandwich. Alright then, cream cheese and honey sandwich, hold the honey.

That's for here, right? Er. It's 8:46 on a week day and I'm getting a bagel for chrissakes, the very thought of a bagel "for here" is confusing to me.

Also, could I please get milk in my coffee? Cream is over the trash can over there. Yes, but I'd love some real milk, please, not those thimbles of Creap (actual name). Even if I did dig petrochemical (guessing) whitener, I'd rather not fiddle with opening five of them and waiting for the viscous stuff to drain out. And, I don't want to have to deconstruct the careful to-go packaging to get the cup out. Oh, no, this requires a consultation with someone in the back of the kitchen. I feel a bit guilty, being a difficult customer with strange demands. Final verdict: I get the real milk. Yes! Thank you and sorry.

I do walk out with a sesame bagel with cream cheese and a coffee. Yes, it is wonderful that this can happen in Tokyo. The end result is fantastic, if a little chewy. But I never feel further from home than in a place like this that feels almost, well, New Yorkial.

Keep cool, Bub

2010-07-22T14:32:00.064+09:00

I've been seeing ads on the train for this Bub Shower cooling lotion. They say something like "leave behind your body that sweats" and have a cartoon that suggests a (watery) soul leaving the body.

My friend Kim tried it and said it left her shivering after a shower. Shivering beats wilting, melting and sweating, which is what we've all been doing lately. I found a lone bottle of the stuff in a drug store, stashed on a shelf next to the fizzy cooling bath tablets made by the same company. (On the way out, I saw there was a whole basket with all three strengths outside the front door.)

When you shake the bottle, per instruction, a heavy ball inside clacks like in a paint marker or quick-dry correction fluid. Residue on the outside of the bottle dries the same way, too.

You put it on in the shower, after washing, and then rinse it off. (You have to wonder what's staying on you.) It spreads on, white and slightly watery, with no noticeable effect. And then, sometime during the rinsing, the cooling starts. These days, stepping out of the shower feels a like stepping into a mild sauna. If you're not slathered in Bub.

If you are, it feels like every skin cell has made its own independent deal with the devil. How can you feel so chilly when even the porcelain of the sink is warm to the touch? Wrapped in a towel, still shivering, you start to think you may be about to pay the price, with an ironic, icy demise, for thinking you can outsmart the weather. And then slowly, the coolness fades and you are left feeling just pleasantly unsweaty, which is the real claim the stuff makes.

Cold patches stayed between my fingers for more than an hour, though--a reminder of what happens when we meddle.

Fish in a drunk, crowded barrel

2010-07-10T01:24:00.001+09:00

I ended up on the last train tonight, the 00:25 out of Yurakucho. I was working and only remembered it just in time. I hit save, mailed my document to myself and went looking for the freight elevator to get out. The train was pretty empty when it rolled in. I could have gotten a seat if I'd walked up a few cars. But you know those collections of photos of salarymen sleeping amusingly on trains? I could have set up a whole website of them just from what I saw on the cars that rolled past. One guy was semi-fetal on a seat, feet near the ground and body curled behind a pole. Another was in a full crouch by a door, forehead resting on his knees. Various slumpers in all directions. The man I liked least was standing near me, eyes closed, swaying, briefcase banging my knees at each curve in the tracks.
Mercifully, there was an unusual amount of breathing room for a last train. I still feel constantly stressed out that someone is going to throw up at any moment, though. Always feels like a minor miracle when nobody does.

Tanabata wishing tree

2010-07-07T07:49:00.003+09:00

Today is Tanabata in Japan, a traditional holiday based on a Chinese folklore tale of separated lovers only allowed to meet on the seventh day of the seventh month. It's celebrated by writing wishes on pieces of paper tying them to a bamboo branch. When I was teaching junior high school in Miyazaki, a lot of the classrooms made these. Seems like a good class activity, especially a good, painless English exercise. I think at the time the wish I wrote was that I'd become able to speak Japanese. The kids seemed to think that was an unbelievably uninteresting wish. I was partly trying to inspire them to want to learn English and I was partly really into studying at that time.

I've been surprised to see quite a few of the branches around Tokyo. Two cops at Harajuku's huge new police station were dragging two leafy stalks of bamboo into the front door the other day, held sideways because they were much taller than the doorway. I saw this one at my train station the other day, a Tokyo Metro version. They left paper and pencils to write your own wish. I was passing through the station quickly and didn't stop to write anything or see what anyone had written. Good old Wikipedia says it was originally a day to wish for improvement of your skills, especially "better sewing and craftsmanship" for girls and handwriting for boys.
The woman who had the apartment before me in Miyazaki left, among a million other scraps and souvenirs, a big handkerchief that said Tanabata on it and had a colorful picture I can only compare to the seven dwarfs. It looked cheerful, and I tacked it to the spare room door (I had a spare room!). I would have sworn the holiday had something to do with seven spirits, maybe represented in a constellation, but that does not seem to be true. I think I'll wish for a better memory.
Got any wishes for improvement?

Two crazy ways to wake up

2010-06-30T21:10:00.003+09:00

This is a new(ish?) green tea blend from Asahi. It's called Morning Blend. Know what's so morning about it? It's zero caffeine. You know, just what you want in the morning. What?! I hope you've noticed that I don't like to be all "Whoa, Japan's k-k-krazy," but this defies explanation. What's the point?

Okay, I promised two crazy things, but this second is actually totally reasonable in comparison: breakfast ramen. I wrote about this "asa-ramen" for pulse. Tokyo Walker, a magazine that has a bit of a tendency to cry Trend! called it a trend. Actually, they called it a "boom." I would want to see a line around every ramen shop on every corner to feel comfortable going with "boom," but there do seem to be more ramen shops open at dawn now than a few years ago, so I don't mind saying "an increasing number." (See how boring it is inside my head?)

Please check out the story. It has a photo of a big, greasy bowl of ramen at the top. If you're on the breakfast side of the world and that doesn't sound appetizing, you can come back at lunch time.

I've never had ramen for breakfast, but I would. I got used to savory breakfast (fish, rice, miso soup, pickles, leftover sushi) the first time I was here. No different than a slice of cold pizza for breakfast, really. And we all like that, don't we?

Two videos for you

2010-06-28T17:35:00.000+09:00

These have both been making the rounds. Maybe slightly different rounds. I thought it would be fun to have them both in one place.

This one is a 10-minute silent film (with nifty intertitles like "Rice, the bread of the East...") My friend Roy posted it on Twitter.

The second is called Hayaku, and it's a beautiful stop-motion tour by Brad Kremer of some of the same places almost a century later.

Hayaku: A Time Lapse Journey Through Japan from Brad Kremer on Vimeo.

Take this ring and smash it

2010-06-13T12:27:00.002+09:00

Writing for Pulse has been fun. But it got so much more fun with this story about divorce ceremonies in Japan that end with a cathartic smashing of rings. I found a short story about the phenomenon in a Japanese magazine and figured it had already been done to death in the English media - it sounds like that kind of story. It's gotten a ton of coverage in the Japanese (and Korean) media, but the only place it had been picked up in English was in an un-bylined story in the Mainichi, in translation from a Japanese story they'd done about it. Not even a photo.

I pieced together a story from a few Japanese reports online and the blog of the guy who runs the ceremonies, Hiroki Terai, but there were some discrepancies that didn't sit right with me. I made a quick call, expecting an endless runaround with some corporate PR department who would demand ID and faxes and the right to check the story before it went out. Instead, I reached a friendly older-sounding woman (imagine, at Friendly Travel), who answered my questions and gave me the cell number for the divorce guy himself. Terai picked up right away, and we chatted for 45 minutes. He was so interesting and sincere about what he's doing: providing a clear, dignified way to mark the end of a marriage and make a positive start to a new phase of life. If the photos make it all look a little goofy, that speaks more to his sense of humor than to a lack of seriousness.
Blogs are under no obligation to get quotes - they're often just an endless circle of links to each other, or to original content in other forms. Not necessarily bad, that's just generally where we fit into the information ecosystem. But since Terai was so accessible, it seemed like a waste not to just go ahead and rock some direct talk. It was so much more fun to write it that way.
I was a little afraid that my friends at Mutant Frog would give it the 2D Love treatment. (I'm not sure if I'm proud or disappointed that they didn't.) We did get some hostile, nutty comments on Pulse, but not the "You're sensationalizing!!1!" kind I was expecting. Something about writing about Japan makes people slap around broad, cliche-soaked brushes. I wouldn't be surprised if the next person who writes about the ring-smashing ceremony throws in some eye-popping sloppy numbers and overgeneralizations. That story will probably be more fun to read. But for now, check out mine.

You got your tomato juice in my lemonade!

2010-06-11T11:28:00.002+09:00

The purple potato latte is gone (obviously a spring drink) and has been replaced by a light, summery lemonade - with a little tomato juice blended in. Even in this line's signature gorgeous photography, this looks gross. Even the shininess of the tomato can't distract from the fact that the tomato juice is spreading like spilled blood in the pitcher of lemonade.
But once again, they've pulled it off. Maybe it's just the power of suggestion, but it tastes like no more and no less than what's pictured on the box: limes, lemon, honey, fresh ginger and tomatoes. When you put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad, right? Sweet and refreshing with just a hint of savory. I hear they also have a thick gelee version, which sounds like tomato aspic in a box and which I hope not to try.
Ah, who am I kidding. Watch this space...

Yoga-writing challenge

2010-06-11T08:20:00.000+09:00

I don't really write or even talk about yoga that much. I do it once in a while, sort of often, mostly at home. I've been to a few classes in Tokyo. The places I tried introductory offers at were elegant (black mats, wafting aroma oils) and expensive. The going rate, I've found, tends to be more than double what it was in NY when I left. (Still cheaper than what we charge for an hour of English lessons, though, and rarely do I sweat or have to touch sweaty people while I'm teaching English. Hm.)

Anyway, I joined this 21-day yoga-writing challenge because those are two things I've been trying to do more of anyway, and you're supposed to put a badge on your blog and write about how it's going. I'm not so big on huge group participation - and this has become a huge group. But I'm trying to play along nicely.
If you think it's something you might like to try, too, check out Bindu Wiles' site for details (How great a name is that?). Unless something wacky happens, you probably won't hear too much more about it from me here, though hopefully the writing portion of it will result in a little more other blog writing. I'll probably talk about it a bit on Twitter. (Did I mention I like Twitter? Can I tell you some more about Twitter?)
So, anyway, namaste and all that.

Don't forget your umbrella... at home?

2010-06-10T08:32:00.002+09:00

I saw this exact thing happen right before my eyes yesterday. So maybe the sign is working.

But I have to say, I feel like the message here is getting a little bit convoluted. The headline urges you to be vigilant and thoughtful in interacting with fellow passengers: spot, tap, return. The tagline asks that you be careful about your own property. Taken together, it all adds up to a less umbrella-littered commute for everyone, but, separately, the two parts of the sign are addressing different people and different behaviors. The message is not consistent.

Even just saying that, I realize it's crazy. Of course the cartoon can be about both looking out for the other guy and looking out for yourself at the same time. This is clearly the technical editor in me who's protesting. (She's not really a good time.) Being professionally hypervigilant about grammatical problems is a particularly painful occupational hazard around here. (I imagine it would be pretty rough in the US, too, actually.)

So. Even though this campaign is ringing a little funny for me, I still like it and am grateful to it for making me realize that I may be losing my English marbles.

PS Saying that one is "professionally hypervigilant about grammatical problems" all but guarantees a few typos. Wacky KitKat (or York Peppermint Patty, for fellow Japanlanders) to the first person who finds mine in this post.

Latte foam art face transplant

2010-06-03T22:15:00.001+09:00

Last weekend, we met up with my old friend James (he has a radio show, Folkwaves, that you should check out). A drizzly day, perfect for a cozy lunch at Better Days. We enjoyed tasty sandwiches, Japan rarities like Ruebens and fresh mozzarella and sun-dried tomatoes.
I met James on the JET orientation in Tokyo in 1997. We bonded making fun of how shallow other people were. Which, of course, is quite shallow.* But we're still friends 13 years later so maybe there's some kind of lesson there.

We all ordered lattes. They were all delicious, but only mine had art. James and Jim just got leaves.

A bit unfair, right?

My inner Robin Hood – not to mention my inner mad scientist – went to work and decided to take the face...off.

Relax. I can assure you I am a fully licensed face transplantologist.

*He sent me a postcard from Hiroshima to Miyazaki with a satellite image of Japan on it that I then used in my middle school classes. It was roughly to scale with a US map that I'd stick to the blackboard at the beginning of my first lesson to each new class to show the relative sizes of Japan and America. I would make the kids guess how much bigger the US is than Japan. After they guessed, I'd say, "Nope! Fifty-two times!" and then tap the postcard of Japan against the map of the US and start counting, "One, two, three.... fifty-one, fifty-two!" Exciting, eh?

Do you know what Japan is doing on the Twitter?

2010-06-01T22:31:00.000+09:00

Well, I hope not. Because if you already do, then I've wasted a heck of a lot of time writing this new story for Pulse. Twitter really is kind of exploding in Japan right now, stats-wise and buzz-wise. Every time I meet a new group of Japanese people and ask them what trend I should write about, they say, Tsubuyaki? Which is Japanese for Twitter. (Though the more direct Japanese is tsu-itt-a.)
Companies are starting to realize the potential and are putting together big, interactive, strange, fun campaigns.

Please check it out, maybe leave a comment over there? About something related to Twitter, preferably. But we'll take what we can get.

New Twitter marketing in Japan, on Pulse. (Yes, again. But newer, better, with extra wow.)

Even close friends won't tell you if you have sweat stains

2010-05-31T10:48:00.003+09:00

It got chilly again this weekend. Which is kind of great considering how unbearably humid it will be soon. It's already stifling in this train car. This makes the Wacoal ads for sweat-guarding clothes seem like a good idea. Notice how this ad uses diagrams, fear tactics, reassurance and a pretty western lady in Japanese clothes to make the pitch. Not to mention a clever pun for the name of the shirt itself, sugoi.

I rounded up a few of these breezy duds on Pulse. I didn't mention it there, but my resident aviation expert says that Toray, the textile company behind some of the performance fabrics, also makes the carbon fiber wings of Boeing's 787. I think that could make for an interesting ad campaign.

Meet at the lion

2010-05-24T17:36:00.003+09:00

The lion in front of the iconic Ginza branch of Mitsukoshi department store is a common meeting point for people catching up in Ginza after work. It's a small space, but there are always a few people standing there checking their watches or killing time on their cell phones.

The bronze statue itself is behind a construction wall for restoration now. This photo could prevent I-don't-see-a-lion missed connections.

Premium Midsize Office

2010-05-24T09:44:00.001+09:00

This place is going up near my office, at breakneck speed, of course. Not just regular midsize offices, mind you. Premium. Acme Widgets can open its generic Tokyo offices at last.

Shibazakura, field of phlox

2010-05-18T08:32:00.003+09:00

The other night around 10:30 Miki sent a text message asking if we wanted to take a 6 am train to see a field of flowers near Mt. Fuji. I basically never want to take a 6 am train, especially with such short notice. But the fact that she was willing to made me wonder what was so great about this flower carpet thing. I checked out the website, which said that the flowers were at peak blossom as of right this second, and looked again at her message, which said that it was going to be super fantastic and she'd been waiting forever to see it.

A long train ride on a sunny day also seemed like it would be a good balance to the day before, a day that had somehow passed without getting any closer to the outdoors than the balcony. So, a compromise: we'd take a train at a more civilized hour and meet her at the Fuji Highlands.

We ran around Shinjuku station the next morning insisting to everyone in a uniform that there was meant to be a special holidays-only express train to Kawaguchiko at 10:20 and demanding to know what platform it left from. They all said there was no such train, but I wasn't fooled; Miki had said this train ran only a few times a year for this festival and don't be surprised if some of the staff didn't know about it. And I'd seen it on the website. However, even the special "temporary" track didn't have the train displayed. We finally got on a similar - but not quite as express - express train and wondered where that mysterious Harry Potter train could be.

It was a gorgeous ride on the Chuo line, with wild wisteria hanging in the trees and bright flowers and greens in gardens. At Otsuki, we changed for the Fujisankyukou train, an adorable relic painted with silly Fuji faces, for a slower ride through Yamanashi's farmland. A man next to us sipped sake out of the screwcap of a commemorative blue glass Fujisankyu bottle, sketching the mountain, as it went in and out of view, on the side of the sake bottle's box with a ballpoint pen.

From Kawaguchiko, it was a bus ride to the Shibazakura festival. Miki had gotten stuck in terrible traffic a few hours earlier. By the time we got there, a lot of it was heading toward us. (I'm telling you, going early is rarely rewarded around here.) And so at last, after a 3-hour journey, this field of sunny pink and white flowers swept out before us at the foot of a crisp Mt. Fuji. They smelled sweet. A sign at the gate rated the flowers 50% open, despite what the website had said. There were a lot of people, a lot of them old, but the openness of the space kept it from feeling really crowded. A huge, gnarled chunk of tree turned into a polished taiko drum sent up an echoing background. Japanese fairground food, including meat-wrapped rice balls from Miyazaki, made nice snacks.

People were setting up huge tripods to wait for the sunset, but the last bus left too early for us to watch Fuji turn pink.

The Shibazakura Festival runs through May 31. The Fuji Highlands "free ticket" from within Tokyo on JR for 4500 yen covers some of the local transportation around there, but we still needed an extra 400 yen for the bus and park entrance, and an extra 300 to take the express train (rather than the included local) from Otsuki to Kawaguchi-ko. The official name of the ticket is the 河口湖・山中湖セレクトフリーきっぷ or "Kawaguchiko Yamanakako select free kippu."

There are several express buses from Tokyo to the site. The most direct goes from Shinjuku to the festival grounds at 8:40 and 11:40, and it looks like it would be 4300 round trip, though that may not include festival entrance. And you're on a bus for two and a half hours plus god knows how long when you hit traffic.

And that mysterious holiday express train from Shinjuku to Kawaguchiko that didn't exist? It was all my mistake. That train arrives at 10:20. It leaves Shinjuku at 8:14. Because the timetable runs from bottom to top. This is totally clear once you know it. Lesson learned - keep an eye on the arrows, even - especially - if they seem to be pointing in an odd direction. Any Chuo train headed for Kofu should get you to Otsuki.

The Hard, The Quality and The Creamy

2010-05-03T14:19:00.001+09:00

(Not pictured: the Italian)
A newish line of canned coffee from Itoen.
I hate to say it, but I've mostly lost my taste for vending machine coffee. It is reassuring to know it's there as a last-ditch option. I think there was a time when I really liked it. When I do drink it now, even though at least the last dozen cans have been in Tokyo, it still tastes like cycling to school in Miyazaki, or sneaking downstairs and outside to the machine around the corner from the board of education office where I was shackled to a desk all summer.
----
At first. And then, too often, an ammonia taste jumps out and I try to make a mental note of which variety of which brand it is so I don't get it again. But there are too many. I can never remember.

I just tried The Creamy, and it was nice and mild. Sweeter than I like coffee to be, but a tasty drink. Maybe the "the" will make it memorable.

Purple potato latte is my new favorite drink

2010-04-30T10:58:00.001+09:00

This is a milk drink made with strained steamed carrots, squash and purple potato. It's sweet and really does have a mild potato flavor.
Look at the amazing color of the dark purple potato. Don't you think you'd remember if you'd ever run across one before? Doesn't it seem like something restaurants would be excited to serve? That's what I thought, anyway. Turns out, they're grown only in Okinawa and it's illegal to export them raw. So they turn up in chips and now drinks, but not much else.

By the way, by "turns out" I mean "someone told me." If you know otherwise, let's hear it.