Nothing says Japan louder than flavored Kit Kats. Soy, green tea, cheese cake, cherry blossom, vinegar, melon and only 69 calories per mini bar. Nestle Japan produces nearly 100 types of KitKats, many limited edition for seasonal occasions. Every Wednesday I used to lay out Kit Kats on a tray beneath the envelope in which the English Conversation ladies placed their coffee money. "Kit Kat sounds like a phrase in nihongo that means 'you shall succeed'," tomodachi san told me. "This is why students like to eat KitKats at exam time." Any excuse to eat KitKats will do.
This explains why upon turning in my gaijin card to an Immigration officer wearing a white mask, I decided to reward myself with the most exotic KitKat at Narita Airport. Within 10 minutes I chose wasabi (Japanese horse radish). What works for sushi might work with chocolate, and certainly the box was pretty. And why not throw in a lemon flavored pack as well? Treasure in hand, I boarded. "My name is Steve, drink?" offered the flight attendant with a tray of sparkling wine. "What's wrong, you want orange juice?" he asked when I hesitated. Ten hours into the flight I requested coffee. "I'd have to make a new pot," was the Yankee response. Wakarimashita (I see).
At Narita the Airport Limosine Bus runs on a schedule with assigned seats, no tipping allowed with attendants who bow as the bus pulls out. At JFK the Manhattan Express runs haphazardly. "Wait five minutes" I was told. A bus marked Manhattan Express pulled up in five minutes: "Not that one-- the next one." So desu ne, a bus marked Parking Lots was actually the Manhattan Express. A Japanese couple followed me on board; the husband nervously gobbled an onigiri (rice ball with savory filling). The bus was plastered with signs: "Tips Welcome." At Grand Central Station a bus employee announced, "The bus driver will be pleased to accept your tip." Along 42nd Street a chauffeur waiting for his client called out to me, "Hey, honey, how you doin'?" Good question.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tata Takanawa
Downhill from the Manor at Nino Hashi (Second Bridge) how convenient to catch the No. 96 bus. Swipe your pasmo (travel pass) and in 15 minutes you are delivered within a block of the Tokyo American Club. Preschool students in blue-and-white checkered uniforms fill the front seats with their mothers, smart in navy; as they alight in Takanawa Ichome by the large supa (supermarket) the boys shout in gratitude to the driver ("arigatou gozaimashita"). Off the bus rolls, past the final resting place of the 47 Ronin (samurai without a daimyo) to Shinagawa Eki (think: Penn Station) where most passengers hop off. Next stop is ours Gotenyama Koban Mae (police box) with its daily report on display of train accidents--casualities in black ink (over 100), fatalities in red (1 or 2).
A final cappuccino "without cinnamon please" on the third floor of TAC (aka the Tokyo American Club) with Mme G. After three years of weekly meetings to exercise body and mind with the study of shodo (calligraphy) under the indulgent eye of Nakamura-sensei, both of us are packing. Our families landed within weeks of each other, and now we shall take off in the same month. Ages ago in London I first heard of TAC from Hiromi, who rhapsodized about the camaraderie it promoted. Like a campus under one roof it offers classes and entertainment, as well as dodgy institutional food. Within months I was sitting on committees and working on policy until Mme G reminded me that we ought to be taking advantage of the cultural programs.
"TAC is an island," observed another tomodachi-san who has been a member for 20-odd years. While she has never lived in the US, she has a taste for things American; her craving is satisfied by regular visits to TAC since she would never dream of leaving her family home. For gaijin struggling with nihongo on a daily basis, what a relief to have an English-speaking retreat complete with books and magazines that are as expensive here as Tiffany bracelets. This melange of native and foreign folks make a point of visiting this island within an island, which has temporarily moved out of its home in Roppongi during a major renovation. Nowadays American members are thin on the ground, and some joke that the A in TAC could be deleted. Refurbished TAC reopens in January 2011 when the wrecking ball demolishes this interim building. As Mme G and I got up, the server grabbed my hand to wish me well. "Kyotskete kudasai (take care), kyotskete." Dropping a thank you note in the Tell TAC box naming many of the people who made this island special, I walked out into the humid afternoon and Mme G dropped me at the Narita express.
A final cappuccino "without cinnamon please" on the third floor of TAC (aka the Tokyo American Club) with Mme G. After three years of weekly meetings to exercise body and mind with the study of shodo (calligraphy) under the indulgent eye of Nakamura-sensei, both of us are packing. Our families landed within weeks of each other, and now we shall take off in the same month. Ages ago in London I first heard of TAC from Hiromi, who rhapsodized about the camaraderie it promoted. Like a campus under one roof it offers classes and entertainment, as well as dodgy institutional food. Within months I was sitting on committees and working on policy until Mme G reminded me that we ought to be taking advantage of the cultural programs.
"TAC is an island," observed another tomodachi-san who has been a member for 20-odd years. While she has never lived in the US, she has a taste for things American; her craving is satisfied by regular visits to TAC since she would never dream of leaving her family home. For gaijin struggling with nihongo on a daily basis, what a relief to have an English-speaking retreat complete with books and magazines that are as expensive here as Tiffany bracelets. This melange of native and foreign folks make a point of visiting this island within an island, which has temporarily moved out of its home in Roppongi during a major renovation. Nowadays American members are thin on the ground, and some joke that the A in TAC could be deleted. Refurbished TAC reopens in January 2011 when the wrecking ball demolishes this interim building. As Mme G and I got up, the server grabbed my hand to wish me well. "Kyotskete kudasai (take care), kyotskete." Dropping a thank you note in the Tell TAC box naming many of the people who made this island special, I walked out into the humid afternoon and Mme G dropped me at the Narita express.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Last Supper: Okonomiyaki
Pizza is to New York as okonomiyaki is to Tokyo. Fry (yaki) batter made of flour, yam, eggs and cabbage, like an omelette add to it "whatever you like" (okonomi). After grilling the batter on a teppan (hot plate) the chef decorates it Jackson Pollock style with squizzles of mayo. "Shall we have okonomiyaki?" asked tomodachi san about my final dinner in Tokyo. Hai! Off we go to the sixth floor of Bic Camera, the discount electronics mega store by Tokyo Eki. Shujin (husband) considers it the ichiban (top) okonomiyaki place in town. "You have to get there early," he advised.
Windowless Bic Camera is full of temptations, offering every gadget under fluorescent light desired by Edoko; as a former depato eateries are located on the top level. While the Thai joint is half empty, Chibo is already busy. "How about the counter?" tomodachi posed. To start she ordered (healthy) tofu salad, and then we shared a series of pies (plain and sea food). Oishkata!(Yum) Ices for dessert, with cups of kocha (tea). A whispered remark in tomodachi's ear; so desu, a queue has formed. Strolling through Tokyo International Forum, three tomodachis wend our way to the Four Seasons where the staff greets me by name. How do they all recognize me?
On the seventh floor of the hotel we peeped into the bar, and were surprised to find that the Business Centre consists of one sole computer in this land of texting. Back on the street the queue of taxis extended for a mile; the financial crisis has caused many jobless Edoko to become cab drivers. "Such a strange month for you," tomodachi pointed out. One sayonara party was organized by a woman with acute laryngitis forced to communicate in writing; another by someone who arrived after the last sushi was swallowed. How many nihonjin have crossed my path in three and a half years! With promises to meet in New York, we exchanged sayonaras under the bright lights of Tokyo International Forum.
Windowless Bic Camera is full of temptations, offering every gadget under fluorescent light desired by Edoko; as a former depato eateries are located on the top level. While the Thai joint is half empty, Chibo is already busy. "How about the counter?" tomodachi posed. To start she ordered (healthy) tofu salad, and then we shared a series of pies (plain and sea food). Oishkata!(Yum) Ices for dessert, with cups of kocha (tea). A whispered remark in tomodachi's ear; so desu, a queue has formed. Strolling through Tokyo International Forum, three tomodachis wend our way to the Four Seasons where the staff greets me by name. How do they all recognize me?
On the seventh floor of the hotel we peeped into the bar, and were surprised to find that the Business Centre consists of one sole computer in this land of texting. Back on the street the queue of taxis extended for a mile; the financial crisis has caused many jobless Edoko to become cab drivers. "Such a strange month for you," tomodachi pointed out. One sayonara party was organized by a woman with acute laryngitis forced to communicate in writing; another by someone who arrived after the last sushi was swallowed. How many nihonjin have crossed my path in three and a half years! With promises to meet in New York, we exchanged sayonaras under the bright lights of Tokyo International Forum.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Harajuku Girls and Hokusai Woodcuts
Passing the "Harajuku girls" in their Bo-Peep outfits, I wedged out of the Yamanote (Circle Line) en route to the Ota Museum. Indulging in cosplay (costume play), the teens who congregate here bring to life popular manga (cartoon)characters. Strangely, their outfits appear much less exotic than the kimono clad women mincing in geta (wooden sandals) to nearby Meiji Jingu (Meiji Shrine). Through the torii (archway) along the winding graveled road to the Shinto shrine, past gardeners sweeping up leaves with twig brooms, past a city block wide display of sake barrels donated to the resident priests. For Y 500 I stopped at the garden, admiring the pond with its herd of koi and stroked the water in historic Kiyomasa's well. At the altar I observed Yakuyoke (Driving Away Evil), a prayer performed for men aged 25 or 42 to the beat of a taiko drum. When Emperor Meiji chose this sacred site in the 19th c it was an open field; still enshrouded by a serene 175 acre forest, visitors toss coins into the prayer box at the wooden altar and then cross the street to worship at the Louis Vuitton flagship on the Omotesando.
Two blocks away I made a beeline to the intimate Ota Museum, which specializes in ukiyo-e (woodcuts or "pictures of a floating world"). Like posters, this mass produced art was affordable and subjects capture the streets of old Edo. The current show celebrates the 250th anniversary of Hokusai, the master of this art form. For a mere Y 1000 the visitor may view his iconic "Thirty Six Views of Fuji." Remove shoes, onegai: slippers are provided for shuffling through the hushed gallery. Interesting to find that an earlier artist depicted Fuji in all its moods, yet Hokusai won the acclaim. Of his five children his youngest daughter, Oi, specialized in drawing nihonjin beauties and was considered better at this subject than her father. Hokusai produced his most important work in his 60s, and his influence reached West to inspire Van Gogh.
Since the year 660 AD native hikers have climbed Fuji-san, the tallest mountain in nihon, only one hour by car west of Tokyo. About 200,000 hardy souls make the trek every year in the hiking season, which opens in July. Around New Year's the mountain is visible on a clear day, yet magically disappears during the rest of the year. In 1860 the first gaijin made the climb and in July 2010 musume (daughter) completed this challenge with a doitsejin (German) classmate, walking through the night to watch the sunrise. As the saying goes: A fool does not cliimb Fuji san once, while only a fool climbs her twice. After making a quick purchase at the modest museum shop, I headed back to Chiyoda to meet tomodachi for okonomiyaki.
Two blocks away I made a beeline to the intimate Ota Museum, which specializes in ukiyo-e (woodcuts or "pictures of a floating world"). Like posters, this mass produced art was affordable and subjects capture the streets of old Edo. The current show celebrates the 250th anniversary of Hokusai, the master of this art form. For a mere Y 1000 the visitor may view his iconic "Thirty Six Views of Fuji." Remove shoes, onegai: slippers are provided for shuffling through the hushed gallery. Interesting to find that an earlier artist depicted Fuji in all its moods, yet Hokusai won the acclaim. Of his five children his youngest daughter, Oi, specialized in drawing nihonjin beauties and was considered better at this subject than her father. Hokusai produced his most important work in his 60s, and his influence reached West to inspire Van Gogh.
Since the year 660 AD native hikers have climbed Fuji-san, the tallest mountain in nihon, only one hour by car west of Tokyo. About 200,000 hardy souls make the trek every year in the hiking season, which opens in July. Around New Year's the mountain is visible on a clear day, yet magically disappears during the rest of the year. In 1860 the first gaijin made the climb and in July 2010 musume (daughter) completed this challenge with a doitsejin (German) classmate, walking through the night to watch the sunrise. As the saying goes: A fool does not cliimb Fuji san once, while only a fool climbs her twice. After making a quick purchase at the modest museum shop, I headed back to Chiyoda to meet tomodachi for okonomiyaki.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Konnichiwa Four Seasons Marunouchi
"Welcome, Mrs. B," the doorlady bowed and greeted me by name in perfect English at the Four Seasons Marunouchi, a sleek low building between Tokyo Station (think: Paddington) and Ginza (think: Oxford Circus). Hai, this neko (cat) friendly hotel recognizes a neko owner on sight. Are we the only guests here, this welcome made me wonder. (Sumimassen, a few other gaijin appeared later.) A cage large enough to accommodate a leopard graced a corner of the well appointed room, complete with food, bowls and the pee pads so popular among the lapdog set. Suki-chan made a graceful entrance, curling up in the obedient manner of Japanese pets. Tokyo dog grooming parlors never cease to amuse as furry, slutty clients allow themselves to be publicly rubbed and scrubbed.
Decamping from the Manor means moving into a hotel for a brief stay, which allows for exploring Chiyoda, the part of town within sight of the Imperial Palace. For nearly a century Tokyo Eki has served as commuter central, and despite the firebombing of 1945 service has continued uninterrupted. Currently the east wing is undergoing a major facelift behind a white facade that will be removed in time to celebrate its centennial in 2013. On the other side of the tracks 10 minutes by foot leads to Muji Riushi; all chain stores including this fashionable no-label brand slash prices in July. A nice selection of lightweight cardigans fits gaijin shapes at a deep discount. Sugoi!
NHK evening news covered the stabbing death in Osaka of a 15 year old grandson by his irate 66 year old obaasan (granny) who allegedly was not happy with his test results. Next a report on the sumo scandal; wrestlers have been gambling and must make a collective bow of apology. Nihonjin viewers prefer baseball and golf nowadays, perhaps due to the fact that sumo yokozuno (champions) are gaijin. Finally, the news turns to politics: Prime Minister Kan ("Yes we Kan") remains in place, the sixth prime minister in the four years of our residence, but his party has lost seats in the upper house. Popularity is growing for Renho Murata, the half Taiwanese 42 year old Minister for Administrative Reform who could potentially be the first woman candidate for PM. Tomorrow's plan is a final visit to Harajuku, 25 minutes from the Four Seasons via the Yamanote (Circle Line), for a visit to Hokusai exhibit at the Ota Museum.
Decamping from the Manor means moving into a hotel for a brief stay, which allows for exploring Chiyoda, the part of town within sight of the Imperial Palace. For nearly a century Tokyo Eki has served as commuter central, and despite the firebombing of 1945 service has continued uninterrupted. Currently the east wing is undergoing a major facelift behind a white facade that will be removed in time to celebrate its centennial in 2013. On the other side of the tracks 10 minutes by foot leads to Muji Riushi; all chain stores including this fashionable no-label brand slash prices in July. A nice selection of lightweight cardigans fits gaijin shapes at a deep discount. Sugoi!
NHK evening news covered the stabbing death in Osaka of a 15 year old grandson by his irate 66 year old obaasan (granny) who allegedly was not happy with his test results. Next a report on the sumo scandal; wrestlers have been gambling and must make a collective bow of apology. Nihonjin viewers prefer baseball and golf nowadays, perhaps due to the fact that sumo yokozuno (champions) are gaijin. Finally, the news turns to politics: Prime Minister Kan ("Yes we Kan") remains in place, the sixth prime minister in the four years of our residence, but his party has lost seats in the upper house. Popularity is growing for Renho Murata, the half Taiwanese 42 year old Minister for Administrative Reform who could potentially be the first woman candidate for PM. Tomorrow's plan is a final visit to Harajuku, 25 minutes from the Four Seasons via the Yamanote (Circle Line), for a visit to Hokusai exhibit at the Ota Museum.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Sayonara to the Manor
In a country where recycling is serious business and the market for secondhand goods is limited, unloading used furniture is a challenge. Does it surprise you that Japan is the largest exporter of used cars? Neighbors at the Manor kindly adopted plants, while the Filippina housekeeper was pleased to have Wanda's TV along with the answering machine that spoke nihongo. Bank folks snapped up tables and chairs, which were priced for quick sale. "Please accept my grandmother's fukuro obi," said one shopper in bidding for the flat screen TV. She made an excuse for no longer needing the hand-embroidered sash with built in bag, wrapped in a furoshiki (cloth wrap) and ordered the takubin (delivery service) to carry off the TV.
Double checking how Manor residents bag refuse is the Sanitation Specialist who sorts through the bin bags. Upon first noticing empty cat food tins thanks to Suki-chan, he pulled out his keitai (cell phone): "This is my family." He flicked through photos of three stray cats who adopted him and his wife. A former salaryman, he switched jobs in order to look after his elderly mother. Over time he posted photos of his feline family around the gomi (garbage) room and for three years we exchanged remarks typical of cat people. How gratifying that he accepted the chair with a round seat, perfect for a curled up cat. He promised to email photos of the chair with its new users, we bowed to each other, and exchanged an emotional sayonara.
Resident grandfather, the building manager Okutsu-san, retrieved a camera and nvited us to step outside for a group shot. "Please come back soon," he said, adding that the young man who visits musume (daughter) each week is polite and nice looking. When asked about culture shock in Japan I have observed that it has been an adjustment to live among people who are polite, pretty and punctual. Promising to return a second emotional bow exchanged, time to pack up neko-chan and musume for the move to pet friendly Four Seasons Marunouchi as we contemplate surrendering our gaijin cards. Mata ne (later).
Double checking how Manor residents bag refuse is the Sanitation Specialist who sorts through the bin bags. Upon first noticing empty cat food tins thanks to Suki-chan, he pulled out his keitai (cell phone): "This is my family." He flicked through photos of three stray cats who adopted him and his wife. A former salaryman, he switched jobs in order to look after his elderly mother. Over time he posted photos of his feline family around the gomi (garbage) room and for three years we exchanged remarks typical of cat people. How gratifying that he accepted the chair with a round seat, perfect for a curled up cat. He promised to email photos of the chair with its new users, we bowed to each other, and exchanged an emotional sayonara.
Resident grandfather, the building manager Okutsu-san, retrieved a camera and nvited us to step outside for a group shot. "Please come back soon," he said, adding that the young man who visits musume (daughter) each week is polite and nice looking. When asked about culture shock in Japan I have observed that it has been an adjustment to live among people who are polite, pretty and punctual. Promising to return a second emotional bow exchanged, time to pack up neko-chan and musume for the move to pet friendly Four Seasons Marunouchi as we contemplate surrendering our gaijin cards. Mata ne (later).
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988)
Where to find Noguchi lamps in Tokyo? Three years of admiring them and now I can't remember where I saw these 20th century paper lanterns. In 1950 American artist Isamu Noguchi came up with the design combining washi paper, bamboo and wire in response to a commission by the mayor of Gifu. His challenge was to save the paper industry against the invasion of electric lights; his solution was to marry the light bulb to the mulberry bark cover-ups. Rather than traditional shapes, Noguchi's shades are dramatic and asymmetrical like ikebana. Best thing is they fold flat for easy mailing across the world.
Takashimaya Shinjuku offered a bell shaped knock-off in the lighting department, but the real thing must be somewhere in this town. SOS, tomodachis! "Like Kyoto gardens, Noguchi lamp shades are not as popular in this country," pointed out one knowledgeable tomodachi-san who suggested a DIY option, giving new purpose to the practice papers from shodo that I have piled up. Another tomodachi-san sent me a link to Yamagiwa, a design shop in Akihabara. Last time I visited Akihabara, the electronics part of town, was shortly after Oshogatsu (New Years) to have coffee at a Maid Cafe with Senichi-san and visitors G & P. Waitresses dressed as manga characters for the pleasure of customers pose for photos at an additional fee. On the Yamanote Line (Y 130) in 13 minutes I returned to this sleazy, youthful part of town, walked two blocks and entered the Noguchi showroom.
July is sale time in Tokyo and everything in Yamagiwa was 20% off! Akari Light Sculptures sat on the floor and dangled from the ceiling. Making a decision was made easier when the salesman informed me that not every design was available to carry away. Instead of globes, I carried away two boxes of glob-shaped Akari. Back into the downpour that marks the end of tsuyu (rainy season), through the throngs of young men seeking Maid Cafes, in to the shelter of the JR (Japan Rail) I transported my treasures to the Manor.
Takashimaya Shinjuku offered a bell shaped knock-off in the lighting department, but the real thing must be somewhere in this town. SOS, tomodachis! "Like Kyoto gardens, Noguchi lamp shades are not as popular in this country," pointed out one knowledgeable tomodachi-san who suggested a DIY option, giving new purpose to the practice papers from shodo that I have piled up. Another tomodachi-san sent me a link to Yamagiwa, a design shop in Akihabara. Last time I visited Akihabara, the electronics part of town, was shortly after Oshogatsu (New Years) to have coffee at a Maid Cafe with Senichi-san and visitors G & P. Waitresses dressed as manga characters for the pleasure of customers pose for photos at an additional fee. On the Yamanote Line (Y 130) in 13 minutes I returned to this sleazy, youthful part of town, walked two blocks and entered the Noguchi showroom.
July is sale time in Tokyo and everything in Yamagiwa was 20% off! Akari Light Sculptures sat on the floor and dangled from the ceiling. Making a decision was made easier when the salesman informed me that not every design was available to carry away. Instead of globes, I carried away two boxes of glob-shaped Akari. Back into the downpour that marks the end of tsuyu (rainy season), through the throngs of young men seeking Maid Cafes, in to the shelter of the JR (Japan Rail) I transported my treasures to the Manor.
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