All Aboard the Shinkansen

    Hop aboard the shinkansen (bullet train) and plunk an obento (lunch box) on your tray table from Tokyo Eki (station), with its dazzling assortment. A premium ticket (think: airfare) affords an assigned seat or, for less, take your chances for the unreserved car.  Half an hour into the ride a snack seller in snazzy uniform pushes a trolley through the car and bows deeply at the exit. Zip 100 miles northwest and switch for the last 100 miles to a slower train; four hours over tracks ends up in the capital of Ishikawa Prefecture, namely Kanazawa ( "gold marsh")--a town built on wealth. When the kaze (winds) are strong, as this past week, prepare for delays. A fellow passenger with a gray beard kindly translated the lengthy announcement that warned of a 45 minute late departure. Unpack a 1,000 page novel by James Clavell, Shogun.

     Such a rainy town is the home to the Kenroku-en ("garden of six elements"), one of The Three Great Gardens of Japan. For two centuries the Maeda clan refined this 25 acre gem that includes the oldest water feature, a fountain that operates by natural water pressure. Who doesn't know the six aspects include space, serenity, scenic views, coolness, design and, of course, venerability? End of May means ayame (iris) along the banks by the Flower Viewing Bridge. Optimal viewing time is 7:30 AM before the thundering hordes arrive with megaphones and cameras. Japanese parks are devoid of squirrels and chipmunks, but feathered friends (wagtails, spot-billed ducks and grosbeaks) appear for the patient photographer. Across town at the expensive 21st Century Museum of Contemporary Art ($15 entry) what a surprise to bump into the gray beard from the shinkansen (bullet train) at  the gruesome Alternative Humanities exhibit by Jan Fabre and Katsura Funakoshi. The pool installation permits guests to look up through the glass bottom into the water.

     Stroll the geisha quarters and stop in a samurai home for a nominal fee,then turn a serendipitous  corner to bump into one of the few remaining workshops of a wagasa (parasol) maker. Cross legged on his tatami in silence the artisan creates the skeleton of the graceful object, then attaches the washi (paper). Inside the parasols the fretwork is intricate and multi-colored. Our man is pleased to open a photo album that displays famous customers, after all, the cheapest parasol costs ni man en (about $225).  Nothing is for sale in the shop, everything is on order for the depato (department store) -- zannen (too bad)! Consolation prize at the station on the way back to Tokyo, thanks to suggestion of Judy Steeh, is a few boxes of the Kanazawa ginger snap from Koida bakery. Oishii!!