Volcano Visit

    Two hours north from Haneda airport (think: Laguardia) lands a Tokyoite in Chitose Airport, Hokkaido ("North Sea circuit"), the prefecture closest to Siberia. When picking up dinner in Peacock Supa (market) in the Juban all dairy products are stamped from Hokkaido, and during rainy season it is famously dry. Sayonara humidity, konnichiwa rolling green hills reminiscent of upstate New York! Cows and farm buildings could be borrowed from any TV Western, and long stretches of road without a car in sight are not unlike our own stretch of Route 57 in Massachusetts. Traffic signs in nihongo, as well as road crews every few minutes, are constant reminders that we are in new territory. As we have been warned not to disturb the local cops,  every car that comes by passes us.

    After driving through many small villages with main streets that would be comfortable in South Dakota, at last we arrive at the Hilton Resort, Niseko, facing the ancient volcano Yoteizan (Mt Yotei).  In winter it is a haven for skiers, but now it provides cool breezes in the evening.  The next day we visit lively volcano, Showashinzan, which only erupted in 1944 as an unlucky omen; it continues to exude smoke in a dramatic manner. No better way to end a day of volcanic visits than a stop at the Hilton onsen (hot spring), which allows for sitting outside in the buff and contemplating Yoteizan. Men and women are segregated, with a discreet bamboo screen dividing the two (remember, this is nude bathing).

    Since Niseko is a ski resort, many restaurants feature a German menu. Why not try one with the attractive name of Mozart? Some cars parked outside are an encouraging sign; inside there appears to be a small flea market in one corner with a huddle of ladies. One has misplaced her wallet, which sends everyone checking under the table. The smiling hostess asks us to remove shoes, offering slippers. Chief, cook and bottlewash she disappears into the kitchen to cook up three huge sized authentic Viennese schnitzels with fresh asparagus, while her neko-chan (cat) wanders through the dining area. Amy Winehouse music wafting in the background, can Tokyoites ask for more?

  

  

Selecting a Toro (Japanese Stone Lantern)

     "If you want a nice toro for a reasonable rate, I am happy to introduce you to the owner of a local shop," said tomodachi san.  With a wedding anniversary looming and endless remarks from shujin (husband) upon viewing Japanese stone lanterns around town, the offer was accepted instantly. Temples and shrines on every Tokyo corner boast at least one granite ishidoro (ishi = stone, toro = lantern): a hollowed out, lidded candle holder weighing about a ton perched upon a pedestal carved from stone. Since the sixth century these exalted carvings have lit the path for worshippers along ancient routes, with 2,000 lighting the way in Nara to the Daibutsu (Great Buddha). During the Edo Period they were adapted as decorative touches to private gardens. While to the Western eye the stone sometimes appear chunky or even awkward, they symbolize the light that Buddha sheds upon human ignorance.  

    One dull Saturday afternoon at Ebisu eki, tomodachi san collected us and we headed to Setagaya (one of Tokyo's 23 wards). First stop was a stone mason's yard in the neighborhood known as Yoga (no relation to the Indian practice). "Please use this bug spray," admonished tomodachi san, who was well aware that stones are a breeding ground for Tokyo's blood thirsty mosquitoes. Within minutes our ankles were covered in welts, as we browsed the many styles of toro. Since the proprietor was nowhere to be found, we moved on to the second stop: a gallery of lanterns below the Shuto Expressway behind the local Book Off (used book shop chain). The owner, an elderly gent, emerged from the building. When asked for a price, he sucked his teeth, the Japanese signal of reluctance: The lantern in question was made in China, a copy, so not a good choice. No price was quoted.

   Climbing up the fire escape to another level, more lanterns were examined. Each selection was rejected as not worthy of a sale ("That one is from Korea"). Unlike Western salesmen, this proprietor did not seem eager for business. Back down on the ground, we entered the showroom. A lantern with no price tag beckoned, and the proprietor looked in his price book: It was for sale at a reasonable price! But what about delivery? Generous tomodachi-san offered to drive it to the Manor. The proprietor wrapped the three part toro in burlap and climbed into the trunk of the car to tuck it in carefully. In his office he produced a bill of sale with the official hanko (seal), which was ceremonially handed over to shujin. Out of the shop we rode, victorious, proud owners of a toro that will live out its days in the Berkshire hills of Massachusetts.

Ozu Washi Shop, Nihonbashi

       After two years of investing in endless packets of mitsu matagami type washi (literally wa for Japanese, shi for paper) in shodo (calligraphy) class, some tomodachis indulged me in a visit to Ozu Washi. Since 17th c samurai days Tokyoites have traveled to the shop to buy their washi. Museums proudly display scrolls from the Edo Period and earlier, proving the durability of this cottony textured  paper. Ozu offers the option of making your own washi and this group is ready to roll up our sleeves. Via Ginza line to the old Nihonbashi part of town, we rendezvoused at Mitsukoshimae (in front of the Mitsukoshi depato), passing eager shoppers lining up in anticipation of their day's sport.

    Ten minutes by foot from Exit A3 led to a shop in the shadow of the overhead Shuto expressway. Our Ozu guide stepped on the street to introduce us to the kozo (mulberry) trees that grow in front of the shop:  Washing and boiling the bark results in washi pulp. Ushering us inside she instructed us to remove watches and rings since we must immerse our arms into an icy bath of mashed pulp; many thousands of dollars of jewelry tucked away in pocketbooks and locked in a classroom, the obedient group followed to the workshop.

     Aprons on everyone! She introduced us to the craftsman who walks us through the paces: Stand by the sukibune (tub), grab the sugeta (screened tray), dunk into the slimy liquid and jostle while counting to 20. Excellent way to build biceps! Repeat. Drain the wet sheet by passing over a vacuum, place on a frame and design using materials at hand (liquid dyes, confetti, string). Allow to dry on a heated iron and you have a unique sheet of washi. Sugoi! Kozogami with its clothlike texture is suitable for clothing; a wedding dress is on display in the showroom. Technology has streamlined the ancient system of washing and hanging out to dry on the line for hours or days. Browsing the shop for one hour, drawers full of washi tempted and we succumbed.  


    

Rikugien (Six Elements Garden)

    Ten stops from the  Manor on the Namboku line (Y 160) transports the Tokyoite back 300 years to an Edo period garden called Rikugien. Just at the time of the 47 ronin the powerful daimyo (feudal lord) Yanagisawa created his green masterpiece. Based on the six elements of waka (poetry), Yanagisawa-sama forged trails around a central ike (pond). Taking 88 poems Yanagisawa set out to bring waka to life; of these 32 remain for the modern visitor who wishes to buy a ticket at the quaint entry booth (Y300). Rikugien is one of nine feudal estates now open to the public as Metropolitan Gardens.

    "Shall we bring Mme G to Rikugien?" posed tomodachi-san on the last day of shodo (calligraphy) class. Despite cloudy weather predictions, the sky miraculously cleared, the humidity lifted and three shodo students entered the cool oasis. "Shall we take the 30 minute trail or the 60 minute trail?" tomodachi-san asked. After admiring the enormous sakura (cherry tree) a bench in the shade vis-a-vis Fujishiro-toge (Fuji viewing peak) removed further choice. After a long sit-down, the trail led to Chidori-bashi (stone bridge). Below our feet schools of carp and turtles vied for attention. Following the trail to the Takimi-no-chaya (Teahouse) led to a choice of macha (green tea) set: Hot or cold? Iced macha for all proved to be very refreshing.

    "Is there time for a short walk in Yanaka?" asked tomodachi-san, referring to the old part of town. Within 10 minutes we strolled the narrow alleys with its small crafts shops. Who can resist a few sheets of hand printed paper from the washi shop? And a small bean paste ice cream sandwich? Returning to the Namboku line, promises were made to meet on the weekend to visit a stone  mason who carves Japanese lanterns. Mata! (later)!  

View Towards Kankoku (Korea)

     "What a great concert Rain gave at Zepp Tokyo last night," reported obaasan (grandmother) of five at English Conversation group. Unlike capacious Tokyo Dome that can accommodate thousands, Zepp Tokyo is the intimate club where I watched Bob Dylan croon before hundreds of fans a few months ago. Just two eigo (English) speakers in cream colored cardigans stepped out of rain soaked shoes this week at 11:02, with apologies for late arrival, as the three absentees were out of town this Wednesday. Pop idol Rain (born Jung Ji-Hoon in South Korea) has been included in People magazine's Most Beautiful People issue. Popular Korean imports in Nihon are soap operas and pop stars.

    "Rain is so sexy, although I was embarrassed when he removed his shirt," obaasan elaborated about the 28 year old singer. What is his best feature? "He never had plastic surgery the way other Korean singers do to  make their eyes rounder," she replied, explaining that plastic surgery is widely available in Seoul. "Asian pop stars want to appear more Western and most of them have their eyes done, but he is natural." Did she go alone to Zepp Tokyo? "My friend who likes Rain got the tickets, which were standing room in front of the stage," she said, referring to the mosh pit. Although she worried that standing for 90 minutes would be tiring, staring at her pop idol erased all fatigue.

    Not far from the Manor the South Korean Embassy stands behind a tall gate on Sendaizaka, typically guarded by a battalion of policemen. On weekends organized protests in the form of sound trucks festooned with hinomaru (Japanese flags) drive to the embassy to broadcast anti-Korean views through megaphones and blast military music. "Have you noticed that there are fewer police by the Korean embassy in recent times?" whispered tomodachi san.  Hai, I thought perhaps it was too early in the day for guard duty when I last walked by. Is this reduction a sign of government cutbacks due to the financial crisis, or is it a deliberate message to South Korea?

  

Heisei 22 (2010)

      According to the nihon calendar this Toradoshi (year of the Tiger) marks Heisei 22 (peace everywhere) or the twenty-second year of the era of the current reigning Emperor Akihito. While English royals are the bread and butter of tabloids, the Imperial Family is off-limits to journalists; as a result, the public is starved for scoop on what goes on behind closed doors at the Kokyo (Imperial Residence) deep within the park in Chiyoda-ku.  Known fact: The Emperor fell for his wife, Michiko-sama, in 1957 on a tennis court in Karuizawa, a mountain resort in Nagano Prefecture. Also known: Michiko-sama is the first commoner to sit on the Chrysanthemum Throne. Final fact:  Twice Michiko-sama suffered nervous distress that caused her to lose her voice for many months.

    "I have heard from someone in the Imperial Household that Michiko-sama likes to drink whisky everyday," whispered tomodachi san. "Her favorite is the Scotch label, White Horse." Could it be that her husband's infidelities led her to console herself in this manner? Known fact: Crown Prince Naruhito married for love and now must cope with a wife who suffers from "adjustment disorder." Rumor: Second son Prince Akishino, father of three including the future emperor, often travels to Thailand on so-called business that may involve another woman. What of the Emperor's third child, Sayako-sama, now a woman of 40 and an ornithologist with a specialty in kingfishers? Five years ago she relinquished her position within the Imperial Household upon marrying a commoner whom she met through her brother and fell off the public radar.

   In recent times the Heisei era faces challenges as witnessed by the revolving door of prime ministers. Every autumn the bi-cultural ladies social club organizes a reception attended by the Prime Minister's wife: Mrs. Fukuda in Heisei 19, Mrs. Aso in Heisei 20, Mrs. Hatoyama in Heisei 21. At the moment Mrs. Kan is ruling the roost, but that could change by September Heisei 22.  After 50 years of rule by the LDP (Liberal Democratic Party), the DPJ (Democratic Party of Japan) has assumed the majority position. Despite the unsettled times, during tsuyu (rainy season) in late June Tokyoites can rely on tall banks of ajisai (hydrangea), a changeable flower believed by samurai to reflect a fickle nature.  

The 47 Ronin

    "May I show you Sengakuji?" asked an Eating Out Club tomodachi referring to the temple that is the resting place of the 47 ronin. Touching her nose she indicated herself nihon style rather than with a Western tap on the chest. Hai, how often the #96 bus swept past Sengakuji on the hill in Takanawa about 10 minutes before the Manor stop yet I never stepped out. Cinema buffs familiar with the 1962 Inagaki film know the tale of the samurai who avenged the murder of their daimyo (feudal lord) over 300 years ago. Hard to imagine posh Takanawa with its private schools and fancy supermarkets was once the site of bloodshed.

    In a torrential downpour tomodachi waited like a shimmery apparition beneath a flowery kasa (umbrella) at the # 96 bus stop. Leading across the busy zaka (hill) she told the story of how a Tokugawa daimyo came to blows with the sensei of Imperial protocol in the shogun's palace. "The sensei tried to embarrass his student, the daimyo, who pulled his sword in anger and nicked the sensei's shoulder," she said. After committing this crime the daimyo was forced to commit seppuku (disembowelment or hara-kiri) and his men became ronin (samurai without a lord). After plotting for many months on the 14th December 1702 the ronin broke into the sensei's home, and the tale ends with mass seppuku. "On weekends especially nihonjin from outside Tokyo travel to pay their respects to the ronin," she explained."On December 14th busloads of visitors fill the temple."

    Thanks to the rain the temple was deserted. Inside the courtyard to the left up we climbed up to an incense selling concession; sold in a bundle and prelit, the seller handed it over on a bamboo tray. "Just leave one stick at each grave, we still have many to go," advised tomodachi san, allowing me the honor. Afterwards we toured the small museum with its ronin artifacts (Y500) and watched a short video about the temple. "Are you ready for some fresh mochi from my local shop?" asked tomodachi, referring to the treacherously chewy rice cake. Hai: Mission completed, two 21st century tomodachi walked to a building of mansion flats for afternoon tea.  

Chichi Day at Mori Tower

     Lurking over the quaint Juban (10th district) shopping street within view of the Manor, Roppongi Hills Mori Tower emerges like Frankenstein. In fact, six years ago a little boy was killed by this monstrosity in a revolving door incident. Despite its freaky exterior, within beats a heart of golden cultural opportunity namely the eponymous Mori Art Museum. Mori-san, Fortune's "Asia Businessman of 2007", created Roppongi Hills as his homage to Le Corbusier and the museum as a shrine to 21st century art. At the steep ticket price of Y 1,500 a visitor is entitled to zoom up to the 53rd floor to enjoy the Sky View along with the exhibit, currently: Roppongi Crossing 2010, Can There Be Art?


    On a muggy Chichi Day (Father's Day), the Mori is filled with young families and the  hand-holding couples who seem to frequent art venues in Tokyo. People watching is more fun than viewing some of the more confrontational artworks such as a video about an elderly nihon no fufu (couple) living in poverty. The wall of constructions by Teruya Yuken is of greatest interest since an IB art examiner compared the work of musume (daughter) to this contemporary 3D artist. The attractive security guards in each room sit as still and straight as statues, which bears closer investigation. Following the arrows to the Museum Shop, chichi (Dad) selects a black T shirt with yellow arrows as a present.

    As one of the installations was a room full of pizza delivery boxes, everyone has an appetite for pizza. Will this  be the day to try out Savoy, the popular but tiny pizzeria in the Juban? Noticing the queue outside the shop, we inquire as to the wait: ichi-ji-kan (one hour). Still New Yorkers at heart, we head off to the Mexican joint recently opened by the yuubin kyoku (post office). Within 15 minutes the whole family is happily munching burritos. Itadakimasu! (The blessing said before each meal).                        

     

  

Kurosawa (1910-1998)

    Somewhere near Shinagawa Eki, the local shinkansen (bullet train) station for residents of the Manor, film director Akira Kurosawa was born 100 years ago. Son of a samurai family Kurosawa-san would hardly recognize his old neighborhood, now a cluster of corporate skyscrapers built on landfill. In 1923 he survived the Great Kanto Earthquake that reduced the city's population by over 100,000 (with more earthquakes than any other city on the planet, experts predict another serious shakeup soon). Apprenticing at Toho studio, the director began his career during wartime; his breakout film Rashomon (1950) launched his legendary career. That film tells the same story through the eyes of four characters, posing the question: Which is the truth?

    Since food is the great preoccupation of Tokyoites, Kurosawa san's children decided to honor their father with a restaurant minutes from the Tameike-sanno eki (Exit 5). Tucked beneath a concrete monolith a quaint building (as per his 1965 film Red Beard) houses the Kurosawa Soba shop. Buckwheat noodles are to Tokyo what pasta is to Roma, but these te-uchi (handmade) are hand-cut by the chef as observed through a window. Inside the sliding front door the foyer boasts posters of Kurosawa's masterpieces (The Seven Samurai perhaps the best known), and servers in costume designed by the director's daughter welcome five members of Nihongo Kaiwa (Japanese Conversation Group). Everyone is delighted by the Y 1,100 set (prix fixe), which includes a bowl of noodles, side dishes of lotus root, tofu and beef bowl, plus macha (green tea) ice cream. Oishkata (delicious)!

    Across the road at the top of the zaka (hill) visitors pay their respects at the ancient Hie Jinja, a Shinto shrine devoted to the god Oyamakui who manifests as a saru (monkey).  A brief stop at the shrine shop to buy blessings for musume (daughter), born in the Year of the Monkey. As June 15th is Sanno Matsuri, one of the great festivals of old Edo, a temporary archway stands in the center of the courtyard. "Walk through it three times, twice to the left and once to the right, to leave bad spirits behind!" instructs tomodachi-san. The shrine gardener offers us kiku (chrysanthemums, the Imperial Flower) from the large display that he is disassembling. Trailing kiku petals into the eki the time has come for sayonara.

Tokyo Tower

     After staring at Tokyo Tower from the Manor for three plus years, the time was ripe for a trip to the viewing station. A slightly taller clone of the Eiffel, the nihon Tower bathes in orange light at sundown with blue lights between 8 and 10 PM. "Yes, let's go," said tomodachi-san, whose little daughter I taught at an afterschool English program (organized by the academically oriented women's group). "I haven't been there since my school days," echoed three other tomodachis.  All agreed to meet on a weekday lunch hour on what turned out to be one of the hottest days of June. For Y820 each, the elevator lifted us to the first viewing station at the midpoint of the Tower. (For another Y600 visitors zoom to the top but that entailed a long wait.)

      In a city where addresses are expressed by coordinates, landmarks rule: Tokyo Tower stands out from almost everywhere around town. Lording over the friendly sounding park of Shiba Koen, the Tower functions as a glamorous stand for an antenna. (After faithfully broadcasting NHK programs for 52 years, the Tower's function is about to be dwarfed by giant Tokyo Sky Tree going up in Oshiage by the Sumida river.) In the brilliant sunshine, Tower visitors admired the panorama from the Observation Deck. "How many new skyscrapers!" was the consensus of tomodachis.  Fun to look down on the construction of the new Tokyo American Club and to find the Manor hidden between a pair of new highrises. Pretty Rainbow Bridge connects Shibaura Pier to Odaiba, one of the many teenage  meccas. A quick visit to the "lookdown window" (glass tiled floor board), and the Milky Way display (a cheesy combination of blue holiday lights and saran wrap) completed the tour.

     As all proper excursions end with a meal, the food court on the second story supplied a wide selection (pizza, sandwiches, curry and the omnipresent Macdonalds). In a country where purse snatching is unheard of, it is customary to  leave personal belongings on the table while going off to purchase food. On the floor below for an extra fee fans may tour a Michael Jackson exhibit or make a reservation for the big "sleepover" planned for the end of June. Michael has a big following, although not among these tomodachis! Before saying sayonara, our organizing tomodachi-san with the English speaking daughter has set up an excursion to Ozu Washi Museum to make paper together. Raishu mata, ne!  (See you next week!)      

Iris (Ayame) Viewing

     Nihonjin are flower lovers with a matsuri (festival) every month to celebrate each stem. This week ayame (iris) are in the spotlight. "Shall we go to the Ayame Matsuri in Itako?" posed a pair of hana (flower) loving tomodachi san some weeks ago. Hai: Tokyoites typically satisfy the ayame urge in the garden at Meiji Jingu (the Shinto shrine dedicated to the 19th century emperor), which is conveniently located on the Yamanote sen (Circle Line) at Harajuku. Visiting Itako entails a trip via highway bus (Y 1,800 return) from Tokyo eki to Ibaraki prefecture heading north at 8:20 AM. By 9:30 an obliging taxi driver at the Kashima stop assured us that indeed the flowers reached their peak. Hai, by the calendar rainy season has started but not a drop falls in Itako.

     First stop: A boat ride on the Tonegawa, second longest river in the country, flowing along fields of thousands of irises in shades of blue and purple. Women in colorful costumes with straw hats attacked like a pack of coyote, looking for boat riders. Tomodachi-san rejects the ticket price, until it comes down (Y 1,000 each). Onto a six-seater tented wedding boat we crawl, joined by a trio of men; like brides of yore, we float downstream as boat lady steers, offers a few facts about the 500 species of ayame and croons enka (ballads). On shore kindergarteners on field trips stride past the handkerchief-sized ayame, while the silver (over 65) set snap photos of each other. No one is camera shy in Nihon.

     Next stop: A country inn that serves kaisecki (a traditional multi course meal). "I ate breakfast at 5 AM, let's have lunch now," said tomodachi san. At 11:15 a taxi dropped us on a hillside at the end of a long leafy drive much like old Edo. Shoes neatly lined up in the entry, a server in kimono ushered us to the comfort of a private tatami (strawmat) room. For two hours kimono servers present us with small dishes of seasonal treats, including a grilled fish (ayu) skewered with a stick on a rectangular platter. Oishkata (delicious)! Back on the highway bus, a happy trio return to Tokyo eki, sip Starbucks and marvel at the rain-free day. Can it be four weeks until blast off out of Nihon back to the West?

The Business of Marriage

      Matchmaking (omiai) is still a career option in Nihon. "My parents took me to a hotel with our omiai to meet my husband-to-be with his parents and matchmaker, " one tomodachi (friend) recalled about the first interview of her husband 25 years ago. "Three on each side of the table, with the matchmakers at the end of the table." After a sperm test (to check that late onset chickenpox had not impaired fertility), the deal was sealed and now two children attend med school. While at Juilliard studying piano, another tomodachi received a visit from parents with omiai  since she reached the dangerous age of  Christmas cake (stale after the 25th).  Thanks to a serendipitous introduction she met a nihonjin in the Big Apple; they married and saved her parents a bundle. Each consultation starts at $100.

    "My neighbor stopped by this morning with a present to tell me that it is settled with that her husband will move out," said tomodochi san at Eating Out Club this week. "She said it has all been fixed." Tomodachi-san admitted that she barely knew the neighbor, although there are only four flats in the building. The last time they spoke the neighbor mentioned her husband's retirement. Separation for empty nesters is not unusual among nihon no fufu (couples): After the job of raising a family is successfully completed, some wives prefer to live alone. Why the present? "As a thank you for listening."

     Marriage is losing steam in this country, despite the parade of brides posing at the Meiji Jingu ( shrine) or by one of the many Prince Hotels. Young women are becoming "career girls," living with the parents and spending their earnings on designer handbags or trips abroad. The trend does not discourage matchmakers who specialize on different age groups and keep files of eligibles. "My friend's daughter has been looking for a husband for 18 years," said one tomodachi. "She hasn't found anyone suitable yet, and the pool of men is becoming smaller so she is meeting the same men again after all this time."  Time moves quickly, tomodachis, how is it possible that in four weeks this blog will come to its natural conclusion?

  

Sunday in Shakuji

      On an overcast Sunday the densha (train) whizzes Tokyoites with backpacks, sun hats and walking shoes to the outskirts. "Water Walks in Tokyo" by Enbutsu offers a selection of fourteen hikes: From the Manor the Toei Oedo line leads to Walk 2 Shakujikoen within 41 minutes (33 minutes on board plus eight to switch at Nerima) per the online Japanese Train Route Finder. On the platform a list of stations by line devised by a self-described "housewife," advises as to which carriage to board for quickest route to make connections. Thrilling to discover that Nerima,  at the NW corner of Tokyo's 23 wards, is the birthplace of anime (Japanese animation).

    Overlooking the river valley Shakuji Jo (castle) was home to the Toshima samurai clan nearly a thousand years ago and became their final resting place. While castle and clan are history, 21st century Tokyoites picnic on the grounds of Shakuji Koen (park), fish the two ponds and stroll a boardwalk trail. Floating lotus blossoms in Sanpoji Ike (pond) welcome visitors at the entry. A flash of turquoise alerts birdwatchers to the resident kawasemi (kingfisher). Aosagi (gray heron) and akagashira sagi (night heron)  Sankuji Ike (pond) strike a pose in Shakuji Ike (pond) allowing tripod toting nihonjin to record the moment. The ubiquitous Asian karu gamo (spot billed duck) wearing yellow lipstick mingle with the more familiar ma-gamo (mallards).  

     Outside the park a brief detour follows an allee of pine trees to Dojo-ji, described by Enbutsu as an open air museum of Zen temple architecture. Children scamper on the grounds as adults attend a memorial service; a bell tolls. According to legend a priest is hiding in the bell to escape the advances of a woman whose passion turned her into a serpent. Around the corner a torii (gate) signals a shinto shrine, namely Sanpoji, with a magical serenity. A couple walks up to the altar, pulls the bell rope, bows in unison, claps, pays their respects. Back in the park a mama ban (moorhen) shows off her three chicks, for the pleasure of the birdwatchers on the shore. Shocking to discover that while out exploring a 6.2 earthquake shook musume out of a sound slumber.

      

Yesterday in Yokohama

    How is high school graduation like childbirth? Once in the actual moment, all careful preparation falls by the wayside. Three dear, generous tomodachis (friends) converged from points around Tokyo at Motomachi Chukagai eki (Chinatown station) to help parents applaud as musume-chan accepted her YIS (Yokohama International School) diploma on a Thursday evening. With a 7 PM ceremony two joined our family for an early bird supper; the third opted to meet at the school. Only the Trattoria at Barney's Yokohama was open for business at that unsophisticated hour, which turned out to be perfect. (Barney's is a popular label among Tokyoites.) The graduand (as seniors are called at YIS) changed into her evening clothes in the loo.

    Yokohama, where the Queen Mary docks, boasts an ocean breeze no matter how high the temperature climbs. Sadly, the breeze was not invited to the ceremony: Looking crisp upon entry into the gymnasium, parents in kimono and serious finery soon wilted with just a Kyoto-standard issue fan blowing down in the enormous space. Soon guests unfolded hand fans, and before long programs turned into impromptu fans. The heat took its toll on our camera, which meant relying on generous tomodachis to record the event. After the student orchestra scratched out a prelude, school administrators expressed gratitude for all their colleagues-- except each other. Headmaster, in his final address before a transfer to Munich, described the circuitous path of his career from failed med student to school administrator; parents understood. By contrast student speeches were witty, irreverent and suitably sarcastic. Remarks in English from the guest of honor, the Governor of Kanagawa, were pithy and pertinent to the host country.

      After 90 minutes the red-robed graduands strode to the stage for the handshake and leather bound diploma in two languages. High School Principal introduced each by name with a sentence about future plans, covering an enormous gamut  ("Interpol agent," "science teacher," "pharmacist," "stock broker," "ski instructor," "model," "artist," many "don't yet know"). Musume expressed the desire to perfect her nihongo in order to become an interpreter and translator. After another musical interlude, hats thrown high,  59 international students embraced each other in a sweaty group hug and little ladies with trays served bottles of mineral water and Coke. A final nonalcoholic toast with everyone raising a glass of Appletizer, and finally in their status as graduates the whole gang took off into the cool wilds of Shibuya not to be seen again until long after sunrise.

Rainy Season (tsuyu)

      Full attendance of five ladies in gray tones around the table for English Conversation on the Wednesday that marked the start of rainy season. Composer-san, 15 minutes late as usual, has been in the kitchen since 5 AM stirring vegetable soup and preparing obento (lunch boxes) for her grown daughters and husband-- isogashii (busy).  Two ladies slipped out of raincoats (one black, one white). With musume (daughter) about to graduate from high school, I circulated a prom photo. How grown up Western girls of 18 with lipstick appear! Thanks to Hollywood, our group has witnessed proms on the silver screen. Nihon no onna no ko (girls, literally : little women) are mere babies! Musume has an enviable alabaster complexion, they noted. (Drugstore shelves are laden with skin whitening products.) Like Princess Masako, I revealed, I needed medical intervention to have a baby; I pulled out the book I wrote 10 years back that describes my adventures in fertility treatment.

     "What is the English word that describes how you must feel now?" asked obaasan (grandma) of five. "Grateful" was the best my limited vocabulary could muster; nihongo offered a richer variety of adjectives (kangai, bugai) for feelings of joy, pain and reaching a goal after much hard work. Current events provided two hot topics: the premiere of Sex and the City 2, and the appointment of a new prime minister. Since Composer-san's family is busy making music, they have no time for television; in fact, she does not own a TV so just smiles broadly as she often does. Who is Sarah Jessica Parker? she wondered. Obaasan objected to the nudity, Chef-san looked forward to the fashions and Traveler-san chuckled at the prospect of light comedy. Driver-san was most informed on the actresses, perhaps since her daughter now lives in New York. All voted Kim Cattrall the most attractive of the bunch.

       As for the government shake-up, the group had high hopes for the new leader, Naoto Kan. "Our last prime minister and many of his cabinet members come from rich backgrounds," said Chef-san, leading to a discussion of the idiom "born with a silver spoon." Humorously, Kan's unofficial slogan  is "Yes we Kan." Obaasan elaborated: "Mr Kan comes from a regular family and his wife is very intelligent. We call her the Japanese Hillary. Every night she debates with her husband and he usually loses." Then why isn't Mrs Kan prime minister? I carefully posed. Obaasan replied," It is not in our culture." In the US we tell girls they can grow up to run for president, why not here? "Our lifestyle will change," was the consensus of these accomplished, well-traveled women. What of the Sex and The City roles? "Yes, we have more career women in Japan now but...it is a slow process." Yet how quickly the past 18 years have flown! At sundown tomorrow parents of 50-odd students will attend Yokohama International School graduation ceremony.

Hotel Okura

     What the Waldorf-Astoria is to a New Yorker, the Hotel Okura is for the Tokyoite: a landmark a bit past its  prime yet aging gracefully. No lobby exudes more glamor than the Okura with its circa 1960 design by Yoshiro Tanaguchi. Vis-a-vis the US Embassy by Kamiyacho eki, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton feels at home in the low building with its wide hallways. Hotel workers in kimono beckon visitors to the next elevator, bowing until the closing doors firmly meet. For decades the Okura has hosted the June program of the bi-cultural ladies social club. Last year the Empress addressed the assembly in tinkly tones to honor the 60th anniversary of the club; this year a boy band improbably called Le Velvets (not a typo) serenaded guests.

      John and George Astor, flutemaking brothers from Waldorff, Germany, later fur merchants, built the Park Avenue hostelry. Baron Okura Kihachiro (1837-1928) of Niigata prefecture, a weapons dealer and an avid collector of Oriental antiques, endowed a museum as well as the luxury hotel in Toranomon. Japan owes their car culture to his son, Kishichiro (1882-1963),  who attended Cambridge but turned to race car driving. Hai, the Okuras would have approved the pearl bedecked ladies filling the banquet hall. At the head table board members welcomed honored guests such as Mrs. Okada, wife of the Foreign Minister. When the prime minister resigned last week, Mr. Okada was briefly considered for the slot but remained in position.

     "How do you do, I'm Midori," introduced my neighbor at the head table, as she turned out a co-founder of Ikebana International and widow of "Mr. Navy," a key member of General MacArthur's team sixty years ago. Japan is too hot in summer, she confided, which is why she will soon head out to San Francisco.Sending the ladies into summer vacation in the right frame of mind, Le Velvets (not a typo) belted oldies such as Frankie Valli's "You're Just Too Good to Be True" and, more incongruously, "O Sole Mio." Coffee was my cue as VP to stand up, thank the president and, on behalf of the assembly, proffer the standard silver photo frame (monogrammed). Only 48 hours now until graduation evening at  Yokohama International School.    

  


    

Count Kabayama's Granddaughter

     Funny thing about living abroad is that names don't ring a bell to the foreign ear. For example, to a New Yorker "Rockefeller" rings a bell (former governor Nelson, his missus Happy, Japan Society, etc). Serving on the board of a Tokyo ladies club founded in 1949 at the suggestion of Count Kabayama, the tip-off is the fellow board member who identifies herself as the Count's granddaughter. Despite her lineage she is homesick for Manhattan. "It was heaven to live there," she confided in the type of gravelly voice that betrays a former smoker. "In Japan wives are never included in business dinners but in New York it was just the opposite!  What fun we had socializing with American colleagues. And what fun I had filling the closet with bargains from Woodbury Common. I do remember thinking once: Not another dinner at Le Cirque! How spoiled I was."

     When the count's granddaughter extended an invitation for tea in Hiro-o at Paper Moon, with another shop on East 77th Street, the only answer is: Hai. (Many NY eateries have Tokyo outposts, enabling the former Manhattanite to satisfy her appetite for the Big Apple.) Portions and prices are American style. Although our gracious hostess gained two stubborn kilos this year, she suspended her diet for one afternoon of reminiscing about her family. The owners of the patisserie greeted her warmly, exchanging a few words about the sudden resignation of prime minister Hatoyama this week as well as his righthand man Ozawa. The count's granddaughter lamented today's lack of statesmen such as her grandfather. "Our leaders need to be decisive," she said, like a true New Yorker.

     Bites of cake alternated with bitesize tales of how John D. Rockefeller and Mr. Kabayama (as he became after 1945) co-founded International House in 1951, an active cultural center just a stone's throw from the Manor. Typical of Meiji era well-to-do nihonjin, all the Kabayamas studied in the US so it came as no surprise when in 1929 his younger daughter, Masako, made a love match with a Cambridge graduate by the name of Jiro Shirasu."My father moved us to the seaside resort of Oiso after the war, since Tokyo was completely burned to the ground," recounted the Count's granddaughter. "I was playing in the garden one day when a jeep pulled up and out stepped General MacArthur. He was the first American I ever met." Nihonjin know of Mr. Shirasu as the man who dared to talk back to MacArthur; at Cambridge he became an expert debater, which served him well with the Supreme Commander for Allied Powers (SCAP).  Digesting the story and the rich cake, the afternoon closed with a promise to meet for a second slice of Mille Crepe at Paper Moon on E 77th Street.

The Gotoh Museum in Setagaya

     "Would you like to visit the Gotoh Museum?" invited tomodachi san, referring to the family-owned gallery in the southwest corner of Tokyo known as Setagaya ku. "There is a calligraphy exhibit and afterwards we can stroll through the garden." Hai, the automatic answer to every question, meant a thirty minute ride via two trains to Kaminoge eki on a summery morning. Tomodachi san brought two parasols since Tokyoites never allow the sun to touch their skin. A short walk through tree lined roads led to the Gotoh, formerly the private home of a railroad magnate. In another part of town visitors flock to the Nezu Museum, once home to another railroad family. With train lines privately owned in Japan, railroad families collect items that the government deems National Treasures and Cultural Properties that train travelers may enjoy for a price not much more than a train ticket.

     Shodo (the way of writing), the ancient art imported from China, has no Western equivalent. Poems on exhibit currently at the Gotoh date from the Heian era (ninth and tenth centuries); mounted on patterned textiles they hang vertically like window shades. Impressive that the paper and legible, vivid ink are a thousand years old. As tomodachi san translated, our voices lifted a notch triggering the security guard to request that we keep down the volume. Outside in the garden, visitors are free to speak at any decibel. On a slope, Japanese stone lanterns of different designs lead downwards; my favorite was the "snow viewing lantern." Beyond the hill lies the Tama River, dividing Tokyo from Kanagawa, the neighboring prefecture of which Yokohama is the capital.

    En route to tomodachi's home for a spot of lunch we passed the last remaining farm and even a vineyard; both used by NHK television crews when seeking local color. In her large garden tomodachi has many fruit trees including the native biwa (loquat), in full bloom now. "Here, try one," she offered, peeling it. Resembling an apricot, it is a closer relation to the apple. Lunch included many tasty treats from the garden; as we ate in the formal dining room, her ancient mother-in-law busied herself outside with weeding. The meal ended with the presentation of a furoshiki (cloth) wrapped box: a calligraphy brush from Tokei-ji, the temple of the family and a refuge for battered women since 1285. Ichi go, ichi e (one time one meeting) she wrote on the card, the slogan of tea ceremony. Our singular chance to spend an afternoon together properly savored, only five days remain until the Class of 2010 say farewell to Yokohama International School.

Getting Naked Together

    Hot topics at English conversation this week: Minutes earlier Mr. Hatoyama stepped down and reports came out that the Gores untied the knot after four decades. Eleven on the dot on a Wednesday at the Manor transported three sophisticated ladies out of shoes and into self-assigned seats around the table. Composer-san arrived typically 15 minutes late, while family illness kept driver-san away. "We are so embarrassed about our lack of leadership," said obaasan (granny) of five, echoing local newscasters. Hatoyama-san's bow exceeded the minimum 15 degree angle, which reflected the gravity of his apology. Promising to move the US base off Okinawa torpedoed his term after a mere 10 months; the skirmish between the Koreas underlined possible consequences. A samurai would have faced seppuku (self disembowelment), while Hatoyama may be faced with a life term in academia. As heir to the Bridgestone Tire fortune, can he understand the average nihonjin?

    Al and Tipper led to the question of the Clinton marriage. "How could President Clinton remain in office after such public embarrassment?" posed chef-san. "I could not forgive my  husband." Faced with evidence of adultery, they agreed that a prime minister would step down without an argument. The issue is the shame, not the cheating: Japanese couples often remain under the same roof for financial reasons, while leading separate lives (divorce rate is a mere 3%).  Without revisiting that unhappy chapter of American history discussion moved on to the verb "to flirt," which did not translate directly. The performer Tamaki Koji , a well-known womanizer, is considered to have a psychological problem, since playful banter with the opposite sex is not part of the local culture.

      Thanks to Mr. Milne, this week's installment of Pooh-san included the adverb "modestly." How surprising for Westerners to find that nude public bathing is widely practiced in the form of onsen (hot springs). People of all ages --even musume-chan (daughter)!--indulge in group nudity for the pleasure of sitting in ofuka with strangers of the same sex. After showering and washing off, with only a washcloth as protection, the onsen goer hops into the mineral water. Yakuza (gangsters) not welcome, which means no one with tattoos. How often do the ladies at the table visit onsen? "Never!" said obaasan, who is so thin that she fears critical eyes. Chef-san and husband head out of town to the outdoor onsen, where she admitted to holding the washcloth modestly in front. Composer-san and Traveler-san admitted to a healthy devil-may-care attitude about stripping down and enjoying the company of naked friends in the pool. Not much time for soaking in onsen before the graduation ceremony at YIS on the 10th.

  

Seven Lucky Gods

      Born Shinto, die Buddhist, is the conventional pattern in Japan. In between seek guidance from the Shichi Fukujin (Seven Lucky Gods), which includes one goddess: Benten-sama. She's got a lot on her plate as the protector deity of knowledge and the flow of creativity, specifically words and music. With temples and shrines dotting the town, Tokyoites in search of spiritual guidance are well covered. Unlike Western places of worship, paying respects Japanese style takes place out in the open. Up the hill from the Manor the small temple provides what appears like a small booth with statues and flowers. The worshipper pulls the bell rope to alert the deities to a human request, bows twice, claps twice, prays and takes a final bow. Tossing a coin into the money box is the polite thing to do.

     For supplicants with specific needs there are issue appropriate temples. Writers and musicians, for example, would do well to head to Tokyo Tower. In its shadow sits Benten-sama's temple, Shoren-ja. Created for a Tokugawa princess of the Kanei era (1600s) on the first and seventeenth of each month all are invited in to stimulate the flow of creativity. Stepping gingerly on the stone path, the altar to Benten-sama is flush to the end of a thirty foot long tunnel carved into a hillside. Candles light the curved path, which requires a flashlight for proper navigation. (During wartime Benten-sama's tunnel was a safe haven.) For best results leave an offering on the altar next to the melon and melon sized onion; a pound cake and a tin of loose tea made a nice balance.

    Although the temple is a stone's throw from Kamiyacho (site of the 1995 sarin gas attack) even the nihonjin in a group from the academically oriented women's group were astonished by this secret treasure. What good fortune that after some prodding, the California-born daughter-in-law of the resident priest generously invited our crowd. Ushered into the small temple building, we stepped out of our shoes and squatted on the tatami mat. Ottosan (father-in-law) made a few opening remarks, including the fact that he never anticipated his son would marry an American. After sharing many ancient relics, all the visitors did our best to bow properly upon our exit. Out on the street it was business as usual as the Number 97 headed to Shibuya and the month of June barrel s along to graduation day at Yokohama International School.