Heckle and Jeckle

     City dwellers in most urban areas are accustomed to sharing their space with unlovely pigeons floating about the streets in search of scraps. In Tokyo pigeons are the rare sighting. Instead, the sky is populated by packs of super-crows that would make Hitchcock proud. From the tops of buildings they boldly caw and swoop, and seem to have memorized the garbage pick up schedule. To outwit the karasu (crows) attractive blue netting is thrown over the plastic bags to keep the powerful beaks from breaking into the delicious refuse. Crows are resourceful, however, and what better way to spend their time than breaking into the net?

    A daunting pair of crows by our window evoked the Terrytoon characters Heckle and Jeckle.  One Brit and the other a Brooklyn crow, Heckle and Jeckle were always faced with unlikely scrapes. Tokyo crows seem equally well equipped to survive as the TV pair. Suki-chan admires the karasu from the comfort of the indoor window sill, as do the other pets in the Manor. Certainly, the native crows stand taller than the average cat-chan. The ravens prowl freely, only challenged by a flock of buzzards that nest by Shinagawa Station.

    Last week a pair of spot-billed ducks took up residence below Nino Hashi (Second Bridge) in the Furukawa. Shujin (husband) said: "They seem to like this neighborhood as much as we do." The occasional heron or egret show up at high tide beneath a road as busy as Broadway, and seem pleased with the quality of fish. Soon the gray bulbuls will leave town and we will be relieved of their infernal squeaking, which reminds me of the sound of a dog toy.

     San kan, shi on, the saying goes (three cold days, four warm ones). The weekend falls into the cold cycle, which is mixed news for the marathoners. By the time we meet John Wood and hear about Room to Read, it should have warmed up a bit.    

        

Five O'Clock Chimes

     London relies on Big Ben, Tokyo on its 5 o'clock chimes. To insure that the public announcement system is operating (in the event of earthquake), every afternoon at five a melody wafts through the ku (borough). In Minato-ku ("Harbor" borough) the tune begins with a tinkling sound. If information has to be broadcast, we locals are tuned in to how the system works. "What a charming touch for the government to alert the public that it's cocktail hour," a Brit once remarked. How Pavlovian I am: The first little ringy-dingy reminds me to lift a glass of wine. Campai!

     All day the nation has been riveted by the rivalry between Olympic skaters Yuna Kim (Korea) and the hometown girl, Mao-chan. Extra forces across the street have been guarding the Korean Embassy, which is normally under assault by the right-wing faction. Demonstrations are not the unruly affairs typical of the West but organized and contained. Protesters drive "sound trucks" to the Embassy and, from the privacy of the van, use loudspeakers to vent their spleen, to use Baudelaire's term. Since the police are always informed to expect the protest, they are out in force with batons and riot gear. Meanwhile, the "sound truck" parks at the appointed site and shouts away. A decibel measuring machine insures that the protesters do not exceed the maximum allowable. The demonstration lasts no more than five minutes, and as the truck drives away, it blasts militaristic tunes.

      On the other side of the Manor stands the quiet, unloved Australian Embassy. Surrounded by a tall gate, it has the look of a high security prison. One lone guard sits at the front office below a frieze of a kangaroo. Down the hill lies the overgrown Italian Embassy, into which I was once invited by the Ambassador's wife. The interior is a bit worn and the large garden is home to a family of feral cats. "We shop at Costco when we have state dinners," Signora Ambassador confided. Supermarkets sell tiny portions, just a single stalk of celery or three spears of asparagus. What a contrast to Roma!

     Tonight's email includes a link from Nikoli Puzzles of the Sudoku Fun Day. I read that a pianist took top honors at the crossword contest in Brooklyn last weekend. John Wood will be coming to town for the marathon on Sunday and for a fundraising marathon. But the expat community is not as hearty as it was even one year ago. The Manor is half empty and continuing to empty out.        

  

Restaurant Aquavit

     When New Yorkers tire of sushi, we can find a taste of home in Tokyo's backyard. Grand Central Station has exported a landmark: Pan roasts are on offer at the Oyster Bar in Shinagawa Station where it's yen for dollars. Red-checked table cloths, vaulted ceilings, solid tableware, every detail except the decibel level and rude waiters. No need to bellow across the table since diners in this Oyster Bar speak in low tones. On sunny days request a table on the patio. Like Metro North commuters Tokyoites can grab a bite and catch the JR (Japan Rail) home to Yokohama, for example, only 18 minutes by Express.

     On this spring-like Thursday, Eating Out Group took our monthly luncheon at Restaurant Aquavit. The three course prix fixe (Y 2,500) includes a bottomless glass of iced tea. Not exactly a prewar mansion in the East 50s with a wall of water but a 21st century mansion with a glistening fountain outside the front door, the double height ceilings open to a room that would be at home on the Upper East Side. Conversation settled on the Olympic skaters. "They don't have the desire to win," observed I-san about the three young women representing Japan. "Not like Yu-na," she added, referring to the South Korean rival. Nods all around about today's spoiled younger generation.

   Next subject was the public apology aired on TV this morning by Toyoda-san for his company's defective cars. "He was not supposed to be president of the company yet, " I-san declared. "He was not ready." More nods.  This is followed by a discussion about Ono Yoko-san (Japanese names are said in reverse order from gaijin). "Yoko-san and I are both born in 1933," piped up the oldest member of the group. Then I-san recounted a magazine article about the affluent Ono family that included family photos. "Yoko-san's mother was a beauty, " she said. "Yoko-san takes after the father." Continued heads bobbing around the table.

     Before the Room to Read event next Wednesday, my inbox reminds me that I have promised to hold a Crossword Coffee at the Franciscan Chapel next Monday. That leaves me only three days to prepare. Time to dust off the notes from the last solving seminar I held five months ago.

Adventures in English, continued

     Eleven on the dot on Wednesday morning means a parade of elegant English speakers ring the doorbell. The Manor's attentive building manager reserves guest parking for the Mercedes driver who lives down the road in Shirokane (white gold).  Suki-chan greets the ladies, sniffs their shoes as they step out of them in the genkan (entry hall) then retreats to a bedroom for a 90 minute nap. Coffee and cookies are on the table since speaking English requires fuel.

     Predictably, we discuss Algeria's neighbor, Tunisia: One member just returned from a visit to that offbeat destination. Pharmacist by training she is an archaeologist at heart. In a nutshell: thumbs up for Carthage, thumbs down on food and nothing worthwhile in the souk despite masses of sheep. "You have to tip the ladies who work in the toilets!" she remarks, eyes wide open. Living in a world without tipping, this is hard to digest. Next topic: the Olympics. Poor Akiko-san, the skater who suffers from anorexia. Does she have a chance against her two team mates, not to mention South Korean star Yu-na? Sad faces all around. Thirdly, we touch on the Tokyo Marathon, next Sunday. "Abe-san will run," mentioned the Shirokane resident (referring to the wife of the prime minister before Hatoyama, Aso and Fukuda, going back to 2007).

     Returning to Mr. Milne's magnum opus, the chapter on Kanga and Roo features a series of exciting adjectives (namely, fierce, splendid  and husky). Naughty Pooh is trying to abduct Roo, which is a treacherous subject for a group of mothers. How often Milne uses the verb "fidgeting"!  Today I notice that rather than illustrator Ernest H. Shephard's original drawings are called "Decorations" on the title page. Dare I reveal that this is news to me?

     My inbox has photos from Sudoku Fun Day to be included in the Tokyo American Club magazine. Shock, horror, not all the winners are pictured so there is some discussion about the layout. Secondly, there is an update about E-books, which are still not available in Japan but for purchase at the US Army Base. Next Wednesday John Wood will tell us why he left Microsoft. Rather than dream up original opening remarks, it's time for a visit to the hairdresser.

Charming Sale

     What a scrum in the Motomachi part of Yokohama as the Charming Sale opened for business tonight. Loads of tempting handbag shops, the aroma of leather poured down the avenue. Twice a year the Charming Sale is unleashed upon bargain hunters. Last time I scored a Kitamura purse, the local label. Not sure why the sale is dubbed "charming," but shoppers behave as if mesmerized. Each store sets up shop outside along the pedestrianized main street. Could the sudden onset of mild spring weather trigger this fever?  

     How lucky that L-san was free to meet for a glass of wine and nibbles at one of the many chi-chi Italian places in an alley off Motomachi. She orders the fastest item on the menu and the waiter delivers an array of appetizers displayed on the plate like pieces of a delicious jig saw.The trattoria had  "Breakfast at Tiffany's" from 1961 projecting upon the wall, with Japanese subtitles. Audrey Hepburn rules, with her photos plastered all over Tokyo. "The Children's Hour" and "Sabrina" are on cable TV at least once a month. No one can argue with Hepburn.

     Up the hill we rushed for the opening night of the concert series at Yokohama International School. The seniors who are studying Higher Music for the IB (International Baccalaureate) are set to perform. What a nice way to spend the evening listening to two attractive young gentlemen, one of whom has been courting our Astrid-chan for two years. His rendition of a Japanese song was heartbreaking in its delivery. Both boys showed great composure as they sing and strum their guitars into the uncertain future.

     Tonight's inbox has multiple emails from the Tokyo American Club Library about all sorts of business, nothing about our Room to Read event. Very possibly only 30 members care about literacy in the Club.

Navigating

     Keep the Emperor safe, promised the samurai. This promise resulted in zigzag streets from Tokyo Bay to the Imperial Palace designed to confuse gaijin (foreigners). In fact, these city planners did such a thorough job that in the 21st century even nihonjin get lost in this maze of 13 million souls. Every household stocks a Tokyo City Atlas or two. Mine has a post-it note with the scribbled phrase: Ma yo i mashita (I am lost).

      When punctuality is the rule the dress rehearsal counts. The day before the JLPT (Japanese Language Proficiency Test) in December, for example,  I made the journey to the testing site. Via Shinjuku, one of the busiest train stations on earth, I traveled via Keio Line to Chofu Eki then trotted eight minutes to the University of Electro Communications as sketched on the map provided on the registration form. On exam day, we test takers marched like lemmings to campus in 12 minutes. Thanks to the prior visit, let's believe,  I managed a passing grade on the three hour ordeal.

     My morning challenge today was to find a remote residence in Nakameguro, a fashionable part of town, after a long hiatus. (Three years ago our first guest, Alice, coerced me to venture to this area for a memorable lunch at a sushi place wedged beneath the railroad tracks.) Map in pocket, I followed the Meguro River, turning uphill at a restaurant called "Snobbish Babies" without a false step. Afternoon challenge was a little trickier as I had to find W-san at Nishi-Magome, South Exit, my first visit to this station. Subways run on a schedule, accessible online at Jorudan Route Finder; each platform posts a chart that advises as to the optimal car to board depending upon destination. No excuses!

     As the sun broke through the clouds W-san led me along the busy road to Ikegami Baien where the plum trees are on display. For Y100 we admired the blossoms, preferring the darker purple variety, following the throng of other admirers. Tokyoites like to capture photos of flowers with their cell phones, focusing on the most elegant one.  Above the plum tree grove perched a cemetery, the final resting place of many well-known Tokyoites, according to W-san. Pale green warblers with white eye liner (mejiro) flitted into the plum flowers, and one gnarled tree would have inspired Van Gogh. After a cup of macha (green tea), it was time to return to my part of town.

     My inbox includes an email promotion for Mr. John Wood's talk about Room to Read. Fingers crossed that a week from Wednesday the room will be full.

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Muji Magic

          For years the Kensington High Street Muji was our go-to shop for gel pens and notebooks. In Tokyo the familiar kanji (Chinese character) on shopping bags gave the fleeting impression I could read the language. "You mean Muji Ryushi," corrected acquaintance-san: "No label items." In Ginza the selection is much more than stationery. Over time it's been a source of lamps, toiletries, cardigans and yet another lunch set (prix fixe) in a city preoccupied by the next meal. On a Saturday afternoon young families and ponytailed older couples stop for a bite before browsing the spring line (gingham and light blue). Tokyoites follow the calendar rather than the temperature in how they dress, which  means boots in nigatasu (February).

           "Muji shampoo? Chotto...." observed my hairdresser. Rather than offer a negative opinion, which would not be polite, general custom is to shrug shoulders and utter this word. When offered seconds on slimy or greasy foods, for example, the combination of action plus word come in handy. I quickly switched to the other familiar brand (Shiseido) with better results.

         Tokyo winter, typically a series of blue skies and mild days, ends on a windy note that harbingers spring. During this wet week my feet have been grateful to my daughter for introducing "hot packs" to our family.  Sold five pairs to a bag (four is taboo) give them a shake, insert in shoes and enjoy warm feet for five hours. Hot packs come in other shapes for various uses attached into jackets or gloves. After the dusting of snow the other day, they helped with negotiating the zaka (hill) by the Manor.

           While outdoors remains frosty, things are hotting up at the ladies social club. After a long telephone conversation with the nominating committee I declined the position of president, preferring to continue in the Joe Biden role. In the case of Japanese candidates, as with the late Queen Mum and her gin and tonic, the initial request is often turned down but accepted upon second request. How surprising for this American to receive a second call in which it was revealed that the Japanese ladies are happy in supporting roles but do not want to lead. With our stay in  Japan very possibly coming to an end, I could only answer, "Chotto...."

         Meanwhile our Room to Read event is only half-full. Participants in next Sunday's marathon will have three days to rest before an evening of John Wood, which could be a good thing.