Tokyo

First let me say that I admit that I haven't seen all of Kyoto or Tokyo so my comments are cursory to say the least, but as one tourist observation I think that Kyoto is far more congested than Tokyo. Many of Kyoto's streets are as wide as Tokyo's sidewalks and on them are cars, bikes, and people all traveling at vastly contrasting speed. It's madness in motion. Bikes don't belong on sidewalks, but if I were a biker I wouldn't want to be in the streets. It's dangerous with the amount of cars and I don't think they have room for bike lanes. It's a conundrum for the bikers and the pedestrians.

Sunday we went to Harajuku to a flea market and to see the young Japanese dressed in their fantasy outfits, but the most far out character was a middle age man standing at at a train stop before Harajuku. I can't remember all the details for I only saw him for a couple of seconds before the train left the station, but if memory serves Emi and I well, he was wearing frilly, pastel colored feminine clothes above his waist and shorts below that look more like underpants than anything else. His legs definitely were in need of a hot wax job. He stood there as if he was like everyone else; he wasn't but no one gave him a second look. My mouth dropped until it hit the floor. Even in weird San Francisco he would have captured everyone's attention. He was obviously missing a few alphabets like from B to Z..

The real reason for going to Harajuku was a flea market at the Togo Shrine. It was cool. We expected it to be larger but it just made it easier to get through. Emi bought old material and a 15 foot cloth carp. I bought a cast iron teapot. I thought of buying an old Hashizo Okawa movie poster, but for $80 I thought it was a bit expensive for a frivolous want and the thought of transporting all our purchases back home limited our actions.

In the same area they happened to have several middle school bands marching and playing. To my surprise one group was playing “Anchors Away”. I commented to Emi, “What's next? Halls of Montezuma?” Not to be denied, they indeed did play the song. For being so young the bands were very good. Remember when they taught music in our middle schools? What a loss.

I didn't mention that our accommodation is Tokyo Konkokyo church. It's like having our own apartment. On Sunday there was a big fall festival with lots of people, talk, food, and drink. It was the last item that got to me. I started with a glass of beer or two, a glass of whiskey, and then went to the drink of choice, sochu. Another church member was staying with us for two days and he was a drinker. After everyone had left we kept drinking, discussing the Konko religion until he fell asleep. The next day he was gone, the memory of our words of wisdom, a blur, and my stomach a mess; it wouldn't even hold down a morning cup of water and tea. I only wanted to stay in bed but we were meeting my son's wife's family. I went but I ended up sleeping on their couch, the shame of it all, but the nap must have helped for when we went to dinner I was able to eat. The food was delicious washoku (Japanese food). I didn't eat as much as I would normally have; there was so much. Throughout the day I was on a fast, afraid of what the consequences would be if anything entered my stomach, but I did eat, survived, and appreciated all the good food. The snow crab was so tasty. I've had it at home, but it's not good there. In Japan it is great. Everyone was drinking sochu like I was drinking water and I was drinking water because I had already drank my quota of sochu the night before.

The next day the minister's wife took Emi and I out to lunch. I was giving a warning when she said that today was a good day for lunch because the sky was clear. We took a taxi to a collection of tall buildings. My fears were coming home. We went into the tallest building..into the basement and I thought, “Thank you God.” Are you beginning to get the idea that I'm afraid to go any higher than 20 feet off the ground? Well I am, but let me say that I am a functional acrophobiac. I can even find a sense of excitement being high above the ground. But inside my psyche is always screaming in terror. So I groaned in fear when we got into the elevator located in the basement that was used exclusively for the Skyhigh Restaurants. Turning my back to the elevator's only window, the one that gave the riders a clear view of the ascent, I tried to stay calm all the while my ears were popping from the change of altitude. Getting off we had to get on another elevator to take us up one more floor to the very, very top to Bice Restorante. You'd think that the restaurant was one of those mountain temples of Shikouku. And then of course our table had to be right next to the window. Our host, being a good hostess, pointed out all the sights from our elevated position. The room was warm but it wasn't the reason I was sweating. “So can you see way over there? That's Chiba.” “Way down there? Oh I mean way over there. Do tell, What a great view,” I said with a frozen smile. It was as if I was saying, “Oh root canals? I love them. Can't you tell by the glassy look in my eyes?” When the waiter came over to ask what we wanted to drink, I reluctantly but quickly ordered a Scotch. I didn't want to add to the expense but it was either drink or bolt. I must say that after 3 drinks I was rather calm all things considered. I even looked out the elevator all the way down. I wanted to see salvation come rushing up to me. I could have kissed the ground after we got down. The lunch, by the way, was Italian and just exquisite. To give you an idea the first dish was sea bream fish carpaccio served on boiled eggplant with dried tomato and black olive pesto. I'd read it in Japanese but there's kanji that I don't know and then there's that crazy katakana...like do ra i to ma to. Emi and I do not eat in this fashion at all, so it was a real treat. Two days of fine cuisine, it is more than I ever expected. Dinner was more typical of our dining...ramen, but good ramen. We went to the restaurant through advice given to us, and we were so impressed with the broth...gourmet food for the average man.

Another day is almost over, making it another day closer when we will be back home. I try not to think about it. I treat each day as if I was still walking, accepting each day for being just one more day in my life, appreciating that one day. We both want to be home so badly but will only focus on the present day. Sounds weird, huh? A lot of people would be envious of our stay here, and all we want is to be home.

But tonight was fun. We went to Roppongi district tonight to deliver a t-shirt to the owner of this tiny bar where our daughter used to go to when she was living in Japan. It was a chore to find but we succeeded after calling our son at 1am for information on how to get there. The owner wasn't there at the time so we went to find a place for dinner. We walked and walked trying to find our kind of dining. Just before we dropped in exhaustion I spotted a open air restaurant where it was crowded and noisy. It was filled with blue collar workers and suits. It called to us. It was great, noise, good food, drinks. It's name was Uohirosuisan, just in case you're in the neighborhood and you're looking for a good place to eat. After we returned to the Train Bar for a nightcap. A lot of expats go there. It was interesting to be talking English again and nice. At one point there was a commotion outside and so I had to go see what the fuss was about. It was a TV crew doing interviews with Americans, asking what they thought of Obama as president. “Are you asking what I think of Obama,” I ask intrusively., “Are you American,” they ask, obviously seeing that I was Asian. “Am I American? Are there bears in the woods? Of course I'm American.” Dressed in my red aloha shirt, I was either American or just weird, or both. Convinced that I was American they asked for my opinion. “Obama? He's my man! I am so happy that he won. Not that I hate McCain. It;s just that he's a hawk, and he'd stay in Iraq forever. Now Bush, he's a...I can't say the words on TV.” “Yeah you can,” shouts a fellow American in the crowd. I laugh and the interview is over.

One more day in Japan and we spend it with Emi's ocha teacher.
She is so nice. Her daughter, Reiko, did ocha for us in the late afternoon, and she did the ceremony again for us in the afternoon. Lunch was tonkatsu, pork that was so fatty that it melted in your mouth.

Today Itsuko took us to Roppohngi Hills, a new shopping center that is totally science fiction. Not to be out done by her mother who took us to the restaurant in the sky, she took us to the tallest building in Tokyo, 52 stories into the atmosphere to enjoy the view. I did my best to appear normal, but ever once in a while especially when I walked to the window to test my mettle an involuntary groan would emit from within me and I would have to gulp down several lungful of air to recover (Of course you know this is the first step before an anxiety attack). At one point a crow flew pass the window, and the sight of a crow so high was so incongruous to my way of thinking that the panic in me almost escaped. In the end, there wasn't an earthquake, and the building didn't collapse, and we made it down to have lunch.

That night we went out with 3 female Tokyo church members for dinner. The dinner was again lovely, beyond description. Better than the meal was the manner in which these woman were treating the one male present. I felt as if I was the lord. They ordered anything that I wanted and poured my sake so that it was never empty. I told Emi that she wasn't a real Japanese wife and she laughed. The truth is that I'm very happy just the way Emi is. I don't want to be pampered. Life is perfect as is. What else would I say? Emi does read what I write.

There is only tomorrow to go through. The next day we leave in the afternoon. Both Emi and I have a cold and I have still one toe nail to lose. I hope I survive to get home. We are both so tired. Having a great time but can't wait to get home.

For the last day we went to the sumo gift shop, had chanko (sumo food), and then went through the Edo Museum. Emi and I are Sumo fans, so it was of great interest to us. And the Edo Museum was having a special showing of ukiyoe (Japanese prints). I have several prints and like ukiyoe, which is why we went. Our son's wife's mother was our guide. Later we met the father and went to a restaurant that served shark's fin ramen. It was soooo good. The Watanabe's are shinsetsu, honto desu nee.

And so ends our Japan trip. I still haven't reflected on the walking segment. On a few occasions I have spontaneously thought of it, but have not lingered there. But when I have skipped over the idea, I find it emotional. I will find an appropriate time and place to contemplate the significance of the trip. For now I am resting and trying to get over a cold that we both caught at the end. Jaa, nee.