We Interrupt Our Usual Programming to Provide This Emergency Message- Typhoon

Posted on September 24, 2011 by Emily Cannell

An emergency message from the US Embassy is always an unwelcome addition to one`s inbox.

Next came an email from school announcing its closure and the imminent arrival of the elated Offspring and their celebrating compadres. This was more distressing than the typhoon as I had a full day planned and nothing in the pantry to keep the hostiles fed for the next 48 hours.

Andretti-san and I scurried around Tokyo getting provisions for the typhoon sit-in. The rain waited for me to run in the grocery store and come out to the street before it launched the assault with an initial big, wet deluge. Through the gloom I could see Andretti-san laughing as he locked the car doors barring my entrance.

Within minutes the street was flooding.

The wind started about 3:00.

The trains stopped running about 6:00.

As usual, anything dangerous grabs the attention of Offspring #1.

Offspring #1   “Can I go ride my bike around?”

Ouisar   “No.” Incredulous at this inane request, I was proud that “Where did you leave your brain, son?” did not pop out instead.

Offspring #1  “Nothing`s going to happen.” Disgusted with my superior ability to suck the fun out of the thrill seeking afternoon he had envisioned. Visions of being blown across a field while held three feet off the ground by strong sustained winds were dancing in his head. Yet another adrenaline induced high to add to his growing repertoire.

Ouisar   “Branches come off trees- then fall on you- then kill you dead.”A visual would have helped make my point.

Offspring #1   ” Like that`s going to happen.” In his head, “Mom, you ignorant slut.” He parked on the balcony 3 feet from the trees now spinning in the wind.

I knew it was just a matter of time before the proof would prevail thus preventing me from releasing those annoying words, “I told you so.”

The Yoyogi Park walkway was a green carpet of fallen leaves.

A large tree had fallen across the pathway to the park, its neighbor uprooted and leaning precariously toward the ground.

I prefer for the pictures to say, ” Look what could have happened while you were being blown hither and yon….”

Um hmmmm… Did I say that?I never pass on “before and after” shots in the National Inquirer. These aren`t as entertaining as celebrities transforming themselves in to cartoon characters but certainly the trees also felt like their beauty lost when the typhoon relieved them of the pink blossoms.

After the typhoon:

Just like you, I have often wondered the best way to scour a park of fallen leaves. A witch`s broom:

Somewhere during the chaos, an earthquake occurred. I didn`t notice the increased shaking in the building nor did I hear the tell-tale squeaking of the ceiling preceding a quake since the typhoon was providing all the sound effects necessary to help one feel the power of mother nature.

A phoonquake.

Never did I think I`d experience an earthquake and typhoon at the same time. Andretti-san claims the wind caused the Richter scale to register a magnitude 2. In an earthquake that small it`s very difficult to tell if it is an earthquake or just Spouse walking down the hallway.

The Offspring have been complaining that the number of typhoon days are much fewer than snow days causing them to attend more school than before we arrived in Japan. To this my only response is, “I`m hoping the next country in which we live has a shortened summer.”

A scarier thought than a typhoon seen through the eyes of a teenager.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

Borneo Sounds Great! Now where the Hell is it?

Posted on September 19, 2011 by Emily Cannell

A long time ago, in a land far away, Spouse and I concocted yet another scheme designed to pique the interest of our Offspring in lands and people beyond the cul-de-sac. Offered at the feet of these future UN leaders was a trip anywhere in the world at the age of 13. I recall fondly looking forward to the long hours spent as a family researching locations and cultures, perusing the shiny blue globe for exciting destinations.

Offspring #2 gave two criteria and then delegated the sourcing back to me.

“Beach and rain forest.” May a swarm of ravenous blood sucking insects invade the skirt of  the 6th grade teacher who sparked an unwavering interest in saving the rain forest and its carnivorous inhabitants. I would have preferred a more relaxing destination- like Hawaii.

The Venn diagram she`d concocted narrowed down the choices significantly. Given our location in the Eastern Hemisphere, we – I – chose Borneo.  And so began the journey to Borneo whose exact global position I was uncertain. Offspring #2 then amended her criteria to include an Eco Friendly experience filled with sightings of Orangutans, Pigmy Elephants, snakes and all of the other biting forest inhabitants studied during a semester long immersion in rain forest education with this same cursed 6th grade teacher.

Still fuzzy on the exact coordinates of Borneo, I discovered two previously unknown facts:

1) It`s part of Malaysia

2) It`s south of Japan.

Map Courtesy of Lonely Planet

I downloaded 20 useful phrases in Malay and Offspring #2 and I headed to the airport for the overnight 7 hour flight. Mt. Kinabalu popped out of the clouds as we began our descent in to Hell`s un -air conditioned playpen- I mean our eco-friendly adventure.

I turned from this to the immigration form which announced,

“Drug traffickers will be hanged.” Would the 50 individually wrapped packages of Maxalt  needed for the upcoming headaches in my suit case cause an unfriendly welcome?

Traveling with a teenager having just experienced her first red eye flight meant a low key first day. We immediately jumped on a city tour of Kota Kinabalu.

KK`ers were very proud of the first stop. A circular government building built around a central pillar. We and several hundred Japanese and Chinese tourists dutifully took pictures and I resisted the urge then- and now- to make unsavory comments about its size and shape.

Luckily for OS#2 and I, other photo ops presented themselves at this location which were much more entertaining.

Unlike Indonesia, the population is predominately Christian with the balance rounded out by a 40% Muslim contingent. Offspring #2 got her first look at “The Floating Mosque.”

Accommodating up to 10,000 worshipers, this house of prayer makes it easy to donate by providing an ATM beside the front entrance.

We admired the unique display of modern art displayed at a park near the waterfront.

The art work so well represented in our photo montage was all that`s left of a building that was abandoned early in its construction. I thought the cab driver should dab them with paint and charge admission.

When in Asia, temples of various denominations are always part of the hit list. Kota Kinabalu`s famous Buddhist Temple, Puh Toh Tze, was the next stop on the whirlwind tour. Unlike Japanese temples, this one packed in all the diety`s each decked for a full frontal color assault.

A Giant Goddess of Mercy.

Several Greek Goddesses welcomed us on the path to Buddha.

A crouching lion provided endless photo opportunities all of which were irreverent, therefore not included here.

And finally, the Happy One himself:

One couldn`t help but leave feeling happy with all this giant, jovial celestial loving around.

And of course, the piece de resistance – the beach.

A peaceful end to a very long day.

The next day our real adventure started.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 28 Comments

Hoist the Sails- Kentucky`s Not Just for Horse Lovers

Posted on August 29, 2011 by Emily Cannell

What do two tired middle-aged sisters do when faced with the dilemma of entertaining 4 kids each capable of rendering an adult speechless in under 60 seconds and too big for confinement within a dog crate? Hoist the sales and throw them all, protesting and hurling insults at being separated from electronics, on an 80 foot houseboat with a hot tub, slide, diving board and 4 bedrooms.

The Nose and I didn`t give much thought to the consequences of this idea conceived over a glass of wine while the hooligans tore the house up as background music. Escape from the yelling, fighting, dogs barking and door bell ringing accelerated the execution and curtailed the planning. Feeding the banshees, immersing ourselves in wine and threatening the plank to those who dared mutiny was the all-encompassing strategy for bliss. “Takes action slowly” is not the usual criticism aimed in our direction.

A floating playground for kids and mothers, all of whom were now completely wild after 2 months off from school, the Nose and I l envisioned an evening spent on the fly bridge engaged in something like this:

Muffin tops safely concealed below the water line, kids nowhere in sight, dudes left safely at home as they bring the kid count up to six, and add a cocktail. Our plan.

Which unraveled as soon as we left the dock.

A 10-year-old boy instructed us on the boat`s operation. I adopted the name “Maverick” on my practice radio call to the dock while the elementary schooler navigated us off the dock. Another boat picked him up and we were alone. It all sounded so simple when he explained it.

The Nose, having come by her name due to her ability to navigate, was the obvious choice as captain. With a hearty “aye-aye Cap`n” I proceeded to the fly bridge to fire up the hot tub. Operating it would have been so much easier if the Nose was driving in a straight line. Not really understanding the instruction of,” Make small corrections while driving,” the Nose immediately drove the boat in a circle causing half the water to slosh out of the hot tub. Another hard turn left emptied it. Clearly she needed my help.

As any responsible older sister would, I poured a glass of wine, pulled up a chair, and instructed her on proper driving techniques.

“Do you want to do it?” she barked.

4 junior volunteers shot up their hands.

“Why yes I would,” handing over the wine to her.

I demonstrated my captain`s skills by driving in two perfect circles at full throttle.

“Aunt Ouisar- you SUCK at driving!” the deck hands were vying for my position.

“Maverick re-assigning command to Captain.” I handed her back to the Nose and threw out the wine.

Someone had to communicate -sober- with the 5 other house boats now blocked from marina entry by our circuitous attempt to get out. After 30 minutes of circling, the Nose finally got the boat pointed toward the main body of the lake. Driving in a straight line was a technique neither of us mastered. Like a side winder rattle snake, we moved in a semi-forward motion down Lake Cumberland.

Our goal was to drive 30 minutes toward the dam and find a place to dock inside a cove for the night. The hooligans mistakenly thought they had input rights. One harassed the Nose to drive, one harangued me to re-fill the hot tub, one begged to pull over NOW, and the fourth told us how to properly drive the boat. As wine was no longer a viable option, I considered ear plugs while watching the Nose snake her way down the lake surrounded by the four spawn who now resembled a squawking band of obnoxious crows fighting over a worm.

Unfortunately our crisscross pattern down the lake meant getting to our destination half as quickly. We picked the first available spot. It looked like a fine place to throw the junior mates overboard.

The only task separating us from the hot tub was tying up the boat. The Nose dove in with a rope and the objective to tie it to a tree. She tied the first of four ropes while I attempted to keep the boat in one spot during the process. Successful after 10-15 failed attempts, she moved to the second rope on the opposite side of the boat. A successful tie down occurred at the expense of the first rope- which promptly came untied. After the Nose swam in circles around the boat for two hours we realized the cove was too wide to tie up the boat. But the Nose had gotten a fantastic work out in the process.

The cove was too narrow to turn the boat around so I backed out of the cove and into the main body of the lake. It was then I discovered my superior skill at piloting a large boat in reverse. We proceeded to the next cove- in reverse. Positioning a hooligan on each corner of the boat to give directions ensured they were all still on the boat.

The rental process didn`t involve many qualifications- any in fact- therefore the Nose and I reasoned these houseboats must be of hearty design. I turned the boat around and beached her on the bank of the next cove. It made the tying up process easier.

“Man Overboard” announced the Captain`s decision to open the slide. All kids were now happily scaring the fish at which point I begged the Nose to drive off and leave them. Not only would she not abandon the minions, she slid in.

As is usual for kids, once the slide wore the butts out of their bathing suits they were ready for a new form of entertainment.

” I`ll give you something to do- Swab the decks- I only want to see `Elbows and Assholes`.”  I`d been waiting all day to throw around my Navy slang. They took to the news with shouting, stomping feet, and waving burning stakes eventually turning to the Nose who promptly came up with a preferable alternative.

Rocks.

Apparently the Nose found a geode during her tying excursions on the bank. The kids hopped off the boat like rats on a burning ship in order to be the first one at finding the next specimen. Soon the stern was resting at the water line under the weight of the geodes and I was getting concerned the bottle of wine would never make the trip to the hot tub.

The round float made a perfect rock basket

The kids were soon more focused on getting the “best rock” than Indiana Jones on a quest. To get them back on the boat, we employed a few of  “Mothers` Techniques for Submission.” Understanding “Monkey See, Monkey Do” and “Make it Look Interesting,” the Nose and I entering the hot tub brought them all clamoring over the side of the boat. The hooligans jumped in filling our pool of serenity with water guns, toys, and floats, all the while spilling neon colored drinks.

The hooligans were getting out of hand on a geode induced high. The Nose fired up the grill thinking food would calm the savage beasts. The elbows thrown and Neandertal  manners employed were enough to make any sailor proud as the kids wrestled for every piece of meat that came off the grill. The Captain only suffered one bite which in a twist of fate failed to break skin. Dinner with a table of drunken Vikings would have been more pleasant.

“Time for Bed!” I yelled from the head of the table.

“Aunt Ouisar- it`s only 7:00, ” from the one who just HAD to wear a watch.

Lord have Mercy- I was afraid I`d entered a prolonged nightmare. If I go to Hell it will be filled with eating stuffed bell peppers and reliving this day.

God eventually tired of his joke and allowed more warm water from the hot tub to drain the energy out of the motley crew.

We eventually tucked them in to bunks too exhausted to be scared or beg for another glass of water. Our final moments of that day were spent enjoying the sunset and contemplating new ways of wearing down the hooligans we had released upon the world.

The next day as we made our way home, each kid got to drive. An observer from the bank would have been hard pressed to tell who was manning the helm- an adult or kid. We circled and zig zagged back to the marina.

Where everyone gave us lots of room.

Posted in Moving to Japan, Offspring | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

A Re-Cap- The Previous Year in 7 Posts

Posted on August 16, 2011 by Emily Cannell

One of the awards I enjoy when other bloggers are basking in its radiance is the “7 Posts” Award. This esteemed and coveted honor famed in blogging lore requires the author to highlight 7 posts of note- or not- depending on the category. Lisa of “Notes From Africa,” recently bequeathed this gift to me. In reading Lisa`s choices from her own site I realized that until her blog got my attention, Africa was dead last on my list of places to visit.

So- here we go:

1) Most Beautiful- Alas, nary a beautiful post in my entire repertoire. But, there is one that a few people found funnier than usual. “Upheaval in the Hood- Are You Safe in Japan?”

2) Most Popular- the post on the earthquake in Japan garnered me much undeserved attention, “We`re Being Shaken and Stirred in Japan.” When this post was written, the internet was the only working means of communication in Japan.

3) Most Controversial: Without a doubt, this post rankled lots of feathers. “Is My Muffin Top More Deadly Than Radiation,” led some to believe I was suffering from radiation poisoning when it was written.

4) Most Helpful: In general I`m not a very helpful person, however, this I know. “Confessions of a Light Packer- A Guide.” Nuff said.

5) Surprisingly Successful: Whenever I observe a long line of people I always investigate in spite of the State Department`s advice to avoid such gatherings as it might be a good opportunity for a terrorist seeking a detonation spot.  This post describes my proclivity to see what`s going on no matter what the consequences….. “A Food Peep Show.”

6) Most Underrated: Whenever I think about this episode in my life, I laugh. Heartily. This was one of my first few posts and perhaps underrated because it lacked a catchy title, “Culture Lesson Number 1.” Don’t you just want to jump right in to that one? You`ll gag and laugh at the same time.

7) Post I`m Most Proud Of: This post highlights what every ExPat feels at some point- a battle with homesickness. In this case, the antidote turned out to be extremely ineffectual. “Can a Mouse Save a Middle Schooler?”

Now comes the part where I highlight other blog sites.

One of my go-to blogs every morning with coffee is Tori from “The Ramblings.” In “A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words. A Picture Just Barely Covers it.” Tori transcribes her whacky vacation in words and pictures while we are transported with her. Always funny.

Another of my “Must See” blogs belongs to Piper Bayard and her writing partner Holmes. Piper`s “The End is Near and We Deserve It” series covers topics from the blogosphere that range from the ridiculous to the educational. “The End is Near and We Deserve It- Genetically Modified Cows Produce Human Breast Milk,” is one example of the interesting topics Piper finds-somehow. Always an interesting read.

And finally, Kristen Lamb`s blog teaches novices and experts improved writing skills, provides blogging tips so that people will want more, and explains Twitter so it can be used for good not evil. All the while delivering a laugh or two.

Again, thanks to Lisa at “Notes from Africa” for the nod. Now go see these other blogs while I get my act together and start writing again!

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 25 Comments

Let’s Get Grandmama to Eat it- She’ll Eat Anything.

Posted on July 29, 2011 by Emily Cannell

When in Japan, the host orders food for the group who are then required by the rules of social etiquette to eat whatever fare this person selects. During Grandmama’s visit, I was sure to order japanese specialties which never fail to disappoint when one’s goal involves watching the reaction of table occupants. We started with a dish that Offspring #1 and Andretti-san crave.

Note to self- when the sign pictures octopi, it’s probably a predominant ingredient.

In this case, a dumpling-like street snack filled with octopus. Takoyaki.

Takoyaki Wikipedia

Filled with octopi, topped with bonita flakes, mayonnaise and a takoyaki sauce tasting suspiciously like BBQ sauce, this dish is a love it or hate it. I hate it therefore, I strongly encouraged Grandmama to try it. She obliged by digging in with her usual gusto.

Although it appears inviting and tasty when viewed from above, the inside separates the men from the boys when viewed through a gastronomic lens.

Offspring #1 got a double helping that day.

A promise of a boon to the taste buds lured Grandmama to the next table top delight.

With such a lovely presentation it is easy to ignore the gaping mouth, pointed teeth, and swollen belly laden with guts.

Instructions for eating- the whole thing.

Offspring #1 plunged in biting off the head and torso in a show of gastric machismo. Grandmama inspected hers carefully and decided it was best filleted. OS#1 was surprised to see the insides oozing out once she was finished with the dissection having not seen any in his fish to which Grandmama replied,” You ate yours in the first bite.”

This course was followed by a mystery substance which left us sporting green goatees  no matter how masterful the user of chopsticks.

The vegetable best able to deliver this amount of slimy punch turned out to be okra.

We all passed on this dish while on a visit to Yokohama Chinatown-

Shark Fin Soup

and marvelled at the size of this dried fin- about 5 feet tall.

Grandmama craved a dish called sunomono- thinly sliced cucumbers served in a vinegar sauce. What we learned as the dish was set before her is that sunomono can be served with a variety of ingredients. Hers consisted of tiny fish about half an inch long each surrounded by a casing of gelatinous organic material. No one asked for a taste. Grandmama earned an “A+” in chopsticks as each fish oozed between the tips when gripped causing her to chase each potential bite around the plate.

I know many of you are feeling sorry for poor Grandmama, abused and taunted by her oldest daughter, to which I respond with “Payback is Hell.”

And for the entertainment of all of us, please post your most “challenging” meal – we’d love to see pictures….

Posted in Food, Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 40 Comments

The Battle of Big Buddha- The Clampitts invade Nara

Posted on July 7, 2011 by Emily Cannell

The day Grandmama, the Offspring and I embarked upon the trip from Kyoto, Japan to Nara began like all other site seeing days- breakfast, back pack loading, coffee chugging, whipping the Offspring in order to get them out of bed, ending with the mad dash to the lobby for an attempted  “On Time” Departure. Todai-ji Shrine- home of the Giant Buddha- and World Heritage site, starred as the main attraction for the day’s events. All were briefed on the usual suspects and expected standards for any Buddhist temple- imposing and fierce of face Guardians at the gate, usually the Gods of Thunder and Wind, allowing entrance to both the mortal and immortal, and a location contained within providing healing of various ills.

Little did I know my hurried and cursory review of the Zen gardens followed immediately by unadulterated materialistic admiration of Buddhist symbols for the sake of adding sites to my “How Many World Heritage Sites have I visited,” list the previous day would raise the hackles of those destined to protect the sanctity of this site.

More focused on the uniqueness of the warrior god’s belly button and the male model on whom he was surely based, I failed to notice the raised hand warning us not to proceed. Either that or he was requesting a hose to rinse off the dust accumulated since 745 when the temple complex was erected.

He alerted a special brand of messenger to our presence as we passed.

The alarm now raised, the Sika, special messengers to the gods and ever-present in Nara, prowled the premises in search of the intruders with the single purpose of  blocking our entrance to the most sacred site and home of Nara Daibutsu, or Birushana, the world’s largest Buddha.

The Sika have been known to attack those without pure hearts be they human, jack- a-lope, or cane fisted.

The Sika isolated Offspring #1 in an attempt to scatter our herd thus leaving him unprotected against the now blood thirsty beasts.

Offspring #2, still mad at her brother for not sharing his food on the 8 hour school bus ride home after the earthquake, hesitated to assault the Sika now swarming the defenseless teenager thinking this the ultimate pay back. Grandmama shot a most terrifying “thin lips” look of disapproval to prod her out of the vengeful revelry she was enjoying- her brother now surrounded and alone. Thin Lips scared everyone on the grounds, momentarily stunning the mob of messengers thus aiding Offspring #2 in wrestling the Sika to the ground. Her iron grip so tight on the antlers of the Sika, more from fear of her grandmother than sympathy on behalf of the sibling, she tore one clean off causing the Sika to lie down in supplication and recognition of  her mighty force.

Although defeated, the Sika spread the message that the Clampitts, whose only interest was checking off a list, buying kitsch from the gift shop, obtaining blog material, or posing for photo opportunities, were almost to the temple. Oblivious to the  supernatural forces conspiring against our entry, we approached the largest wooden structure in the world. (The oldest being another site in Nara- Horyu-ji Temple)

Sitting in wait of our arrival was the next deity. Following the instructions written below his grimacing face, all Clampitts and Grandmama performed the healing ritual to injured body parts or maladies by rubbing the statue in corresponding locations. At my touch, Binzuru’s shaku – sceptre – began to glow, a sudden wind caused the red rags representing healthy babies to flutter, and one of the greatest psychic of Buddha’s time turned his eyes downward on our group.

“Ouisar-san, you are a bad, bad girl… In your race checking a contrived list of sites esteemed by man you have failed to appreciate the beauty, spirituality, and solemnity of these ancient homes. You have angered the guardians commissioned to protect Nara Daibutsu. You must prove your worth by completing an impossible task capable of disproving the insincerity within your heart, or suffer banishment from all Kyoto and Nara World Heritage sites which is your fate.”

He was messing with my list. Those were fighting words.

He threw down the gauntlet –or a red shower cap in this case.

Was this a ‘too much time with one’s mother’ hallucination brought on by the sheer stress of prolonged contact with Thin Lips?

“QUIET! Go in the temple. Complete the impossible task – bother me not again!”

“What task?” I questioned.

Binzuru thundered,

“LEAVE ME,”

I consider myself straight forward and direct and always appreciative when a similar sentiment is reciprocated. I found his call to action lacking in clarity and short on specifics.

Given the dire circumstances and my inability to complete puzzles or solve riddles, I needed help. Thin Lips was the only member of our party mean enough to take on supernatural forces and survive to tell the tale.

We shouted slogans to get fired up, pumped our fists in the air, sealed blood oaths to protect our group, and concluded with a jumping chest bump- an old woman and stay at home mom- now pitted against the gods in a fight to the death.

It started immediately. No sooner had we stepped in the great hallway then one of the temple guardians showed himself.

At first I was confused by this master of deception as to the actual locality of his face for his cod piece also sported an evil look.

He was formidable- a huge, terrifying sight. He readied his giant paint brush for the impending battle but the experienced Grandmama was quick to respond. She led with the most powerful weapon in her arsenal, one used to subdue three teenage girls during the 80’s- the double whammy, first a threat to “snatch a kink in his head” followed by the Thin Lips evil stare- he froze in fear. His paint brush a child’s toy versus the thin lips. He hid behind a giant pillar.

A loud organ playing a sinister tune alerted our attention to the next trial. Two more deities on the war path approached. I drew the wooden samurai sword bought in the gift shop. I called upon the energy reserve stored in the extra 10 pounds of fat gained from eating ramen noodles every day in order to persevere throughout the battle.  For a moment the only sound was the swishing of my wooden sword cutting through the air as it sliced back and forth, dazzling them with my swashbuckling skill, taunting them to move forward. They lunged in unison, I  responded nimble as a cat by cleaving their heads, leaving only their anguished looks of surprise behind as witness to defeat.

Further in the depths of the Temple we crept, alert for the mysterious task. It was then Offspring #1 spotted what was most surely the momentous assignment. Several tourists stood stupefied before a pillar, several feet thick. Realization of the task dawned on me and I screamed in terror- one of us had to squeeze through the hole in the pillar, known as the Healing Pillar, which is the size of the Big Buddha’s nostril. A successful emergence would guarantee not only entry to Heaven, but proof that my heart was true.

Only I didn’t fit inside the nasal cavity.

I would have to sacrifice something of great value to avoid going through myself. My first-born. I complied by volunteering him immediately and without further thought. Others wailed and gnashed their teeth as Offspring #1 entered the giant nostril. At first it appeared as if he would be stuck for life, his arms pinned to his side within the nostril, unable to move forward or back. The other tourists, Grandmama, Offspring #2 and I cheered when his head popped through the other side. Well, Grandmama and I did, OF#2 seemed disappointed.

A final deity appeared issuing a trophy in recognition of this great achievement.

I was free.

Free to enjoy the site of the Giant Buddha.

He was truly a “giant.”

  • Height: 14.98 m (49.1 ft)
  • Face: 5.33 m (17.5 ft)
  • Eyes: 1.02 m (3.3 ft)
  • Nose: 0.5 m (1.6 ft)
  • Ears: 2.54 m (8.3 ft)

The statue weighs 500 tonnes (550 short tons).

Exhausting but successful.

I checked off my list.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 32 Comments

The Day of Zen Buddhism That Almost Killed Grandmama – Too Much Kyoto For One Day

Posted on July 1, 2011 by Emily Cannell

A wise man for whom I worked shared insight in to my flawed personality during a performance appraisal for the previous year during which all objectives had been successfully achieved. Although worthy of banner waving, he gently explained a concept describing the manner in which I executed the attainment of those goals and coached alternative approaches. The term he used to describe my award-winning tactics is usually reserved for fighter pilots in the heat of combat -Target Fixation.

Wikipedia defines Target fixation  as a process by which the brain is focused so intently on an observed object that awareness of other obstacles or hazards can diminish.

In the process of accomplishing my objectives I would eliminate, remove, ignore, or run over any obstacle in between me and the objective as I became increasingly fixated on the target, leaving dead bodies and injured parties in my wake. Well folks, old habits are hard to break. The day’s agenda was full, populated with the Hozu-gawa River, the Romance Train, the Sanjusangen-do Temple, the Tenryuji Temple, the Bamboo Forest, and the Golden Pavilion. We hired a cab driver to usher our foursome around until 5:00- a full 9 hours to get our Zen on. My target to see a record number of World Heritage sites during that time frame locked and loaded.

The potential collateral damage sat innocently beside me….

When I left you hanging anxiously awaiting the next pulse quickening post, the boat tour down the Hozu-gawa ended with a protein packed snack in the form of grilled squid. For the other 12 passengers the day was captured, memorialized and ruined by the antics of one Offspring #1, his face blocked out to prevent the Japanese mafia from tracking him down to remove his left pinkie with a finger nail file. Perhaps only the Clampitts and the pink clad man and his wife to the left will savor the following mantle quality still, thinking back on the rapids, the captain splashing us with water and the Offspring’s embarrassment when I retaliated by pretending to push the Captain in the water as he walked along the boat railing to the back.

After much bowing in gratitude and a lunch break, we rounded the corner to Tenryuji Temple- famous for its Zen Buddhist gardens. It was not on the original tour since it sounded so dull, however, Andretti-san kept adding it to the list every time I removed it. Once I discovered its membership in the esteemed World Heritage Club, the arguing abated and the deletion of its stop on the tour ceased. Built in 1335, Tenryuji is the only remaining of the 5 Japanese Mountain Sites used by the early Shogunates to help govern Japan during turbulent times.

I didn’t expect to see this when looking inside. Someone needs a walk around the gardens.

One of these would make a nice addition to the living room for use as a foot stool- and to keep the nieces and nephews in line. Just scary enough to illicit a reaction from the littler ones. “If you get out of bed one more time, Mr. Smiley is going to guard the door.”

Just beyond Tenryuji is the famed Bamboo Forest. Next time through no need for a cab, we’ll just let the mosquitoes carry us up the path.

Really, do people have to carve their names in EVERYTHING? When I find this Stein, I’m going to have a talk with him and his mother- for naming her kid after a drinking mug.

Rokuon-ji- The Golden Pavilion. World Heritage Site #2. Recently re-guilded as she was losing that fresh-faced luster after 700 odd years. Unknown and unseen by visitors, the lacquered inside was also repainted. Unfortunately, the only recent American given an opportunity to see this site, George Bush Sr, declined the exclusive invitation claiming a hole in his sock. No lie. On my part. Whether it was on his only he knows, however, if so, the cleaning crew at the White House needs a cleaning.

My camera heard rumors of a replacement and decided to take “TokyoBlingsblog” quality pictures of the Golden Pavilion.

Nothing screams “Zen” like a waterfall.

Or an exhilarating game of quarters with a grouping of Buddhas.

Doesn’t someone always get frustrated and eventually throw in a pair of underwear?

2:00 PM-I happily ticked five agenda items off the itinerary, two of which were World Heritage Sites, and I’d fed the hostiles.

Grandmama- “I’m hot- I’m going to find a shady spot and sit down.”

Ouisar-san- “Ok, Ike-chan can take you to the entrance and we’ll meet you there in 15 minutes- get some ice cream to cool you off.”

When we found her at the end of the trail, Grandmama made a pitiful Eor impersonation, bucket hat flattened alongside her ears, all body parts drooped toward the scorching pavement.

“Just two more temples!”

Glassy, unseeing shark eyeballs rotated slowly in my direction, luckily she lacked sufficient get up and go to bite. This girl was closer to rolling belly up.

“You don’t want to go home do you?”

Her head fell forward on her chest approximating a nod in the affirmative.

We had lost Grandmama.

One down.

The cab had more breathing room with Grandmama gone. Our next stop was Sanjusangen-do- the formal name is Rengeo-in Temple. Most people know it as “1000 Buddhas.”Originally built in 1164, lost in a fire, and rebuilt in 1266, the current building is original. Technically it’s a National Treasure. I counted it as another World Heritage Site since it should eventually make the list. Number 3- unofficially. Nothing to look at from the outside….

The inside is a cavernous hallway with a fading painted ceiling, wood beam plank studs, and darkness  lit by “candle light,” revealing 1000 solemn Buddhas ( Juichimen-senju-sengen Kanzeonor- Kannon for short) and the 28 dieties placed in front to guard them. The statues are made of Japanese cypress- 124 were made in 12th century, the remaining 876 in the 13th century. The life sized guardian dieties’ marble eyes watch the crowd walk by, ready to pounce at the first provocation.

Can you tell I’m impressed? I can’t even joke about it. How these Buddhas survived 9 centuries without being devoured by the hoards of insect species which were devouring us as we toured the facility was either divine intervention or the incense.

Wikipedia Image- Sanjusangen-do Buddhas

Pictures were not allowed of the sacred images. The images below are from the guidebook “Buddhist Dieties of Sanjusangen-do Temple,” Published by Myoho-in, the Head Temple of Sanjusangen-do, Printed in January 2008, Photographs by Askaen Co., Ltd./Kozo Ogawa, Produced by Askaen Co., Ltd.

The Giant Buddha sits in the center of the hall- also a National Treasure. Guarded again by 4 deities.

With all these Buddhas around, someone is always around to tell a fortune.

Ebisu was the lucky guy- one of the 7 Lucky Gods of Japan – but before he spilled his secrets I received the famous Japanese cross arms of “No Pictures” as I focused on the translation diagram. Offspring #2 recounted the number of times I’d been the recipient of the cross arms – it was a day’s record.

No guts- no glory.

A hash marked list. Three World Heritage Sites. Several National Treasures. All items crossed out with a strong black pen mark. Stuffed back in the purse. One hour left with the cab driver. Ample time for another stop. Temples and shrines peek out from every corner in Kyoto.

“Kids- we have one more hour- we can shop, go to one more site- we haven’t seen a pagoda yet, there’s the place with the famous posing Buddha, and the monkey park, or the sweets- Kyoto is famous for sweets….”

No one turned, just a slow, forward shuffle toward the cab.

“Ice cream. We can stop for ice cream, rest a minute or two in the cab. Then go to Gion street and look for Geisha.”

No response. The cab driver opened the door and gave me an empathetic smile.

“Starbucks then souvenir shopping.”

“Candy. How about candy and then a stop- your pick- I know- a ride in a rick shaw!”

That got a response. Of disgust.

“Are you kidding! Everyone will look at us!”

“Mom- we just want to go to the Ryokan. Please.”

Mission aborted.

A bell tolled somewhere in the Ivory Tower of a Fortune 100 Company. Three witnesses able to tell the tale that retirement had not eliminated target chaser contained within. Oh well- the younger ones might grow in to it.

The cab driver and I dropped the hostiles at the hotel and spent the remaining hour looking for Geisha.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 31 Comments

Hurdling Down the Hozu-gawa River- Grandmama and Offspring In Tow

Posted on June 25, 2011 by Emily Cannell

Every day for the last 14 years, Spouse and I methodically perform a daily ritual known as “coffee talk.” Coffee talk obviously derives its name from the ritualistic consumption of the caffeinated beverage which enables each member to hoist his or herself out of bed, but a more imperative objective of this communion involves the quotidian need to plan that day’s formula for exhausting the Offspring. Spouse and I were delighted with Tuesday’s plan for pooping them out by cavorting through scenic Kyoto via the Romance Train followed by hurdling down the Hozu-gawa river in a boat. We failed to consider the possibility of killing Grandmama in the process.

On Tuesday, we headed West to Kyoto. (For background on Kyoto read here) Carefully plan the trip to Kyoto or risk a tragic final vision of this historic town- face down in a Zen rock garden, choking on incense having overdosed on Temples all the while begging Buddhist monks for french fries and a fully loaded Coke. Then again, it could be we Clampitts have a limited appetite for cultural displays and short attention spans.

After Grandmama’s inaugural ride on the bullet train, we spent the night in a traditional Japanese Ryokan (Hotel) on rows of futons in the single room allotted to our group. The Offspring and I passed around the pamphlets for the “Sagano Romantic Train,” and “The Hozu-gawa River Tour,” and tucked in anticipating the fun ahead. Grandmama was asleep before the pamphlets were returned to the backpack. Almost immediately the most horrific noise produced by a human being commenced. Although technically defined as snoring, this combination of whistles, snorts, grunts, and the cacophony of other sounds emanating from the nasal cavities and mouth area must have another more serious medical definition which described the din we suffered through out the night. Occasionally sleep would overtake one of us until one of her rousing trumpet blasts would jolt us all awake. The next morning we pulled ourselves hand over hand up the railing to the train. A well rested Grandmama hopped on as if assisted by a pair of giant wings.

No other sleep deprived tourists  broke Ouisar-san’s Number 1 rule for traveling. Because all of you have been so supportive of the many foibles I’ve shared over the last several months, I’ll share my Number 1 Rule of Traveling and most secret of secrets: Always get to the park/train/boat when it opens because everyone else is just too dang lazy to be the first in line. As usual, my secret of secrets worked like a charm-we caught the first ride out at 9:07- which allowed us full access to all of the primo picture-taking spots, some blessed by the conductor, others cursed.

Behold.

OK- this wasn't taken from the train, but is a great picture OF the train.

Along the way the conductor stopped for picture-taking.

This, in the conductor’s mind, was a great photo-op, so I sprinted to the middle of the train to get this National Geographic photo moment. It was a competition after all. With the right adjustments, these will probably pass as an authentic Black Bear family from Yosemite National Park. I kept expecting a rousing rendition of “Song of the South” from Splash Mountain at Disneyland as I looked at this family. Can someone remind exactly who these guys really are?

Since Grandmama had been long asleep when the Offspring and I were reviewing the pamphlets, she began to fret when these folks floated by:

To which I said:

“Mom- we’ll be wearing helmets, life jackets, and the wet suits are buoyant so when you fall in there is no doubt you will float. And I’m pretty sure you can touch the bottom. Don’t worry- it will all be FINE. The beer will really calm your nerves.”

The Offspring looked at me- then to her. Back to me. Offspring #2 turned to me,

“Mom….” She was very worried.

“She and I have been at this for 46 years- don’t worry.”

It’s really important to seize these opportunities when presented as they don’t come along that often.

Grandmama gave me the Thin Lips indicating motherly disapproval.

After 30 minutes on the train the terrain flattened. The ride ended when the rice farms appeared.

Our boat really looked like this:

The boat had three men- pushing, steering and rowing. The man in the back controlled the rudder, one in the front rowed, the other in the front ran a long pole along the bottom of the river. He placed the pole on the river bottom and would then run from the front of the boat to the mid portion pushing the boat along the bottom as he ran. Every so often the men would rotate positions. The river has been navigated by this type of boat for centuries. The rocks bare holes from the poles placement to steer the boats away from the rocks when going through the rapids.

Course Map Hozu-gawa Boat Excursion

There were several items of interest not covered on the official brochure- like the triangular concrete doodads below. These are used all over Japan to prevent erosion of coastal areas as they act like sand dunes.

The captain (seated) entertained the entire crowd for two solid hours with a constant banter that rocked the boat with laughter. We didn’t speak enough Japanese to understand his jokes which not deter him in the least-  he splashed us with water to keep us with him.

The deck hand took the river more seriously and was often on the receiving end of the Captain’s jokes.

The spot below now occupied by a lone fisherman was reserved for Emperors and Shoguns throughout previous centuries. Lucky. Although I think he’s either a plant from “Visit Japan” or just learning as only a novice would abandon a baited hook unless retrieving a beer from the cooler.

Lion’s rock is pictured below- the head is looking at you.

It wouldn’t be Kyoto without a Buddha sighting.

The Clampitts will be going down the river in this ride next time.

Toward the end of our trip a floating “conbini”- convenience store- pulled up. Just in time. The Offspring and Grandmama were famished from the hour and half journey down the river.

All noses pointed toward the grill master on the conbini boat. At that point, we would have eaten anything- and we did.

Grilled squid.

It was fantastic and all over my shirt by the time we hit the dock.

We hadn’t killed Grandmama yet, but it was only 12:00 when we got off the boat. We still had the whole day left.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 36 Comments

Runners- Oh And You Clampitts- Take Your Mark

Posted on June 20, 2011 by Emily Cannell

Eleniloporto from “Cross Cultural Insights” outlined the differing hierarchy of needs between ExPat progeny and their parents during the time long after the moving boxes have been recycled and all can locate the drawer containing the silverware, provided the family is still using it. As the Offspring settle in to an unfamiliar location void of friends, parents, especially of teenagers, enjoy a temporary reprieve from pariah status and once again engage in familial group activities without a blunt object being held over them first. Running rarely makes the cut of “Top Ten” in most clans, however, the Clampitts require a high level of activity to reach an endorphin induced Zen state which is what allows us to coexist peacefully, therefore it has always been carved in to our lifestyle. Offspring #1 is preparing for a running event in August which includes several 10k’s as training. His first attempt at a 10k. Offspring #2 is taking the summer off and is instead documenting the events from behind the video lens.

The earth shook when he asked if I would like to join him in the 4, four, FOUR, events. Quite a touching invitation from my reclusive 14-year-old who uninvites me from all school events, begs me not to laugh out loud, and declares I’ve ruined his social life and my reputation as a cool, uninvolved parent when I confirm other parents will be present at parties ahead of time. Some memories of High School won’t die no matter how grey the hair.

“I’d LOVE TOO HONEY!!!” I cooed between gritted teeth. Are all parental bonding opportunities good? Where do I draw the line with this kid? I’ve already dropped over the sides of mountains.

The elation of being asked quickly turned to the deflation of facing the reality of the details.

I run to avoid smacking old ladies across the face because they walk too slow. Without getting my daily 40 minutes, I’m a threat to drop kick every Yorkie in Yoyogi Park. This daily investment keeps the neighborhood safe. However, I don’t cover very much distance. I had to call in Spouse for a consult.

Ouisar-san-   ” I want to finish within the top 30% of my age group,” I might be slow but am a believer in establishing goals.

Spouse-   “Easy- you have 3 weeks to get ready and you haven’t run longer than 3.5 miles- you don’t want to hurt yourself. Maybe your goal should be to run the whole time.”

A fly in the ointment.  He’s always so sensible. And since he belonged to an Olympic feeder track team in college, knowledgeable in his sport.

Ouisar-san-  “Ok- top 50%.”

******************************RACE   DAY   ******************************

The photographer couldn’t get enough of us. We were the only foreigners entered in the race. If I could just keep up with Offspring #1, maybe we’d get a catchy nickname- “Bremily, Bremis, Bro-ly, Bremily-san, Bremirichiro.” A smiling mother-son duo at the finish line. Even though Offspring #2 wasn’t running, the photographer seemed to take quite a few pictures of her. Until I gave him the, “You’re now treading on dangerous ground there, hombre,” look and spat through the space between my front teeth on the ground at his feet.

The course was a grueling up hill battle straight up the side of Mt Fuji:

A man sold fresh gas-producing snacks which I heartily encouraged everyone to purchase for the benefit of Offspring #1’s placement.

A fervent group of runners, Japanese vans, cars, bikes and rickshaws dumped hundreds of participants at the starting line for a 3k, 5k, 10k or 20k. Spouse, Offspring #1 and I discussed strategy for starting in a crowded pack. I voted to elbow, bite and kick through the competition based on the looks of these gritty street fighters:

Offspring #1 moved to the front while I hung back reviewing once more with Andretti-san the word for “Help” in Japanese.

I never heard the official start but the crowd surged forward in a slow jog which I assumed to be the beginning. The last time my name was on a 10K roster, I was 23, smoked 2 packs of cigarettes a day, and had stayed out until 3:00 AM the night before. This would be a fascinating  experiment- which exerted a greater influence on a person’s demise- youthful indulgence or the revenge of age?

Can you spot me in the pack below?

Those Stanford MBAs at Nike know how to get a girl through 6 miles of sustained boredom.

Lance Armstrong announced my mileage, since runners aren’t famous enough to provide commentary, an English woman gave chirpy updates on my pace, and another woman snuck in motivational details on the distance to finish which more than once prevented me from flinging myself in the river. The music function on “shuffle” worked famously until it shuffled in my Japanese language lessons. Hearing “Language Lesson 19: At the grocery store,” was the 10K equivalent of running directly in to the path of a Super Bullet Train speeding along at 200 mph which then leaves you broken, twisted and bloody for the other runners to then run on, not over, toward their path to victory.  I yanked the IPhone out of my arm band to get back to the music.

At that point, I was at the head of the pack. Only Lance Armstrong and a woman who cheated by turning before the marker were ahead of me. (Documentation provided by Spouse)

Sporty Spice announced my lightening pace, unknown woman said I had 1.5 miles left. My pace was well under my personal best. Wait- something wasn’t right- I looked down again. My arm band was open and MY ALIEN REGISTRATION CARD HAD FALLEN OUT! S**T. One’s Alien Registration card is supposed to be on said person at all times, to be produced without question to any requesting authority, at any time, no excuses. I had to get it. I had to—-turn around. Back track. CURSE the luck. Why didn’t I give it to Spouse when I handed him that wad of cash? Oh yea- it was in case I got separated from the 1000’s of runners all running on a straight path along a river- and back- I’d have ID.

Ahh, the agony of defeat, I careened down the path, my skis wheeling one over the other. Err, I ran back along the course, crouched along the ground looking for the card. I found it about 3/10ths of a mile back.

As I dreamed of new ways to entertain myself during the additional 6/10ths of a mile I gifted myself, the Fates sat on the bank of the river spinning yarn, laughing and making that sign which means “F U” in Italian. Nasty Bitches.

And then our eyes met. That devil.

We saw each other at the same time. I had him beat by 20 pounds of fast twitch muscle but the wind of evil propelling this demonic twister along his path ensured our closeness. A heated battle with this seasoned samurai warrior ensued. His repeated attempts to intimidate and weaken my resolve by running on my heels or shoulder only encouraged me to run faster. He didn’t care that I was female and I didn’t care that he was over 90 when I finally cut him off at the gate:

His wife gave Offspring #2 the Stink Eye as she videotaped my sprint to victory ahead of my new nemesis.

By the time I crossed the finish line, Offspring #1 had changed clothes, drank two bottles of water, eaten a snack and was waiting by the car. His time was around 36 minutes. Mine was just  higher than that.

The test results show that smoking, drinking and staying out all night slowed me down more than age. Although it is possible I ran that race drunk which makes this test null and void.

 Take aways for the next race:

1) Offspring #2- investigate camera angles that make my legs appear toned, lanky, and at least three inches longer. I’d like to be described in the future film adaptation as that “Tall drink of water,” vs that “shot of bad moonshine.”

2) Arm Band contents- keep the IPhone and lip stick, ditch the Alien Reg card.

3) Offspring #1- great job, next time please tie me to the back of your jersey. Our combined speed should still be respectable.

4) Note for Andretti-san- would he be willing to ride a bike and hit me with a bamboo stick when I lose focus?

Offspring #1 and I are running again next weekend. During the week, we’ll compare Nike notes on the IPhones, discuss what runs felt good, which ones didn’t, if carb loading is fact or fiction and whether to eat oatmeal or eggs for breakfast. Good times, good times.

When I consider the pros and cons of moving children overseas, I agree an addition to the pro side is the development of a stronger core family-primarily out of necessity for the children. Could there be in life, as in physics, an equal and opposing force to every action?

God I hope not.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Can the Tokyo Tower Entertain Two Teenagers, A Driver, A Mom and a Senior Citizen?

Posted on June 14, 2011 by Emily Cannell

Every visitor to Tokyo shares a common experience when driving in the from the airport. The driver will point out the Tokyo Tower:

The appropriate response is not, “Who cares?” but “Fascinating radio tower! Just how tall is it?”

The Tokyo Tower will then wink at you from around every corner to which your host will turn to you and say,”There’s the Tokyo Tower!” as if it were the spot housing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

RUN FOR IT!

Yawn.

As many of you know, my mother is in town.  Nicknamed “Thin Lips” for the ability to compress both lips in to one thin line producing a pure evil expression usually directed at Sister 3, the Tourist. Yesterday we had an afternoon to fill, so after 9 months of avoidance, we headed toward the Tower of Tedium.

Unlike other famous viewing spots, the Seattle Space Needle for instance, the view from the deck is similar to the view from the ground- lots of squares. Although I did find the grassy patch on top of the building in the foreground of interest.

As if the management sent out a broadcast in anticipation of our arrival, several holes were cut in the viewing deck for the entertainment of the Clampitts. We started slowly by taking pictures of the parking lot below.

Then we stepped on the glass.

Then “someone” had to jump on the glass to test the safety….

This went on for several minutes as we jumped, laid, and ran over the glass. Until Andretti-san got carried away and was asked to stop by the manager. Next time he’ll have to remain in the car if he can’t control himself.

We were elated to discover that for an additional 2400 yen another elevator would lift us even higher for what would certainly be more fun and an even stellar view. We clamored aboard the elevator where a woman’s voice warned us that the ominous, never before heard sounds we were hearing were “nothing to fear, but just the every day, normal creaking sounds of the elevator. ” We pushed each other out of the way getting to the windows, pressed our noses, hands and mouths against the glass in anticipation of the untold mysteries yet to behold from above, and were met with this:

From a higher vantage point. The patch of grass on the roof was about the same size.

We turned tail for the elevator headed in the direction to the Tower’s myriad of attractions on the 4 lower levels. Back down the world’s creakiest elevator listening again to the woman informing us not to fear, which is scary in itself. How about greasing that thing with a good dose of WD-40? I mean, these guys wash the windows… Luckily for this man, I intervened as Andretti-san and the Offspring were headed over to shake the ladder.

In a generous mood, I opted for the “Combination Ticket” which bought entry in to Nippon’s Playland, the Wax Museum, and Nippon’s Magical Dungeon. We didn’t have time for the aquarium.

Only the Japanese can build a Magical Dungeon which can keep Japanese, English, Korean and Chinese speaking children, 2 teenagers, a Senior citizen and 2 adults entertained. It took all of us to get out of the jail in which we eventually found ourselves. Hint- one of the bars is rubber. Don’t panic when your purse gets caught, one of the nice ladies will remove it once the screaming hits a certain decibel.

The entertainment in the wax museum involved identifying the celebrities. Elizabeth Taylor and Planet of the Apes were recognizable due to the costumes, but who is the woman with the top hat?

I think Hannibal Lector snacked on Madame Tussaud’s Jodie Foster below…
There were a few dead give aways:

My favorite was this famous wax bust:

In an attempt to cover all target audience bases, a “haunted house” was included. I preferred my last experience at the 4-D theater in the Camden Aquarium being spat upon and rocked in my seat by Sponge Bob Square Pants to this jiggly 60’s version which left me nauseous from blurred vision.

No amount of cajoling in either language would convince the uniform clad ticket clerk to sell one of the masks. Perhaps she knew I had plans to re-enter the Magical Dungeon as the “Jailed Avenger.” Maybe that would’ve only been funny to me.

A uniquely Japanese experience, all attractions in Japan have a themed cartoon character. Please meet the Younger of the two Noppon brothers. We spent much of the day discussing two things: What exactly ARE the Noppon brothers and who is Noppon?

We did leave with a few souvenirs to place in critical locations around our home for an authentic Tokyo feel:

Bottle of Water

I feel obligated to include at least one fact in this post. Like a radio dial, the Tokyo Tower is divided in to sections based on frequency.

I have another one- the lightening rod developed a lilt during the March 11th earthquake:

Unfortunately, the Tokyo Tower will be usurped in popularity on the skyline tour at the end of 2012 by a new baby sister- the Sky Tree.

But I can’t imagine the prestigious and snotty Sky Tree will hold our attention like the Tokyo Tower with the beautiful kimono’d women gazing out the windows:

or the artistically displayed souvenirs:

No- these are things magic is made of- Bring it on Sky Tree. The Tokyo Tower will be hard to beat and is a definite stop on the Clampitt Tokyo Tour.

Posted in Moving to Japan | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 136 Comments