Watch out Silly Wabbit…Fuw’s the Fashion in Tokyo

Posted on December 2, 2010 by Emily Cannell

I admit to complete ignorance of the East prior to my arrival including the influence of Japanese fashion on the rest of the world. Tokyo ranks 5th with New York, Milan, Paris, and London. More specifically due to an area called Harajuku which is situated just blocks from the Clampett family apartment providing one Ouiser with hours of entertainment. Of course at the expense of others. The Harajuku girls are world-famous in haute couture circles and Sundays are filled with photographers snapping what will be the latest trends.

The temperature dipped below 60 degrees and the fashionistas in Harajuku simultaneously coordinated this season’s trendy look- fur – everywhere on everything. Here’s how the market research works for the big players.  All major labels- Gucci, Missoni, Chanel, Dior, etc- have flagship stores along the main street- Omotesando- but stretching the length behind snakes another street- choked by crowded shops where preeminent fashion houses “plant” samples without identifying branding in order to test sales appeal. While Japanese matrons and well advised tourists shop along Omotesando, the hip Japanese shop trendy Takeshita buying up hidden predictors of the “newest trend.”

Brace yourself.

Fur leggings- not since the advent of UGG has anything made the leg look shorter and fatter. The Japanese solve for this by limiting the use of fur leggings to heels over 3 inches.  It just looks like a wax gone bad,”Oops- family emergency- got to go- can we finish the rest of your leg later?”

Men also wear fur- usually on the cuffs. Another interesting fashion accessory for the men is the purse. A full on hand bag. Not just for Europeans anymore.

Let’s see, where else might one put fur? Obviously- A tail…

An example of how one would wear a tail- as a tail.

Another interesting combination. Shorts, hose and boots. A crowd favorite. In fact, if one is under 30, it is de rigeur. Somehow, there are people out there who manage to pull together this hideous fashion crime against humanity. Didn’t the Munchkins in the Wizzard of Oz wear a similar outfit?

No other country can accessorize like the Japanese. I spit in the faces of the French with pitiful attempts at embellishing an outfit with a lonely scarf. True genius is exemplified in rabbit pelt stoles, lenseless glasses, and always a trinket, bobble or hat upon the head thus elevating one’s stature and elongating the body. GENIUS I say. The Japanese pull it off, I approximate a deranged gypsy.

 

The fur is really flying now- suitcases also get covered. I experienced love at first sight when the pink purse pawed at the window but the grooming costs every 6 weeks really stopped me dead in my tracks.

Fear not-every infinitesimal piece of rabbit is used- some bit of rabbit is better than nothing.

The rabbit is most revered in Japan- perhaps that’s the root of the covetous need for close rabbit contact. Always present in Japanese folklore and history. ” If you chase two hares in the field you will catch neither” the saying goes.

If you ask me, this rabbit looks scared- very scared. He’s the only one I’ve seen not on someone’s body. It’s just a matter of time before he’s draped full body around someone’s neck, maybe instead of a button to secure him around the neck, his mouth could just clamp down on his cotton ball tail. I’d add ear rings to his cute floppy ears for an added splash of color this holiday season.

 

 

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Eating Out- the English/Japanese Dictionary is Useless

Posted on December 1, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Eating out in Japan can be tricky- unless you’re a Clampett. Study the picture above. Lesser Ex Pats could be intimidated. Notice the curtains- hanging down in front means the restaurant is open. Signage in Japanese means no English menu- the handy Japanese/English dictionary will be useless unless speed flipping and recognizing over 4000 Japanese characters and two Japanese alphabets to decipher each individual word happens to be a hobby.

I’ve heard stories whispered in the back corner of the Tokyo American Club of establishments in Tokyo closed to the “Gaijins.” A bad word for foreigners. It goes like this. American walks in to a restaurant and says, “Do you speak English?” The Japanese waiter crosses the arms in front of the chest and says forcefully, “NO Eigo” which means “NO English.” HORRORS- the Japanese person just answered the question- however, the paranoid American took that to mean, “No English-speaking person allowed.” I find it interesting the question was asked at all. Do all foreigners enter a restaurant in Japan and ask for a customized menu or translator for each individual language?

Living overseas takes bravado in many ways, in Japan certainly regarding food. Our preferred method of entry to a non- English-speaking restaurant is with huge American smiles plastered on our faces- who can resist a friendly face? We are an overwhelming brood- my Spouse is big, I have big hair and big wedges, my kids are big, and we always look big in a doorway not built for a size big family. All heads turn our way. There we are – smiling and big. Usually we bring the restaurant to silence. Bigness does that. Now it’s the restaurant patrons staring at us, us smiling at them.

All expect us to ask for the English menu- in English. We say, “Konichiwa.” A few chuckles. Japanese find it funny when Americans say Konichiwa. A waiter ventures over and talks in Japanese. We have no idea what is being said. Our smiling, big heads nod regardless and Spouse holds up 4 fingers. He could be saying “No Gaijin” but undeterred, we Big our way in.

We are seated and I order 4 waters in Japanese. The waiter is pleasantly surprised. The menu is passed out- all in Japanese.

Trial and Error produced the following effective ways of ordering when one finds oneself illiterate and in need of ordering food. Potentially effective in France where one could use a dictionary but wanted to further the “Americans are too lazy to learn the language” perception.

1) Least preferred method and one used by amateurs: Point and order. Just take a wild guess and point to a random entry- see what happens.

2) Most preferred: “Osusume wa” Chef recommendation order the chef’s special choice. The Japanese only cook seasonal dishes- be it fish or vegetable. Brown nosing the chef is a best practice in all countries and guarantees gastronomic quality- just one caveat, the contents might raise Western eyebrows.

3) Standard fare in Japan- the ubiquitous “Set Menu”- Always available and for unknown reasons- in Japanese it is “Setu menu”- Easy to order!

4) Look closely at the top picture, there is a picture menu. Many of the less expensive restaurants offer picture menus or amazing wax replicas of the food served. Point and order.

Japanese chefs concern themselves as much with the taste of the food as with the presentation. Dishes are chosen specifically for the food to be served and how each will look with the others chosen. Dishes coordinate versus match. Leaves, flowers and condiments are chosen to add color and usually the entire meal is served at the same time on a platter- the Japanese way.

Most of the restaurants with Japanese only menus aren’t used to serving Western customers, however, to enjoy true Japanese cuisine and hospitality, visitors should muster the courage to venture inside. Spouse and I visited an expensive, traditional Japanese restaurant for our anniversary. Not a word of English spoken. Spouse and I couldn’t tell what type of Japanese food was served. A true disadvantage.  The curtains were drawn however the door was shut. Was the restaurant open? We decided it wasn’t when 10 chattering, 4 ft 5 in Japanese women got off the elevator and swarmed on by. We followed the jubilant herd. We made quite an entrance- I walked on the wet entry stones in my socks- critical faux pas- and Tom walked head on in to the ceiling causing a flurry of concern among the kimono’d waitresses.  They couldn’t help but forgive us the momentary dip of zen in spite of the major mistake made not 3 feet in to the restaurant for we kept smiling.

As usual, we nod answering “Hai”  (yes) to everything spoken to us as they chatter in Japanese saying we know not what. A menu arrives. Spouse and I look around trying to decide the fare- Sushi, traditional Japanese, Tempura, Shabu Shabu- no clues but a large grill. There’s only once choice in this situation- the “setu menu”. Over the next two hours, several courses of mystery dishes are set before us. All delicious. After the third course, a cocktail coaster is set before us with a carefully written translation of the food we are enjoying. A waitress had taken the time to look up the foods, convert the Japanese characters to English letters and painstakingly written them in child- like prose to English. For the next 9 courses, cocktail coasters came with the translations. So unused to writing in any form the only paper available in the restaurant was a cocktail coaster. This epitomizes the blend of a dining experience with Japanese culture- focus on the customer, genuine concern for others by placing oneself in the others’ experience, attention to finite details in the cuisine, decor, and mood of the food and surroundings, all presented in a quiet, peaceful setting. Rendered unable to walk after eating 12 mini meals, Spouse and I drug ourselves to the curb to hail a cab. As we left, the waitress escorted us to the curtains and bowed low showing gratitude and thanks. We tried to reciprocate but our protruding stomachs got in the way.

Around the corner, TGI Friday’s was doing a hopping business, all the blonde kids hanging on the fake Santa.

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Thanksgiving in Karuizawa

Posted on November 29, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Thanksgiving and time to get out of Tokyo. According to Offspring #1, snowboarding season started on November 15th- we were late for the slopes. Nagano, home to the Winter Olympics, is a short 2 hour bullet train ride away. Preparations began.

Last  year, in a fit of budgetary brilliance, I bought Offspring #1 a new snowboard at the end of the season at a discounted price. I have patted myself on the back ever since. Being a Mensa candidate, I elected not to buy boots and bindings anticipating that foot growth would occur potentially at an unpredictable rate. This turned out to be true as Offspring #1 had a foot growth spurt of 4 sizes. What I did not anticipate was that his Sasquatch feet would grow off the board rendering his new snowboard useless.

In a further twist of fetid fate, Offspring #2 grew 4 inches and her new snowboard from last year was now too short. Luckily for me and unfortunately for her, Offspring #1’s snowboard just barely fit her. She is now sporting a bloody Jaws snowboard.

While the rest of the Clampetts snowboard, Spouse follows a completely different yet equally rigorous routine. Breakfast with the family is followed by a workout, sauna, spa work, massage, and onsen. Preparation is required. During the planning process, Spouse started training for the onsen. Onsens are natural hot springs occurring all over Japan. In some cases, one shares space with a snow monkey. Spouse, usually the last to return to the hotel, is worn out by the end of the day therefore vigorous training prior to the first outing is necessary. Spouse has been soaking in our sauna tub on the weekends in order to get in to onsen shape and swears it is a best practice.

Our snowboarding choice is the Karuizawa Prince Snow Resort. Only an hour and a half by Shinkansen- bullet train- ski in/ski out- 5 minutes from the train station. Our friends at the Burton store warn us it’s small but the only place open given the warm weather. Rider pulls me aside, “Shinkansen is slow”. This one only goes about 120 mph.

A relaxing ride to the resort on the sleek bullet train. Uniformed women resembling flight attendants pass through the train selling food and magazines. I have a difficult time hearing the station stops but Offspring #1, the Nose of the this generation, knows exactly where we are at all times. Our stop. This couldn’t be it. There’s just one small strip of snow.

The famous Japanese Alps look more like the Poconos. It is now the Clampetts and every other skier and snowboarder in Japan on the only two open runs in Japan. Offspring #2 and I were easy to spot because we were the only two females that didn’t look like this:

The snowboarders jumped off anything that had more than a 2 inch lift to it or over anything that was elevated including the fences. It looked, felt and sounded like Whoville at Christmas. For those of you who give me a hard time about wearing a helmet here is offspring #1. What goes up, must come down, and sometimes the down motion is in the grass, on a metal rail, or in a collision with someone else.

Of course, here’s a rare picture where Offspring #2 and I are casually coming down the hill and I’m upright…

Who’s taking these great shots? Spouse. Having hiked up the hill with his super camera he’s dared anyone to kick him off.

Of course, what better way to round out the day then a gorgeous sunset over the outlet mall next to the resort.

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There’s No Japanese Food in Japan….

Posted on November 24, 2010 by Emily Cannell

It’s true- Teriyaki, Benihana “Hibachi style,” stuffed sushi rolls- all of these traditional Japanese staples are non-existent in Japan. For the Clampett family, this emerges as a blessing since Teriyaki’s sweet, glutinous topping overpowers the flavor of any substance applied to both the edible and inedible rendering it most suitable for the palates of small children being forced to eat vegetables, tofu or chicken. In fact, the Japanese rarely use sugar which makes the use of American style Teriyaki sauce laughable. Most Japanese cooks half the amount of sugar used in cake recipes in order to suit the disposition of the Japanese consumer. The only Teriyaki encountered since our entry to Japan has been at “Freshness Burger” on the Teriyaki chickenburger and hamburgers. An American import.

There is Yakitori- translated means “grilled chicken on a stick.” Yakitori- as opposed to Teriyaki- is not swimming in sickly sweet sauce, however, one must be careful as there are several parts of the chicken served. I of course feel right at home eating skin, hearts, gizzards, and livers they’re just more recognizable to me when batter dipped and deep fried.

We’d been unable to find the real, Japanese version of the Benihana. What would that look like? The famed Kobe beef minus hormones, antibiotics, and pesticides accompanied by a perfectly chosen Sake and perhaps an overstuffed sushi roll with fresh crabmeat, avocado, and other assorted Japanese genre vegetables to further enhance the sushi experience could only be Nirvana in Japan. The Japanese chef would certainly not have the plastic fireman put out the burning onion volcano by urinating water- undignified. I started to ask around for this evasive cuisine.

Oiuser:    Rider- you lived in the US- You know Benihana- I haven’t seen that style of cooking since I’ve been here and I’ve been craving it – what is that called?

Rider:      Chinese. All that knife throwing- grilling the meat- must be Chinese.

What the HELL? Benihana- the traditional Japanese steak house is CHINESE? Turns out that Benihana is actually a Teppanyaki restaurant- food cooked on an iron grill. What we Americans call “Hibachi” is a small charcoal grill in Japan. No one has any idea what “Hibachi” grilling is unless it involves grilling chicken parts on a charcoal grill the size of a platter on your porch.

Sushi- Folks- the sushi we’ve been eating is rotten. Here- each tasty morsel has a texture that melts in the mouth. No chewing required. Each fish species has a unique flavor of its own. A “roll” only contains one ingredient. No such thing as a California roll, Spicy Tuna Roll, Spider Roll- all American inventions.

Japanese sushi:

American Style Sushi Rolls- not to be had in Japan….

So how could this have happened? How could all of this fake Japanese food have made it in to the US? All Americans are required to have a passport but fewer than 20% have them stamped. The Japanese are similar. The Japanese and the Americans are among the world’s populations least likely to immigrate to another country. So many of the Asians running the Japanese restaurants in the US are either Korean or Chinese. Fact.

Next time you’re in a sushi restaurant, greet the staff with “Ohio ga zimus” -say it like one word. It means good morning. If the response is silence or a quizzical look- they’re Korean or Chinese. If they laugh, you should have said, “Konichiwa” Good afternoon, or “Konbawa” Good evening – and they are Japanese. Your sushi will be the best. “Ade getto gazi mas” Thank you.

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I Need a Lift

Posted on November 21, 2010 by Emily Cannell

A Facelift. The Japanese are a non-aging race. Diligent about protecting skin, combined with good genes, healthy diet, exercise and some non-surgical interventions recently discovered at my favorite Japanese super sized version of Target – “Tokyo Hands” I am convinced that my visit with the surgeon has been postponed.

Running every day combined with some lip fitness should keep my pout plumped and my pot belly at bay.

This is for developing the jaw muscles. I didn’t really notice those before. Be careful not to overdue pit bull jowls are only attractive on, well, pit bulls. As is usual for all Japanese items, it is decorated.

My ears have been bothering me lately- sagging down towards the shoulders. This should fix them right up and provide some sans needle acupuncture at the same time.

My nose needs lots of work, luckily I found two products that can handle my beak. One that lifts- not sure that making it more prominent is preferable to the current hooked appearance. The other narrows. My altered nose will resemble a narrow pig snout.

Apparently, pulling it all forward is the ticket to a youthful appearance.

After all this work, I really need some tools to help me relax my muscles:

Being an addictive personality, I’ll overdue with creams.

Now for the final touch- the actual face lift:

And- the new me!

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A Fish Tale- At Tsukiji Fish Market

Posted on November 16, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Let’s face it- field trips bore the scales off many a school of fish- chaperones included. However, desperate to invade the privacy of Offspring #1, I happily volunteered to lead a grumpy group of uninterested middle schoolers through the Tsukiji Fish Market- the largest wholesale fish market in the world. Since my expectations of civility from my charges are lofty, I am a teacher preference. My own offspring, accustomed to my demands for behavior perfection in public find it humorous when unsuspecting classmates are the victim of a “behavior modifying” assault usually reserved for them. Up until this year, Offspring #1 was always glad to have me along but this year an invisibility cloak would be needed. On this trip, the only behavior modifying would be mine.

As it turned out, my group was so well-behaved I didn’t have to learn any names. This complete freedom from shuffling kids to and from the bathroom allowed me to actually enjoy a field trip.

As  mentioned previously, Tsukiji Fish Market is the largest in the world and sells about 2,500 tons of sea food a day. The first tuna of the season sells for between $500,000 and $1,000,000. Pricey. All fish markets are the same in general- lots of fish on ice. Pikes Place in Seattle will toss a few salmon around for a photo-op. I’m not going to bother with those- I just took a few of the more entertaining shots. Take for instance, this:

These are the size of my hand and the length of my forearm.

Anyone for a heaping helping of these? Tiny eels swimming so fast in a circle they’ve kicked up some froth in the center.

I really enjoy eel but I don’t want to be reminded of the snake-like appearance….

There is so much octopus served here it’s not even exotic anymore

Sea Urchin- Long ago I thought this was possibly the most wretched food eaten—-

Until I came across this:

Followed closely by this- which at $140 must be pretty tasty-

Here’s a little gift basket I’ll be picking up for a few family members:

Some dried snacks for Friday night movie watching:

A little something that really brought on that nostalgic feeling from my New Orleans days:

This is a mystery to me:

Aren’t these poisonous?

Maybe a scallop or bivalve of some kind? Anyone have any idea?

Some very pretty shrimp

Some very expensive shrimp, $70:

The whole octopus:

As my niece would say after too many episodes of South Park,”What the HELL is that?”

Of course, tuna:

 

Now for my Arty shots- remember what some of have called art….

A “Must See” on any Tokyo tour, this is the tip of the ice burg. Tuna Auctions take place between 3-4:00 AM every day for the jet lagged. Come visit- we’ll catch a cab, walk the market, and get a cheap sushi breakfast about 8:00….

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Spouse Isn’t Fitting In…..

Posted on November 15, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Literally. The average height for a Japanese male is 5’5″ feet while the women are a diminutive 5′- maybe 5’3″ if one considers the spikes permanently affixed to the feet. Spouse towers above the crowd at 6’4″. Spouse’s superior stature is alternatively a source of continued consternation for him and an advantage for the rest of the Clampett family.

If Spouse were similar in constitution to a Sumo wrestler vs a bantam pro Basketball player, then options would exist. However, all shoes and clothes are currently imported from the US. Even when special ordered, leg and arm length are incalculable to the Japanese clothing manufacturer. Take for example a recent visit to a sterile plant site. In anticipation of the “SIZE issue,” a super sized Haz Mat suit was ordered. Poor spouse looked like he was wearing Offspring #2’s Halloween costume from 4th grade:

I fear that Spouse’s appearance will be significantly altered upon our departure. Spouse will either have a bald strip down the top of his head or a permanent horn in the center of his forehead from hitting low hanging projections head on and grazing low ceilings. Traditional Japanese restaurants are too low for Spouse to enter standing upright. Of course he is used to entering bent over, however, many times there are numerous archways along the hallway leading to the dining areas. Dimly lit hallways hide these inconspicuous wooden decorations and frequently Spouse is virtually knocked unconscious causing Japanese women to run clucking from all sections of the restaurant to lead him protectively toward the table while sheltering his head and holding his hands.

Spouse must also duck to enter the subway car and once inside has to avoid dozens of handles until he can finally stand upright in the exact middle of the car or in between the handles. The Japanese watch his every move with fascination. Notice Spouse’s head is blocking the electronic subway map much to the dismay and consternation of the riders.

Recently, Spouse had the honor of meeting the Empress of Japan. He was the only male in the receiving line. Most of the women in the line including the Empress stood at an impressive 4’10”. As the Empress got closer to Spouse and her time became more limited, the Japanese ladies became more agitated and anxious to meet her. The Empress enjoys the status of a cross between Elvis, Princess Di, and Abraham Lincoln. They started to swarm- all around Spouse. Poor Spouse- almost 2 feet taller than these ladies- he was pushed aside by the weeping, crazed fans. What I would give for a picture of Spouse towering among these ladies getting politely trampled like it was a Who concert. Height does have its advantages- the Empress noticed poor skyscraper Spouse alone among the throng of frenzied fans and made her way through the throng of women to exchange pleasantries. I would’ve thrown some elbows- which is why most people prefer Spouse to me.

Spotting our Spouse makes navigating crowded Harajuku and Shibuya a snap.

 

The unanswered question: Will the Snow Monkeys at the Hot Springs be as welcoming to this outlier on the Size Bell Curve as the rest of the Japanese population? We’ll see when the Clampett’s visit Hokkaido.

 

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No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Posted on November 13, 2010 by Emily Cannell

I’m a check writer- not a deed doer. I prefer not to see the faces of those in need of any services requiring intervention from an outside agency. Overwhelmed with the momentous enterprise necessary to hoist these now named individuals from said plight, I become paralyzed with hopelessness. Therefore, I don’t do it. It ruins my day. This practice has worked for many years.

Moving to Japan caused a problem in the formerly flawless execution of this philosophy. Guilt caused by a change in this routine led to a calamitous conundrum. Being a believer that one must contribute to the community in which one lives, and incapable until recently of unraveling the mystery that is the post office which resulted in an inability to mail anything including checks, I have become vulnerable to guilt producing images of the downtrodden. Exacerbating the situation, the powder keg got exposed to the match when my attendance at mass was curtailed. The result was an explosion of guilt. All because of a move to Japan.

SO, the other day I went for my usual run in the park.  30 minutes allotted. The park was not crowded on this particular day as the temperature had dropped in to the 40s the previous night. I started my loop. Evidence of the “cleaning” was around. Located on the outskirts of the park, hidden from view is a spotless, orderly, and clean homeless encampment. Every night, hundreds of homeless scour the park picking up fallen branches that are then neatly piled for pick up at the edge of the path. Cans and debris are removed and bagged. The homeless are never seen. In exchange for their “village,” these destitute outcasts conduct a nightly neaten.

As I rounded the park, I saw the one exception to the rule- the one visible homeless man asleep on a bench. I’d seen him around town avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk. Asleep on a bench with his head facing my direction I only saw his feet. One foot poked through the top of a shoe torn in half. He had no socks.  I’d been running for 10 minutes and my hands were still cold- his feet must have been frozen. How do the Japanese homeless get services such as food and clothes- is there a shelter? I don’t know. His feet were big for a Japanese man. I thought he would have a hard time finding shoes. Then it occurred to me- I had shoes to fit him.

Dang it. The last thing I wanted to do was go home and get shoes for that man. I did not have time. I ran on. Someone else would see he needed shoes- the Japanese are so nice. But no one had so far. Better yet- was there someone else I could bribe who would take the shoes to the man? Hmmm. If I ran home and came back he’d be gone anyway so no sense in trying. Uhh- now I’ve started a competition with myself- could I do it? Well- it didn’t matter-I had too much to do and I needed to get my run in and get home. When I said that it sounded ridiculous. I started to sprint – jog- towards home.

I picked a pair of running shoes that Offspring #1 had outgrown and were sufficiently large for the Homeless man. I grabbed a pair of baseball socks- royal blue but the Homeless man wouldn’t care. Knee high. Back to the park. God was smiling down on me because HE knows I don’t do good deeds. Ever. Maybe I’m becoming more like Spouse. What if I’m becoming a Liberal Democrat?

He was still asleep. Should I wake him up? What if I scared him and he punched me? Hopefully he’d nail the nose- I’m in need of a new one. How do I say “These are for you” in Japanese- who cared. He’d know. He was, let’s say, “Not normal” what if reacted “Abnormally.” Should I drop the shoes and run? Stop, drop and roll? Get out of the way fast? Cautiously I approached,  “Sumimasin” (Excuse me) His eyes flew open yet he didn’t move or look me in the face. I gently placed the bag on the ground and skulked away. He closed his eyes.

WHAT!!! NO ROARING APPLAUSE FROM THE CROWD? No jumping in the air shoes held aloft? No bowing? No THANK YOU? NO NOTHING?

Pride goes before a fall.

Text Message to Offspring #1:

Ouiser:    I gave the Mizunos you outgrew and a pair of BBall socks to that Homeless                           man in the park

OF #1:        NUN 2 small

Ouiser:    Yea- the ones by size 10

OF #1:       Dads

WHAT!!!! I gave Offspring #1’s only pair of running shoes that fit to a Homeless man that could care less?

The dinner conversation was reserved. The Clampetts’ recognized a good deed from Ouiser worthy of praise but the negative repercussions overshadowed the act. Offspring #1’s feet, too large for Japanese shoes, would have to be imported from the US necessitating an expeditious and expensive order pronto.

This foray in to do- gooding was not doing anyone any good. Including that ingrate the Homeless man. Humphh.

Why are people loathsome to move? Pushed out of the tried and true routines, individuals stretch beyond comfortable normalcy. And this is what happens.

I eventually went to run off this steam. There was the Ingrate. Snuggled up on his bench, wearing a shiny pair of Mizunos and royal blue ankle high baseball socks.

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Why is No Body Crying?

Posted on November 7, 2010 by Emily Cannell

Every day I walk by a park filled with children. I’d never really taken noticed it; It’s hidden with trees, my offspring have outgrown park activities, and it’s eerily quiet. This is the activity that caught my undivided attention as I walked past.

He’s feverishly sawing at a block of wood with a tool the length of his leg. Do you notice the man behind him completely engrossed in something else entirely? This piqued my curiosity as to other inappropriate activities keeping these urchins engaged. I dropped my groceries at the entrance and snooped right on in.

The parents were all sitting in a circle where a campfire far removed kept them at a safe distance from all activities. I wondered where the cooler of beer was hiding? No wonder everyone was so happy- the parents were on one side while the children were on the other.

No one was crying. Strange. A park with no tears?I don’t remember my park days as relaxing. In fact, I remember routinely checking my watch wondering if my stay had sufficiently exhausted the offspring enough to get at least an hour nap in return.

I turned to watch Kato Jr grab the rope swing, commandeer a boat and float across the “river” while two girls swatted at him with a broom. The parents thought that was so cute. Did they really think Kato was a pinata?

Soon bored with that, they took turns attempting to jump the stream on the rope swing which of course ended with all of them “swimming” in the river. Not to worry, a system for spraying down the dirty explorers was in place and soon all three were placed in tubs and squirted down with hoses. It was 50 degrees that day. No one seemed to mind.

Apparently, this river was child-made for I saw its genesis as these kids employed shovels to passionately dig a cascading start on the high ground. I’m sure this creates a great natural water slide as there is a water faucet with hose attachment at the bottom.

When I looked at the play structure below, I couldn’t help but wonder as to where the protective padding had gone? It’s a two-story connector- the most dangerous of all play structures- I don’t think I’d even seen one before. Well- the Japanese are more used to condos than we are, however, some safety please- even the pesky, can’t get them out of your clothes wood chips would be preferable to the HARD, BONE BREAKING GROUND????

 

 

Supposedly a climbing apparatus, most kids used this as a 30 degree angle, splinter producing slide for the nether regions which produced plenty of screams from the little ones as they came careening  toward the welcoming black tarmac.

Something I thought the parents would be enjoying turned out to be more great fun:

This was not for napping or resting, this was for twirling a kid who was wrapped like an egg roll inside the hammock. The last time I did that, someone was flung out of the hammock and “went to bed crying.” Hummph.

Even more interesting, no parking lot unless you consider the picture below. Not a Suburban in sight.

I think the parents were probably laughing at me. Walking around with my nose up in the air, my attitude “bent out of shape” taking pictures of everyone having a great time while all I could think about was the solution to getting black mud out of clothes. To add insult to injury the park has a motto which reads,”What’s a broken bone if one has crushed the spirit?” attributed to a some mysterious Lady Allen. Clearly this park is not worried about injuries.

The Japanese have been the brunt of much criticism for not allowing children to be children, however, in this park, Huck Finn would have found Heaven. When it rains, a river of muck runs smack dab through the center and the kids swing like monkeys on multiple rope swings through out the park. Real tools allow them to create, dig, and build without breaking a single one. Parents can relax because they aren’t needed as entertainment for their children. Is it the safest place I’ve ever seen? No. Is it the funnest park I’ve ever seen? Hands down yes.

* Note to readers: One of my readers- I’ll call him the Republican- complained that my rants, coverage of the culture issues, and “tidbits from around town” make for interesting reading but he needs more meat as to exactly how we live here- typical- so the next several posts will be reader response. Feel free to send me any questions you would like to see addressed since the Republican has opened Pandora’s box….

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Culture Day in Pictures and Video

Posted on November 4, 2010 by Emily Cannell


Meiji Shrine all Dressed Up for Culture Day

Offerings of fruit and wheat for the gods. Would of made a really good salad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gifts of natural items to the deities:

Now- Bring on the Dancing Girls. The background singer is my favorite- especially in the second video. Warning- the first one is 5 minutes long. They bring out the fans about 3 minutes in to the video. I held the video camera still for a full 5 minutes with arms uplifted. Brute strength and two years as the official football videographer for Offspring #1 will get you that.

I asked my Japanese teacher for the name of this particular type of ribbon dance. Her comment was, “These are not professional dancers. They look like country people.” I responded with, “Well, it is Culture Day. Maybe these are women from another prefecture or cleaning women from the shrine.” Afraid I would publish a video of amateurs for my hordes of readers, she whipped out a picture of professional Geisha performing with fans in a feeble attempt to distract me from my intention of discovering the name of the dance. Little did she know I’m happy to publish without the name of the dance. Following are women dancing with ribbons.

It wouldn’t be a festival without a jam band.

Unfortunately for these two sisters, I caught them smelling the inside of one sister’s crocs which was a) hilarious and b) so typical of what kids do when bored during a 10 minute guitar solo. I turned to take a picture of this photo op when Father got curious as to why I might want a picture of HIS offspring. Not happy as to the source of my amusement, he stopped the game of “These crocs STINK!” but watching them laugh off the chastising was almost as funny:

I call this “Kids in Kimonos”

Performers from different parts of Japan:

There’s always unofficial entertainment outside the park…I couldn’t figure out where the single, one note, annoying horn blast was originating. Then I found it. The sax player hit one note as loud as possible over and over while the “bride” did interpretive dance for the crowd. I did not contribute monetarily to their continued employment as street performers for that would be positive reinforcement for a reprise.

My Uncle Joe has “Tips from the Top”- if he were here, he’d add to his repertoire, “If you are ever in Japan during a holiday, go to a shrine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Moving to Japan, Places | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment