We had a few pieces of business to take care of that required mailing documents back to the U.S. The postal service isn’t that much different here than back home. You go to the counter, buy some stamps and send your letter on its way.
However, the envelopes are not self-adhering. At first I was impressed by the lack of taste of the envelope glue (yes, I licked it). But when the flap didn’t stick, I was puzzled.
Again, thank goodness for the internet. We are now the proud owner of a glue stick, the preferred method for sealing envelopes here in the land of the rising sun. The post office also has a courtesy stick, just in case.
In our never-ending quest to try all that Japan has to offer, I present to you… natto.
It’s been sitting in our fridge for a week while I’ve tried to figure out what to do with it. I thought I’d start out easy and use it as a filling in gyoza. Technically, natto is a soybean that has been fermented with hay or grass bacteria. However, I’m quite certain based on its quantity of ectoplasm, that it has some relation to this guy.
Slimer from Ghostbusters… a distant relative of natto?
As usual, I wish I’d taken more pictures of the unboxing process as the packaging itself was impressive. Sealed in a styrofoam box, I feared the worst. Natto has a reputation of being stinky and slimy. As I opened the box, I took a good whiff. The smell didn’t bother me at all. We’re greeted with a small packet of hot mustard and another small packet, which the internets tell me contains a fish-based sauce, so I tossed that.
Then the natto.
It’s covered with a layer of wax paper, which when peeled away reveals the true nature of the beast.
Natto, or to summon the 8-year-old boy in me, “snotto”
Apologies for the close-up. It seemed necessary.
I tried it by itself first. Not an overwhelming flavor, but certainly not anything I’d want to eat plain. It has a maple-esque flavor as an aftertaste, which might be why it’s a popular breakfast food in Japan, spread on toast or rice. After mixing it with the hot mustard and some soy sauce, it was actually kinda good.
Then I touched it.
Slimy indeed. I tried to use a spoon to fill the gyoza wrapper, but the natto stuck to it. So, I’d take a pinch with my fingers and stuff it in the wrapper. I looked like a first grader elbow-deep in rubber cement (do they still let kids use rubber cement?) as the sticky strings connected my fingers to the beans for a good 12 inches. When I washed my hands, the water mixed with the sticky made a slime that required a lot of washing and a strong stomach.
It came in a three-pack, and I’m not disappointed. Natto spaghetti is also very popular and I found another recipe for natto veggie burgers. Can’t wait to give ’em a go!
Update: So, after eating the natto gyoza, I’ve had a change of heart. There’s something just… off about it. Not sure I’m quite ready to be a fan of natto quite yet.
Happy Showa Day! It’s officially Golden Week in Japan. I only discovered this after two failed trips to the post office…
Why is the post office closed on a Tuesday?!
The national holiday schedule in Japan is pretty awesome. It has things like Golden Week, which is four national holidays within a week of each other, effectively closing most businesses and sending Japanese people scattering toward, for many, the longest vacation period of the year.
In 2000, Japan implemented the “Happy Monday System,” which moved many holidays to Monday to create a three-day weekend. The charming innocence of the name of the law change certainly beats the United States’ Uniform Monday Holiday Act.
The young (Children’s Day) and old (Respect for the Aged Day) alike are celebrated and Mother Nature gets three holidays of her own (Vernal Equinox Day, Greenery Day and Marine Day).
However, not all the holidays carry a celebratory nature today.
Technically, Showa Day celebrates the life of Emperor Showa, better known as Hirohito outside of Japan, who died in 1989. Hirohito reigned over the empire during World War II and, as a result, left behind a mixed legacy both inside and outside of Japan.
Coming of Age Day celebrate those who have turned 20 years old and encourage them to realize that they are now adults. In a sign of the ever-changing Japanese society, celebrations have dwindled over the years as the birth rate has slowed and fewer Japanese youth consider themselves ready for, or supported in, the responsibilities of adulthood at age 20. A 2002 celebration was ruined by drunken youth.
Our current Golden Week plans are held hostage by the impending weather forecast, but hopefully we’ll be able to crowd the trains and parks with the rest of Japan to celebrate Showa Day, Constitution Memorial Day, Greenery Day and Children’s Day.
Old and new often mix in Japan. Temples built hundreds of years ago sit in the foreground of modern skyscrapers. Women in kimonos stand beside women in miniskirts at the train station.
I was lucky enough to witness such a dichotomy from the comfort of our living room today. Construction on two new homes started last week in the empty lots across the street from our apartment. Backhoes and jackhammers have been breaking down old concrete and leveling the dirt from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. for the last week.
This truck appeared with tents, tables and chairs.
This morning, there were more cars than dump trucks, which piqued my curiosity. A tent and chairs were set up and dignitaries began to arrive. While I’ve seen groundbreaking ceremonies for buildings or stadiums, I’d never seen one for a house.
The Japanese have a tradition called Jichinsai. Jichinsai is a Shinto ritual to appease the god (kami) of the earth when construction begins on a new structure. It is believed that the failure to ask for the blessing will result in a failed project, complete with crumbling structures and worksite injuries. It’s OSHA’s biggest nightmare!
The Jichinsai site is ready and waiting for its honored guests.
The setup of the tent and chairs took longer than the actual ceremony. I tried to respect the ritual by limited my own noise, difficult considering I was watching game 4 of the Portland Trail Blazers vs. Houston Rockets playoff series.
The ceremony itself consists of a kouton (the summoning of the kami), chanting and paying of respects to the kami, and finally the shouten (the returning of the kami). Everything from the placement of the bamboo trees to the lining of the area with sacred rope (which looked a lot like the twine we used for a clothesline) is consistent with the ceremony.
Watch the Jichinsai video to hear some of the chanting in the ceremony.
All kidding aside, it’s an honor to be able to witness the things we do in Japan. Coming from a country with only a couple hundred years of its own history and mostly inherited traditions, it’s impressive to see hundreds or thousands of years of customs carry forward to the modern day.
Tokyo provides a lot of opportunity for tourism, shopping… your typical big-city stuff. But, the gems of a city are in the alleyways and parks. We found an abundance of both as our Tokyo adventures continued last weekend in Harajuku.
The fashion scene was pretty subdued that day, but these girls were dancing in Yoyogi Park.
Our primary purpose for the visit was Tokyo’s Earth Day festival in Yoyogi Park, another of Tokyo’s fantastic public park spaces. Hundreds of vendors sold food and goods and non-profit organizations used the opportunity to reach thousands with their messages.
One booth demonstrated how you could pop corn with a reflector and sunlight.
Sun-popped popcorn
Others reminded us of our need for the ethical treatment of animals, our food and ourselves. Not being able to read food labels is actually one of the few real downers of being in Japan. We do the best we can.
Booth reminding us where fur really comes from…
A live band filled the air with covers of American classics. A spot-on rendition of Janis Joplin’s “Piece of My Heart” was followed by a rockabilly take on Elvis Presley’s classic “Hound Dog.”
The Japanese Janis Joplin
The biggest draw to these things is usually the food, and Earth Day 2014 provided some great eats! Veggie “meat” on a stick, steamed “pork” buns and…
French fries as long as my arm.Deep-fried, cheese-filled avocado. Yes, you read that right…
Then there’s the innovative, weird and just plain Tokyo. A dog in a backpack, a truck that turns plastic into oil and whatever that thing is.
Then, there’s this.
After the festival, we explored Harajuku. Shopping is abundant, of course, but there are little pockets of awesome all over the district. We grabbed some amazing raw milk ice cream in coffee at Shiroichi.
These guys were really enjoying their ice cream towers from Shiroichi.
We walked up Takeshita Street, which is the crammed-with-tourists home of Harajuku’s fashion movement. The video screen captures visitors in their last seconds of freedom before crowd-induced claustrophobia takes over.
The camera on Takeshita Street’s gate projects visitors onto the screen. Viktoria is in the gray sweater at far-left.
We finished our big day out at Baird Brewing. At some point I’ll write a post about the beer “scene” in Japan, but on this day, we found a good one. Bryan Baird, a brewer with Pacific Northwest connections, has brought true craft brewing to Tokyo.
Baird Brewing’s Harajuku Taproom
The pub food was fantastic—we had grilled tofu, shitake mushrooms and edamame—but someone should tell the Japanese that you need to serve some carbs with beer approaching 10% ABV.
Reminders of home surrounded us in the corner of the bar. A postcard from Portland sat on the shelf to our left. Oregon breweries were well represented in the swiped coasters that lined the top of the bar.
Before we left, the bartender asked where we were from. I told him Oregon and he got very excited. He says “hold on…” and heads into the keg cooler. He comes back out with a 22-ounce bottle of Portland’s own Upright Brewing “Seven” and a big smile on his face. Apparently he’d just returned from his own craft beer pilgrimage to the Rose City.
I look forward to the opportunity to explore those alleyways again soon.
After a month in Japan, we finally have internet in our apartment. I never thought I’d say it, but I miss the low muss, low fuss approach of Comcast.
Our service window was 1-5 p.m. on this rainy Friday, which means they showed up around 4:30. After checking a couple things, the technician makes a phone call, then hands me the phone. The man on the other end wants me to try and set it up myself.
How, exactly, would you like me to do that? I don’t have any cables, equipment…
He asks to speak to the technician, who after a short chat, hands the phone back to me. The technician will return shortly with a CD and some cable.
NTT technician splicing our internet into the above-ground wires.
“Some cable” involves a roll of electrical tape, a lift truck and some serious cable splicing 20 feet off the ground. Not to mention his sidekick, a dude in a white hazmat suit with flashing red lights built into it, holding a red LED wand and directing traffic like some Darth Vader/Breaking Bad/air traffic controller hybrid.
To be fair, the NTT guy was not nearly as scary as this combination.
This was followed by a lot of drilling and banging as our internet, its lifeline securely strung over the street, was surgically inserted into our rented residence through the same slightly-opened window our air conditioning vents out.
All the while, the technician is perched on a wet ladder with wet shoes on our second-floor porch, inches from the railing and higher than he was when surrounded by the protection of the lift truck’s workbox. With each fumbled tool, one thought repeats in my mind:
We’re SO going to be on the news when he goes over the railing.
Fortunately, this seasoned pro dodges the precarious situation on the porch. It goes a little geek for a minute as he starts to set up the hardware and service, scanning QR codes with his phone, connecting the account to the modem.
Then he’s done. Gomenasai he says. Sorry. Basically, there’s no help for the English-speaking beyond this point. I have a stack of papers with various network names, usernames and passwords, labeled in Japanese. I have a CD with “easy” setup instructions… all in Japanese.
Pa-su-waa-do… Password!
Suffice to say, the CD doesn’t work. I start matching screenshots and kanji, navigating my way through the setup. Fail. Fail. SUCCESS! I have internet!
I hope that was all he meant by “we’d like you to try and set it up yourself,” because I’m pretty sure none of that other stuff was happening.
There are lots of little things that don’t warrant their own posts, but are fun to share anyway.
Chopsticks = next best thing to an actual whisk.
Chopsticks make a good whisk
I think I saw this on television, so I can’t claim credit, but it works like one of those handheld cappuccino whippers. Eggs, batter… if you can whip it, you can whip it with chopsticks!
Forget the Japanese. This schedule would be complicated in any language!
The trash system is complicated
We take garbage to the curb four times a week. General trash, known here as combustibles, goes out twice a week. Plastic packaging goes out once a week on Mondays. Paper goes out every fourth or fifth Wednesday. Glass bottles, cans, and plastic bottles go every other Thursday and each type must be separated into its own bag.
Instead of donating unwanted goods (or non-combustibles) at a Goodwill-style store, items are placed on the curb once a month. They’re up for grabs for anybody walking by. We’ve procured two nice overhead lights and our gas cooking range from the non-combustible piles around the neighborhood. We’ve seen golf club sets, furniture… basically anything you’d find in a donation store.
I have a spreadsheet and a Google calendar to help keep the garbage schedule straight.
Japanese television is just weird sometimes. Maybe no worse than American TV, but I get the sense that even if I understood the language, I still would find it odd.
Sometimes I stumble across a golden nugget that transcends language. It happened this morning.
Neko Taxi.
The central characters are a sad, pudgy, middle-aged taxi driver and his feline (neko) co-pilot. He treats his cat like a queen, sleeping on the couch next to her bed and tending to midnight feedings.
During the workday, the cat rides in the passenger seat alongside him. A young businesswoman, late for a meeting across town, enters the cab. She talks on her cell phone, rudely directing the driver to the location.
She’s startled when Taxi Cat crawls into the backseat and sits beside her, but after a few seconds, her icy exterior defrosts and she picks up the cat. Scenes cut in and out as the ride progresses, all along the young woman petting and snuggling with Taxi Cat.
Of course, we need a conflict. The young woman begins to sneeze and her eyes water. She can’t breathe. She’s allergic to Taxi Cat! The driver rushes her to the hospital. She misses her meeting, but doesn’t seem to mind. Her cold heart has been thawed in the Neko Taxi.
All along, the taxi driver narrates the show. It seems to take itself seriously as the dialog is somber. Hopefully, the translation is as ironic as the premise of the show itself.
As the closing credits roll, the driver pulls under a tree for lunch. He pulls out two bento boxes; one for himself and one for Taxi Cat. They finish lunch and Taxi Cat crawls on his chest as they nap the afternoon away.
In Oregon, the ringing of our doorbell usually yielded a predictable result. On the other side of the front door, we’d find a local schoolkid selling overpriced candy for a fundraiser or a pressure-washing/bug-killing/home security salesman reminding me that I needed to pressure-wash, bug-kill and secure our house.
It’s been a mixed bag when the doorbell rings here. Since we’re still getting settled, a lot of times the doorbell means added convenience. Gas service for hot water and cooking! Water pressure!
A couple times it’s been a salesman. I let one guy do his pitch for a few minutes before I finally got across that I didn’t have a clue what he was saying and that I probably wouldn’t be interested in buying it even if I did.
Sometimes, it’s just disappointment. Is it the overdue delivery of our foam mattress? Setup of the internet service? No… only the mailman with a pile of junk mail.
A couple nights ago, the doorbell rang after dark. Our hearts raced—probably more because we were in the middle of an episode of The Walking Dead than the actual tolling of the bell itself.
Who knows what’s on the other side of the door? (Walking Dead, episode 1)
One of our neighbors, an older lady, stood at our door. She spoke softly in Japanese with a few English words mixed in when it was clear we weren’t following. Dining table, chairs… is she asking to borrow a chair?
We pushed one of our dining room chairs to the door, happy to help. No, no… follow me she says. I slip on my sandals before stepping into our entryway, a big-time no-no in Japan, but my transgression is either ignored or forgiven.
I walk down the street making very small talk with my limited Japanese. She’s noticed that we’ve just moved in and has a few nice pieces of furniture that she’s giving away. A dining room table with four chairs. A coffee table. She’d put the items on the porch of the apartment complex next door, but she’s giving us first dibs.
Kicking back and enjoying the new coffee table
Since we’d already purchased a table and two chairs, we take a couple of the chairs for company and the coffee table. She sets each of the chairs on the porch, compares the fabric and makes sure the legs don’t wobble, selecting the two best chairs for us.
We use our combined vocabulary to complete the deal, introduce ourselves and talk about why the heck these Americans are living in her neighborhood (most of the locals have cut us some slack when they discover a sensei is living in their midst).
It was good timing. I’d been thinking a lot that day about being an outsider. In Kawagoe-proper, we’re not that big a deal. There are a lot of tourists in and out of the station. But we live in the ‘burbs. We’re in a neighborhood where I can’t say that I’ve seen another non-Japanese person. We get stares… we are different.
But, every time it feels like we just don’t fit in, something like this happens and the world doesn’t feel quite so big. Random acts of kindness… a universal language.
Last weekend, we ventured back into Tokyo for a day in Shibuya. Shibuya is the Tokyo you see on television. Towering buildings feature video screens instead of windows. Shopping centers feature all the latest trends, including malls with dozens of stores focused exclusively on clothing for teen and 20-something women.
Shibuya Crossing is one of the most famous “scramble” crosswalks in the world. When the walk signal flashes, people cross the road at every axis. You really get a flavor of Tokyo as an international tourist destination in Shibuya, with a variety of faces and languages exploring the streets. According to Time Out Tokyo magazine, it’s the number 1 visited location in Tokyo among tourists.
For me, the most charming part of Shibuya comes from its history. There are multiple references and memorials to Hachiko, the loyal dog. Everyday, Hachiko would make the walk from his home to meet his owner at Shibuya Station. Even after his master passed away, Hachiko would continue to travel to the station each afternoon in search of him.
Hachiko mural at Shibuya Station
He became a celebrity among those traveling through Shibuya Station and is now immortalized in statue and mural form at the station as well as on t-shirts, pens and postcards.
Originally, Shibuya was the gateway to Tokyo for those traveling east from Osaka and Kyoto. As Tokyo grew, Shibuya transformed to support the economic needs of the capitol. After World War II ended, the modern commercial transformation of Shibuya began.
The district is continuing its transformation with a detailed urban development plan, scheduled to be complete in 2027, featuring a combination of office and retail complexes with significant, pedestrian-friendly green spaces.
