A green tea Kit Kat for the road

Green tea Kit Kats are scarce on the street now, but they are always in season at the airport. They're giving out whole sticks as breakfast. As samples, I mean. samples.

200 yen and a dream

Miki bought lottery tickets for the Year End Jumbo drawing last night. She picked up a scratcher for each of us, too. We scraped them while we waited for food at a crowded Vietmamese restaurant.
Neither of us lined up the triple candy canes, toy drums or Santa heads we needed. But the Christmas bonus star! Beneath the Christmas bonus star, I found a holly wreath worth 2000 yen, about 20 bucks. We got back in line to pick up the cash. I spent - and respent - it on everything I bought the rest of the night.

My local Tokyo post office is awesome, #372

Have I mentioned before how good the post office near my work is?

It's mostly the people. Once they rummaged around in their own internal mail to find something I could use as a mailing tube since that is the one kind of packaging they don't sell.

One woman is especially nice. When I tried to buy a sheet of lackluster stamps, she pointed out that some really pretty ones were going on sale the next day. Another time, when another employee was weighing a package, she came over just to make sure she was sending it at the cheapest rate.

I was glad to see her when I went in yesterday, underprepared on the vocab front.

I said in Japanese, "Please help. I don't know what you call it, but I'd like to send this so that it's registered."
She said in English, "Register?"
Yup.

She zapped the envelope twice with what looked like a bar code reader and tallied it up. While I was fumbling for change, she pulled a receipt out of the printer with the weight, mailing class, and space for comments. The spots for sender and addressee were filled in with photographs of the address and return address. How cool is that? I'm pretty sure I had to fill out forms by hand earlier this year to send registered mail. No? Has this been going on forever all over and I just missed it? Or is Japan on the cutting edge of postal technology?
 
Official Japan Post info on registered mail.

Good Samaritan of Hibiya

I was engrossed in a podcast of This American Life last night, moving through a crush of people down the subway stairs when I felt a tug on my shoulder. A Japanese guy in a shiny down vest was holding out a white cellphone with its bare battery and cover carefully piled up in his hands. My cellphone. It must have fallen out of my bag when I took out my wallet to pass through the wicket. I hadn't noticed. The guy and a woman in a matching puffy jacket were pressed against the bannister above me, smiling, and I was twisted around as people continued to pass around us. I said "Thank you, sorry, sorry, thank you," and they bowed and turned back up the stairs against the flow.
Nice, eh?

Bright bike

I can't believe this bicycle wasn't playing music.

Odoriyaki is Japanese for nightmare

Note: My most sensitive friends shouldn't read this. Go on, get out of here.

I stayed at a luxurious hotel in Hakone this weekend with a spacious tatami room, gorgeous views of Mt. Fuji from its own outdoor hotspring, and delicious gourmet dinner and breakfast. The food gave me nightmares.
I often say things are bound to give me strange dreams, but I rarely mean it*.  I actually woke up at three in the morning haunted by abalone. I couldn't get back to sleep. See, at dinner, right between the soup and the sashimi, they brought out some abalones to cook at the table. Fine. Except, they are big, meaty critters, and they were still moving. I can't explain how hideous it was. I looked away when one looked like it was trying to launch itself out of its shell. I peeked again a few minutes later and... shudder.
If you had asked me in the abstract, Do you believe abalones experience suffering? I would have said Nah, pass the lemon. But the way these things writhed and kept writhing over the fire was unbearable. 

The waiter grinned that it's called odoriyaki "because it is like they're dancing." Remind me not to go dancing with that guy.


*Except about the Himalayan curry. That is true.

Watch your fingers, panda lips

Pandas are inherently cute. You have to put in a little extra effort to make a cartoon panda look creepy. If you are so inclined, giving it lady lips is a good place to start. Good job, Keisei Card.

These panda pants, these are cute. 

Tea sparkling

 

AFTERNOON TEA

Tea Sparkling

Afternoon tea has been drunk by the English ever since the custom was started by the Duchess of Bedford in the mid 19th century.

The truthbox bears this out, though I find the claim unlikely that Anna Russell and the whole of England were going around starving to death every single day between breakfast and dinner until she decided to start serving crustless sandwiches to her high society friends in the afternoons. Though, if it is true, I feel certain that every single person noshing at midday was saying, Man! Why didn't they think of this sooner?

That's what I was thinking when I just tried Tea Sparkling. It's like a sweet tea spritzer. Darjeeling and seltzer. Light and delicious. Sorry, Duchess. I'm sure you are wondering what you did wrong in life to have your image and name appropriated on bottles of bastardized tea derivatives. But you were a forward thinker. Maybe you'd have even invited a few friends around to try it.

Milk and vinegar, maybe not so much.

Let's best of restaurants

Here's something a little different.

One cool thing that happened this year is that I met Gwen Bell, an American entrepreneur with a past in Japan.  She's running a reflect-a-thon (my word, don't throw things at her) called Best of 2009 from her site. She's got a theme a day. Why don't you try it, too?

December 2 - a memorable restaurant experience.

The most outstanding restaurant experience of the year is one I've barely talked about. In February, Jim and I had dinner at the New York Grill in the Park Hyatt in Shinjuku.

We can see the hotel from the north windows of our apartment, and we could just about pinpoint our place in the midst of the city lights from a window seat. We were close enough to hear the live jazz singing, but far away enough from it that it wasn't too loud.

The food was amazing. I had a beet and goat cheese salad. I rarely see either of these on a menu here, let alone together. It was huge, too, an entire goat's worth of cheese. I had a short rib that looked like it came from a dinosaur. I usually eat meat in small quantities at most and found it a bit horrifying, but it was unbelievably flavorful and tender. Like with every bite I thought, no, it couldn't have been that good. Let me try it again. And it was that good. There was dessert. It was good. I can imagine it was a crisp and creamy creme brulee, a flowing chocolate lava cake, or a selection of tart seasonal sorbets, but the fact is that I don't remember. What I remember most is the conversation. Despite the table for two being a bit too wide, we had such an intimate time talking about the year behind us and the years ahead. We were giggly reminding each other about the dinner for days afterward.

I didn't mention it partly because the place is little cliched - it was the lounge in Lost in Translation -  and mostly because it is expensive.  Much more so than anyplace I or my friends go regularly, or, really, ever. I felt embarrassed that we were having such a splurge while friends were looking for work, even though it was the confluence of our first Japanniversary and Valentine's day. Looking back, it feels like maybe it was a bargain, after all.

Tis the season to do it at home

 

Please refrain from drunken behavior.

It's bounenkai 忘年会 season, when end-of-the-year company parties pile up. Drinking with coworkers can be part of the job description any time of year,  but you are especially likely to see (or be) an unfortunate overindulger in December. There's no guarantee that these parties will help you "forget the year," as the name promises, but they do seem likely to make you forget the night.

We saw these two poor guys get dragged off the train at its last stop in Shinagawa the other night as the train was going out of service.  In Shibuya, as the last Yamanote train was sweeping through its last loop for the night, the opposite maneuver: station cops working in pairs roused heavy sleepers from the platform floor and tossed them into the full train. You have to wonder where they get shuffled off to when they get to the end of the line. I think for both directions on the Yamanote, that's Ikebukuro. Anyone gotten off the last train at the end of a line and seen what happens?

Last December's do it at home poster, also about passing out drunk.

Hearing dogs for the deaf, or, I was totally wrong

The FIT for Charity run did not benefit an animal shelter. I glanced at the photos of dogs in vests and assumed, and we all know what that does.

It turns out, the animal charity being helped was Japan Hearing Dogs for Deaf People. These are dogs trained to alert their hearing-impaired owners if a phone is ringing, a smoke alarm is going off, or any other notable noises they are trained to respond to are happening.  It seems there are only 14 of them available for the whole of Japan (if I read that right). That is their logo above. It kind of looks like he's transmitting sound from his ears, but we get the idea. Sounds like a good organization.

That isn't an ingredient

Sometimes I latch onto some nutritional concept like it's the One Truth. Today, as I was eyeing my beautiful, one-dollar Fuji apple, I couldn't help thinking of the advice a friend got from an expensive nutritionist: always eat a protein with a carb. Even when the carb is nice fresh fruit, if you eat it without some peanut butter or cheese, you might as well just eat a fistful of white sugar as far your body is concerned.

Is this true? I have no idea. Did it stop me from eating a sugar cookie with a thick layer of green tea cream sandwiched into the middle of it before I even got my jacket off at the office? No, sir. But when it came to the apple, I just couldn't shake the idea. I don't think there's a jar of real peanut butter within a mile of my office, so I went to the convenience store downstairs for some processed cheese. I found a box (with sliding tray!) of "Smart Cheese" that says Tokachi on it. Tokachi is in Hokkaido and everyone knows that Hokkaido equals delicious dairy. The back says that the product contains at least 60% natural cheese from Tokachi. What is the other forty percent? Let's take a look at the ingredients, shall we?

There are only two. "Natural cheese, emulsifiers." So. The cheese is made of... cheese. Is this acceptable labeling? And is this really the road to improved nutrition?

Rules to live by

No violence, no throwing confetti.

At the National Stadium, where Jim ran the FIT for charity 10 K race this weekend.  (I thought getting up at 8 on a Sunday was effort enough without all the running.)

There was neither violence nor confetti.

That would explain the corn

"Coffee? Nope, it's soup"

A new line of hot "cafe soups" lets you "take the cafe with you." The product makes sense, especially since hot corn soup is a mainstay in Japanese vending machines in winter - a decent snack, and an even better hand warmer. Interesting that the top selling points to go with the young graphics are that it is "hard to spill" and "the smell doesn't spread," so you can even enjoy it at work or walk around with it.

The first soup flavors are corn, clam chowder, and, right in the middle up there, chocolate.

Cartoon violence

Watch out! They're after your bag.

O, gingko tree redux

They closed off Ichou Namiki Dori to traffic this weekend so people could walk in the street to admire the yellow gingko leaves. People paused for photos even in the middle of the part that wasn't closed off, giving the traffic cops with bullhorns something to do.

There was no real draw I could see other than the trees themselves and roasted sweet potatos. It's sweet that people come out in numbers that require an active police presence to see leaves in the middle of the city.

Official Tokyo Gingko Matsuri page.

3-D sushi

Japanese engineers are working to get insanely high-definition 3-D TVs into homes. Meanwhile, this sushi place near Higashi Ginza went with a low tech, but effective, full window lenticular display. Step right, step left - it's like the sushi is following you.

UPDATE: I'm told that the common term for "lenticular" is "those thick photos that sort of seem to move and that go vweet vweet vweet when you run your thumb nails across them." Now do you know what I'm talking about? It's a window papered with that. For everything you ever wanted to know about the world of lenticularity (possibly not an actual word), check out Big 3D.

Sounds curdly

 "Nice to meet you. I'm Vinegar Milk."

This is the latest in Kirin's line of drinks called "From the World's Kitchen." They say the syrupy sounding drinks (Tiramisu?) were inspired "not by top restaurants, but by the world's mothers." The ads and the copy on the bottles set homey, evocative scenes - a British friend didn't realize how deprived his childhood had been until he found out from this campaign that in England, mothers simmer pots of dried fruits and black tea over crackling hearths on chilly nights.

Vinegar and milk evokes for me not sunny Italia, but elementary school science class.  In which we learned that adding vinegar or citrus to milk makes a clumpy, sour mess. It might be turned into some kind of cheese, but it's not something you'd want (or be allowed) to drink.

They release new flavors regularly. I'm keeping an eye out for baking soda volcano.

UPDATE: It's not so bad. A little less sweet than Calpis, with a slight vinegar smell and a grapefruit aftertaste.

Kirin Sekai no Kitchen kara site (page launches with whistling. Shh!).

Have you ever named the rain?

I'm getting ready to go pluck a dusty orphan umbrella out of the office stand and head out again into the rain. It's been coming down on and off all week. I hate carrying an umbrella and then ending up not needing it, so I have gambled and gotten wet a lot.

Anyway, to end this damp, chilly week, I am reprinting here something I put in the comments of Havi Brooks' Fluent Self blog a while back, an exercise in naming the rains. I thought it was goofy, but then I did it and it was fun.
Naming the rain, Japan edition.


Bottom Pedal Rain, or I can’t believe they are making me ride to work on a borrowed old bicycle in a typhoon even though it is only my third day on the job and my second week in the country and how can I sit in an office all day when I am wetter than I have ever been in clothes in my life, and is it even remotely safe to ride a bike with my feet splashing through flowing water on every down stroke?


Travelers' Stories Rain that makes everyone whip out the most exotic locale in which they were ever rained upon, except for one level-headed friend who remains unimpressed and points out that they have some pretty heavy rain in Virginia, too, and would everyone please just get over themselves.

Glaze Rain that makes the rocks in the gardens and the cobblestones and inlaid tiles in the streets of Kyoto glisten like maybe they aren't actually meant to be seen any other way.
Mass Hysteria Non-Rain Rain is barely a mist or maybe a few little drops that don't add up to anything, but somehow everyone is hunched under their umbrellas as if it were actually raining because everyone else is. Carrying a rolled umbrella will cause everyone to look at you confused and you will feel a bit smug about being able to judge for yourself whether or not it is actually raining.

The Rain of Subway Stair Traffic Jams and Reproach makes each person stop at the top of the crowded steps to put up his or her umbrella, and it makes you hate each one of them and mutter things like “would the %&#* world really end if you stepped out from under the awning first and then put up your %&#* umbrella?!” and then when it's finally your turn, you stride past and put up your own umbrella while walking as an example and then feel guilty for being like that and not just waiting patiently like everyone else.

Plum Rain is what rainy season rain is actually called in Japanese and there is no way to improve upon it.
 
Tourist Obligation Absolution Rain is a gift on weekends that removes any traces of guilt from staying home and reading a novel or watching a movie (in English) and not looking for new places and cultural experiences to explore.

Two great tastes that...

This is "cheese chocolate from Hokkaido."

It's chocolate made with cheese. What kind of cheese? "Processed." (This is a common answer to that question, at restaurants or cafes.)

How does it taste? Not so great.

No can coffee for the terrorists

Special security measures are in efffect for Obama's visit. There are lots of cops in and around the subway stations and the vending machines have been terror-proofed with packing tape.

Could I just get vanilla?

 

"We'll make your own ice cream with your heart. Ice cream of European tradition."

I'm sorry the words aren't clearer here - this sign is on top of a sort of pyramid fountain in a little plaza in Ginza. I got enough weird looks from the smokers just by hopping up onto the first tier of the fountain, and the sign was still far away.

I'm not sure what European tradition this is referring to.

The Irritable Bowel Syndrome fairy

 

If you don't read Japanese, you probably think I'm being totally unfair here, that this isn't even about the type of IBS we think of - maybe it's International Business Solutions - and that this subway ad doesn't say anything about an IBS fairy.

You're right and wrong. It is indeed that IBS. And the sympathetic lady in the flouffy dress is asking "Are you alright? Sudden stomach pain and diarrhea are rough, eh?"

But you are right that it does not identify her as the IBS fairy, per se. In fact, it doesn't identify her at all. She could be the angel of intestinal pain, the bride of bloat, or the good witch of gas. Or just a figment of the imagination of the poor commuter in the grip of intestinal distress. (There was one of those on my train yesterday, to everyone's dismay.)

The ad is for some surgical procedure to help IBS. Maybe she represents a dreamy anesthetic-induced vision. Just don't leave anything under the pillow for her.

Transform yourself into a beeyootiful princess...

...at home.

This happens in Tokyo as in New York and, I would wager, as in any city that has both women and subways. Every so often someone pulls out some makeup  - maybe just a mascara, maybe a full traveling vanity - and goes to town.

Whether it's a touch-up or an overhaul, I can't help watching.

It's partly the pull of a good before-and-after story. A powder puff or some blush on a brush is nothing-to-see-here; I'll probably go back to my crossword puzzle. But the danger of some of the other implements! It's like watching a drunk guy wander toward traffic. You can't look - but you can't not look. Have you ever gotten close to a mascara wand? Close enough to see the individual bristles? I've been known (I know, I know) to pass a few furtive swipes through my lashes when the train is stopped at a station. But bringing that row of tarred, sharp bristles within a blink of an open eye on a crowded, moving train - elbows, swerves, and sudden stops be damned - is drama. Pointy pencils for eyebrows and eyelids are only slightly less riveting. If she doesn't actually lose an eye, she could easily end up with a crazed Cleopatra line around it. The stakes are different, but still high, for lipliner pencils and lipsticks. Miss the recorded announcement that "the train will sway, please be careful," and people will be asking all day "Why so serious?"

I'm not bothered by people playing beauty parlor on the train the same way I am by, say, nail clipping or sinus clearing. Unless you are really clumsy with the concealer, it strikes me as a relatively victimless crime.

I think a better warning would be "apply makeup at your own risk."

How about a skull on your head

I sat across from this guy on the train on the way back from the Kawasaki Halloween parade. I asked about the skull and crossbones carved and dyed into his hair, if he'd done it for Halloween. He looked puzzled. He pointed out the skulls on his belt buckle, on each jacket button, and on his cloth camo face mask. Skulls are his thing.

He stared at my hairline and scalp the whole time we talked. "Have you ever thought about doing something interesting with your hair?" he asked.
"I know a really great place."

Super Mario Mario

Our friends made Mario and Luigi costumes. They were mobbed at Kawasaki station by people who wanted pictures with them. They got at least as much attention as any other costume.  They met a whole Mario family after the parade.

The Kawasaki Halloween parade was a lot of fun, by the way. I don't remember why I thought it sounded like it would be a nightmare - it was less crowded than your average festival and some of the costumes were pretty intense. Like the 12-foot tall electronic robot and the zombie office ladies. I need to get something together for next year. I dug some institutional orange pants out of the depths of my closet, but that was more a nod to the occasion than a costume.

Halloween last year, in which I learn about a strange Japanese Halloween custom.

Canvas-arm-patch-on-plaid-flannel-shirt of the week

"It's stupid not to ever see you again."

(You'll have to take my word. I don't like taking pics of sleeping people.)

Wet day, bad American

I overslept this morning. A text message from a friend who was probably already at work woke me up. There would have been time to make a quick cup of coffee, except that there was sludge in the French press and no coffee filters. Desperate times, etc: I did my NY usual and grabbed a cup on the way to the train. It's not illegal to take food and drink on the train like it is in DC, but it is something you are asked to "be considerate" about.
And I did consider it. Was my coffee bothering anyone? Were people tsk-tsking? How strange to feel conspicuous over something so small.

Anyone can Hang it at Home

UPDATED RULES - now with more randomness.

Just leave your name. I'll use random.org to pick someone at random.

I will put your name in twice if you leave an example of bad train behavior you have seen (anywhere in the world) that would be better off Done at Home.

I will put your name in three times if you make something visual.

That's it. 

You've joined me in mocking appreciating the Tokyo Metro "Do it at home" manners posters for over a year now here.

Now, I would like to give you the chance to do it at home. For real.

I have one copy of the October 2009 poster (man splattering/stabbing cup noodles) that I will happily send it to the reader anywhere in the world who comes up with the best Do-it-at-X poster whose name is drawn as the winner.

Write your idea in the comments. Or, photoshop something on your own site or Flickr and post a link.

For inspiration, here again is the official Tokyo Metro manners site with all the posters so far.

This will go until the end of the month, when the new posters go up. Do it at work. Do it at home. But do it soon!

***
Random.org has made the winner one Ms. Trixie Bedlam. Congratulations!

Merry Halloween

The KFC Colonel is all set for the next few months. Call it a Halloween costume for another week, then ho, ho, ho, all the way til Christmas.

Audrey Hepburn, Aunt Jemima turn in their graves

I want to believe in the idea of a perfect engineered food. I don't think it's possible yet. And if it were, I doubt the second ingredient would be margarine. Calorie Mate is a vitamin-sprinkled shortbread cookie with a very long shelf life that claims to be "balanced food." They've come out with a maple flavored version for a "balanced breakfast."
The English press release explains that the secret ingredient is a touch of soy sauce that counterbalances the maple and orange peel flavors. Hey, guys, they call it a secret ingredient for a reason.
Poor Audrey.

Then there's always Calorie Mate jelly. I like that it doesn't even try to approximate any actual food.

Digital parsley

Lots of produce have these 3D bar codes readable by cellphone camera. (Chew on that, iPhone! Hmm? There are apps for that now? Ah, nevermind.) Anyway, clicking on the QR code brings up info on the produce. Not just nutritional data, but a photo of farmers growing it, background on the climate, annual yield, and the full name of the supervisor.

These aren't new. They might even be on the decline now. I bring this to you today only because I clicked on it today. But food traceability is an issue here as everywhere (we arrived in the middle of the poison Chinese gyoza scandal) and this is an interesting attempt to soothe worries.

Of course, if suppliers purposely mislabel meat for everything including origin, grade, and sell-by date, there's no reason to think they wouldn't give their parsley a fake online profile. (That picture could be ten years old! Or just taken from a flattering angle.)

Speaking of mislabeled meat, here's a Japanese meat-labelling scandal more than 100 years old.

Geocache girl

Jim and I loitered at the entrance of a shopping plaza for a few minutes, trying to poke around discreetly. It wasn't until I got down on the ground, put on the photo light on my cellphone, pushed away some damp ivy, and stuck my arm under the magazine kiosk that I found the little tupperware box. I know that doesn't sound so exciting. But it was! It was like Mission Impossible and an Easter egg hunt and a crossword puzzle all at once--with an iPhone.

I've never done it before so I don't have anything to compare it to, but apparently (a) the iPhone and (b) doing it in the middle of the city take a little of the mystery out of it. But still so much fun. And almost immediate gratification. We found two spots that were more or less on the way home from a walk down to Aoyama.

Do you already know all about this? There's a geocache iPhone app that links up with Google maps and GPS to pinpoint where you are in relation to stuff that people have cached nearby. These were both hidden in plain sight and therefore pretty small. They were both set up about a year and a half ago. You can take and/or leave something in the container if it's big enough. The one in the photo had a green tea cellphone strap charm and a US Navy patch along with the log book. (This book was the kind of pocket-sized notecards on a ring that we all use as Japanese flashcards for a few weeks and then stick in a drawer.) You write the date and a note in the log book. Some people have stamps made with their name or a logo and "found it" in Japanese. I think I have already said way too many nerdy things, so I will skip all the geocaching abbreviations I learned just in today's crash course.

Most of the log entries had Japanese names, though there were a few from Europe and America. A few people logged that they'd left Euros. They were gone, so it seems like people were glad to find them. I left the American coins that have been slowing me down at convenience stores for the last three months. Win-win.

Wedding parties were starting near the first and ending near the second of the spots tonight. People dressed up in pointy heels and suits walked (or lurched) past, all holding glossy matching souvenir bags. No one paid any attention as we practically dismantled a phone booth looking for a well-hidden stash. I think we were having more fun than they were.

iPhone app for your feet

Jim got an iPhone this weekend.

I wrote a long post a while back about the grief that went into replacing his old Au phone. Rereading it exhausted and antagonized me, though, so I spared you. The take-home lesson was don't lose your phone. Ugh, just saying that, the memories are flooding back - the phone calls from the retail shop desk to customer service, the line at Bic, the forms, the faxing, the waiting, the re-faxing, dear god - the loudspeaker noise! and the fees-- ack! See? And then, he hated the replacement phone. Hated. And fair enough; everything he wanted to do with it was awkward and difficult.

So, this weekend, we steeled ourselves for another time-sucking, character-building trial and walked to the Softbank store. But it wasn't so bad. In fact, compared to Bic, it was rather like a visit to a spa.

Looking now at the "what you need to get an iPhone in Japan (English)" page, I see that it does clearly (sort of) say that you need to bring both your alien card and passport. Ah, well. I make these mistakes so you don't have to.

Any other little tips for getting an iPhone in Japan?

Since you asked... yes. Bring a gaijin card, passport, and credit card.

You can keep your Japanese cell phone number, but not your mobile e-mail address. Japan has had mobile number portability (MNP) since 2006. Call your old provider and tell them you want to take your phone number elsewhere.* They will put you on hold to an endless loop of Fur Elise and then give you a reference number to give to Softbank. They will also bill you for ending your contract early, but I bet you already guessed that. How much depends partly on how long you've been with them, like earning time for good behavior. Probably somewhere in the 100-dollar ballpark. Again, depending.

The first thing Softbank will ask you when you take a number to get in line at the shop is whether or not you already have your MNP number sorted out. They say they can still set you up even if you don't have it with you, but "it will take longer." Doesn't that sound ominous? They are even kind enough to give the phone numbers of the other providers on their MNP information page. (Whatever you do, do not look at the graphic "explaining" the process.)

*Since you, clever planner, will not have the walk back home to get your passport during which to make this call, do it before you go to Softbank. Right before is fine. Luckily.

There is one other thing, and it's kind of a big thing. I didn't see it on the website. If you have fewer than 27 months before your gaijin card expires (the card, not your visa, we were told), you have to pay for the phone up front. You can put it on a credit card and pay that off however you want, but you can't do the normal plan that's 0 down and 980 a month for the phone. Instead, you give them an arm and a leg up front (almost 70,000), and they "discount" 1,920 off the bill each month after the third month. After two explanations and some time with a calculator, I saw how this all comes out the same at the end of two years.

The guy who helped us was Japanese but spoke great English and was helpful. That is probably just luck of the draw, but you'll increase your odds by going to one of the bigger Softbank shops with English-speaking staff.

You will get a new cell phone e-mail address. Of course you can set it up yourself, but it might be a lot quicker to ask them to do it for you. There are instructions on the website. But it takes the staff about 20 seconds to do the whole set-up, and it would take me longer than that just to find the instructions. (This goes for any cell phone provider, especially for Japanese handsets that are as intuitive as mud.) You will actually get two new email addresses, one @softbank.ne.jp and one @i.softbank.ne.jp. The second one can be accessed from a regular computer. You don't need it. Skip it.

Jim is already checking out one list of the best Japanese apps in English and has bookmarked Joseph Tame's iPhoning Japan.

Finally, the slippers. These are the present for opening an account at the moment. The dog talks. Like you needed another reason to get an iPhone.

"Style starts at your feet!"

Say hello to my little friend

This little goth geisha lovely is a Poken. What's that, you ask? Glad you asked... Check out my Poken story on Japan-i.

Poison and cure

There is a new ager I like to listen to sometimes. (She is merged in my mind with the elegant demon lady from the second season of True Blood. This makes me like them both better.) She says that native Americans say that whenever there is a poison in the forest, the antidote is "within a certain number of feet." (This strikes me a little funny. Do people of the forests measure in feet?)

Pedantic quibbles aside, it's an interesting thought. And borne out in the urban jungle of Tokyo with this: a turmeric dispenser two feet in front of a bar.

Turmeric? It is common knowledge that turmeric is the end-all of hangover remedies. It turns out that the "ukon" in this power drink was not paint thinner, but turmeric. (See how much less interesting things become when you look them up?) This is why some salarymen swear by curry as hangover food, and why DHC sells bags of turmeric capsules to support the health of "those who have many occasions to drink."

One clear plastic ball with a variety of turmeric tablets is ￥200, and, depending on your circumstances, either the most fantastic or the most disappointing thing you ever got out of a gumball machine.

Surely, the maenad would approve.
Incidentally, "ukon" is usually written phonetically, but it has at least two kanji variations, and they are both amazing.　欝金　鬱金

Think these masks will fly?

These masks stick right to your face. Too goofy for anyone to wear? I saw a man wearing two of the gappy rectangular ones today, one over the other, so who knows.

One thing interesting about these, besides their aerodynamic look, is their angle. The ads for Unicharm masks are all about Japan. The one that say's "Japan's family mask" drives home the point by putting "Japan" in katakana - the equivalent of underline or bold or both. This one is about America. The masked model is white with blue eyes, in contrast to the masked Japanese family with the grandmother in a kimono and the daughter in a sailor school uniform. How good is the mask? So good that it's certified by NIOSH, the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health - of the USA. I think it's strange that they went with the US seal of approval, even translating NIOSH into Japanese, since it's pretty rare to see Americans in face masks outside of an operating room.

Olympics are a no-go

Sport Tokyo - "Bay Side Village" in the heart of the city.

These two trailers in a fenced field near Odaiba mark "The Proposed Olympic Village." A few other people going by on bicycles also stopped to look and take photos.

These banners have been up all over for at least a year. This one, on a tennis court in Hibiya Park, is appropriately faded.

This is one of those cases where the simpler the words are, the harder it is to give a pithy translation, but I would suggest, "A new kind of Olympics only Japan could have." Ah, that sounds terrible. Shall we go more literal? "Because Japan, can do. New Olympics!"

See how all those t-shirts happen?

Climbing the walls

The first time we got to the climbing gym, there was an ambulance out front and a glum young guy holding a pretty handbag, a gym bag, and a pair of pink heels.

I hadn't climbed much since college, and this almost turned me back to the train station. But we went ahead, it was fun, and now I go about once a week.

There are quite a few indoor rock climbing gyms in Tokyo. I go most to T-Wall. The two T-Wall climbing gyms (Edogawabashi and Kinshicho) have a good variety of top rope, lead, and bouldering courses. The bouldering area is usually the most crowded. I tend to avoid it because I am afraid of heights and hate jumping down from the top, about 10 feet above the mats. Top roping is much higher, but you are attached to, you know, a rope. (I still get the shakes pretty badly the first few times I go up a new wall.)

I have mixed feelings about the gyms. I love that they're there. I'm happy that I got back into climbing and I feel lucky that they are pretty convenient, cheaper than yoga, and both have good food nearby.

What I don't like is more about me than them. The people who work there seem cool and friendly. But around the time that Betty used up her second 10-time pass (I am supersitiously avoiding getting one), it started to bother me that they had never said anything to us besides, every single time, "Your total is 2100 yen." They respond politely when I try to start a conversation - "Hey, I like the new routes!" or "That loose hold near the top was pretty scary!" - but that's it.

I know we Americans are mocked the world over for our chattery small talk, but I think there's something to be said for it, especially when you have an obvious shared interest. I am realizing that it is something I actually miss.

We tend to see the same people there often. I would have thought that putting life and limb at risk a few feet from each other would tend to break the ice a bit, but it does not. Just the occasional nod. It's not all icicles - we've gotten to be friendly with a few of the other climbers there over time. I'm just surprised that it's not, overall, a friendlier atmosphere. I think it's a big-city thing.

The T-Walls cost 2100 yen for as long as you'd like to climb, plus a ￥525 membership fee that covers both places and their other bouldering gym. Shoe, harness, and chalk rental is an additional ￥945. (It gets a little cheaper after 8 pm, and a lot more crowded.)

For the Edogawabashi T-Wall, the nearest stations are Edogawabashi on the Yurakacho line (exit 4) and Kagurazaka on the Tozai line (exit 1). Scroll to the bottom of the T-Wall Edogawa info page to see the map.

For the Kinshicho T-Wall, the nearest stations are Kinshicho on the JR Sobu and Hanzomon lines (South exit) and Sumiyoshi on the Hanzomon and Shinjuku lines (exit 3). Scroll to the bottom of the T-Wall Kinshicho info page to see the map.

Note: Kinshicho is closed every Monday, and Edogawabashi is closed the first Monday of every month. Guess who found out the hard way.

On weekends, we've been to a few that are a little further, in Saitama.

Energy climbing gym in Urawa is bright and airy with a big lounge area. It has two self-belay devices and interesting top and lead routes as well as plenty of bouldering. Membership is ￥1050, admission is ￥2100, and shoe, harness, and chalk rental is ￥840. The closest stations are Nakaurawa and Musashi Urawa on the JR Saikyo line, 20–30 minutes from Shinjuku. Also closed Mondays.

B-Pump 1 in Kawaguchi had a friendly vibe. The lead area is very large. There are also many top rope courses. We were lucky to be the only people there the rainy Sunday we went, but they seem to be pretty close together - could feel crowded if there were a few more people. The closest station is Akabane on the Keihin Tohoku line. Same price scheme, but I think the membership fee was a little over ￥2,000. However, rentals are free. Closed Mondays.

There are bouldering gyms all over, like PekiPeki in Shibuya and Gravity in Takadanobaba. This Japan Today article has a list of some other bouldering gyms in Tokyo and Kanagawa at the end.

Bonus: Here's a great feature about rock climbing in Japan from Climbing.com.

And the winner is...

A big old arigatou to everyone who participated in the first Japandra Tokyo subway poster giveaway.


In addition to a few lovely people who do not seem to have active blogs, I got great entries from these guys.

Invisible Gaijin skewers Japanese news and keeps his twitter followers laughing.

Jen writes a blog that, despite the name, is a not-so-generic person goes to Japan blog, featuring a killer crystal-covered phone and a brave foray into homemade rice cooker yogurt.

Dekooning has a charming blog packed with pictures of a summer trip to Japan.

Joe Jones writes tons of smart stuff about aeronautics and Japanese politics.

Vika seems to do a little bit of everything in California, and she writes on arts.

Jamaipanese lives in Jamaica and writes about Japan. How cool is that?

Claytonian is a self-described hopeless romantic with lots of friendly and useful advice on learning Japanese.

JJWalsh gives advice for hanging out and getting around in Hiroshima on several different sites.


The decision was tough. But, the first ever Tokyo Metro subway poster giveaway is going to Claytonian, for "Do it at home." It's to the point and relevant, and the subway would be a better place if everyone followed it. Congratulations, and thank you again to everyone who entered.

The sharp-eyed among you will notice this was the first poster giveaway. Stay tuned, friends...


PS. Did anyone notice that "Groping is a no-no" is a salute to The Mighty Boosh?

Keep your fork use private.

A dig at non-Japanese?

Masked world

"Japan's family mask."

"For those who can't take time off, Virus Guard."

I think these pictures are meant to be reassuring, but I can't say that's the main effect.

Panda pants

He bought them in Ueno.

Rookie error, on all six scenic trails

There was a New York Times article about Mt. Takao that called it "a mountain of tranquility." This is a little like saying the subways are really spacious and it's easy to get a seat - sure, at 5 am. Mt. Takao is a vast expanse of meditative natural surroundings, say, on a drizzly Wednesday. If you want to go at a time that's sort of mainstream convenient, like a gorgeous holiday weekend, congratulations. You just had the same good idea as 5 million of your closest friends.
We got in line and filed up a paved switchback, stood in a few lines for icecream and gave up without getting any, and then came back down a trail that was more of a trail. It felt like some kind of forced evacuation through the woods. Lots of kids had wooden walking sticks with bells on them to scare off bears. I'm sure any bears in a 20-mile radius were cowering in their caves waiting for the holiday weekend to end. There were also a few misguided trailrunners all geared up in high-performance spandex and camelbacks trying, comically, to weave through the throngs.

We relaxed later at an onsen that was a free shuttle bus ride away from Takaosan-guchi station. We were early and were lucky to get seats instead of standing for the 20-minute ride through traffic. The baths were nice, after a 10-minute line at the front counter. The place subscribes to this odd Japanese notion that adding "pi" or "pia" to the end of a word makes it sound fun, so it was called "Takao no Yu Furo-pi," which sort of roughly translates as "Takao Hot Spring Bath-y!" They rendered it in "English" as "Froppy." The baths were a bargain at 800 yen, and, after the initial wave of senior citizens washed up and went upstairs to pass out in TV recliner chairs, spacious and relaxing - a rare quality for anything worth doing during a holiday weekend.

If you know of anything else that's not maddening to do when the whole country has off at the same time, please leave your suggestions in the comments. Today, I'm going to roll the dice with a trip to Costco. I'm thinking maybe everyone else is crammed onto a mountain somewhere.

Latte foam art imitates life

Perfect latte foam art for the first lazy day of a five-day weekend at heaven-sent Better Days. Could the barista tell how late I'd slept in? Jim, the early riser, got a leaf.


Is this wrong?