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."