Closure, Sort Of

It’s been more than a month since I posted last and almost a month since I returned home. Of course, a whole ton of stuff—some of it interesting, some of it comfortably mundane—has happened in that time, both in Tokyo and away from Tokyo. The last couple weeks in Japan were hectic—taking finals, seeing friends, making last-minute plans to go to Tokyo Disneyland, and the like. Since coming back, I’ve been settling into a new house, reuniting with some very important people, and trying not to think about my swiftly-approaching senior year.

I skipped over a lot that I’d like to have recorded and I could do heaps of reflecting, but at this point… *shrug* It is what it is, and I’m satisfied with the blog-keeping I managed.

I’d love to talk more about my time abroad, but I’ve already found difficulty in knowing how to do that. If you ask me in general terms how Tokyo was, I probably won’t give you much of an answer. But if you have any specific questions, those I can work with, and will, happily. Otherwise, I’m likely to try not to bring it up too much, in hopes of avoiding the sort of excessiveness that will bore or annoy you, as much as I know you care.

And I do know you care. You’ve been reading this, after all. Thanks for that! It meant a lot and made home feel not so far away at all.

I’m pretty fond of the blog name, so chances are if you happen to wander back here sometime in the future—can’t say for sure how long, but “eventually” seems about right—I’ll have something new going on. I hardly plan to let the grand adventures stop now. :]

Cuddly Cocoa

Studio Ghibli Museum

I wish the museum could be my house. Really. With the glass dome roof and the sprial staircases and the huge, open central hall and the brightly-painted theatre and the character-themed stain glass windows and the rooftop garden and all the surrounding greenery. Visitors aren’t allowed to take photos of the inside, but the website has a few.

I could’ve spent all of my two hours’ allocated time and then some in the rooms where the walls were covered in sketches and illustrations and watercolors. Gwah.

Love.

Nekorobi

Since Tristan is no longer on a boat, but rather, in Tokyo, we got to hang out and cross off another important item on my list of things that really must be done before leaving: we went to a cat cafe!

We were at first led astray by my silly assumption that, of course, if we found a place with cats in the block where my google map directions led us to, it had to be our desired destination. Because there wouldn’t be, you know, three cat cafes in one block or anything. So we went up to the cat playroom on the top floor of a department store, only to find, upon entering, that more of the cats were behind glass windows than out in the open, the human-cat ratio was not favorable, and there was no cafe.

So we didn’t spend long there before going in search of the place we’d meant to find, which ended up being around the back of the block in a hole-in-the-wall sort of place. This is one of things I’ve learned: you know those sketchy backalleys that other cities use for their shootings and muggings and drugs deals? Well, Tokyo, has plenty of those sketchy backalleys, but since it doesn’t have so much of the other stuff you’d typically find in them, they get filled up with awesome little restaurants and shops instead. Also, most of the good places aren’t on the ground floor. You have to know where you’re going, or have really good luck with aimless wandering (or, you know, be able to read Japanese), to find them.

On the one hand, the cat cafe is a brilliant idea. Cats are adorable. They are also fluffy and soft, fun to pet, and fun to play with. What could be more relaxing than going into a room full of kitties and snuggling them until your heart is full of love and your clothes are full of cat hair?

On the other, cat cafes are preposterous. Cats sleep a lot. They are mostly anti-social. They are too cool for you, and they are definitely too cool for any shiny balls of fuzz dangling on sticks, no matter how long or how earnestly you wave them in front of their disdainful faces.

The fun in cat cafes is two-fold, for me, at least: there’s the rare joy of having a cat validate your pitiful human existence through some display of responsive, and then there’s the more complex pleasure of seeing other people being totally denied by cats who just couldn’t give a damn.

That seems cruel, and I guess it is, but maybe not entirely? It wasn’t the suffering that I found amusing, so much as how relatable that suffering was. If I laughed, ok, yes, it was derisive, but it was sympathetic, too. In our shared experience, I felt a deep sense of kinship with the other patrons sitting around sipping their hot milk teas after imminent cat-rejection. Whether or not anyone else was aware of it, I am sure that for our hour there, we were all united in a recognition of human insignificance, of which cats have the unparalleled power to remind us.

No lie.

Ageha & Alice

Ageha

This weekend I stayed over at Lauren’s, after being politely evicted from my host family’s apartment to make room for their other guests. Friday night after grilled cheese sandwiches (which absolutely merits mention—do you know how long it’s been since I had a grilled cheese sandwich?) and Hairspray, we prepared to go out clubbing with a bunch of her friends. (My initial response to this plan was something like, “Erghuhrurkuh? Me? Clubbing?” But I gradually grew more comfortable with the prospect, especially after receiving sage advice from my Lit professor, the wellspring of wisdom: “That’s what alcohol is for, Dani.” I am always glad to know he’s looking out for my well-being.)

So. My first night of all-night clubbing in Japan. Well, my first night of any sort of clubbing in Japan. Err, my first night of clubbing, period. It was going to be EPIC. It had to be. After all, there was a swimming pool!

And epic it was…not so much. I soon found that Ageha’s claim to fame, “biggest club in Japan,” isn’t necessarily a bragging point, since in this case it meant “half empty.” I mean, I had fun thanks to the excellent company. I enjoyed dancing and was surprised to find that I still enjoyed dancing after five hours of nothing but. Otherwise, meh. I didn’t need to pay the equivalent of $35 to get sleazed on like mad just because I have blonde hair.

The night had its highly amusing moments, though. I received drunken hugs from the three of my Japanese classmates who also happened to be there, a girl fell on me while trying to pet my boots, and I had a good time watching a short, balding business man in a suit and thick glasses, shuffling back and forth to the music, all by himself.

By the 5am train ride home, I was the most exhausted I’ve been since coming to Japan, and I couldn’t how imagine how anyone who did this once would want to consider doing it again, yet alone doing it again the next night. I was also worried I’d have a concussion by the time we got back to Lauren’s place because every time I drifted off, my lolling head smashed into the metal window divider. :/

Alice in Wonderland Restaurant

Saturday evening, after lots of sleep and a trip to the Square Enix store (well, first accidentally to the Square Enix office building, and then to the Square Enix store, which was close by, thankfully), Lauren, Hillary, and I went to the Alice in Wonderland themed restaurant! The interior was decorated all fancy-shmancy with velvety curtains and lots of gilded mirrors and high-backed Mad Tea Party-esque chairs (some of which had bunny tails!) The soundtrack from the Disney movie served as background music. And of course, all of the waitresses wore blue dresses with pinafores and white-and-black-striped socks.

I had the dessert rendering of too-big-Alice crammed into the White Rabbit’s house. It was made with an entire loaf of bread. A loaf of bread coated in butter and honey with vanilla ice cream on top and a roof made of toast triangles over all of it and toast hands and feet sticking out at the corners.

Oh, Japan.

Heart.

Cake Buffet

“You know what I really want to do right now?” I said to Will, as we tried to make our evening plans to “hang out” a little more specific. “I want to eat my weight in cake. This is probably not a good idea.”

And it wasn’t a good idea.

It was THE BEST idea.

Rose Sushi

Yesterday, had the unexpected chance to learn how to make some sushi!

Was shown how to make the tulip in the center, but did not actually attempt; the others are mine, though. Can you tell they’re roses?

The Monkeys Have Their Eyes on Your FACE

If your idea of a dream vacation involves having your fingers gnawed off by sacred deer and your eyes scratched out by monkeys, then Miyajima might be the tourist destination for you!

Seriously, though. This past weekend, I went with half the CIEE group to Miyajima, an island near Hiroshima (we went to Hiroshima first, but it’s proving more difficult to write about, so more on that later), about 4 hours south-west-ish of Tokyo via shinkansen. The island is accessible only by ferry, and it’s beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

Despite the threat of attack from the wildlife, I fell in love with the place. I blame the ridiculously cute smiling maple leaf emblems that are all over everywhere. Our resident Canadian was rather indignant about the appropriation, but I may have bought an enormous plush one that I have no practical means of getting home. >____>

I loved Itsukushima Shrine. Rachel declared that she would someday buy the place and set up an artist commune there—with the additional luxuries of electricity, cable, wireless, and air conditioning as necessary. I thought it was a brilliant idea—just as long as she didn’t decide to repaint the walls (err, posts?).

After touring the shrine, we hiked to the ropeway. The word “ropeway” had me envisioning something way cooler than an amusement park-esque skyride. I thought we’d either be crossing a precariously swinging plank bridge or anti-gravity zipline-ing it up the mountain. But, uh, no. Amusement park-esque skyride it was. And worse still, after the hike, Gary, Becky, Rachel, and I decided that, after all we’d suffered in getting there, we pretty much had to ride the thing.

Upon reaching the top, we went right back down, none of us being too impressed with the view, clouded and “typical view from atop a mountain” as it was, but not without snapping photos of the hilarious sign warning us about the monkeys!

On the way down, we had fun watching the people going up watching us as we passed them. It hasn’t made any impression on me if people stare at me in Tokyo, and I suspect they don’t so much, since the city is so full of foreigners. But the Japanese tourists just stared and stared and then turned around in their seats to stare more. So we waved and were met with enthusiastic responses! :D

The rest of the afternoon was souvenir shopping. Miyajima is famous for its momiji manju, maple leaf-shaped cakes available with a wide assortment of fillings—many flavors of bean paste, chocolate cream, custard, blueberry cream cheese… Gary bought a pack with Hello Kitty faces on them, which he claimed were for the girls in kyudo club…

Oh, Tokyo. So Much Strange, All the Time

This city. MAN. Sometimes I think I’ll be perfectly happy to leave it come the end of July, but other times, I just can’t imagine any other place in the world that can manage to be so utterly baffling and completely delightful all at once.

Yesterday morning I watched a woman practice ballet on the morning metro train. How she managed between the crowdedness and the jerking stops I don’t really understand, but she went through a whole routine of condensed motions. Have never seen anyone do anything so graceful on public transportation. Have also never seen anyone with such garrish lipstick, and that’s saying something.

At school, a group of three girls chased after me, calling “sumimasen!”, as I set off from campus. One of them had a camera, and she asked if she could photograph me, and then, presumably, explained why she wanted to. I told her I didn’t understand much Japanese, and she assured me that my interview would be in English. Interview? What? She then confirmed that I was an exchange student and asked where I was from. Apparently America was not the right answer. The girls shared a look, apologized for bothering me, and promptly scurried away.

For lunch, I went to Loving Hut—the wonderful vegan restaurant only 15 minutes’ walk from school that I’ve been frequenting since I found out about it at the Yoyogi Park Earth Day (“a—sudei”, in katakana; you don’t want to know how long it took for me to figure that one out) Farmers’ Market over the weekend. I love the place. The employees are friendly and enthusiastically activist-y, and I’ve yet to have to pay for food there, on account of their “first 20 people each day get a FREE amazingly delicious and nutritious boxed lunch” deal.

But yesterday, I discovered, was the one-year anniversary of the restaurant’s opening, and because of that, not only were they giving out free lunches all afternoon, but they were also documenting the day in video. I almost made it in and out safely. I went in, answered all the same questions (“yes, I’ve been here before,” “yes, I have the CD of pro-veganism videos, “no, I don’t need chopsticks–I brought my own”), got my lunch, and made to leave. But the women were like, “Wait, wait, wait! We want to film you~” And they took my lunch away from me so they could give it to me again.

So. There now exists video of me, no doubt looking TERRIFIED, falsely claiming veganism and expressing my humble thanks for a very theatrically-presented meal in something that might, maybe, approximate Japanese! Yay?

It’s always an adventure.

(And you know how I feel about adventures.)

Soba, Stick-thwacking, School Visit

I am sick, and it feels like there is an army of very tiny but very strong people inside my head marching and stomping and slamming battering rams into the back of my eyes and shooting flaming arrows down my throat (and I blame this comparison entirely on watching Lord of the Rings last night instead of doing my reading, and that’s why procrastination is BAD).

Two excellent things have helped me feel better about my sad state, though, first being that I bought melon soda-flavored hard candies to make my throat my feel better, and they fizz weirdly, and it’s awesome! The second is: Midterms! Over! Yes!

I didn’t spend the whole week hiding in a corner of the sixth floor of the library with my head stuck in a translation of Genji Monogatari trying to figure out who happen to be His Excellency, His Eminency, and His Highness this chapter…just most of it.

And as thrilling as I’m sure it would be for you to read about all I gleaned from that endeavor, that particular joy is reserved for my very lucky professor. So here’s the other stuff I did:

Soba

Soba, Japanese buckwheat noodles, is delicious and nutritious, and I got to learn how to make it from scratch! It was harder than it looked, and honestly, it didn’t look all that easy.

Despite a too-small work area, a too-small rolling-pin, a blunt, curved knife, and a few too many complaints about all of the aforementioned from my partner, we managed to make some fairly decent noodles. And by “fairly decent” I mean “much too thick and prone to breaking but apparently good in comparison to the rest of our CIEE-mates’ because somehow we won the award for best noodle wait what how did that happen and why did the prize have to be a bottle of Coke POISON of all things but really I am grateful I swear”!

The instructors boiled the noodles everyone, including the soba-master sensei, had made and served them cold with dipping sauce (soy sauce with grated daikon). Some of the noodles were thin and delicious (sensei’s), while others were thick and chewy and disgusting (everyone else’s), but we all ate and ate and ate them anyway until we never wanted to see another noodle ever. Mm.

Kendo Practice

Ever since I was brutally rejected (woe!) from the Don Quixote circle at the end of their trial month, I’ve had free Thursdays. And what does Taihei do on Thursdays? Learns the beautiful traditional art of thwacking people with sticks, that’s what. So, this past week I finally got to try some kendo, too…after being told I would just watch the first time. I arrived with the dozen or so boys (most under the age of five) in the beginner group and, through a series of gestures from the sensei, inferred that I could either start doing push-ups RIGHT NOW or I could get out.

The instructor and the few other adults who helped teach me the basics were incredibly kind and patient, but I had an extremely difficult time figuring out what I was supposed to do, since I caught maybe a word every two minutes, and, perhaps more significantly, I am clumsy and uncoordinated to a degree that is beyond tragic. Having no prior knowledge of kendo, and therefore, no clue what I was aiming to achieve, didn’t help much either.

Verdict: interesting experience, not one I am eager to repeat, not one I will be physically capable of repeating by next Thursday, owww owww owww I still can’t move without hurting. Paaaathetic.

Fortunately, I am not lacking exercise. One of the most excellent things about being directionally-impaired, beside the infinite adventure it brings, is that getting lost is fantastic exercise, and I’ve been doing quite a lot of that. (Vegan pita place? Of course I can find that! I have a map. WRONG. Enormous mall that’s impossible to miss? Of course I can find that! I’ve been there by bus on two prior occasions. ALSO WRONG.) But. Anyway.

Elementary School Visit

Before taking the train out to a small elementary school in Meguro, the other CIEE kids and I spent about an hour preparing how to introduce ourselves, deciding what we wanted to share about our home countries, and brainstorming games to teach with the kids—all for naught! The school had so much planned for us already that we didn’t have time to get our part in. And that’s not a complaint.

After the initial debrief at the school, Gary and I walked around (repeatedly almost killing ourselves on the stairs in our borrowed slippers) and observed all the different classes going on. There weren’t many–just one for each grade, since the school only has 200-some students. The first graders, in all their adorableness, were singing the theme song from Totoro. We also saw some hand-writing practice, some watercolor painting, and a geography class (with a suspenderific teacher!)

For the lunch period, I went to my assigned class: the third-graders. Everyone ate in the classroom, and the kids did the serving. Lunch consisted of Japanese-style curry with rice, soup, a slice of melon, and milk. I sat with a rambunctious group that asked me lots of questions, a few of which I actually understood. (I got “do you know Pokemon?” at least!)

At recess, two girls laid claim to me and pulled me by the wrists to the library, where they showed me the biographies of famous dead white guys and read “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” to me in Japanese. Then I read a little bit to them from an English picture-book before it was time to go back and clean the classroom. I helped sweep and wipe the floors and clean out paint bowls in the art room with the kids, who seemed to regard it more like fun than work.

Each of the grades had a different activity planned for their foreign visitors. The third graders taught calligraphy. All of them pulled out their writing kits—ink, brushes, paper, felt writing pad, paper weights, the whole deal—and practiced their kanji. The kids at my table asked me what character I wanted to draw and one of them would either demonstrate the stroke order first and then let me try or guide my hand to write it.

When the school day had almost ended, the students started asking for autographs, coming up to me with papers, folders, pencil cases, and, in one case, an arm to sign. Two of the students even tried to give me their phone straps as gifts. ^^; I found it all cute, but somewhat disconcerting…I wouldn’t make much of a celebrity, I’m afraid.

So? I had fun, the kids were great to be around, and I have no sweeping generalizations to make about the Japanese school system or teaching style! Maybe after another visit? :P