Tuesday, October 28--Pit Stop

Okay, it is time to talk toilets. I have been avoiding the subject because, well, it isn’t necessarily the most polite topic of conversation. But remembering the toilet I saw at the shrine in Kamakura over the weekend, I feel obligated to expose the truth. Not all toilets in Japan are models of Japanese engineers’ superior technological expertise and ingenuity. There is not a Captain Kirk toilet in every house and public restroom stall. In fact, only in the finest hotels and the VIP lounge of the airport will you find a gleaming porcelain bowl crowned with a heated seat and fanny washer. In the majority of locations, you will be lucky to even encounter the porcelain bowl. By American standards, the traditional Japanese bathroom is quite crude. While there does seem to be running water in every restroom, a true Japanese toilet is less comfortable to use than a good ol’ American outhouse.

The first thing you notice when walking into a public restroom is the fact that the stall doors run floor to ceiling. Most doors also have a red-colored plate that lets you know when the stall is occupied, which I originally thought was just a clever accessory. Only after thinking about the American way of determining if a stall is occupied—looking under the door for feet—and realizing it wouldn’t be feet you’d see in a Japanese bathroom if you looked under the door, did I understand that the full-length doors and colored plates were necessary equipment to protect privacy, not added conveniences. If you are extremely lucky, you will find one of these full-length doors sporting a picture of a Western toilet. If the call of nature isn’t a frantic scream at this point, I highly recommend waiting until this stall is vacant. If you can’t hold it another moment (or if your husband is waiting impatiently for you to emerge from the ladies’ room), you’re going to have to suck it up and go Japanese-style.

IMPORTANT!! When you walk in the stall, immediately check for toilet paper!! Only recently has this item been added to many Japanese bathrooms—if there is none, dig a tissue out of your purse before you hang it on the stall door hook. (When you walk down the streets of Japan, there are always salespeople shoving small packs of tissues at you. It doesn’t matter whether the hawker is advertising cell phones or exotic dancers. Take the tissues! They are worth their weight in gold.)

Forget about reading a magazine or answering the cell phone while you’re in here. Unless you have the thigh muscles of a Major League baseball catcher, you won’t have the stamina for extracurricular activities while in the bathroom. You don’t sit on a Japanese toilet…you squat above it. (Now do you understand the full-length doors?) The toilet is basically a porcelain trough in the floor. The front end has a hood and the pipes—make sure you face this direction! Some bathrooms even have special tiles on the floor to help you find the correct placement for your feet, so that everything will line up properly. The hard part is figuring out how to arrange your clothing so nothing gets dirty. While you want to pull your pants down as far as possible so you don’t accidentally dribble on them, you don’t want them puddling on the floor around your ankles, because I don’t think that’s water you’re standing in. You must also be mindful of long shirt tails and coat tails hanging below the waist—hold them up out of the splash zone. With your hands full of clothing, you have no means of maintaining your balance as you lower yourself into a squatting position over the toilet, so you'll want to descend slowly and carefully, making no sudden movements. Not that there is anything to grab onto anyway if you begin to lose your balance—you’d have to make a split-second decision about which would be the most sanitary thing to touch on your way down…the wall, the floor, the hood of the toilet, or the trash bin, if one is present. Shudder. Check out this website for full instructions on how to use a Japanese toilet (warning: there is an explicit description of what happens if you lose your balance, so hide the kids’ eyes). Please note that the author actually meant toilet bowl not bowel, even though the error adds to the hilarity of the whole experience.

After you emerge from the stall, you are going to have a strong desire to wash your hands (if not take a shower). At the sinks you are going to find plenty of running water—often from faucets of the motion-sensor variety—but oddly you won’t often find soap. This is so strange to me, in a country that is hyper-aware of spreading germs (during cold season, scores of Japanese wear surgical masks so as not to contaminate the rest of the population). Even rarer than soap are paper towels or electric hand dryers. You are expected to have a small towel with you at all times with which to dry your hands, wipe sweat from your brow, mop up spilled coffee, etc.

I used my first Japanese toilet at Ueno Zoo several weeks ago. It took longer than a normal pit stop should have, but I emerged feeling quite proud of myself. My jeans and my sneakers were dry, I didn’t have to grab onto anything to keep my balance, and I had my little towel with me to dry my hands when I was finished. I felt like a potty expert! It was only when we arrived at the train station and I pulled my PASMO card (train pass) out of my back pocket that I realized I might need some more practice. In the process of squatting over my strategically pulled-down jeans, I squashed the daylights out of my PASMO card—quite an accomplishment since it is made of the same plastic as a credit card. It still works in the scanner, but the creases will constantly remind me not to overlook any small detail in a public restroom!

Saturday, October 25--Kamakura on a Day of Celebrations

We ventured into Kamakura today (two train stops from home), which is a great place to experience some of “old” Japan. The town is full of shrines and temples (just look at the map), still has some traditional style houses, and is home to the second largest statue of Buddha in Japan (we didn’t see him today—will head out that direction another time).

Today we tackled the main street, which runs from Hachimangu Shrine at one end to Yuigahama Beach at the other. This Shinto shrine is the most important one in Kamakura, and was built in the 1100s. The street leading to the shrine is lined on either side with countless shops and restaurants, and is spanned in three locations by tremendous torii gates. Near the train station, about 10 minutes walk from the shrine, the street becomes divided by a large median which is actually a pedestrian pathway bordered by cherry trees (this will be gorgeous in the spring). The path is always busy, but was especially so today because of the Shichi-Go-San (Seven-Five-Three) ceremony being held at the shrine. This is a special day of prayer for the healthy growth of young children, specifically for girls who are 3 or 7 years old, and boys who are 3 or 5 years old. Though traditionally held on November 15, it is not a national holiday, so ceremonies are often held on the nearest weekend. We just happened to be in the right place at the right time! The children usually dress in formal kimonos and their proud parents snap lots of photos. After the ceremony, where prayers for health and long life are offered by priests, parents often purchase “chitose-ame” or thousand-year candy for the child. This long red and white candy comes in a bag which may be decorated with plum, bamboo, turtles, and cranes, all symbols of health, good luck, and long life.

Many Japanese couples get married in the fall, and we were lucky enough to see two traditional Shinto wedding ceremonies being performed on the grounds of the shrine today. Each bride was beautiful in her shiromuku (ceremonial white kimono), and the nervous grooms wore montsuki haori hakama. The guests were clad either in kimonos or their best Western-style clothing. We couldn’t really hear (not that we would have understood anyway) the actual ceremony, but it was apparent that everything, right down to the sake drinking, was precisely choreographed.

Stay tuned for future trips to this delightful city. There is so much to see and do here—a definite tour stop for those of you planning to come visit us in Japan!

Friday, October 24--I give up

Maybe you can help me out here. This sign is hanging, larger than life, on the side of the local mall. What does “Heartful Autumn” mean exactly? What do hippos sitting on a tree limb holding a lantern have to do with autumn? And what in the world are those wormy things with hands sitting beside the hippos?

Wednesday, October 22--Musings on Adventure

For the past couple of days I’ve been thinking about the single folks in Jim’s office who have come overseas, especially those on their first tour. It must be intimidating to leave all that is familiar, and go to a new country, where you don’t know a soul, don’t speak the language, and don’t have a clue where to find anything. Nevertheless, it’s a remarkable opportunity for people in their early twenties to explore the world before they have a family to worry about. I admire their independent spirits, their sense of adventure, and their willingness to confront the unknown singlehandedly. I remember those days, even though I personally didn’t get past the dreaming of adventure stage when I was in my twenties. Only $4000 stood between me and a two-week vacation on a Montana ranch. I was a single phone call away from signing up for a one-year contract as a catch-monitoring biologist onboard Alaskan deep sea fishing boats. I ended up postponing my adventures till later.

The biggest benefit to waiting to embark on my adventures is that now I have someone to share them with. Not that I wouldn’t have had fun on my own—each experience is what you make it. And I could have shared what I did with family and friends back home. But I find that half the fun now is being able to talk to Jim each day about what we’ve seen and done. Sometimes when we’ve gone out somewhere new on the weekend, we see different things in the same places and compare notes. Other times we both saw the same thing, but have different ideas about what exactly it was or what it meant. Then there are the things we see when we are out on our own, that we talk about in the evenings. For example, on my way back from teaching today, I saw a hearse. Those of you who are thinking, “My, what stimulating dinner table conversation a hearse would make,” have obviously never seen a Japanese hearse. We are talking a shrine on four wheels. They make the shrines from Sunday’s mikoshi parade look like an 8-year-old assembled them from popsicle sticks and mom’s leftover craft supplies.

I imagine that if I had been able to travel overseas for a job when I was still single, I would have made friends in the new location. I could have gone sightseeing and exploring with those new friends, and we could have compared our individual adventures around the water cooler at work. I could have called home to try to describe everything in my new country to my family. But I think I would have ended up feeling lonely. Having Jim to share everything with each night makes me want to experience more of all Japan has to offer and makes me less homesick.

Sunday, October 19--Mikoshi Parade

Today was the 32nd Annual Mikoshi Parade in Yokosuka. We were up late last night playing poker, so we got a slow start this morning. By the time we got up and indulged in brunch on base, we missed the beginning of the parade. What we did see was incredible, and I will make sure to catch the whole thing next year.

A mikoshi is a portable Shinto shrine, which is traditionally believed to carry part of a deity which will be taken to a special place to be released by a priest. (This parade was just a reenactment—no deities were contained in the shrines.) Each mikoshi is beautifully decorated with ribbons, lanterns, paintings, and plants. There are bells and knockers on the sides to wake the sleeping deity inside. Each of the 74 shrines in this year’s parade was carried well over a mile, from city hall downtown onto the base itself, on the shoulders of nearly 9,000 participants. No small feat, considering these things are made of solid wood beams and can weigh up to two tons.

Each mikoshi has a team of “handlers.” The shrine is led by a couple people carrying lanterns. Then there are several people pulling on ropes attached to the mikoshi, helping to guide the rest of the team down the parade route. The shrine itself is carried on the shoulders of dozens of Japanese, fueled (I’m told) by vast quantities of sake, who are moving in a sort of march/dance. They shake the mikoshi to rattle the bells, and sometimes even squat down repeatedly to dip the shrine. This is all done in perfect harmony, thanks to the rhythmic knocking on the sides of the shrine and the chanting of the carriers. It all looks professionally choreographed. The shrines are accompanied by scores of alternate carriers, ready to take the place of anyone who needs to step out from under the weight of the shrine for a break. Some members of the team are guides—they push and pull with all their might on the shrine to make sure it stays on course, and does not ram the shrine ahead (or drift backwards into the one behind). Each shrine is followed by a pit crew, for lack of a better term. They push along a cart on which the mikoshi can be rested if the parade stalls. (However, most carts today were being used to transport vast quantities of pizza—the Japanese love American pizza, and buy dozens of them whenever they have an opportunity to come on base.)

The mikoshi carriers almost defy description. Their energy is amazing, boundless, and infectious. Despite the enormous burden they carry, they smile and laugh, their faces only occasionally showing the strain of what they are doing. Both men and women participate, old and young, tall and short. I would add fat and thin, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat to be seen anywhere. And believe me, it was easy to assess, thanks to the traditional dress of the participants. Some of the men stuck to the purely traditional dress, which consists of a short robe called a happi coat and a type of thong undergarment. Bare chests and bare buns were frequently visible. The majority of the participants, however, opted for a more modest approach, wearing the happi coat over a t-shirt, and sporting white bike-shorts called zubon-shita. All wore odori tabi, which are vinyl-soled socks, split at the big toe, so sandals can easily be worn. (Traditionally, the Japanese participated in festivals such as this bare-footed—these socks offer some protection from the rough asphalt.)

I took lots of pictures during the parade (see link at right), but they just don’t capture the spirit of the event. There was so much to take in, between the costumes, the chanting, the pounding, the bells, the dancing, the beauty of the shrines, and good old-fashioned people watching. You can get a better feel for the festive atmosphere by watching the short video clips below.

Saturday, October 18--The Birds

When we woke up this morning, it was a bit breezy, but the sun was shining brightly—great weather for the office picnic scheduled at noon. I threw on jeans and a t-shirt and Jim donned shorts and a t-shirt. Luckily we both tossed fleece jackets in the car, because when we arrived at the picnic area’s pavilion (which is right by the seawall) the sun was gone, the skies were full of leaden clouds, and the wind was howling. Reminded me of the nor’easters that blew through while I was living in New Hampshire.

The grill was fired up, though, and lots of good food was coming from it. Brats, hot dogs, hamburgers, ribs…the works. We couldn’t load up our plates with sides, because everything was blowing off the plate before we could eat it. So there was a lot of back and forth—I’ll have a hot dog this trip, then I’ll go back for some pasta salad, then I’ll get a brownie, oh and those pickles look good, hey wait…are those spring rolls? Homemade Vietnamese spring rolls, with the pork and the rice noodles and the shrimp inside, just like we used to get at Pho Saigon in Fredericksburg. Even had the dipping sauce! Ah, the spring rolls. Delicious. But dangerous.

By the time I got to the spring roll, I had given up on trying to hold a plate in the wind. Finger food all the way now. I took a couple bites, then decided to walk out of the pavilion, munching on the rest, to where Jim was chatting with some guys from work. Earlier, I had noticed a dozen or so seahawks circling around, riding the wind, eyeballing the food on the grill and the small children on the playground. Now if you’ve never seen a seahawk, they are large, beautiful birds of prey, about two-thirds the size of an eagle. For weeks, I had been admiring their almost regal appearance as they soared around the base, screaming their seahawk battle cries. But I honestly didn’t give them much thought today—figured they were opportunists, like seagulls, waiting for food to hit the ground. Couldn’t have been more wrong. About six steps out of the pavilion, spring roll to my mouth, and there was a whoosh of feathers and a sudden gust of wind, unrelated to the storm brewing at sea, as a seahawk swooped in front of me. That was apparently his reconnaissance mission, because I barely had time to register, “Hey that bird was close,” before he was back again, this time making a grab for the spring roll dangling from my lips. Missed the spring roll, but he hooked my nose. In shock, I could hear Jim laughing hysterically in the background as the spring roll and I beat a hasty retreat back to the pavilion. They ought to have signs nailed to every flat surface of every pavilion warning unsuspecting picnic-goers of the aggressive nature of the resident seahawks.

The damage to my nose was minimal—just a very small cut which, barring some hideous seahawk-induced infection, will heal in a couple days. I’m grateful it wasn’t my eye he hooked. The psychological damage, however…let’s just say I won’t be watching the Alfred Hitchcock classic any time soon.

Tuesday, October 14--There's Ten Weeks of This?

Today I began a ten-week Japanese language course. It is a free class, offered by Fleet and Family Services, which meets for 90 minutes once a week. I didn’t walk into class expecting to be fluent in Japanese by the time it ends in December, but I figured it was a good starting point. After the first lesson…I am not so sure.

The class seemed like total chaos to me. There was an American there helping to run the class—she teaches the Getting Started Teaching English class and runs the English Teachers’ Networking Group—and she did not let the Japanese instructor do much. There were two or three kids at the back table being chatty (was today some sort of school holiday that I missed?). Many of the other students have already had one or more Japanese classes, and they were intent on showing how much they knew. So while I was desperately straining to hear the Japanese instructor pronounce common greetings, all these other people were talking over her. It was extremely frustrating.

Adding to my confusion and frustration were the photocopied pages from the textbook we were supposed to get for the class. The local bookstore did not carry the book, so I had to order a copy from Amazon last week—it is on its way, but did not arrive in time for today’s class. Luckily the instructors knew we were having difficulties obtaining books, and made copies of the pages we’d need for today. Imagine my surprise when I looked at the pages and they are all in hiragana (one of the three Japanese writing systems)! I was expecting to see the Japanese word for house spelled out in English letters, like in a Japanese-English dictionary or phrase book. Looking at those pages, it finally clicked with me why learning Japanese is such a huge undertaking. It’s not just using flashcards to memorize some new words. It’s learning a whole new language from the alphabet up. I’m starting to feel like that old dog trying to learn a new trick.

Sunday, October 5--Don't Feed the Monkeys

Off to Tokyo today, on a combined adventure. I wanted to go to the zoo, and Jim and Rudy had been plotting for days to find Shakey’s Pizza. First, to the Ueno Zoo. I visited the zoo when we were here last summer, and thought it would be a nice place to take Jim and Rudy now that the weather has turned cooler. Didn’t know till we had been walking around the zoo for nearly three hours that Jim isn’t a huge fan of zoos—if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Oops. Duly noted.

I enjoyed it though, and since my camera battery died right after taking pictures of the giant panda (first exhibit when you enter the zoo) last summer, I was glad to get a second walk-through. Good thing I got those panda photos last year…the zoo’s only panda died this past April. See this year’s pictures in the Ueno Zoo photo album (link on right).

Now starving, we got back on the train and went to Shibuya (another district of Tokyo) where Rudy swore a Shakey’s Pizza was located (he’d seen it on a previous trip to the city, and thought he had committed its location to memory). We walked half a dozen blocks out of each of the train station’s four exits and could not find it. We finally found some other Americans on the crowded sidewalk and asked them if they had any idea where it was. They excitedly said, “Yes, we just ate there—if you hurry you can still make the buffet!” Elated, we asked where it was—only to find out it wasn’t in this part of town. We’d have to get back on the train and go up another stop. Too hungry to continue the hunt, we retreated to the train station and settled for tonkatsu (a battered and fried pork cutlet, served on a huge bed of shredded cabbage, with sides of steamed rice and miso soup). I’m not sure anything ever tasted so delicious!

Rudy promises to do more research on the exact location of Shakey’s and take us there on our next trip to Tokyo.

Saturday, October 4--The Sake Flows

A busy day today. We started out at JMSDF, where I teach, as guests at the Second Service School’s 50th Anniversary celebration. The ceremony was held in the mess hall, where tables were laid out with amazing displays of food and drink. The Japanese officers and staff of the school, as well as the American instructors and their spouses, stood attentively as speeches were given. Unfortunately we could not understand the speeches, and I felt sort of left out as the rest of the audience laughed appreciatively at some joke delivered by the speaker. It was also quite startling at the end of the speech, when, with the exception of the American contingency, the entire audience bowed as one. Japanese customs and traditions are so complex, yet performed so innately—everyone always seems to be on the same page and knows exactly what is expected in each situation. I know they are taught these customs from childhood, and it is unreasonable to think I can walk in and know everything within two months, but feel like I am being disrespectful by trying to learn as I go along.

After the speeches, there was a traditional opening of sake casks. I think it was more of a photo opportunity (guess who went without a camera?) than a real opening of the casks, because the lids split perfectly when hit with wooden mallets. Once the casks were opened, sake was distributed in square wooden boxes (how do you drink out of a wooden box? From the side? From the corner?) and toasts were made. Then the feasting began, and everyone made a beeline for the sushi table (students at the school are well-fed and regularly get many of the other types of food that were available today, but the cooks never fix sushi for them). I tried many foods, including yakisoba, tempura (shrimp, shitake mushroom, and green bean), yakitori, and even a piece of sushi (I chose one that appeared to have no fish). We quickly learned that we had to keep a plate with some small piece of food in our hands at all times, otherwise someone would run up to us with a full plate and insist we eat more. Everyone was extremely attentive to the Americans, never leaving us without food, drink, or conversation.

At the end of the event, there was more toasting, I assume to the continued success of the school in the future. There was a ritual for leaving the building which involved letting the most important guests leave first, and bowing along a type of receiving line. As we exited the mess hall, we were given a gift, which consisted of aerial photos of the school, a commemorative sake box imprinted with the school logo, and a badge holder. All in all, we enjoyed ourselves immensely, and were very happy to have been included in the celebration, considering I have only taught there two days!

This afternoon we browsed through the annual Fall Bazaar which takes up one entire parking garage on base. Vendors offer furniture, artwork, gift items, china, kimonos, wooden screens, toys, antiques, and assorted junk from all over Asia. I was hoping to find a tansu (step) chest, but nothing jumped out at me. Today was our scouting mission—we’ll try to go back tomorrow to take a second look and do any purchasing (supposedly the closer to closing time we shop, the better the deals are).