My last dinner in Japan was a grand finale

I never really wrote about my last day in Japan, which included potato sake, a gold rolex watch, Japanese woodblock prints worth thousands and thousands of dollars, and chain smoking Japanese men.

Where do I start?

Okay. So I was staying with my friend Pearl in Tokyo. Her parents had to make an emergency overseas trip for New Year's, so they asked their friends to entertain Pearl and I on the day after New Year's. So Pearl and I went to their house for dinner.

The previous night we watched a TV show were celebrities were blindfolded and then served two versions of the same food: a cheap, corner-store version and a high-end gourmet version. The celebrities had to guess which one was the expensive one. In one round they were given beef made by a professional chef, costing about $300. Then they tasted supermarket beef. Not all of them guessed correctly.

As we walked up the hills of the neighborhood, slightly lost, Pearl briefed me. "The Yamagawas have a beautiful home," she said. "Mr. Yamagawa is a professor at Waseda University, and Mrs. Yamagawa is an excellent cook." The neighborhood was obviously upper-crust. The houses were very big (well, big for Japan. They still had no front yards.) with Mercedes-Benz parked in the driveways. Later it was pointed out to us that the family Prime Minister Koi Zumi and the family of Empress Michiko also live in this neighborhood. I mean this was some serious, serious real estate. And I was going to have dinner here.
A plaque outside a home, with the family name of Koi Zumi.


We were warmly welcomed. We bowed and repeated "Happy New Year" many, many times. There were Mr. Yamagawa, his wife, their two sons, a son's wife, and a grandson who was about four years old and super cute. They sat us at the dining room table and promptly served us a very delicious and light soup with sort of a lemony flavor which Mrs. Yamagawa made herself. Little did I know this was just a foretaste of the culinary doom that was awaiting me.

With her sharp sense of humor my friend Pearl soon won over the hearts of the Yamagawas, and Mrs. Yamagawa called her "like my own daughter." I sort of sat there and tried my best to keep up with the conversations. The little grandson was sitting next to me. When Mr. Yamagawa tried to bump his grandson out of the seat, he was obviously unwilling.
"Oooh, it's probably because he wants to sit next to a beautiful girl." His grandmother giggled. "Do you think Kelley is a beautiful girl?" They all egged him. Shyly he said,
"Yes, she's a beautiful girl." Everyone laughed. It was too cute.

Next we were brought bento boxes of traditional New Year's snacks, everything drenched in a sort of sweet soy sauce. Gingerly I transferred Unknown Edible Objects onto my plate and into my mouth. They also brought us little bowls of shiny orange fish eggs, about the size of the pearls in milk tea. I had managed to avoid eating fish eggs during my entire stay in Japan but could not do so now. The juices burst out as the eggs popped between my teeth. I discreetly passed my bowl to Pearl's side of the table. Next the Yamagawa's busted out a large bottle of expensive sake, a rare brew made from fermented potatoes. They offered me a very, very small amount, which I couldn't even finish because it had probably the strongest alcoholic taste I've ever drank. I could only take a few sips before I knew it would make me feel sick.

In between courses Mr. Yamagawa seemed to take pleasure in showing Pearl and I the many treasures contained within their home. Actually their home wasn't all that fancy, and was actually kind of small. But they had many expensive things, including a gargantuan flatscreen TV. Mr. Yamagawa brought out a box of delicate Japanese woodblock prints.
"How beautiful!" I said. "These look really old."
"Yes, they're originals." He said, beaming.
"ORIGINALS???"
Any museum would accept these beautiful works of art, most of them at least two hundred years old. I couldn't believe I was holding them in my hands. Mr. Yamagawa pointed at certain ones and told us how he had paid ten thousand dollars for them.

I'll have to continue later. Must do homework now.

YAREN, SORAN, SORAN, SORAN, SORAN, SORAN, HAI HAI!!

Well well, after the overwhelming response my last blog elicited (from both of my aunts), how could I not finish writing about my last days in Japan?

One reason that I decided to stay for two weeks in Tokyo after the semester was because people kept bugging me about staying in Japan "only" for a semester. So I tried to extend my stay a little. The other reason was to see friends, and the other reason was to see the New Year in Japan, which is the biggest holiday of the year for them.

Considering that, my New Year was kind of...not that exciting.

I lived in the International House at my campus in the US. I was staying in Tokyo with my friend Pearl, who is also from the I-house, and on New Year's Eve four other friends from the I-house joined us: two Japanese girls, one American guy, and one Thai girl. We made a hot pot, ate lots of snacks, and watched the special New Year's Concert on TV. According to one article, "Unlike in the U.S., where people go out to celebrate New Year's, in Japan nearly everyone stays home for what is the most important television night of the year, and the concert is their version of the Super Bowl, the show that everyone watches." For a sample of the craziness I watched, check out this gem. Also, Gackt dressed as a samurai. Also, Ayumi Hamazaki CAN'T SING. Just for the record.

The American guy and I watched the concert and had fun trying to guess the gender of certain performers. It wasn't always easy. At midnight we all went out to the balcony and irritated Pearl's quiet neighborhood by cheering our heads off WOO! I LOVE YOU TOKYO!!! I saw some fireworks go off in the direction of Tokyo Disneyland.

In the morning we got up early to head off to Meiji shrine. Judging from the crowds there, half of Tokyo had the same plans as we did.

Every good Japanese goes to a shrine to toss money into the box and make wishes for the upcoming year. Meiji shrine is one of the most popular places to go, and it was packed. Our American friend, at 6'2", towered over everyone else and took the above pictures for me. Two elderly Japanese standing in his shadow said to each other, "No wonder the Americans always beat us in soccer."
It took us about an hour to get to the front of the shrine and toss in our money, which is actually relatively fast. Afterwards we went to the huge food court that had been set up nearby, where booths were selling everything from ramen to hamburgers.

So what should we do now, guys? Let's go to Akihabara and eat at a maid cafe. Ok.

What is a maid cafe? It's just a normal cafe, except that the waitresses are young, cute girls dressed up in maid outfits who address their customers as "master." They talk in high, squeaky voices and will play games or chat with you. For an extra fee you can also take pictures with them. (That's why the above picture is blurry- it was taken when she wasn't looking.) When our maid brought us our little bunny and panda-shaped cakes, she said something about wanting everyone to make a wish over the food for its deliciousness. She demonstrated, making a heart shape with her hands and moving it from side to side while saying, "moe, moe, kyuuu!" Aww, how cute. Or something.

Japan is a bizarre place. I kind of miss it.

So long and thanks for all the fish

I am going home TODAY!!

I am so ready to go home. So ready. Mom and Dad, I require that a box of brownie mix be on the premises upon my return.

My last few days in Tokyo have been interesting, including fish eggs, French maids and little Buddhas wearing red hats. But I don't have time to write about it right now. If you guys leave comments saying you're interested (and I mean someone besides my parents for once) I'll write more after I get home.



Sayonara Japan! I am sure that we will meet again.

It's New Year's Eve

There are two times in my life when I have encountered something so gross that I literally gagged.

The first time was back in Jr. High while I was babysitting. I had to change the diaper of a little girl who was very sick. Let's not go into that any further. You don't want to know.

One of the most popular questions the Japanese ask me is, "have you ever eaten natto?", usually accompanied by a smirk. This evening I tried the infamous natto for the first time. Natto is fermented bean crap, the taste and smell of which has been compared to "battery acid." Tonight my Japanese friends insisted that I try it before I leave Japan. They stirred up a little bowl of beans in some sort of brownish-yellow slime. So I took a small cluster that looked like baked beans but smelled like rotten trash. No exaggeration. In a stunning act of courage I ate them, long strings of gooey stuff draping from my mouth to my chopsticks.

And that marks the second time in my life that I have gagged.

I shoved the bowl of natto and my chopsticks into the hands of my friends and ran blindly towards the sink, firstly for a gulp of water and secondly just in case I was about to see those beans again.
"Wow, is it really that bad?" My friends asked.
"It's terrible!!" I exclaimed, and after several glasses of water, soon I was curled up on the couch, clutching a little bowl of vanilla ice cream.

Shibuya scramble

I've spent the last few days in Tokyo, and honestly, so far it's been kind of mediocre. The friend I am staying with and her family have been nothing but hospitable and kind, and I am very grateful. But I think I'm a little burned-out on Japan. Stuff is starting to look the same. And for some reason, the friends I came here to visit seem tired and quiet. Maybe it's because they're busy looking for jobs and writing thesis's. Or maybe they just don't like me?

Today I went to Shibuya, a hip and happening shopping district. After I came out of the train station, I noticed that the massive intersection in front of me looked familiar. Then I laughed as I remembered that this was, of course, the famous Shibuya Crossing, and I had seen it in one of my favorite movies, Lost in Translation. How could I forget?
I watched "the making of Lost in Translation" a while ago, and the director said they filmed some shots from a Starbucks above the intersection. I looked up, and there was the familiar green mermaid sign. That settles it. One chai latte, please. Extra foam.
It was really crowded but I managed to find a little space near the window. It was like lunch and a show. Every time the lights went green about two hundred people crossed the street from every direction.

I was trying to find Engrish shirts for one of the boys on my Christmas list, but no luck. I found this on the way home, but alas, it was on an ashtray, not a t-shirt. I'm not really sure what this is trying to communicate.

Images of Christmas

No, I don't know what this is.

In Japanese they call snowmen "snow daruma."

The Japanese love elaborate Christmas light setups. Well, who doesn't, I guess?


Back when I was in Nagoya, my church had a Christmas concert. As Robert would say, it was "pretty much amazing."




Merry Christmas everyone!

I wanna go fast

Woo! Shinkansen! So there I was flying across Japan at 186 mph on a train that badly smelled like cigarettes. I went 320 miles in just two hours.

I knew that, in good weather, you can see Mt. Fuji from the train window. For some reason, everyone on the opposite side of the train car had the curtains pulled down over the windows, and I was afraid that the mountain would pass by on that side and I wouldn't get to see it. I was also scrutinizing the green hills we were passing, worried that Mt. Fuji would go by and I wouldn't recognize it. Then we emerged from a tunnel and - oh yeah. That's definitely it.

No wonder Mt. Fuji is Japan's pride and joy. (Second only to the fact that they have four seasons.) The picture and video really don't do justice to how impressive this sight was. Surrounding it was just flat plains, and it seemed to float on a pillow of clouds, this huge, snow-capped, beautiful mountain. I've seen so many photos and drawings of Mt. Fuji, and then it was just suddenly there. It was awesome.
The photo below is kind of funny because of all the ugly industrial development in the foreground. But hey, it kind of makes a statement, don't you think?