No gifts, please. Maybe you want to put those pig's feet in the fridge?

Hello everybody.
Minasan konnichiwa.    

If we are lucky, we have among our family and friends someone who is a really good gift-giver.   I am a terrible gift giver.  If I ever start to think otherwise, my children dredge up true tales of birthdays spent weeping and Christmas mornings characterized by perplexity at best  with a layer of raw disappointment the usual order of the day.  Oh, sure, occasionally I'll hit the big time in the same way that a broken clock is right twice a day.  But history aside, it has not stopped me from wandering into the fantasy world of gift giving.

If there were support meetings for bad gift givers as there are for other recoveries, I would be attending one tonight.  I need something to keep me from buying a second suitcase full of things I imagine friends and family would like.  The problem is  that, given the consumer resources this city offers,  I am beginning to fantasize that I could become that really good gift-giver in your life.  My problem is not that I am a bad gift giver, the problem is that, until Tokyo, I've not had the resources commensurate with my dormant, gift giving talents.

It is impossible to explain the intensity of the consumer focus of Tokyo. Every store and stall in the city is one of two types:  retail or food.  The food part is easy.  It's the retail that confounds me.   So I have manufactured a plan and it's this:  when I see something that I am tempted to buy, I take a photo of it and keep on moving.

Here are some of the photos I took today of stuff-I-didn't-buy-but-thought-about.  I leave it to any of you who knows me to to breathe sighs of relief that I did not give into my impulses.

These pugs and tuxedo cat faces are purses.  They are every bit as adorable in real life as they are in this photo.   Surely someone is sorry I passed these up.

(Photo on left)  Although difficult to make out, these are socks.  There is no end to the sock fetish.   Really, winter is almost upon us, who doesn't need a pair of Princess-Whatever-Her-Name-Is socks....?

 Stuffed puppies.  Lots and lots of puppies.  All lined up and dressed up and so adorable with moving parts and little puppy barks.  Better than the real thing.  Who wants some?  A half dozen to start....

T

Back packs.  Needs no explanation.

















I think that should put the gift giving issue to rest.  For those of you harboring delusions along the lines of, "I wonder what Eileen is going to bring me from Japan?" get hold of yourself.  Find a meeting.

On to the Food Scene.  Today I went to Ueno, home to the University of Tokyo, (the Harvard of Japan I've been informed), but also home to an old street market and a number of museums that I wanted to check out.  The market was fabulous.  It was Monday so except for a shrine and the public park, the museums were closed.

Since I'm on a I-didn't-buy-you-this roll, here are a couple photos of food at the market I managed to pass up.  It wasn't dominated by old folks, so they weren't giving out samples either.  Can't figure out the red octopus.  Crabs appeared breaded and deep fried.

But then there's always the lunch challenge.  Today, I scored on that.  I sat myself down at one of those outdoor tables where people were eating hot, steamy bowls of soup.  I assumed it was a Ramen stand so I looked around at what people were eating and this is what I picked.  It was deep, rich and perfectly spiced.  The broth was still bubbling when it arrived.  

Monday's lunch:  a bowl of ramen, I think, at Ueno.  Spicy and satisfying.

Scene from the kitchen with the cooks preparing my bowl of ramen.

I stood at this window for about 10 minutes, watching three cooks in a space about the size of a Victorian closet.  Every bowl of Ramen is prepared individually.  When it comes time to add the noodles, they open a small cellophane-wrapped package of dried noodles.

Stash of ingredients below the window where the cooks were working.  Yes, those are pig's feet and a bag of dough.

With all due respect to the proprietor's casual regard for refrigeration, I am pleased to report that it has been nearly eight hours since I ate at this little bit of Ramen heaven  and am feeling just fine, thank you.  As long as someone is not shooing away flies and vermin with a piece of cardboard, I feel fairly safe going with the street food crowd.

One of the cooks working a pile of chicken parts at the Ramen stand.

Street Food Update
I have begun to reevaluate Japanese street food in a new and discerning light, having had quite a bit of it.  (Ed note:  the Domino's pizza is officially gone. )  On first bite, because the flavors are new--which also makes them exciting--my knee jerk response is to  think that what I'm eating is really good.  Upon reflection, that is not necessarily the case.  Take yesterday.  I took myself over to the Harajuku area of the city where a guidebook mentioned that on Sunday's, the Japanese Rockabillies gather in the park dressed as Elvis, attended by young women wearing what I assume would be trashy Western wear and big hair.  Not so.  At least not yesterday.  So I was adrift in the outskirts of the park, looking for something to eat. There's food everywhere.  It is never a problem to find it.  It's deciding what to eat that's the challenge.  A row of about six stalls, each manned by guys cooking pancakes stuffed with noodles, cabbage and eggs looked, at first glance, very appealing.  (Why do they all sell the very same thing at the same place, right next to each other?  Surely there's a graduate marketing thesis in there somewhere.)  So I got in line--in Tokyo, one learns to tolerate lines-- and did my smiling, pointing, nodding, nodding, nodding ritual that I've pretty much perfected and was rewarded with a pancake weighing about 5 pounds,  painted with a dark sauce, then a festive squirt of mayonnaise, sprinkled with something green and parsley-looking, and, finally a lot of fish flakes: very thin, dried, fishy-smelling flakes of what might be fish scales but probably aren't.  It cost about $5.  A can of Asahi was another $5.  Off I retreated with great happiness to a nearby bench.  One does not walk about eating in Tokyo.  One sits or stands near to where the food or drink was purchased.

Whatever this delicacy was called, it smelled like dried fish and tasted like paste. After about three bites, I'd had enough.   Now here's the problem.  Tokyo does not have trash cans.  When you are finished eating from a stall, you are expected to take your trash back to the stall and hand it over to the proprietor.  They accept it back with good cheer and appreciation.  I didn't want my pancake guy to think that I was not appreciative of his efforts, so I shoved this confection into my backpack and hauled it around for the next 5 hours.  This was not a good idea.  The plastic bags are thin. Chopsticks poke holes.  Mayonnaise runs.  Dried fish does what dried fish does.  If I were a better gift giver, I'd buy myself a new backpack.  (See above photo of backpack display.)

My Monday is already finished and yours is just beginning.  If anyone wants one of those cute purses, let me know by  first thing tomorrow morning.  I'm headed back to Ueno for another bowl of Ramen --if I can find the stall again-- and to put in some serious museum time.  Preview:  The admission cost for adults at the Tokyo Science Center is $6 for adults, $3 for children and, check this out:  Over 65 is free! I love a country that respects its elders.  


See you tomorrow.
Mata, ashita.    

Tokyo Diary: Lost in Transition

October 29, 2014. I think.

.. I'm just beginning a six week house exchange in the Shibuya area of ​​Tokyo A 12-hour plane ride from the West Coast to Tokyo requires a certain degree of transitioning that nothing prepares you for. But there is help; in Tokyo , one need only ask.  

I spent yesterday in the company of Miako, a friend of Jami, the guy who is staying at my place. Miako is in her late 30's and speaks excellent English. She was great company and a lovely companion for my orientation to Tokyo. She really helped me expand my grasp of Shibuya which gave me a lot of confidence in my ability to navigate my way around and burrow into the 'hood You would not believe what is here. There's a street nearby that looks like one of the Avenues in Paris, lined with trees and high end shops and beautiful people - .. especially women in heels and ankle socks.  Some of the most stunningly beautiful women I've ever seen, meanwhile I look and feel like my mother ....

This morning I took off around 8 am and headed to Tsukiji, the world's largest fish market.  It was my first Tokyo Metro adventure on my own since I arrived via the Narita Airport Express on Monday, so I was a little nervous about navigating Tokyo's underground.  It was, as a number of individuals who have visited here assured me, well marked. But getting off at the right stop is not my worry.  Trying to find an entrance when I want to come home is .... nevertheless, off I marched. I did not go for the Tsujiki 5 am tuna auction as that requires a reservation and level of commitment that eludes me, (you have to get there at 3 am) but I did go for breakfast at the "outer market" that features all manner of fish and Japanese street food, much of which I could not identify but all of which were intriguing. 

I made my way through and around the market which is a warren of alley ways with speciality shops and mysterious offerings, all the while looking for a place for "breakfast." I settled on a place that was selling rice packets wrapped in nori and filled with eggs and other stuff I was not sure about, but I was sure that their rice bowls with mixed seafood was something I definitely wanted. And so I got in line and when it came to my turn, I tried pointing to a picture of what I wanted, but not before I tried out my Japanese for, "What do you recommend?" which was a real curiosity to the shop owner because I was reciting from my hand scribbled script and was actually was saying, "Thank you very much."  

What I learned was that if you f -. @ # * up badly enough when it's your turn in a long food line, someone who speaks English behind you will, for the good of the country and progress of the line, intervene for you.  And so it was that I met a wiry old Japanese guy who not only took on the role of culinary diplomat, but took me in hand and walked me to the "tables" around the corner, sat me down, and when my rice bowl was delivered , walked me through the application of soy sauce and the side of wasabi. He would, however, not allow me to douse my bowl with the packet of sesame oil, though I dearly wanted to.  Said it was, "... not Japanese . "

I have no idea what it was I ate, but it was not what I had planned. That said, it was not a disappointment either. I think I had a rice bowl with fresh tuna and, of course, some miso soup floating with sea weed and flavored with the tinniest, most delicate little clams in the shell at the bottom of the bowl.

I think breakfast was $ 13 but one is never sure. It could have been $ 1.30 or $ 130.00. Somewhere in between.  My ambassador left me with a, "Have a nice day" farewell to the obvious consternation and disapproval of his wife.  My guess is she does not speak English and was not amused by his interest in my plight. On the other hand, she may just be the jealous type ...


After breakfast, I went back to a couple stalls whose wares I liked. One that I was especially proud of myself for finding the second time was a kim chi vendor.  Earlier, he had very generously allowed me to taste an array of his offerings. I greeted every bite with "oishii," meaning "delicious" [this word seems to thrill the Japanese coming out an American's mouth so I recommend it for your future visits] and then pointed to a tub of an especially fiery and flavorful cabbage and indicated that I intended to carry it in my backpack, to which he vehemently refused to even consider the prospect and would not sell me a bag of it which was probably in my best interest. But really, when did someone in America ever refuse to sell you something because they knew it would turn out badly? As the day progressed, my thoughts frequently wandered back to that lovely man and the phantom plastic bag of fermenting kim chi marinating and foaming inside my backpack. 

Many of the vendors are  rather insistent on giving samples to visitors and I met a few who spoke very good English. Regardless of their linguistic ability, the Japanese are so  gracious and kind and do everything they can to make you feel welcome and at ease. I  kept trying to imagine the same scenario being played out in the USA. Not so good an outcome .... still, it was a wonderful morning and I am thinking that given it's a 20 minute Metro ride away, I may return to sample some of the other food vendors. Though I fear my picture may appear on a Tsukiji's vendor's website indicating that I am not worth the trouble.

After the Tsukiji market, I made my way to a couple Japanese gardens and then up along the Ginza, which is a very high end shopping street.

I was trying to find the Tokyo Gallery and stopped a woman on the street to ask her if she could direct me to it. She was unfamiliar with the Gallery but took me in hand, walked me down two blocks to a hotel that was near it (at least on the map) and asked the staff there to help me locate it. 

A young woman who was working at the bar asked us to follow her to a small room in back of the bar where she looked it up on Google, printed out a map and handed it to me. The woman I had stopped stayed with me the entire time and then asked if I wanted her to take me to the Gallery. Can you imagine this scenario playing out on any street in any major city in the USA? I relate this story, only to indicate the level of accommodation and kindness I have been receiving here. 

While I may be lost at times, there is no shortage of people who will help and not just help, but enjoin in my challenge to the point of resolution. It's quite astounding and I fear that I will become inured to this element of cultural indulgence to the point of becoming very lazy. I only hope that the outcome of my visit here will continue to support this early observation.

So that was my first real "tourist" day here in Tokyo. I am thinking that tomorrow I will return to the area again and delve deeper into some of the other highlights I missed. I decided that 5-6 hours of intense tourism is about as much as my body and my psyche can take each day. So around 3 pm or thereabouts, I head back home in time to pick up something for dinner and avoid rush hour.

Sayonara