I was left at the bottom of a towering gang plank running along side the ship, as giant containers moved rapidly and unnervingly overhead, I noticed it was suspended over the crevasse between the ship and the quay without actually being fixed to it (to discourage rats I assume.) It was constructed of strangely curved aluminum steps, shaped like little airfoils, the steps presented an awkward but somewhat horizontal surface regardless of the angle of the ramp. A large man, appearing to originate from somewhere in the South Pacific, came down and pantomimed brusquely that he wanted to bring the hand-truck with my boxes up. I motioned to disassemble it, but he shook his head no and proceeded to lift the entire 120 or more pounds of it via the handle. Fearing that my belongings were about to end up at the bottom of Alameda harbor, I grabbed the back side and attempted to steady it while trying to keep myself balanced and maintain my footing on the precarious and now heavily bouncing gangplank. As I climbed bent over and trying not to stumble off the side, I could feel my laptop bag slipping slowly off my shoulder as it worked its way down my body until finally hobbling me about the knees. I finally shouted for him to stop his headlong rush up the plank and relocated the shoulder strap around my neck, before again struggling to keep my feet on rather than in-between the corrugated rungs, finally making it to the safety of the lower deck. The other bags were easier to lug aboard, and grabbing another deck hand we proceeded to transport my luggage up the six flights of stairs to where my cabin awaited. The three of us clambered up the steps like Elephants on parade, each of us lifting the bottom of the package borne by the person in front. We fastened the luggage to the wall of my suite, using the bungie cords provided for this purpose, and without taking any time to explore my apparently vast accommodations, I rushed below decks to ask the captain if I could disembark and come back closer to departure.

Having received permission to come back later, I walked back out to where my parents had been patently waiting for me in case I was able to return. We went back to the house where I did some high speed hardware swaps and set Fred up with my `too big for Japan’ workstation. I configured my TiVo and got it connected to the internet, set up some uninterruptible power supplies on key pieces of hardware, and sent Fred off to get a good bottle of Scotch for the Captain. Various problems were experienced and overcome, although we were able to get everything basically functional in time to for me to get back to the ship.

By now the trucks had all come and gone, the shuttle was no where to be seen and the storage yards I walked through on my way to the ship were silent and deserted. The once bee hive of activity, laid upon this vast featureless expanse of concrete, was now some post apocalyptic wasteland of inscrutable human design, the towering blocks of faceless containers casting long shadows and reflecting distant noises, or tethered by long umbilical cords to fenced off substations, humming in their endless task of keeping their contents a steady 32 degrees. I once again arrived at the ship, only an occasional sign of movement across her vast flanks, and only impeded with a few consumables, found the way aboard far less challenging.

Faced with the many introductions to the officers, I had to repress the overwhelming desire to involuntarily salute everyone. I’m not sure what it is, or if it is just me, but the subconscious desire to conform to one’s own expectations sometimes gets the better of us. Fortunately I managed to avoid emulating their clipped German accents as well, although no doubt had I stayed longer it was only a matter of time before I spewed something along the lines of “Das boot vas covard vit schneeflocken.”
The tugs finally came and we cast off and headed out of the estuary. I wasn’t sure if my parents were going to wait around for the boat to leave, as because of security conditions they would have to watch me depart from the little park located at the point of the docks. I searched for some sign that they were there, the car parked in the lot, or them standing by the shoreline, but I didn’t see any sign of them. The Alameda ferries that I commuted on to work every day made their presence known, and I felt the small sadness that one feels when their dream is made reality and no longer has the purity of one’s imagination. I was no longer on that little boat on my way home looking up at this great ship setting forth across the ocean, I was here, out in the cold wind, facing that uncertainty that was so easy to disregard from down there ensconced in the comfort of a warm chair and the more pressing thoughts of what to have for dinner.

From quite a distance, over the rumble of the tugs and the shuddering of the great engine eight stories below me, I heard the familiar voice of my mom calling out. Having spotted me from the viewing platform, and hidden in the shadows of twilight, Fred joined in, the two of them wishing me a good journey. I waved as best I could in their general direction, hoping they could see me, as I was up on the flying bridge rather than the first deck as I had told them I would be. Then we were out in the bay, with the sun setting through the clouds silhouetting the fair city of San Francisco in such a way as to make it easy to forget all her shortcomings and just revel in her.

I stayed above decks as long as I could stand, the cold and wind biting through my thin jacket. From the window in my stateroom I watched as we passed the Marin headlands, the lighthouses flashing their warnings and goodbyes. I wanted to capture what it looked like, but there was no camera ever built that could render what I was seeing. The ocean and the sky, an infinite number of shades between dull blue and slate gray, I’ve no idea why it was so beautiful, but mother nature’s an artist rarely limited by the pallet given her. Even when I watched the sun setting from the shores of my island weeks before, I had to shake my head at the ridiculousness of the gradient presented to my eyes, who else could pull off an electric blue sky fading to nuclear tangerine orange, who else would have such audacity? Now playing subtle tricks with a tiny band of wavelengths, I’m once again left helpless to grasp what she’s playing at.

On this freighter there are four passenger slots typically available, but the captain reserved one of these for his wife of 38 years and all but one of the other passengers had departed in Oakland. At dinner I met the other passenger on board, he was an older fellow, obviously ex-military, thin, wiry and said "about" in the way only a Canadian can. He spoke quickly and with virtually no inflection, peering at you with piercing blue eyes only as long as necessary to make his point. He had the air of a man used to power and respect but conscious of being outside his sphere of influence, and going so far out of his way to be deferential as to make his discomfort in doing so all the more obvious. The captain was boyish and full of enthusiasm, he joyfully rattled off the statistics of the giant Pana-Max freighter he piloted, clucked and teased his subordinates as he tucked away at his food. His thick German accent becoming less and less of a problem as I adapted to his cadence, his wife happily made expressive reactions to compensate for her lack of English.

I returned to my cabin and read, while the massive engine slowly accelerated through the half-speed we were limited to near the shore to the cruising speed on the open ocean. Each firing of a massive cylinder transmitted throughout the ship as if we were being hammered like a nail through the water. The pulse of energy twisting the massive shaft to the prop, where the water was torn and sheared, forced to the point of cavitation to propel the great beast forward, only to rush back towards the breach to be cloven by the next great stroke. Exhausted and determined to wake early for breakfast I extinguished the light and fell to a fitful sleep.

I finally finished the 1085 page Tomas Pynchon tome, "Against the Day." It was my first Pynchon, and I was in disbelief that his editor allowed the paragraph long, overly descriptive writing style that I always do my best to avoid, but would use in a minute if I thought I could get away with it. It was readable, there were too many odd sex things that just seemed gratuitous, the character development was either superficial or when interesting only partially fleshed out, and the various plot strings, wildly ambitious and varied, were never tied back together as I feared they would not be. Some of the more interesting sub-plots and characters were simply forgotten along the way and the payoff's were weak and unsatisfying. I will probably get hammered by Pynchonologists for blasphemy, I will admit that I was surprised by some of his cultural references and little factoids, but I already knew them, so they were more inside jokes than new discoveries. The things I may have missed were not elucidated upon, and without the Internet handy, suspicious passages were not worth my time to note for future research. With 1085 pages he could have made some foot notes and learned us som'tin'. Anyway, now I can read the history of the Laeisz shipping company it the beautiful hardcover book gifted to my by the dear Captain Günther and his lovely wife.

This week I have a new one, the water level/pressure warning lamp started flashing at me. I topped off the water level, but that didn't satiate it and, to further make it's point, it sprang a pinhole leak in the heater core. Within days the car began spewing large quantities of Ethylene glycol and foul smelling steam into the cabin from all the vents, coating the windows with an impossible to clean oily deposit. I took to driving everywhere with all my windows down, steam pouring out of the windows, but it's getting cold and the problem was getting worse. I got a piece of copper tubing from my friends house and made a bypass shunt that fixed the mobile sauna of death problem, but I'll be without a heater from now on. Despite my hack, the water level light still isn't happy...

I'm not complaining though. The car has put up with 130,000 of abuse, neglect and hard driving. I'd have to say that I've gotten my money's worth, I'm looking forward to seeing what she'll light up for me next.

You see the bullying that the children experience is some of the most mild sort of insult you have ever heard. When you hear the details of what the children actually said, you go agog. This kid's take their life because the are told that they are "smelly," "sweaty" or "slow." Frankly I'm not thrilled that kids say mean things to each other, but seriously, a single average middle schooler from any town in the US would seem to posses the verbal ability to decimate Japan's entire teen aged population in an afternoon of half hearted The Dozens. But what I have come to realize is that the bullying isn't what is said, it is the ostracism, the excommunication from the group that is what crushes them.

This kind of thinking is so ingrained in the Japanese psyche that to be pushed out into the cold isolation is enough to cause the fragile youth to end their lives. The suicide notes are often apologetic to the one's that caused them to kill themselves, sorrow for not living up to the expectations of the very people that created the problems in the first place. It drives me crazy that a parent would raise their child to be so fragile, so lacking in self worth and identity that they can only value themselves as much as their peers do. It's not just the parents though, in a society that always jumps at the chance to take blame, the schools inexplicably always try to cover their ass and deny that any bullying takes place. In another recent example of proper behavior a principal recently resolved the issue he created by assigning the wrong science classes to some of his classes delaying their graduation (admittedly a big deal in Japan) by hanging himself in the forest (not that big a deal.)

The thought of needing to belong to a group is so foreign to me. It's like they are telling me about a color I can not see, that can't be learned unless you are born with knowing it and that frankly, given all the colors I can see, I will never miss. In Japan I have met great and kind people. But the exiles say that that kindness is all on the surface, that deep down the people don't accept me, it is all just politeness and false sincerity. Whatever. How it is any different from the way people are here is beyond me. I have a handful of people that I trust, who have ever been close to me, they are all I've ever needed, I doubt that's likely to change.

So I always shake my head a little when I'm told I'll never be a true Japanese. It is unfathomable to me why they think that's my desire, or that anyone could want to be so constrained. The Japanese I know in the US are all loathe to return, they face the invisible barriers erected against the tainted expatriates who have absorbed the foreigner's way of thinking. This is why most of them left to begin with, the subliminally pervasive bullying that pervades Japanese society, the color we can't see. They were deprived of their comfortable little place in the machine through fate, ambition or the worst crime of all, possessing genuine uniqueness of character and a willingness to express it. Pushed out, they find a world in the west where they can just be... The thought of trying to go home is about as appealing as putting on a pair of freezing cold, wet jeans three sizes too small and full of sand.

When I was a kid, I was one of the very few poor children in my town. I was picked on, made fun of and ridiculed for my poverty, lack of a father and old clothes. I can't ever recall thinking of killing myself, Americans just aren't raised that way. I guess we are more likely to place blame where we think it belongs, right or wrong it's usually not ourselves. The Japanese never do that, even when they should. Japanese have a hard time understanding the whole "cover your own ass" concept that we live by over here.

The simple truth of the world is you can't make everyone like you and you'll never make everyone accept you, but just as importantly you can't make people pine for the colors they will never see. I've never felt the need to be accepted by any group, I am a happy outsider, beholden to none, my clique of one.

The older Encinal approached the dock, running a casual 10 minutes late, but nevertheless getting me safely across the bay. There is something relaxed about taking the ferry. Water travel is not very fast and the whole jaunt is correspondingly informal and unpunctual. I'm rarely in a hurry though, and I wasn't even sure what the address was for the new office. VMware still hasn't bothered to update our website with the new office location, and even though I knew the general area, I was happy to receive a text message on my phone from my office-mate with the address. As I mentioned, I had previously worked in the area for Pulse 3D, although the old Fire-station we worked out of was mostly memorable for its lack of air conditioning and the occasional overwhelming stench when liquids managed to leach their way from the adjacent alley.

Good old VMware is not one to particularly spare expense though, so the several months that I waited to be allowed to relocate was spent remodeling the 13th floor (yes, I'm not superstitious thankfully) of the rather sharp looking Tower. Nestled in a rather dense thicket of high rises, she doesn't offer much of a view of anything, but me and my office-mate scored a rather nice little corner office looking out over Market street. We have already made use of the ping-pong table, although the pool table in Palo Alto will be missed.

Although missing some of the more extravagant creature comforts of the Palo Alto office, they still bring in catered food and the lack of fresh cream deliveries is more than offset by the phalanx of Peet's and Starbuck's surrounding us. It's nice to be back in the city, although I already miss the tropical Palo Alto weather.

If you've ever looked at an Artichoke it's easy to see it belongs to the thistle family. When they are left to self pollinate over a couple of generations, they revert back to their super prickly past. This example was particularly large and healthy, and although they are actually considered an invasive species and a pest, quite beautiful.

Of course I've always been a fan of thistles, in my hometown it was not unusual for Russian Thistles to grow on our farm. As a teenager I worked with my Uncle on a cattle ranch In the mountains. He would often tell me to keep my eye's out for the extremely rare Showy Thistle, and I have to admit the first time I saw one, I was convinced that it was all a big prank of his. It honestly didn't look real at all. I was sure that he had 'planted' some kind of artificial plant to trick me, the stems were an unnaturally stark whitish gray and the flowers were unbelievably red. It stuck out from it's surroundings in a very unnatural way, but on close examination it was a real plant. I hope I get to see one again someday.

In my research I came across another Thistle related fact that I found enlightening. The Japanese eat a root vegetable called Gobo, we call it Burdock. What I didn't know is that it is the root of a thistle plant. A rather plain and caustic one though, as the stems and leaves are full of chemicals that can cause skin irritation. The roots are quite tasty and full of fiber though, it's the kind of food that you just know is good for you.

As is typical of Japanese merchandizing, the packaging was as exquisite and detailed as the product itself. The bottle was made from hand glazed stoneware with silk tassels and a pure cork stopper. This variety was rice based and charcoal filtered to give it an extremely mild and subtle flavor. I shared it with friends at my favorite local Sushi restaurant. When I go to Japan, I make a point of going to a large liquor store that specializes in Japanese alcohol called Shochu Authority. I usually get a kind of fairly cheap Shochu that is flavored with Shiso leaves that I'm unable to find in the US.

The SQLite database allowed me to take two separate installations of MT and trivially merge them into the main system. It also allowed Farlops to mangle all his page URI's into the format he had used with an older piece of Blogging software using standard SQL. So to sum up, SQLite good! It's fast becoming one of my favorite new tools.

Writing out all of this was really challenging. My original plan was to document my trip day by day, but, after spending more than an hour the first day, decided my vacation was better spent vacationing. When I got home I had the challenge of trying to remember what I did for every day of the trip. It wasn't as easy as I would have hoped, and I needed to do a lot of research to get everything lined up. I relied heavily on Google maps which allowed me to find the names of places that I visited and the satellite photos helped me track down a wayward stadium in the middle of nowhere. I helped make sure my recollections where in chronological order by associating weather events, local festivals, and at one point an earthquake, to things I did on that day. Not that anyone particularly cares, I'm just a bit obsessive that way, and it was kind of a puzzle.

My heartfelt thanks goes out to Dai and Yoko, who helped me put this together, planned all of our excursions and always took great care of me in Japan.

Day 8 (Fri, Apr 28)

I was stuck at home today because of confusion the night before. Yoko had asked if I needed her key or if I still had Dai's. I therefore assumed that it was Dai's key that I had used and had returned to the table the night before. Because I had replaced it in the same exact spot, Yoko thought I didn't use her key at all. I spent much of the day playing PSP and relaxing.

Once I confirmed that Dai was going to get off at 6PM I decided to go MacGyver on the deadbolt lock and jury rigged a system using rubber bands, a bamboo skewer and a ball point pen to lock the door from the outside via the mail slot. The system worked flawlessly, allowing me to leave the house locked safely behind me and meet Dai for dinner.

For dinner Dai took me to the best Korean grilled meat place I've ever had. It wasn't fancy and it was pretty cheap, the meat was just great though. We had marinated Beef and Pork, raw liver sashimi, beef tongue and intestine. (If that sounds gross to you, you should try it first.) I was having trouble telling if our androgynous, husky voiced waitress was actually a man, but I finally concluded she was just very butch. After we ate as much as we could and had several beers we left, but still being early, Dai asked if I wanted to go to a pub style place a couple blocks away. The place was closed for a private party, but nearby we come across a place that had 600 yen drinks. Grabbing a table near the back, we ordered some whiskeys as a group of girls came and sat at the table next to us.

The three girls were cute, and when I noticed that they had ordered a small dish of Hershey's kisses I offered them one of the packs of mini Scharffen Berger squares I had brought with me for just this kind of emergency. It turned out that they worked in the planning department at Dell so Dai smoothly encouraged us to all drank together in camaraderie. After Dai and I polished off about six or so whiskeys and we all said our goodbyes and the two of us took the JR to the station near his house. We ate Ramen at a shop next to the station, mine with extra pork, and then caught a taxi home. I managed to escape the evening's drinking with only a pounding headache that woke me up sometime early in the morning, but Dai wasn't so lucky.

Day 9 (Sat, Apr 29)

We got a late start to Yoko's hometown due to our excessive drinking the night before but we knew that the equipment had arrived successfully, so we were looking forward to doing the install. When we got to the station we were picked up by Yoko's mom. Yoko's brother Atsushi and his cute young bride were waiting to see us at back at the house. Dai and I started unpacking the equipment as I marveled at what a great job Yoko had done designing the new house.

Their home was a showcase of Japanese technology, using the latest Toto lavatory units and high end materials. The centrally located living room had a two story ceiling with large south eastern exposed windows and an advanced multi-paned french door with an integrated screen and electric remote controlled vertical blinds. The open ceiling was flanked on three sides by the large windows looking out on the second story deck, the staircase landing and shutters for the Japanese Tatami room upstairs.

A 50" Plasma screen HDTV sat on the low, wide cabinet where we located the Yamaha receiver, front and center channel speakers and powered subwoofer. Yoko had spec'ed out cable pulls through conduit to the reenforced mounting locations on the ceiling behind the living-room couch. Me and Dai used the fish lines in the flex conduits to pull 16 gauge Monster cable to the rear speaker locations. Dai had to go to the hardware store to get screws for the ceiling mounts we bought, since none were included with the mounts and there were none at the house.

Everything went together pretty smoothly, there was lots of cold beer close at hand, Yoko's mom feverishly cleaned up after us and, other than the screws, all the tools and parts we needed were on hand or could be improvised. We finished at about 9PM or so and sat down to dinner, classical music filling the house. Yoko's dad presented me with a fantastic bottle of Shochu in appreciation for our work and we settled down to eat.

There was no way for us to finish all the food, we drank wine, beer and some great sake. I got in a semi heated political discussion with Yoko's dad, I'm pretty sure I pissed him off, but he's a good politician so he forcefully changed the subject and didn't treat me coldly afterwards. After some additional tweaking and cleanup to the system I washed the gypsum dust out of my hair in the most advanced shower and bath system known to humankind. It had a remote panel in the living room that announced, in a woman's voice, when the bath attained the desired temperature.

Japanese baths are unique in that they often have a closed loop heating system that can maintain the water temperature. Everyone shares the same water so you are supposed to be clean before you use the bath. There is typically a complex remote panel located within reach of the tub that has timer and temperature controls. In the bath is a water intake / exhaust port that the computer uses to fill the tub and maintain the temperature. It is important to know what you are doing as uncirculated bath water can develop an inversion layer that causes the hot water to stratify. You can check the surface and think everything is fine only to scald yourself once you step in. Fortunately the Toto system insures forced convection causing even circulation and mixing. This bath was heavily insulated to maintain heat and had an advanced profile with a foot shelf / child seat.

The room itself is different from most western bathrooms in that there is a drain in the floor so you can splash all you want. The hot water systems in Japan are instant as opposed to a western style heated water tank. This system works really well for the most part and tends to be way more efficient than attempting to keep a tank full of hot water while simultaneously draining it and diluting it with cold water.

In this particular case the room itself is actually a complexly controlled environment with it's own separate control panel. In Japan it is still uncommon to have a clothes dryer, and most clothes are designed to drip dry. One thing you will immediately notice in visiting Japan is all the clothes hung outside to dry. With the humidity controlled rooms you can deploy the integrated clothes lines and dry your stuff inside year round. You also don't have to worry about perverts snatching your panties, an unfortunately common occurrence.

The toilets are also super advanced. Located in it's own room in a separate part of the house, this unit had all of the latest features. Heated seat, two different washing systems with heated water and various pulse patterns and power levels. It has a remote control panel with two flush modes and timers to make sure the seat is warm when you get there. Infra red proximity sensors, power lids, mp3 players and activated charcoal forced air induction are all available in the Toto line, and that's just the stuff I understand. There are quite a few diagrams on the website that elude my ability to comprehension.

That night I slept warm and cozy in the upstairs bedroom while Dai and Yoko took the Tatami room. The new house was a vast improvement over the last one in terms of layout and design, it was way warmer too. Next time I'll remember to bring my camera.

Day 10 (Sun, Apr 30)

In the morning Yoko's papa went to play tennis and we were informed that he wanted a smallish tree in the back yard felled. For whatever reason he wanted to leave an 8 foot high stump left standing. He had already ringed the trunk part way, but fortunately he stopped before he hurt somebody. The saw he had was a pathetic, ancient, rusty and dull piece of crap that was only able to cut wood because it was missing a couple teeth. With one foot on a rickety fence and another on a precariously balanced stool, I hacked ineffectively at the tree because the saw kept binding in the kerf. The neighbor took pity on us and came through with a small but shiny pruning saw. I made sure to make a proper wedge cut and hinge so the tree wouldn't fall on her car parked next door. Japanese saws are different than western ones in that they cut on the pull stroke, it actually makes more sense from a bio-mechanical standpoint, but years of muscle learning is hard to fight, and it took me longer to make the cuts than it should have.

Once all the cuts were made we attached a small rope to an upper branch, and with both of us tugging on it, toppled the tree. It fell just where I had hoped and we went about hacking it into more manageable sections with the little saw and some rusty, dull shears. Afterwards we washed up (had I known we were going to play lumberjack I would have waited to take my shower) and picked up Yoko's dad at the tennis courts. We were headed to the cemetery to pay respects to Yoko's grandmother. "The cemetery is very small compared to American ones", Yoko's dad insisted, but it actually sprawled expansively across several acres. The grounds were dominated by an arching cement open air structure several stories high, consisting of row after row of 1 meter square granite or marble shrines. Her grandmother's monument had a Chinese character that her daughter had originally calligraphed, deeply engraved into the fine grained ebony granite by the stonemason. Dai gave it a thorough scrubbing while Yoko arranged the flowers she brought and we each offered incense. They prayed in turn and I, always feeling a little sacrilegious in these situations, paid my respects.

Outside the sun was out, the day was warm and nice, so we slowly strolled around the grounds. The pond system was guarded by a single slumbering Mallard while the small fish tried to keep out of the large fish's notice by keeping to the heavily algae infested shallows.

Yoko's papa knew of a good place for lunch so we piled into the car and headed there. The shop was very local and comfortable, we settled in to a typical Japanese table so I had to sprawl a bit as my legs are not adapted to sitting for long periods on the floor. We had some big cold draft beers and some of the best Saba I've ever had. The food was great, me and Yoko's mom had a pork cutlet with egg over rice, we both have the same taste in food. Everyone else's dishes looked great too. They took us back to the railway station and we waved them goodbye, heading back for Tokyo.

We stopped for a couple hours at a large shopping mall in Omiya Station, leaving our bags in a storage locker so we were unencumbered. I got a mocha at Starbucks. Yoko got their new Banana Frappachino which I thought was way too sweet. There wasn't anything that anyone wanted, so we got our bags and went back home.

Back at the house Dai and Yoko made Hiyashi Chuka (cold Egg noodles with sliced omelette egg, cucumbers and ham) while I sat like a bump on a log, eating shrimp chips and drinking cold Asahi Blue label.

Day 11 (Mon, May 1)

Dai and Yoko worked today, so I decided to practice navigating the Yamanote line. Dressed in my new Edwin jeans I took the subway to the JR junction in Gotanda and caught the train heading towards Ebisu. This line is a big circle that loops around Tokyo. Frankly I think the city of Tokyo is a myth. To refer to it as if it is one place is as silly as filling a bucket full of Jellyfish and claiming you have a single giant one. It's just a bunch of towns really close to each other. If contiguousness is the only factor defining a city, eventually all of Japan will be Tokyo.

Once I made it to the Ebisu station I was happy to see a sign indicating a Starbucks on the second floor. After infuriatingly bouncing between the first and third floors via escalator, stairs and an elevator in search of the mythical second floor. It finally occurred to me that maybe it wasn't inside the building at all and I found it hidden at the top of some stairs on the outside of the station. As I drank my mocha outside in the shade, me and my fellow loiterers were momentarily disturbed by a very well dressed and fairly cute girl explosively spitting a giant mouthful of water from the drinking fountain all over the ground. She daintily dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a handkerchief and walked off as we looked at each other shaking our heads in surprise and bemusement. I made some concentric circles around the station memorizing the area, while doing my best to stay out of the hot sun.

After getting the lay of the land in Ebisu, I hoofed it along the Yamnote line towards Shibuya. Along the way I noticed a long procession of some political party across the tracks from me. Several hundred people were marching along the main boulevard carrying signs, led by and singing along with a microvan festooned with giant loudspeakers belting out music. When the lady inside started singing 'We shall overcome' in a keening, warbly, Karaoke sort of way, I had to shake my head in disbelief. The most poignant civil rights song ever written was being misappropriated by a Japanese political party sniveling because they didn't win dominance in the recent Diet elections. I mean seriously, how culturally insensitive can you get?

In Shibuya I visited the department stores, and looked for a nice place to rest from the heat. The giant Starbucks was way too crowded so I went to a less busy area and found a nice Mos burger. The girl who brought me my food gave me an uncomfortably low bow when she served me, causing the two girls sitting at the table next to me to laugh, and me to turn a bit red. Obviously it's dangerous to read anything into people's behavior coming from a different culture, but I wondered what the girl was thinking. Human nature has some fundamental universality, but local customs can make the exceptions very hard to recognize, especially when you don't have the language skills to get the subtle indications necessary to know what someone's intent is. Given that there were several plausible explanations for her behavior and I was in no position to do anything about it anyway, I felt Discretion was the better part of valor. I ate my Spicy Mos burger with fries, drank my Iced tea, washed my hands and, making sure to return the smile she shot me, I left.

As I walked back to the station I got stuck behind a scantily dressed woman with big hair and all sorts of gaudy accessories. She loudly tried to pry the name from the man calling her on her cell phone, while he just as tenaciously put her on the spot to guess who he was. She was too experienced (professional?) to make a potentially wrong guess, although I'm not exactly sure what the guy was trying to achieve, she was steadfastly not going to risk guessing wrong and giving up a potential rival. They kept this up for an extraordinarily long time and I lost interest as neither one was willing to acknowledge the stalemate and the guy seemed pathetically in over his head.

Outside Shibuya station the square was really crowded, there was a stage set up with several hot girls dressed in spandex swimsuits, singing songs and doing cute coordinated dances. I watched a little while, then I made my way through the crowd and found a quiet, shady spot near the bus station. I sat there and watched the streams of Japanese humanity break like waves against the circular aluminum benches that surrounded the trees. As they entered and left the busy station, they passed me on either side. The colorful and the conservative, the young and the old. Some stopped to smoke a cigarette, while others buried their noses in their cell phones. Checking the train schedule? Messaging a friend? I was surrounded by people, but as is often the case in Japan, I felt very detached and alone.

I decided to walk back to Ebisu as the Shibuya station was more complicated and busy than I wanted to deal with at the moment. I also wanted to see some of the shops I had missed while walking on the opposite side of the tracks. In Ebisu I grabbed the JR back to Gotanda and took the bus to the Solid Square building in Kawasaki. At Dai's office building I parked myself at a bench overlooking the fountain pool and waited for him to get off of work. While I was quietly thinking about this and that, I caught someone waiving to me out of the corner of my eye.

The three girls from the other night were tentatively trying to get my attention, no doubt unsure if the stupid looking foreigner was the same one they saw in the flattering darkness of the bar last Friday. I was happy to see them again and one of them was nice enough to sit and speak with me for a while as I waited for Dai. Once Dai got off we walked her to the station where, due to confusion between me and Dai as to who should invite her, she departed for home rather than come along. We called Yoko but she was working late so she told us to go ahead without her. We went to a place Dai had taken me the last time I had visited, an Izakaya near the top of one of the taller buildings.

The place had a nice view and a friendly staff. One of the employees remembered me from the last time I was there, almost a year ago, surprising Dai and myself. I'm not sure why I would make such a lasting impression on anyone, but it was nice to be remembered anyway. Yoko called and asked where I left the key and I suddenly realized that I had locked her out. She was sweet enough to go wait at a local coffee shop as me and Dai hurriedly finished our food and returned home to let her in.

Day 12 (Tue, May 2)

In the morning I noticed that the next door neighbor seemed to be watering a bit longer than usual. It wasn't until I heard the first thunderclaps that I realized that it was raining heavily. Figuring that I was going to be stuck inside for a while I decided to do a little research to find out if there were any Japanese language schools in Kawasaki. My friend was complaining about a problem with his email not getting relayed that I tracked down to a bug in the mail server I had updated, so I fixed that and then wrote a copy of the map to the school I had found. The weather outside was still kind of crappy, but I didn't have to wait too long for the bus.

After grabbing a mocha at the Starbucks across from the bus depot, I found the school located in the entertainment area of town. I climbed the funky stairs to the fifth floor where I found a number of low doors, none of which were marked with anything other than large numerals. One door was propped open, so I poked my head in and saw a little old man crouched behind a tiny desk. He waved me in, asking me in Japanese to have a seat and told me to wait as he called someone who could speak English. We conversed in Japanese while I waited, and after about 10 minutes, the owner (I recognized him from the website) came in and sat down.

Not only could he not speak English, I found his Japanese harder to understand than the old man's. It turned out that the place catered mostly towards Chinese and Korean students, who for the most part were there using 6 month working vacation visa's. They had never applied for a student visa from the government, and seemed very hesitant to have an American student. The place looked very funky anyway, and I suspected was really in business to help the entertainment industry more than anything. I thanked them for their time and left, more than a little disheartened.

After that I decided to explore Kawasaki in the daylight, weaving through the narrow streets of the reddish-light district. I headed through a light rain towards the downtown area, coming across a new outdoor mall called La Cittadella where I stopped in at the Freshness Burger to have a light lunch. There were some small interesting clothing shops outside on the street, so I decided to buy a new shirt since I was out of dress clothes.

In the big malls near the station I killed time looking at the latest Cell phones, furniture and clothes. I stopped by at the toy store where they had a large number of models. Some guy was there shopping with his cute girlfriend who was intently focused on helping him choose just the right Anime Robot for his collection (only in Japan.) I saw a model for a 1973 Porsche 911 Carrera RS, a true classic, reminding me of the one I had seen in Palo Alto on the way to work earlier that month.

At a very hip Japanese Men's shop I found a great short sleeved dress shirt, first trying the Large, then the Extra Large. I asked them if they had an Extra Extra Large, but no luck. I never thought of myself as particularly large, I assumed I might be on the bigger side of the Japanese scale obviously, but not being able to buy a shirt was kind of shocking to me. I found a British store called Next that had an acceptable shirt that fit me (although even it is actually a little small, I need to do something about my weight.)

I headed home since we were supposed to meet Yoko's coworker that evening. There was a decent sized earthquake (4.5) at a little after 6PM and Dai called me, a little rattled due to his being on the twenty-somethingth floor, and asked me to meet him at the office. I caught the bus for the third time that day, but frustratingly I neglected to hit the "let me the hell off" button at my stop and had to run all the way back from Kawasaki station. I got there just as Dai was coming out though, so other than feeling like a bus neub, it all worked out fine.

We got to the station early, so Dai and I killed time window shopping, we bought some deep fried sweet bean cakes in the mall. We met Yoko and waited for her friend to show up. The restaurant they chose was Japanese style I think, we ordered lots of tasty little dishes that we all shared with each other. We had some tasty sashimi, including some great raw Octopus suckers. Me and Dai drank a variety of nice Shochu, while the girls unfortunately abstained from drinking. I lean more towards the rice varieties of Shochu as they tend to be more pure flavored, but the sweet potato based premium Shochu Dai had me try was really pretty damn tasty. Yoko's coworker was cute, but much to Yoko's relief, she was not my type. She tried to explain to us about the new room she was moving to over Golden week. She explained with some embarrassment that she was going to pay low rent due to her landlord storing his inventory of some sort of condom applicator he sold in one of the rooms.

Dai and I, feeling sqiffy from all the Shochu we drank, decided to get some ramen on the way home. Yoko wasn't hungry, but she patently waited with us for some seats to open up. The guys behind the counter were working in a frantic but well choreographed synchronization, preparing the customers noodles as quickly as possible. They mixed up our order a little bit, but didn't charge us for the Gyoza that Yoko had, and we went home with our bellies full.

Day 13 (Wed)

Dai had the day off today, but Yoko needed to go to work. Since Dai had an appointment to get his hair cut, the two of us headed off to Shinagawa. We were running late so we parted ways at the station and he sprinted off to his salon. I knew where the place was so I headed to the Starbucks to get my caffeine quota for the day filled. The Starbucks was so crowded, that rather than wait for a table, I got my mocha and continued on through the station to a part of town I hadn't yet explored. I found a nice looking pub that made their own beer and had pretty decent prices, but since we were going to go for dinner later I just grabbed the leaflet to show Dai. There were some interesting broadcasting buildings of some sort, but I couldn't decipher the signs to know what all the antennas were about. Much of the town was quiet as Golden week was still going on. The sun was out, but a cold wind was kicking up and, as I returned to the station, I saw a young woman dressed in a short skirted company outfit handing out tissues. She wasn't cute or anything, I could just see how cold and miserable she was. I'm sure any attempt to save her from dying of exposure such as getting her some nylons, would have been awkward to say the least, so feeling a little useless I just grimly moved on.

Nearby the upscale Salon EARTH that Dai has his Anime style hair cut in a decidedly non-corporate, but very fashionable style, there was a small, traditional and upscale cabinet shop. A group of women dressed in kimono were having their photos taken in front of the building by a man in his 80's dressed in an elegant dark suit. I assumed they were commemorating a purchase for youngest women, who looked to be in her late 30's. I theorized that perhaps the family had finally married her off (a postulation that Dai confirmed as being highly probable, as there is some Japanese tradition where the wife's family provides furniture for their daughter when she marries.) The cabinetry was exquisite with clean, rounded, dovetailed joints that were doweled together and carved brass fixtures gilt with rose, yellow and white gold. The shop mistress explained that the fixtures where hand made for each customer, some of the examples they had on display showing intricate scenes of Japanese (Red Crowned) Cranes and other fortuitous animals, needless to say it was all rather spendy.

I was supposed to meet him after an hour, but as I expected, Dai's hair wasn't done yet. He was at the massage stage, while they waited for the subtle highlighting to penetrate his hair. The salon, as I mentioned, was pretty high end, and a couple of rich looking and extremely short skirted girls waited for their friend to finish, excitedly complimenting her from the sidelines. I passed away the time trying to figure out some inscrutable action game involving Monkeys and rockets on one of the complimentary PSPs, while Dai was getting his final blow dry and styling done. Upon finishing, his stylist flashed me a smile and made the Japanese hand gesture for 'girlfriend' (extended pinky finger) confusing me a bit. I wasn't sure if he was hitting on me, asking me if I had a girlfriend or asking me if I was Dai's girlfriend. Dai explained later he was asking if we were about to go out girl hunting, which was reassuring. Dai's hair looked great, he appeared to be going at least 90 miles an hour just standing there. It made me really regret that I didn't do more interesting things with my hair when I had more of it.

We went back to the station to catch a train to Yokohama. That night we were going to meet two of Dai's coworkers. I had met them on a previous trip and was looking forward to seeing them again, especially the beautiful Madoka. Yoko was to meet us in Yokohama later so me and Dai did some shopping in the mall at Yokohama station before catching a local train to the China Town area that Yokohama is famous for. We waited for them at the wrong ticket gate, but figured it out before Yoko showed up, so we were all able to rendezvous before going out to eat.

On the main street there was some kind of festival going on, but the crowd was thick and we were hungry. The Chinese restaurant we went to was a bit off the main drag, and not as fancy as some of the larger places, but Dai felt the food was better. My past experience with one of the more famous Chinese restaurants in Yokohama was very disappointing, it made all their food sweet and mild, to suit Japanese tastes, but it tasted like crap. The place we went to this time was very good though, with traditional flavor and decent portion size.

After eating we went to have some drinks a a place called Shot Bar Zorba, where Madoka was introduced to my favorite cocktail, the Manhattan, which she didn't like much. They had a weak Greek theme, consisting of a couple pictures and some various Greek paraphernalia, but the drinks were good and bartenders were cute.

We parted ways with Dai's coworkers, and the three of us caught the train back home. On the train we came across a group of very young Ballerinas, they were all smiles having come back from a competition. They were excited to be able to practice their English and took turns asking me questions. Dai spoke to one girl who, compared to the others, looked very solemn and kind of detached, like she was in shock. I was worried that maybe she hadn't done well and was sad, but when I asked him about it later, he told me she had said something along the lines of, "This is the high point of my life, nothing will be better than this time."

After we got home, we went up stairs and watched the K1 fighting championship, a brutal no rules battle between opponents often using dramatically different fighting styles. The first round lasts 10 minutes, but usually doesn't last that long. Lots of blood and broken appendages, this takes a hard heart and a strong stomach to watch.

Day 14 (Thu)

I knew that Yoko was out of bread for her morning toast so I woke up early, intending to buy her some at the grocery store. In Japan the bread they sell is perfectly square, it's very thick and has no heals and it's sold in 3, 5 or 8 slice packs. The store wasn't open at 8:30, so rather than go back to the house, I continued on to the little floral coffee shop to have a coffee and wait for the grocery to open at 9 (I hoped.) However, when I checked it still wasn't open so I tried to get some bread at the 7/11 across the street, but all the bread had filling of some kind or another so I returned bread-less.

We decided to head south to the coast since it was Golden week. We took the JR line south through Yokohama to Misaki. The weather was nice, and after a very crowded bus ride down to the village we walked to the fish market and looked at all the fresh Tuna. There were some massive Blue Fin Tuna heads and lots of nice frozen steaks of every size and shape. I regretted that we could not buy some nice fish for later, someday we'll be clever enough to bring a cooler of some kind with us for these day trips.

We walked back into town, past the long skinny boats the Japanese fisherman seem to prefer. There was a group of tourists shoving off for parts unknown while a man and woman oddly fished from the polluted and busy boat ramp. We were unsure what they were trying to catch, unlike the well muscled and very tanned young fisherman lying prone on his boat, obviously trolling for tourist girls.

Dai and Yoko had seen some ad's for local restaurants on TV and we made a short trip through the fairly shuttered town to where most of them were located. We decided on a shop that didn't seem to have an onerous wait, and sat in the sunshine trying to decide what each of us would order. We could hear the chaos of small children working and playing in the confined space of the restaurant as we waited for a table to open up.

The shop was very local, the grandmother was at the bar while the daughter ran the kitchen and the very young grandchildren bussed the tables and did dishes. No one seemed to be in a terrible hurry, much to Dai's displeasure, but given that it was coming to the tail end of Golden week I'm sure the zip was out of everyone's step. Through bad planning we all ended up ordering the same dish. It was tasty enough, but the customer next to us ordered a Tuna steak that was so massive it could have fed all three of us and we all regretted not getting that ourselves.

Outside were a couple small shops open, a little toy store and a clothing shop that displayed a rather nice kimono that had a black background covered with large drifts of snow. White flowers were heavily embroidered on the dark areas, trailing off in the snowy parts giving the illusion of depth.

Our destination was Jougashima island, joined to the mainland by a long bridge. We got directions from Grandpa as his cute little granddaughter pranced around and did gymnastics in front of us. She was young enough to be spared from dish duty for this year at least. We made the long walk around the inlet and up the hill, crossing the bridge that provided a nice view of the village below. At the other side of the bridge me and Dai relieved ourselves of excess metabolized beer in the bushes and then headed towards the On'sen near the lighthouse at the tip of the island.

We had to hurry as a local shop keeper said the Onsen was going to stop accepting day customers soon, but we made it through the many dried fish stalls and food and trinket shops to the hotel. The coastline was torn and ragged so that you could see the volcanic strata turned on it side. There were long narrow inlets and tide pools with people and children clambering about and fishing off the points.

We rented some towels and locked our belongings up, the place was pretty crowded but we got a nice spot outside, with a view of the sun low over the sea. The extremely salty water and sunshine conspired to cause my face to sunburn and sting a bit, but it didn't last. We found Yoko snoozing in the lobby and hiked up to the lighthouse. There was a little park with an odd statue that we all got a perverted kick out of. We walked back through the gauntlet of dried squid hawkers and tanks of Top-shell Snails, Squid, Spiny Lobsters and Abalone. A large live Octopus, tied up in a mesh bag so it couldn't escape, squirted a jet of water at us when we got too close. We made it to the depot just in time to watch the bus drive off.

Trying to make the best of the half hour wait for the next bus, we got Yoko a grilled corn on the cob along with a couple beers for Dai and myself. At the bus stop there was a father with his four crazed little girls in tow. They had a little plastic tank containing some poor aquatic life forms they had captured. He was straight out of a Japanese drama, loud, gruff, wearing a shabby corduroy coat. You could tell he was the gambling, hard drinking, father with a heart of gold. They all traded good natured insults, laughing and hitting each other, it was hard to tell who the parent was.

Despite the short distance, our bus ride actually took hours in the heavy traffic and we made it to the train station fairly late. I did get a nice shot of mount Fuji by sticking my camera out the window over the head of the passenger asleep next to me while we crossed the bridge. We rode the train back through the dark landscape, making it back to Kawasaki hungry and tired. We decided to go to the Korean place I liked so much. The strangely masculine woman was working that night, and when Dai mentioned that last time I had been unsure if it was a man or a woman, Yoko laughed at me like I was foolish to not know. She then stated matter-of-factly, in the pure hearted and sincere way only Yoko can, that it was obviously a man, causing Dai and I to laugh loudly. After dinner we ran through the maze like underground shopping area to get to the bus terminal where we caught one of the last busses back home.

Day 15 (Fri)

In the morning I felt like I was catching some kind of sinus infection, feeling feverish I had Yoko take my temperature, and they rolled their eyes at my normal results. Humoring me, Dai gave me some medicine he had gotten for similar symptoms, and we went off to get some food and gifts for the picnic that Teru had planned. We were running late already so, rather than wait for Yoko to finish getting ready, we decided to have her meet us there later. Our first stop was at the local, but surprisingly well stocked, liqueur store near Dai's house. It had a varied selection of California wines and I was hoping to find a bottle of Sea Smoke Pinot Noir for Hiji-san. I intended to get it in the States, but because of bad planning on my part, I ran out of time. They didn't have what I was looking for, so I ended up getting a nice Kenwood 'Jack London' merlot and a Robert Mondovi pinot noir. Dai got an expensive, great tasting Sake and we then headed to the JR transfer station in Daimon. We located the Baby Gap to get some outfits for Teru's little girl. Surrounded by lots of cute baby stuff, Dai's paternal instinct seemed to kick in, and he bought several nice things for her. We then grabbed some pre-made food from the supermarket and grabbed the train to (I believe) Higashi-Ginza where the park was located.

We were already running an hour late, but we managed to get lost and hiked all over the place in the hot sunshine trying to find the park. This part of town seemed to be dedicated to dogs, there was every kind of dog salon, restaurant and clothing store you could ever imagine. Once we got to the park I was pleasantly surprised to find that my friend Akira had made it up from Hiroshima where he's been working for the last couple of years. Many of my old Machida friends were there and we ate some great home made food and drank. We all got drunk and kicked the soccer ball around a bit. I had a nice mocha made by a guy vending out of his little micro bus using what appeared to be a fairly inexpensive Cappuccino maker, but it was really good. Me and Dai helped lug the stuff back to Teru's nearby apartment and walked back through town to go to the gourmet grocery.

Yoko didn't end up feeling well enough to make it that day, but she had prepared a nice dinner. She was feeling better when we got home, and the curry she made was nice and spicy. We watched TV for a while, but I got to bed early since I was going to Machida the next morning.

Day 16 (Sat)

At the picnic on Friday, Akira told me that he had been in contact with Kayo-chan, one of the nurses that used to visit us at the 'Bar' in Machida. The last time I saw her was right before I was to return to the US after my failed attempt to move to Japan several years ago. She was in love with one of my friends at the bar and when that flamed out I had no way of ever getting in touch with her again. Akira said he was meeting her in Machida and invited me to meet the two of them for dinner.

Since I was going to Machida I wanted to go a bit early and wander around my old hunting grounds. I needed to get some cash and since I had two days left on my rail pass I decided to take the slightly longer way on JR through Yokohama so I could stop by the Citibank international ATM there. I got there fairly early (I still picture it to be much farther from Nishi-Magome than it really is) and grabbed a Starbucks mocha at the very busy station. After locating the ATM and getting my cash I hopped on a train bound for Machida.

Machida is a pretty cool town, it's about 45 minutes from Tokyo by express train and so it's considered a bit 'backwoods' by mega-metropolitan Japanese. It's a major junction of the JR East and Odakyu train lines so it's actually quite large and full of businesses. One of my favorite places to visit is the Tokyu Hands department store which this time had in stock the extremely hard to find Melita Ceramic #2 Coffee drip cones. I bought two and wandered around the neighborhood, dropping in on some of the old places I used to haunt.

Six o'clock rolled around and I was waiting at the station gates for my friends, with that creepy feeling you get when you worry that you might be stood up. It's only happened to me a couple of times in my life, but there is nothing more painful than looking forward to seeing someone and them not showing up. But I kept my emotions under control as Akira was not the sort of person to do that sort of thing. I didn't have to wait too long as he shouted to me from across the ebbing and flowing crowd at around 6:15. Kayo was running even later, so we went to find a good restaurant as he texted her updates from his cell.

I had forgotten, but it was actually Akira's birthday. We celebrated with several beers and appetizers at the Chinese restaurant we selected while we waited for Kayo. She made it after about 15 minutes and joined us. She seemed to be really nursing her beer, which if you knew her was really out of character. When I asked, It turned out she was 7 months pregnant! You couldn't tell by looking at her though, Japanese girls are all too skinny, even when they are in a family way.

After dinner Akira mentioned that the master of the 'Bar' bar we all used to patronize had opened up a new place in town, so we happily dropped in on him unannounced and surprised him. He, being highly organized, had the numbers of many of the regulars and called them to meet us. Akira, Kayo and I drank and visited with everyone for several hours. I, not wanting to be rude, had been intentionally not checking my watch very often and unfortunately misread the time by an hour. When I realized how late it was, I panicked and made very rushed apologies, racing out to catch my train back to Tokyo.

I managed to get the last train from Machida, I was still worried of getting stranded in Yokohama, but I was able to transfer and I made it to Kawasaki. By that time the last bus had long since left and I was forced to take a taxi back home. It wasn't that big of a deal as once I made it to Kawasaki I was in safe territory, I knew I could walk back home from there if I really had to. The taxi driver didn't speak English, but after a day of speaking Japanese with all my friends, my brain was in Japanese mode and I was able to have a nice conversation with my driver. He was really excited to have me as a passenger, honking to get a fellow cabbie's attention, he insisted on full introductions to his friend at a stop light. He tried to undercharge me, but it was only about $20 so I insisted on full payment. I have found, for the most part, that the Japanese people are exceedingly nice and friendly.

Day 17 (Sun)

In the morning for breakfast, Yoko warmed up some of the tasty, leftover Okonomiyaki they had made for dinner the night before. I took their little coffee mill out of retirement to grind some beans Yoko had. But, like many of my adventures in Japan, the constrained spaces coupled with my clumsiness conspired to cause me to strew beans all over Dai's freshly cleaned floor. Much to Yoko's dismay, I broke the three second rule and carefully collected the escapees them from the floor. I figured that the beans were going to be ground up and immersed in boiling water, and I don't like wasting food.

Since it was my last full day of vacation in Japan, I asked that we go to an Italian restaurant in Ebisu that I had been to before. It was one of Yoko's favorite places and had really good food (Japanese do great Italian for some reason.) Before dinner they took me to Shimbashi so I could visit the Shochu Authority store. I picked up two different kinds of Shiso Shochu and a nice bottle from Kyushu for my favorite sushi chef in Alameda. We then went to Ginza where we shopped for several hours, including going to a cross between Trader Joe's and Ikea called Muji where they sold just about everything. They even were selling prefabricated homes, an example of which was on display within their giant open building. It was quite flimsy looking though, I'm sure I could have single handedly destroyed it with a hammer in a couple of hours. They had lots of tasty looking, instant style (boil and serve pouch) foods. I could see that they would be an important resource for me if I ever get over there permanently.

We met up with our friend Ikuko at the Ebisu station and walked to the restaurant. It was pretty close to the Japanese restaurant we went to with Yoko's coworker a couple days before. We had a couple really frosty pitchers of ice cold Kirin Heartland beer and lots of very tasty food. The place has really convincingly authentic interior decor of brick walls, large iron bound beams in-dispersed with italian tile-work. The U shaped kitchen area was centrally located, surrounding a large brick oven. I got a bit drunk and made a loud, longwinded and emotional plea for understanding about my highly confusing, opinionated and labyrinthian way of doing everything. I upset poor Yoko a bit before (hopefully) eventually mollifying her. We said goodbye to Iku, and headed home together for the last time.

Day 18 (Mon/Mon)

Dai and Yoko had to work so I got up early to say farewell. The last day in Japan is always the hardest, and knowing it would be a while before I could return again, and that this is the last time I will probably stay at the little Magome house, made me even sadder. Since my flight was at 4:15PM, and I woke up fairly early, I decided to watch the Serenity DVD that I brought for Dai and Yoko. It was quite good and it got my mind off of leaving for a little while. I packed up all my various stuff, putting the four bottles of Shochu in my carry on bag (I remembered this time after the last several times having to dig through dirty underwear at baggage check-in to fish bottles of alcohol out of my checked luggage :-()

Since I had a day left on my JR East rail pass I decided to take the Narita Express rather than the local train shaving about an hour or so off the trip to the Airport. I was running behind schedule though and so instead of catching the Express at the nearby Shinagawa station I caught a local express to Tokyo station and got the Narita Express there. The one thing that I realized is that the station masters didn't really examine my rail pass, several times waving me though the gate without so much as looking at me. I think I can probably stretch one of these passes out well beyond the four day's that they are valid for with a little creativity. I bought a cold Asahi on the train to cool myself down after lugging 70 pounds of luggage across Tokyo.

At the airport I quickly checked in and went straight to the gate since I was checking in only an hour before the flight was supposed to leave. Nothing much of interest on the return flight other than a real nice tailwind from the jet-stream to get me home a little earlier. My parents picked me up at the airport and after dropping them off I went straight to the office to work for a couple hours.

My parents got me to San Francisco Airport with plenty of time to spare. While I was waiting in line to check my bag (65 Lbs.) I was accosted by a cute but older Philippina. She preceded to interrogate me on if I was going to see my girlfriend and why I would wear a wedding ring if I'm not married (wrong hand, I wonder how often women get that wrong?) I seem to have reached the age where I can no longer attract the cutie young damsel fish, but Barracuda are all over me :-(

I tried to get as much sleep as possible on the flight, using some soft silicon earplugs to help attenuate the engine noise. I was awoken a couple hours into the flight by the stewardess to receive my special Kosher meal for passover. I keep forgetting to change my preferences at United Online, but the good part is I almost always get served first. There was a small struggle to penetrate the indestructible plastic wrap encasing my meal and an overfilled cup of water added to the challenge. After chewing through one bag to get to the plastic knife I wasted several minutes sawing ineffectively to get to the cheese Lasagna (can't get more Jewish than that!) Mrs. Barracuda stopped by to chew on my ear and observing the large "KOSHER" stickers placed on every food item, was put into an even larger feeding frenzy at the prospect of bagging a nice Jewish boy.

The flight itself was quite smooth until we reached Tokyo. We hit a cell of thunderstorms and we had a wild ride as we waited in a circular holding pattern over the Pacific for them to pass through. I had to keep reminding myself about the metallurgy involved in the engine mounts as I watched them undulate precariously under the flexing wings of the plane. Landing, Immigration and Customs was a breeze. In line I finally got a snap of some of my favorite guerilla art, I had seen it the last several times I had visited. After getting my checked bag I headed for the JR terminal area where I had a Starbucks mocha and exchanged my JR Rail voucher. l bought a ticket ($12) from the touch screen vending machine and boarded the local train headed to my friends house in Nishi-Magome .

Once I made it home I called Dai and had to quickly catch a bus to his office in Kawasaki. We joined two of his coworkers for a great Japanese course dinner ($150ea.) consisting of small ornate dishes of perfectly balanced and presented fish, tofu and vegetables. We had a Sake sampler, where I experienced for the first time "Japanese Champagne" a slightly unfiltered sweet Sake in a Grolsh style bottle that had mild natural carbonation, interesting... I slept well other than waking at 4AM for a bathroom break where I missed the last step while coming down the stairs (twice) and caused quite a large thud.

Day 2 (Sat, Apr 22)

I woke up early in the morning, and with no sign of coffee making utilities, decided to try and find a nice coffee shop. As I was crossing the walk-bridge above the railway maintenance yard near the house I saw and old fellow who seemed to be peering intently through some binoculars at the building across the tracks. After checking closer I realized that, rather than checking out some woman taking her morning bath, he was actually taking great advantage of the clear weather and vantage point to observe Mount Fuji. I went into town and had a small cup of coffee at a local shop. The place was a traditional Japanese coffee shop buried behind a virtual wall of potted flowering plants. It had a couple older regulars sitting at the counter with the owner, making small talk and watching a TV show about hunting for Giant Bamboo shoots (they are delicious.)

The owner brought me a warm moistened towel and I ordered a cup of coffee, receiving a small bone china cup full of innocuous black liquid and a tiny stainless steel vail of cream. I added some sugar and mixed it all up, nursing it as I read my O'Reilly Algorithms in Perl book and listened to the TV and the empty conversation.

Later that morning Dai and I went to Akihabara to find a surround sound system for Yoko's dad. We visited several of the larger electronics shops, Bic Camera and Yodobashi camera, their shelves laden with every kind of device. Japan is a visually noisy place, these giant multistory electronics stores are close to the pinnacle of that practice. Every inch of space is covered with some sort of vividly colored label, advertisement, display or device. You adapt to it, but the clean, broad, open and uncluttered sidewalks of Alameda are always a small shock to me when I return home.

Always leading the strange form of geekiness unique to Japan, Akihabara was also positively overrun with young girls in stylized Maid outfits and thickly rimmed glasses handing out information on their respective Tea shops. The current trend to be serviced by cute young girls in costumes is so popular that it is being taken up by all kinds of businesses. This optical shop being a particularly ridiculous example, the maid inside carefully places various frames on the customers face... seriously.

Trying to kill some time waiting for Yoko to give us a budget, we decided to get some lunch. After wandering around in search of a Mos burger, we settled for hamburgers at a chain restaurant I hadn't seen before. We had collected literature for most major lines of surround sound speakers and electronics, and not knowing how much we had to spend, we returned home. I played Exit, a cute but uncooperative game similar to Loderunner, on Dai's ceramic white PSP while Yoko planned out our short trip on the Internet.

That evening we all went out to meet our friend Ikuko who had recently returned to Japan after living many years in San Francisco. The restaurant we went to was a cute, kind of funkily decorated but upscale place. I had a kind of sampler plate that had smoked salmon and various cheeses, we also had Escargot in Gorgonzola and plenty of beer.

Day 3 (Sun, Apr 23)

We left for Kanazawa early in the morning, headed for the western coast. We first had to catch the Shinkansen heading north towards Niigata. Our seats were on the lower level where unfortunately the tracks sound-wall obscured our view for most of the trip, but once we got well outside of the suburbs they were less common and we saw the snowy mountains and rushing rivers of the countryside. Dai had picked up three different tasty train bento boxes that we ate along with cold beer. In Nagaoka we switched to an express train that ran along the coastline over the flood plane of the western coast towards Kanazawa. I saw many giant Gray Heron and smaller Egrets eating the frogs and insects of the newly thawed rice patties.

Once we made it to Kanazawa station we grabbed a cab that took us up to our Hotel. Our driver gave us a running dialogue of the landmarks as we wound through the streets before dropping us off in front of our hotel. The place was cute, with lots of good examples of the local crafts on display. It was attached to a large auditorium that was hosting some sort of concert that evening. As we walked back in to town there was a large group of older women dressed like teenagers clustered around the back entrance of the auditorium. They were prevented from getting too close to the tour busses by a lone employee in a dark suit looking uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

On our way into town we stopped by the outer walls of Kanazawa castle to take some photo's. I needed coffee and I was surprised to see that there was a Seattle's Best cafe where I ordered a mocha. The first Mocha I ever had was served to me by my little sister working at a Seattle's Best (in Seattle naturally) complete with a little chocolate bar.

In town we did some shopping for Dai and Yoko's friends and family where they bought a really beautiful porcelain teapot. The shopkeeper recommended a local sushi shop where we enjoyed some nice fresh fish, it was a little expensive but the sushi-master entertained us with his enthusiasm over his San Francisco experiences from the 60's. Afterwards we went in search of the old town so that Yoko could have some traditional sweets. Kanazawa is known as 'Little Kyoto' as, like Kyoto, not bombed into rubble during WW II and retained much of it's ancient architecture intact.

We found sweets at a fancy little tea house in the old town. I just had a cup of buckwheat tea as I'm not crazy for sweet things, but even that came with a tasty little cracker. I used the restroom, where I noticed someone had helpfully overstuffed the toilet with tissue. I nervously flushed, with my fingers crossed since the plumbing wasn't anything like a western toilet and I doubted I could cut off the water supply if things got wonky. The water slowly filled the bowl, finally ebbing after reaching a high water mark about a centimeter from the edge.

Afterwards we wandered around the old town area and enjoyed the scenery like this little park which had a kind of cherry tree that still had blossoms. Some (hopefully drunken) foreign kid kept yelling "Konichiwa!" at passers by from a third story window, causing us to laugh in sympathetic embarrassment. Yoko commandeered my camera as we headed for the castle. We tried to enter it, but by then it was around 4:30PM and they were no longer letting people in for the day. There was some kind of run going on at the time and the last stragglers were being cheered on up the final hill by the volunteers (so they could pack up and go home I'm sure.) We followed the last of the crowd down to the street and returned to the hotel where, with nothing better to do (honest!), I read Yoko's People magazine while they rested. After a little while, hunger caused us to venture out again in search of something tasty.

That evening we tried to find the restaurant Yoko read about in her travel guide, but once we located it, in the fairly empty top story food court of a local shopping mall, we decided to search for something more appealing. We wandered around a bit before finally settling on a local looking but busy little grilled meat shop where we enjoyed many tasty dishes. It was here that I was first introduced to a local seasonal dish consisting of a light Dashi broth full of very agitated totally translucent baby fish. These guys were almost invisible except for two eye spots and a little heart. They didn't have much flavor, but they had a satisfying crunch to them and they wiggled on your tongue in a startling way.

On our way home we spotted some strange person, standing alone and motionless in the middle of a large parking lot holding an umbrella. We had no idea what the person might have been doing as looking at the moon, stars or bats is difficult when you have an umbrella. Back at the hotel we teased each other that every unusual sound outside was the Umbrella lady coming to get Yoko.

Day 4 (Mon, Apr 24)

We weren't due to be at the On'sen until later that evening, so we checked out of the hotel and left our bags at the front desk. I was in need of my Starbucks fix so we stopped off for a mocha while Yoko went to the Mr. Doughnut's for her favorite sausage bun and some other snacks. We then went to one of the older neighborhoods where we visited the 'Ninja Temple.'

“Myouryuji or the Ninja Dera as it is commonly known, was built by Lord Maeda Toshitsune in 1643 as a temple for the Buddhist Nichiren sect and as a place of prayer. This was merely a rouse, a "cover" as the temple's main purpose was to act as an escape route for the Lord should an attack on Kanazawa Castle occur. It acted as a look-out and command post. There were never, however, any ninjas here nor did any training take place - so they say...

The temple was unique for its time and still is today. During the Edo Period, it was illegal to construct buildings of more than three floors. Although the Ninja Temple appears to have only two, it has, in fact, four floors with those further divided into a total of seven levels. In addition, the "temple" was cleverly built around a central well, has in excess of 29 separate staircases as well as endless escape routes through its 20+ rooms. The countless secret tunnels, trick doors, and hidden chambers will surely astound each and every visitor.”

They took themselves very seriously, the poorly translated binder they forced upon me, containing the step by step dialogue of the tour guide, had a very thick section on acceptable behavior. No photographs, no drinking and absolutely no reading ahead... I read ahead anyway. The place was more This Old House than Temple of Doom, but it was still interesting to see the primitive and ineffective looking traps. After the tour we walked through the very nice looking Samurai district on our way to the Omi-cho Ichiba marketplace. At the market there were many large crab which were in season along with many kinds of fish and vegetables. We looked for the tastiest items for Dai to have sent to his family back in Tokyo. Then we had lunch at a busy restaurant located in the middle of the market. My dish of Kani, Uni and Ikura (Crab, Sea Urchin and Salmon Roe) had the unusual garnish of gold leaf.

After lunch we hiked through the old Kanazawa castle, Yoko was interrupted by her coworker via cell phone and as she sparred with her incompetent staff-mate, while me and Dai marched around the moat and outer wall. We climbed together to the top of the wall that I had photographed the day before, the view was nice, but like many vistas in Japan, it suffered from the sort of man made blight that is easier to ignore in real life than in photographs. One of the great things about America is the sheer vastness of the country allows us to preserve great swaths of unspoiled landscape for our aesthetic pleasure. In Japan they just can't afford to leave any buildable space free of civilization's yoke.

Adjacent to the castle lies a great garden that we spent time wandering through on our way back to the hotel. We accidently lost Yoko for a bit, and as me and Dai waited for her, we watched a large group of Chinese tourists noisily take group photos in front of the lake. We then stopped by the art museum, but they were between exhibits and other than playing on their glass elevator and peeking through windows, there was not much to do there. We hiked back up the hill to the hotel, the petals of the cherry blossoms, having already fallen from the trees, filled all the cracks and crevices of the mossy retaining walls and clogged the gullies lining the road.

After getting our bags and waiting a while for the bus to show up, Dai flagged down a taxi for us that we took back to the station. We caught a local train, riding for a little over an hour to reach Kaga-On'sen located in the foothills. They had a driver waiting there to pick us up and we drove through the seemingly abandoned town.

Off in the distance a giant white Gamera shaped structure stuck out like a baby seal at a polar bear convention. (In fact, despite not knowing what it was called or where it was located, I was able to find it easily on Google's satellite image mapping system simply by looking for an oddly shaped spot in the middle of nowhere.) Our driver informed us that the Komatsu Dome was a piece of pork that a local politician had constructed with the dream of bringing tourism to this backwater part of Japan, it didn't work.

Our On'sen was one of the oldest continuously operating hot springs in Japan, having been in business for over 700 years. As old as it might have been, the building was obviously a product of the mid 1970's with very retro decor. It was very spacious though, and strewn throughout with odd bronze statues of naked women's torsos (I'll give the artist credit, he knew how to make a nice rump.) Dai and I had the baths pretty much to ourselves. I'm going to digress a little bit here since some people may not know what the whole On'sen thing is all about.

In Japan one of the wonderful traditional recreation is to soak in pools of hot water. Because of the highly volcanic nature of Japan due to it's location on a major subduction zone there is no shortage of natural hot springs, although lack of artesian hot water doesn't stop them from constructing artificially heated baths either. Many places are famous for different kinds of dissolved mineral content held in suspension, giving the water color from milky white to orange or black, often with a sulfurous or salty odor and flavor.

I can remember the first time I ever went to a Japanese On'sen. I was with my girlfriend in some remote resort town in the Izu peninsula. We were supposed to go with her parents but due to a family illness we ended up going alone. I had no clue what I was supposed to do and intended to just follow other people's example, but It was off season and the massive resort was totally empty. I just got naked and went alone into the giant room. The floor was covered with roughly textured black stone and a giant pool ran the length of the room abutting a glass wall facing the ocean. I was standing there enjoying the view, when I realized that there was absolutely nothing stopping anyone from walking along the clearly defined path in front of the window and seeing me naked. At that point I was really wondering if I was doing this right, I was terrified that some group of Japanese fathers were going to come marching in with their children, all in swimming trunks. They would stop in shock as their wives videotaped their horror from the garden in front of the pool. I had nothing to worry about though, no one ever came. After I splashed around in the cavernous pool for a while, I left, having learned very little from the experience.

Over the years I've had many more opportunities to visit On'sen and the whole procedure is pretty consistent. There is a large open lounge area with rows and rows of baskets, you stick all your clothes in one of these. Usually you are supplied with two towels, a small long washcloth and a standard bath towel. Leave the big towel with your clothes and keep only the washcloth. There are often lockers to store your valuables in with clever little keys that are attached to a rubber wristband so you can wear it in the bath. Here's the big lesson I missed on my solo flight, you wash before getting in to the hot water.

The wash area is typically long rows of closely spaced spigots. These are clever in that they have a dial to set the temperature (know your metric system!) and a spring loaded valve lever that give you about a 10 second shot of water either to the faucet or the showerhead. They provide you with a little stool to sit on and a little bucket to rinse with. Japanese people are either ridiculously clean or they tend to wash more thoroughly in public than most do in private. That or I have unknowingly been participating in some twisted game of chicken of the sea. Wash until you feel yourself sprouting gills, then as unselfconsciously as possible use the small towel to shield your dangly bits of shame.

After the bath, we dressed in the supplied Yukatta's, and our maid (not Akihabara style, more along the lines of Mrs. Doubtfire) assembled our dinner. The main dish they served us was Tai shabu-shabu, and even though all the food was delicious and there were many kinds of dishes, our consensus was that it was too heavily biased towards the Tai and some nice paper thin beef would have been great.

Day 5 (Tue, Apr 25)

We got in another early soak before making sure to return to our room in time for breakfast. We had small salted Hirame (Sole) that we grilled on little cast iron griddles and other traditional Japanese breakfast things, pickled vegetables, rice and miso soup. After eating we packed up and grabbed the shuttle back to the station along with an older guy and his cute younger girlfriend. They were obviously having an affair while he was supposedly away on business. Dai and Yoko grabbed some snacks and we rode the local train back to the Kanazawa station where I saw this Sake vending machine.

Once in town, we decided to take a day trip to the sea of Japan, to a small resort area called Wakura Onsen. The hotel we went to was very luxurious and was doing last minute preparation for the upcoming Golden week. The hot-spring's baths consisted of heated salty sea water, but it felt great. There was a nice outdoor pool constructed in such a way that you could sit an a reclined lounger like position, looking out over the bay. It was a bit windy, but the water kept us pretty comfortable. They also had two saunas (one that was fiercely hot) and two large cast iron pots, easily large enough for someone my size to fit inside. As me and Dai soaked in them side by side, I couldn't help but giggle to myself, imagining that we were being cooked by savages.

We left our bags at the front desk and walked into town in search of a late lunch. The town was interesting but quiet, having several street-side hot spring fountains. Being very tourist oriented, it seemed to be set up on a very late schedule and there was nothing appetizing open, so we marched back to the hotel and got a ride back to the station by a friendly young employee. At Kanazawa station, we got tickets back to Tokyo and picked up some Gyoza and Chicken Kara-age for the return trip.

We didn't make it back to the city until fairly late, but me and Dai were pretty hungry and craving meat so we dragged Yoko to a Korean barbecue place we often go to in Gotanda and had a late dinner. Large frosty draft beer's washed down the spicy Korean soup we had.

Day 6 (Wed, Apr 26)

Today me and Dai went back to Akihabara to order Yoko's dad's stereo system after getting a final budget. Dai did a great job of negotiating and we got a nice little Yamaha 5.1 surround sound system for far below what it should have cost. We remembered to get mounting brackets and some Monster cable speaker wire, they wouldn't promise that it would get delivered by Saturday, but they were pretty sure it would make it.

After shopping we had some great Croquettes/Cutlets at a fancy place in Ginza. We dropped by the Nissan showroom and sat in the Skyline Coupe 350GT (Infiniti G35) and discussed how practical owning such a car would be, cognizant of the effect such a car might have on girls similar to the beautiful young attendants assisting us. I took advantage of being in Ginza and popped over to the Citibank International ATM and got some more cash.

On the way home we stopped at the large supermarket to get groceries as Dai wanted to cook dinner for us. At the store I watched a small boy being ridiculously obstinate about wanting something, hitting his mom he chanted over and over again, "I like dad better than you." I wondered to myself if being a parent was really worth the trouble, but you've got to be thick skinned I think. There must be a better way though, and I suspect that some sort of shock collar might be involved.

We brought all of our stuff back to the house and Dai prepared a wonderful meal. We had nice pasta and Insalata Caprese (fresh Mozzarella with basil, tomatoes, basil, olive oil and balsamic vinegar.) Dai and Yoko are great cooks, but I always feel uncomfortable when someone cooks for me. It may sound odd, but to me cooking for someone is one of the most xxx you can do for someone. Being a perfectionist that is averse to rejection or disappointing someone I care about, I almost never cook for other people. I had a really bad fight with my ex-girlfriend because I was helping her cook some food for a party we were going to and she wanted to substitute ingredients. I pretty much freaked out, the fear that it would come out bad, or that someone wouldn't like it was crippling to me. After that I tried to relax about it, but cooking is still a big stress for me, and consequently I get really uncomfortable when someone puts their heart on their sleeve like that for me.

Day 7 (Thu, Apr 27)

I took the subway to Gotanda to explore the area and search for coffee, I wandered through the high rise Sony and Philips office buildings before popping in to one of the many Tully's scattered around the area. While I was waiting for my coffee to be prepared a rush of customers came, and instead of waiting for their orders to be finished, they all started staking out the few remaining tables. By the time my mocha was ready I was forced to sit outside in the cold, I was kind of pissed. I ate my lemon poppy-seed cake and drank my mocha, and once I finished, headed back to the subway to go on to Sengakuji a couple stations away. From there I walked up the road a ways into Mita and noticed that the Tokyo tower was off to my left.

Not being a big fan of touristy stuff in the first place, I was prepared to be underwhelmed, but even so, the tower itself was pretty pathetic. It had a large building at the base that had various souvenir shops, fast food places and a couple sad entertainment places including a wax museum. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get to the observation platform, so I went back the way I came, into Mita to get a small snack. Going down the hill I spotted the distinctive tail lights of the new Audi TT Coupe model that had yet to be released. It had in fact only days before been officially debuted in Germany, so I didn't really trust my eyes until it was right in front of me. The driver sped off before I could identify the engine type, leaving three Germans pointedly ignoring me as they slowly walked back, deep in conversation, to their waiting A3 sportback.

At the Starbucks I had spotted earlier, across from Keio University in Mita, I chose a little mini sandwich variety pack (egg salad, ham and tuna salad.) I was unfortunate enough to be subjected to having to listen to some guy condescendingly lecture an elegant older Japanese professor. She obviously knew more than him about what he was researching at the University, but he mistook her humility for ignorance. He must have mentioned that he was going to have his book published five times in an attempt to impress her, but she refused to take the bait, always leading the conversation in another direction. Despite his cluelessness I could tell she was interested in talking with him, although I was having a hard time understanding why.

He was ridiculing his colleges in France using the (incorrect) derogatory term, 'They are like the Mexican Army.' Mistaking her uncomfortable laughter for incomprehension, he went on to explain, "In France, we say that to mean [refer to] people who don't know what they are doing. Because everyone knows the Mexican Army is so stupid that they just run around in circles." It was all that I could take. I closed my book to leave and said, "That's something to hear coming from the creators of the Maginot line. But I'm afraid that the people who died at the Alimo would beg to disagree." He looked at me with a confused expression and it became immediately clear why the woman was putting up with such a patronizing boar, as he was strikingly handsome. My heart was pounding as I took one last glance at her and was relieved to see a smile of comprehension pass across her face, although maybe she was just laughing at my tone. I shuffled off without further explanation ears burning, I wondered to myself just how far someone could get on looks. Pretty far it would seem.

On the way back to the subway I passed two incongruous, large, loud and unpleasant looking Americans. They both had the same odd wild curly greasy looking hair and their pot bellies bulged between the retaining straps of their backpacks. They trundled through the crowds of business people like oblivious Rhinos, spinning around unpredictably in a futile attempt to gain their bearings in unfamiliar territory. They loudly theorized about their proximity to the subway in thick southern accents, obviously hoping for someone to materialize and assist them. But I was still pissed off about the Frenchman and couldn't quite bring myself to point them in the right direction. I was feeling sorry for myself, why is a degree seem to be the only qualification to be here? Why do people who can't even find a subway when they are standing in front of it even bother to come?

I went home and waited to hear what was happening that evening. Dai ended up having to work really late so Yoko called me from her office and asked me to meet her at the local station. We decided to go to the little French place near their house. We had walked by it so many times over the years, it was always full and inviting, I'm glad we finally took the opportunity to go. Inside, the place was very small and cozy, consisting of a long bar abutting against the prep counter with a small stove and boiler against the back wall. The single chef was assisted by a young, energetic, round faced girl that I was instantly fond of. We shared a nice salad, a pasta dish and a great pork dish with lots of cheese. It wasn't cheap and the portions were a little small, but it was very satisfying. Me and Yoko went shopping across the street at their local grocery before going home.

Continue Reading...

Drama & Romance
• The Shawshank Redemption

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• Local Hero

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• Gladiator

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• Fargo

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• Brazil

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• My Neighbor Totoro

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• The Man from Snowy River

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• True Stories

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• Flirting & The Year my Voice Broke

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• The Piano

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• Shine

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• The Fisher King

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Humor
• The Princess Bride

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• Eat, Drink, Man, Woman

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• Groundhog Day

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• Snatch

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• Time Bandits

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• Babe the Pig

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• Finding Nemo

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• Raising Arizona

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• My Sassy Girl

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• Shall we Dance?

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