Popcorn and Sushi

Monday Photowalk: Words and Numbers

While our kids are in Japanese tutoring twice a week, Husband and I often go for long, rambling walks nearby.  Thank goodness Husband's sense of direction is good, because I sometimes lose track of where we are and which direction we should head to get back.  When it's still light out, I try to bring the camera along.  There's always something interesting to see.

Cold Green Tea

 

I should have known the Japanese were right. 

When finding it necessary to make a purchase from a vending machine (they're everywhere--no, I mean it--everywhere), I resisted the ubiquitous summer beverage for the longest time.  I'd drop in my yen and select a world-dominating Coke (when I was feeling naughty) or a low-sugar vitamin/electrolyte drink (when I was feeling nice).  For some reason, I thought these drinks were more refreshing than tea.  It's funny, because I love tea--I drink a pot of hot black tea every morning.  But I figured that for quenching my thirst, tea wasn't the way to go.  Well, I was wrong--and the Japanese people all around me who always seem to have a bottle of green tea with them when they're out and about in warm weather, were right. 

I stand corrected.  Especially now that I've found a bitter green tea (strong teas are my preference) that I can buy in a 2-liter size at the grocery store and have on hand all day.  Yes, few things beat the heat as well as cold green tea, and hey--it's good for you!  When in doubt, the Japanese are right.

What's on the Line?

 

As I mentioned recently, everyone in Japan hangs their washing out to dry.  As far as I can tell, anyway--I've never seen a house or apartment without some kind of apparatus (usually several) set up outside for hanging laundry.  In-ground poles are uncommon since most people don't have a yard, so most laundry-hangers are movable and made of plastic or metal.  Many of the plastic variety are small, meant for little things like socks and unmentionables, and have built-in clips.  We have a few of these (not pictured), but they're pretty much falling apart because a) they're plastic and have been out in the elements for a couple of years and b) they cost 100 yen (basically a dollar) and were likely made in China. 

Anyway, we've never sprung for a larger, mobile pole set-up that's meant to be outside (looks like a heavy-duty clothes rack--we have a smaller one indoors), which would probably live on our lower patio; instead, Husband strung a couple of ropes on the upper deck, and we've bought cute, colorful clips to keep me happy while I hang things out. 

So what's on the line today?  Two pairs of men's underwear (sorry, Husband); my two colorful, summer-weight pairs of Sweetgrass hemp pants which will direly need ironing; the inside-out jersey of the cutest baseball player I know; an apron worn not by me; a pair of Husband's jeans; and assorted items belonging to Clotheshorse First Child, who may or may not have actually worn said items before throwing them on the floor.

If you like clotheslines, be sure to visit Mrs. Washalot's treasure-trove of photos and info.  Enjoy!

Making Lemonade

I read recently that fellow Japan-blogger Fuji Mama is leaving Japan soon.  I know she must be filled with all sorts of conflicting emotions--you know, the feeling that leaving Japan will be heartbreaking but also exciting but also scary but also somehow freeing.  Not to put words into her mouth, or anything, but this is how I would feel.  In fact, I rather expected to be experiencing these emotions right about now.

See, it was never our plan to stay in Japan for five years.  We thought we'd be out in three to four, tops.  Actually, we never put a number to the length of our stay here, which is probably a good thing, since we're unlikely to be going anywhere in the next year or so.   Because we aren't military, we make our own plans, meaning we can stay, or we can go home. 

But there's a third choice: a transfer to another DODDS location.  I say choice, but a transfer is really about luck and seniority (it's the U.S. Government, after all--how well you do your job has no bearing once you're through your probationary period).  If you've got both--luck and seniority-- working for you, you just might wrangle a plum (that's relative, I know) assignment in much-pined-for Europe.

We thought it was our turn this Spring.  Husband went into the transfer round with high hopes, only to have those hopes dashed to bits.  To make a painfully-long, intricate and excessively boring story short, there simply were no jobs available for Husband in any of our preferred locations.  After we heard, we felt pretty sour, let me tell you--I'm sure we looked for several days as if we'd sucked on a whole bushel-basket of lemons.  I wanted to stamp my foot, to complain to someone, anyone, at length.  But there was nothing to be done.  It was what it was. 

Perhaps I should clarify that we love Japan.  We really do.  And the nice thing about loving Japan is that it makes the decision to stay here at least another year an easy one.  It was just the anticipation of going somewhere new, somewhere we might decide to stay for a number of years (a number probably larger than five), somewhere that isn't a full twenty-four-hour-trip away from our home in the States.  Plus, living in a country where you know for a fact you'll never fit in can take its toll on a person--at least a person who is not overwhelmingly delusional.  Because you can trick yourself into a pretty neat existence here--trust me, it's not hard to get comfortable in such a clean, orderly, safe place.   

Well-meaning people have been saying, "it's not so bad here," and they're absolutely right.  I honestly can't complain.  So I'll take those lemons, boil up a nice sugar syrup, and make lemonade.  Lemonade's starting to sound pretty good right now.

Picnics and Clotheslines

It was a nice day for a bike ride to the nearest convenience store to grab some impromptu picnic items--my choices included a delicious single-serving kimchi and an ever-popular onigiri, or rice ball, a family favorite and certainly  a perfect picnic food.  I'd brought along new reading material that I didn't have a chance to peruse.

On the way to our picnic spot, I stopped and photographed this house, which is a bit out of place in its environs and always provokes our curiosity.

Sleepy kitty in window=always photo-worthy.

Clotheslines are everywhere in Japan.  It's a shame there are places in the world that won't allow them.

On the way home, Second Child spotted these ants and insisted we take their photo.  Know the Dog Party in the book Go, Dog, Go?  Well, this is apparently an Ant Party.  We assume they were having their own picnic.

Sorry for the Temporary Service Disruption...

...but First Child and I are in the States for two weeks attending to a family matter, and this may be my only occasion to blog while we're away.  In the meantime, please enjoy the new Destination: Japan merch at momastore.org.  There's some very cool stuff here! 

I just saw these hand towels last week in the Osaka airport and almost bought one (the tea-themed one, as I'm crazy about anything tea-related).  Maybe I'll pick one up on our way back through.  I'm amazed at the mark-up on the adorable food erasers (First Child has a friend who collects fun erasers like this--we marveled at the selection when we bought her birthday presents last year), but hey, MoMa has to make some yen dollars.  First Child will want this suitcase if I show it to her, though the black is a bit boring; she is always envious of Japanese people's four-wheel cases.  They always seem so at-ease with their luggage, while we struggle with our (overloaded, often with books) gargantuan two-wheelers. 

We're fans of tabi socks, too, and I like these because they're cute and cool but not overly-precious.  Did you know that tabi socks are (purportedly) good for you because they give a mini-massage to the pressure point(s) between your big toe and the rest of the piggies?  There, maybe you learned something new today.

Thanks to the New York Times for the heads-up on this new MoMa collection.