Popcorn and Sushi

What I Will Miss, Part 1

We leave Japan one month from tomorrow (!).  While I am thrilled about our upcoming move, and delighted about all we've done and seen since arriving in Japan almost six years ago, there are definitely some things I'm going to miss.  Among them:

Our 'hood  (Street names?  HAHAHA!  Good one--try again!)

Our street.  Power lines everywhere=what's not to love?  And that monster hedge was ours for almost four years!

The neighborhood soda machine, a glowing beacon when walking or driving up the hill at night.

Brainiacs Second Child and his supah-cool "brother" (that's what they call each other!) using tons o' spare change to buy sodas from said machine and letting them drop down one after the other until they get stuck, thus requiring the attentions of older sister (First Child, taker of the photo) to get them unwedged.

 

Neighborhood cemetery.  There's bamboo (and chestnuts, if the old ladies haven't gotten to them first) in them thar' hills.

 

The Purple House, one street over.  More than a little subversive.

Husband's mini-mobile, nicknamed "Pikachu" for no clear reason.  Fighting over the shared arm rest: good times!

 

Bubble mirrors, for negotiating sharp turns and narrow roads in virtually any neighborhood

 

frequent walks in the 'hood--apres-sushi this time, I believe

 

And speak of the devil--sushi.  Kappa-maki here, a fave of the kids

 

Don't forget the Sushi-Dudes--we love them so!

 

And, the stacking of the sushi plates by color.  Yellow=cheap=our favorite.  Waaaaaah, sushi!

Hanami: Cherry Blossom Viewing 2009

Were they especially beautiful this year?  Maybe it just seems that way to me...

The Big Reveal

Pardon me if I've been a bit distracted.  Just over a week ago, right before Spring Break started, we got the word:  it's Germany!  Since we found out, we've been busy researching, contacting friends in the area, and getting a start on the zillions of things that must be done before we leave Japan.  We'll be moving in early-August to a part of Germany that's very near the borders of France, Luxembourg, Belgium, and the Netherlands.  Husband will be working as an elementary school Information Center Specialist.  And yes, we are excited, though we will miss Japan tremendously...

The fact that Husband got a transfer meant that he could shave off the Rally Beard:

 

He planned to grow it until a transfer happened--thank goodness we didn't have to wait until next year!

Where will it be?

First Child recently found herself in a frenzy of designing and making friendship bracelets, and she decided to make several for her dad to wear.  Each one has the colors of a particular country's flag.  The countries represented are Belgium, Germany, England, and Italy: all places where we have a chance of moving this August.  

We should be hearing something any day now.  When Husband finds out, he'll leave on only the bracelet representing the country to which we're moving.  Exciting, isn't it?  Which bracelet will be the sole survivor?  Stay tuned!

Sleeping Girl and Large Cone

 

We're continually baffled at how easily the Japanese can nod off in all sorts of places, at any old time.  Husband couldn't help snapping a pic of this sleep-deprived girl in Hiroshima the other day.

And what's up with this huge traffic cone (that seems to have met with some misfortune) at the back of  a 7-11 parking lot?  Second Child thinks he needs to alert Guiness!

*Have a look at my latest posts at SuperCozy, if you're a homekeeping/cooking type!*

Snow in March

 

Behold this view of our inner courtyard yesterday.  I'm not sure what to think about snow in March.  But there it is--or was; it was all gone by mid-afternoon.  I'd say it had disappeared by right around the time the guys came to remove our non-functioning, brand-new stove and replace it with another of the same model.  Chilly and stoveless, I hinted on the phone to homeward-bound Husband that a warm beverage might be nice.  Half an hour later, stoveless and beverageless, I recalled that the direct approach usually works better.  Oh, well--I'd already drank half my weight in tea earlier in the day.  And later, since we had to wait until 6 p.m. for the newest new stove to be ready for cooking with gas,we went out for nice, piping-hot bowls of ramen--so right on a cold, moist evening.

Now, for another depiction of snow in our town, showcasing the famous Kintai bridge:

 

P.S. I've already posted again at SuperCozy--SuperWow!

My Husband, the Photographer

He naps!  He rows and runs!  He watches documentaries!  He buys dinners with spare change!  And he takes great pictures:

 

 

 

 

 

These are just a few examples of the fun he had with the D80 while we were gone.  Very nice, yes?

P.S.  Feel free to hop on over to my poor, languishing SuperCozy blog, if you're so inclined--I've actually posted something there!

My Husband, the Bachelor

I have just arrived back in Japan after three weeks in the States with First Child and Second Child.  We were on our annual homeland pilgrimage without Husband (someone in this family has to work!).  Every year, Husband becomes increasingly morose in the days leading up to our departure.  He envisions afternoons, evenings, and weekends spent alone, talking to no one but the neighborhood feral cats who occasionally peer in windows, and anyone who will answer when he Skypes them. He pictures days upon days with no home-cooked meals nor their resulting lunch-bound leftovers.  He imagines our cold Japanese house as much more frigid than it usually is in reality.

He knows he and his social, family-loving self will become, for a few weeks, a bachelor.

This year, he found a new way to occupy his time and avoid the kitchen: he spent his evenings sorting through mounds of loose change (a great many five-and ten-yen coins!) and presenting said change as payment for convenience-store dinners.  Never the slacker, he did photo-document his convenience-meals (so much better than they sound!) on his Facebook page, to the amusement of various friends and family members.  And I am happy to report that he has not been banned forever from Family Mart (the checkers quickly wised up and began pulling out a change-counter when they saw him come through the door, though one of them wasn't too happy about it).

One night, he actually entertained: he invited over a handful of friends who all contributed to a Breakfast-for-Dinner meal.  But he confessed to me that, true to his bachelor existence, he found someone's tub of butter sitting on our dining table--a week and a half later.  Funny, because I'm guessing the table was less-cluttered than usual, when it's laden with the books, pens, candy wrappers, and miscellaneous papers of four individuals instead of one.  But whatever--the butter tub was somehow mislaid.

He had a few meals with friends who took pity on him, in their homes or in restaurants.  And he got to be the center of attention at dinner out with a group of teachers he calls the Golden Girls (though in reality none of them are senior citizens).  

He disposed of trash, um--improperly, and I'm betting he didn't make the bed.  But before we got home, he changed the sheets on our bed and vaccuumed.  And bless his heart, he stopped by the grocery store and after our arrival insisted there was "plenty to eat" (carrots, yogurt, kimchi, and potatoes, anyone?).

Now that we're back together, all is right with the world.  The bachelor is no more--at least until next year.

The Pee-pee Dance

So I turned the corner into our neighborhood yesterday, and just as I was about to head up the hill toward our street, the car in front of me pulled over to the left, and an older Japanese gentleman in a tweed suit jumped out.  I say jumped, because really, he about tumbled over himself in his rush to get out the door.  As he crossed in front of me, bobbing his head as he went, I couldn't help wondering why he was in such a hurry.  A split-second later, I knew the reason.  You know it, too, don't you?  Even if the spoiler title above didn't give it away, you know where this is headed.  But you don't know where he was headed. Why, right to the small ditch on the other side of the road!  He had to go, I assure you.  I couldn't help noticing.

He didn't try to hide, not in the slightest.  I wasn't exactly shocked, because male urination in Japan is often done basically out in the open.  We laugh sometimes at the tiny concrete wall that is commonly erected right outside a door-less men's restroom in any outdoor venue, such as a public park or castle grounds.  If you stand in one spot, directly behind the wall, and you don't move more than a few inches in either direction, you can't see what's going on in there.  But if you're standing elsewhere or you happen to be walking by, expect to see too much, because you undoubtedly will. 

Still, I had never seen "too much" while driving into our neighborhood, so this was new, in its own way. And funny, also in its own way.  Because it's universal: we've all done the Pee-pee Dance.

Sorry I don't have a photo for this post, but that would be just--well, weird.  And possibly illegal. 

Japanese Thrift with a Hug Thrown In

Image by Jeremy Brooks via Flickr

A Japanese lady--a complete stranger--hugged me last night.  Husband and I were out walking while our kids were in their Japanese lessons nearby, when Husband suddenly veered off course into a tiny neighborhood store that had recently opened.  I'd noticed it a few weeks back and mentioned to him that we should go in sometime, as it's a big day indeed when you spot anything in Japan with the word "thrift" on it.

The funny thing about our going in on this occasion is that we couldn't buy anything. For the month of January, we are entrenched in our annual (at a minimum) Extreme Thrift Mode, which unfortunately has nothing to do with thrift-ing.  Here I was, at an actual thrift store, and I couldn't buy a thing.  It just seemed so wrong.  Since I had no purchasing power (seriously, none--I'd left my wallet in the car),  I preferred to linger outside the store, picking through the plastic miso bowls, winter coats reeking of mothballs, and other meager offerings there, but Husband called me inside.  Why?  To look with him at the really cool stuff we couldn't buy! 

While the display of items out front was typical of the kinds of things that can be found in a small, dusty thrift shop in the U.S., the indoor portion was more like a dusty antiques store.  With only a cursory, resentful glance, I saw lots of kokeshi dolls in a cabinet, a great retro framed geisha print, and loads of pottery among the jam-packed wares.  Husband spotted, and asked the papa-san about, a lovely antique chest of drawers, a Sendai-dansu, which, naturally, was a good deal for that type of thing but significantly more than what most people are willing to pay in a "thrift" store.  And, of course, had it been cheap-o cheap we wouldn't have bought it anyway, while in Extreme Thrift Mode.  We were a tease. 

But the store proprietors knew nothing of our spending prohibition, so they encouraged us, saying "expensive, demo (but)..." about several items that caught Husband's discerning eye.  While I was rounding a corner and the rather large mama-san was coming directly at me, the hug occurred--a split-second, simple reaching-out with one arm--just enough to pull me close to her momentarily as we passed en route to opposite sides of the store.

Did I imagine some intended affection, or was it a mere attempt to stay steady on her feet?  I can't help but feel it's the former, though my experience with hugs from Japanese non-acquaintances had previously been exactly zero.

It was time to get back to our walk.  Puzzled, but somehow filled with goodwill toward this woman who dared to flout social conventions, I promised we'd come back.  Maybe in February, when "Extreme Thrift" may take on a different meaning entirely.