I’ve got two weeks to catch up on in less than two hours, but I’ll try.  I now see I’ll fail, so I’ll divide these long posts into sections. 

February 7: Customer visit in Kobe, preceded by purchasing a train ticket for the next day and trying to pay by credit card, which took at least ten minutes of the poor clerk having to call the authorisation office, consult with a colleague, and work out how to type in some mystic code. 

February 8: Customer visit in Kanagawa prefecture, after a bullet train ride to Tokyo, where I spotted a Rolls Royce Phantom in the parking garage.  Whoever thought that crossing a tin lunchbox with a turtle butt spelled luxury just because it was extra big, was wrong.  On the drive home from the customer we saw Mount Fuji silhouetted against the setting sun. 

The turtle butt’s a meter behind the little car. 

February 9: Saturday, so I took the subway to Tokyo Midtown to see if the two drains in one of the indoor pools still drained in the opposite direction.  They did, but that was hard to capture on film.  I spent a lot of time reading there, just because it’s a well-designed building that makes a person want to stay there.  It’s got natural lighting streaming down into its covered courts, sometimes with fountains or water streaming across glass panels.  It is easy to navigate and not too big, with all sections looking clearly different and yet part of a whole.  It offers plenty of space to sit, rest, and be with friends.  Walking through it, looking at it, I couldn’t help but think that this would be a great way to have an urban community (of course, Bertrand Goldberg beat me to that thought by a few decades), though I think it would be too expensive for most people living in apartments and those who could afford such living quarters would probably prefer the picket-fence at equivalent price.  But I find the idea of what would almost amount to a village community almost romantically appealing. 

Ground floor view.  Of course, this is all shopping space. 

View from the second floor. 

After hanging out at the Midtown, I headed to Asakusa for my ritual shopping stop, though this time I had only one item to buy: the maneki-neko, which here I finally found.  One shop sold nothing but different variations on maneki-neko, though most of them lacked aesthetic appeal or just plain looked cheap.  I was also tempted by a couple extra-obese miniature sumo statuettes, but resisted, mostly because I couldn’t think of a suitable recipient. 

The kaminari gate and the Nakamise shopping street. 

February 10: I went to church at Honda again.  This time, the service was translated, with Sally doing the honors and bravely struggling to simultaneously translate while the preacher went on without pause.  Of course, Dan Iverson was preaching, and I understand his Japanese better than that of any of the native Japanese speakers, so this might have been the Sunday when I least needed translation, but I was still glad for it.  Before the sermon, the Sunday school kids recited a few verses they’d learned by heart, along with hand motions. 

Sunday School memory verse recitation.   

We had a communal lunch, at which I was again told that my Japanese pronounciation is beautiful, which makes me try to change the topic, because I think all it is is my lack of American accent.  After lunch I joined the sumodon group of young adults, of whom I must be one of the oldest, for some singing, listening to Megan share how she came to believe in Jesus, and a bilingual game of mafia.  After the games we headed to a kaitenzushi place where I ate 9 plates of “sushi” (the egg tart counted as one) for only 945 yen.  One of the guys managed 20 plates… 

Pointing out the Mafia.

Deep in thought. 

The Mafia.

Cell phone surprise. 

Mount Fuji behind the power lines.  The mountain is about 130 kilometers distant. 

February 11: I headed down to Kanazawa in Kanagawa prefecture (not the Kanazawa where I studied Japanese) to meet up with Olivier Rumley, with whom I’d studied Japanese (in the other Kanazawa), and his family.  I’d met Björn for breakfast that day, so speaking French with Olivier meant four languages in two days.  There were moments when I felt it and couldn’t think of words in the right language.  Etsuko first made us a nabé lunch which we ate while Léon slept.  After lunch Etsuko herself took a nap and Olivier and I went for a walk around the neighborhood.  Behind their house the hill rises steeply and becomes forested.  A short walk through the woods took us to the shrine at the top and a view over residential Kanazawa on the one side and the curious composition of temple, port, and amusement park on the other. 

Residential Japan.

We walked down the hill, across a spur, and ended up on the Shomyo temple grounds.  A group of men were working on the renovation of the bridge, even though it was a national holiday.  I guess constitutions don’t count for Buddhists and businessmen.  We saw a few fathers playing ball with their sons on a nearby plot of land and the sunny weather and the day off did bring a number of people out, but not in droves.  The temple remained an oasis of quiet, albeit an unsightly one with all the construction. 

Detail of the Shomyo-ji temple.

Temple camouflage. 

Little mannikins of good fortune. 

Back home, everyone was awake, and after reading Léon one of his favorite stories we headed out for coffee and cake.  After the coffee, I tagged along with the Rumleys to the shopping center, where I was delighted to find Ginga Kogen beer, and the drugstore, where I bought a “dorainoozusupuree” for my next flight.  I’ll think of some reward for the first person to figure that one out, which reminds me that the photo challenge a while back remains unsolved.  Pikku sent in correct answers for almost all photos, as the only participant so far.  The book’s still waiting for you! 

Léon loves the story of the Ouchie that gets thrown around. 

Léon’s smile betrays his nearly boundless energy. 

No wonder the Japanese think he’s cute. 

I still stand in puzzlement before this bicycle. 

When I returned from the Rumleys, I went to a traditional Japanese restaurant for dinner, where I discovered two things: I like Yuzu sour, and fish guts pickled in salt taste just like what you’d expect.