Keeping up with the Tanakas

The End of the Affair

2010-06-20T22:16:00.002+09:00

I do believe my love affair with Japan has ended. Next month I will leave Japan for summer in California 11 years to the day after I departed LAX to begin my adventures here. I have been waiting for this trip since, well, since last September if I am honest. It was a long, cold winter and I don't do winter well, so it was easy to blame the frigid temperatures, my chapped, red hands, and the fact that I could see my breath in my own kitchen every morning for the slightly anti-Japan stance that I had been carrying around for a few months. I also sometimes blamed culture shock, knowing the beast to be cyclical in nature, only the cycle never turned. I hoped that having guests come to visit, would shake me out of my blues; excited by the opportunity to see Japan through fresh, new eyes. Instead, I was surprised to find myself without comebacks to their criticisms or counterpoints to their critiques of life in this country. I am afraid I was not a very good hostess. Though I enjoyed the bloom of Spring, it did not hold the glory this year that I used to write home about. I would go to take a picture of flowers and notice only the dingy, grey cement in the background. I would aim my camera at the clouds, only to be foiled by the endless wires. I am frustrated by the schools and their voluminous lists of rules. I am frustrated by the people who don't follow the rules and ride their bikes on the footpath causing what feel like brushes with near death for my children at least on a weekly basis. I am tired of being a foreigner in the place that is supposed to have become my home and I am even more tired of people calling my children, citizens of this nation, foreigners and complimenting them on their Japanese ability. I know I am ready for a break; I can only hope that absence will make the heart grow fonder.

Something's Missing

2010-06-12T17:01:00.003+09:00

Summer is within reach. It is a fact that keeps me sane when coupled with a copy of my flight itinerary. It has been almost a year since I have been home and though the nearness of the yearly migration helps me through everyday, having been away for so long has me on edge. It is as if I need to come up for air after having been submerged in what is still, yes still, a foreign culture to me. I miss all the usual suspects: my family, Mexican food, the California climate and browsing in bookstores. This time around though, I find myself missing all kinds of less obvious things. Here is a sampling of what I have been pining for: sidewalks, efficiency, trying on clothes, convenience, backyards, "bless you," clothes fresh from the dryer, artichokes, NPR, a garbage disposal, driving, being literate, diversity, swimming pools and hugs. Five weeks and counting.

WOW!

2010-04-15T07:45:00.003+09:00

There must be some comedian using this word as part of his shtick on Japanese TV because I have been hearing it everywhere. It is coming out of the mouths of high school students on the train, mothers at the school, the station master, and even my own daughter. I am not completely sure how they do it, but they manage to give the word four syllables when they say it. Something along the lines of "Wa ou uu wa!" It makes me completely insane! Particularly coming from my own offspring. I cannot tolerate it when she says "juan, tsuu, surrey!!!" or sings "ha pee baasu dey tsu yew!" If you are going to use English words, then please, PLEASE, use English pronunciation. That or stop making fun of the way my people speak Japanese.

A Ruined Season

2010-04-02T01:38:00.004+09:00

There is a raging wind outside and I know it is beating down the cherry blossoms who were just daring to shyly show themselves after today's rise in temperature. It has been cold. The trees had not really gone into bloom and now, what petals were there will be strewn on the ground tomorrow. I understand that the allure of sakura is all about their fleeting loveliness, that they are a symbol of flux, a reminder of the cycles in everything. Still, I had been waiting for the glory of the cherry trees to renew my faith in the magnificence that exists in this world. I needed the blossoms this year. I longed for that week of stunning splendor. As I listen to the force of the wind rattling the house and the world around, I can feel actual anger rise up in me, met with sadness. Am I mourning flowers? I will try not to read too much into the fate of the cherry trees this year, and satiate my hunger for beauty with daffodils instead.

I Get By With a Little Help

2010-03-21T06:29:00.003+09:00

The last day of the school year. Mina and I are rushing to the station. It is Saturday, so the train schedule is different and I am afraid she is going to miss her train. We walk up to the gates. "Mommy, I don't have my train pass. . . ." I was just walking her to the station, so I didn't have my purse. "I don't have any money!" I say at a volume approaching a shout. I turn and find a man who lives up the street from us, and just happens to be fluent in English, pulling a 1000 yen note (about $10) from his wallet and I haven't even asked him to help us. I don't even know this man's name. I know where he lives, I know his dog's name, I think he works with the US military, I remember the first time he asked me, "How's it goin'?" like a native, but I don't really know him. Here he is, without hesitation, saving my butt. After Mina returned from school, we made a batch of chocolate chip oatmeal craisin cookies for him and I didn't even have to write the thank you note in Japanese.

This situation reminded me of some ideas I had written down in a notebook and came across the other day. I will share one of those posts with you now. It is about four years old, yet falls under the exact same heading . . . I Get By With a Little Help.

A rainy day. Delayed trains. The three train loads of people waiting on the platform are going to cram onto the already crowded approaching train and we are going to be amongst them. "You'd better collapse the stroller," one mother says and we all start in at once to free Sam from his belt, take off the rain cover, grab the umbrellas hanging from the back, juggle my bags around (because as if I weren't already carrying enough, I've decided to mail some books out today) and fold up the stroller just as the train doors open. I've got Sam, another mother takes the stroller, yet another has my bags and a third takes Mina by the hand. Mind you, they all have their own daughters to look after, but I am the only one with a younger sibling on hand, so they have all rushed to my aid, and thank goodness. As the train speeds us to the next stop (where the majority of passengers will get off and we will be able to breathe again), I notice that someone has placed a shower cap (a shower cap?!?!?!?!) over the wheels of the stroller to prevent them from getting anyone dirty. I resign myself to the fact that I will never feel like I have my act together around these women and thank my lucky stars they are my friends.

Noisy Car Go Away

2010-02-16T11:39:00.004+09:00

It has been a firm policy of mine to refrain from patronizing anyone that comes through the neighborhood announcing their presence with a loud speaker. You would be amazed at their number. I am. There is the guy collecting used/broken/unwanted electronics (whom I have been told is a con man), the man selling laundry polls (Can a person make a living selling laundry poles? How many laundry poles can he hope to sell on the same block in one month? Apparently several because I know his spiel by heart). There is the faintly nostalgic call of the sweet potato seller (from whom I admit to purchasing one potato for the experience - the smell, the cart, the potato hot off the rocks, the weathered grandfather who could have stepped out of the distant past). Then you have the nationally recognized two tone whistle of the tofu vendor, the garbage collection truck blasting out music as it makes its rounds and the over-enthusiastic politicians screaming at you to vote for them, waving white gloved hands through the windows of their campaign vans as they announce their platforms at shoulder clenching volumes (this, by the way, would explain why there is no legislation regarding noise pollution). I always swear that I will never vote for someone who interrupts a child's nap, a family dinner, my reading hour or train of thought with their cacophony, however it is an empty threat since suffrage is a privilege I do not enjoy in this country. So, when I heard the tinny melody of Moonlight Sonata come and go down my street . . . it was with great hesitation that I took my wallet out of my purse and headed out to the green grocer's truck. There was no fruit in the house. As I made my way around the corner to where the truck was parked, a neighbor greeted me with a bright smile and the exclamation "mezurashii!" "This is unusual!" It was raining so there weren't many people out. I picked out some fruit and the grocer asked after my mother-in-law, because I live in a neighborhood where everyone knows everyone, even in a city as large as Yokohama. It was then I realized that this truck and its annoying tune help create the sense of community that I so enjoy here. Every Tuesday and Thursday evening he provides an opportunity to come out, exchange greetings, catch up, find out who's cooking what for dinner and interact with the people surrounding us. I can now appreciate the value of what is really offered to us by the vegetable man. He isn't just selling broccoli and bananas, he is protecting us from personal isolation. For that, I can forgive his noisy jingle piercing my home and I probably will not be so hesitant the next time I feel the need to reach for my purse when I hear Beethoven. There were sliced apples on the breakfast table and mandarin oranges in the kids' lunchboxes, but I still don't need any laundry poles.

Another Daydream Gone

2009-10-21T17:05:00.003+09:00

Today I noticed that a building I loved was torn down. I would see it almost everyday as we pulled into the station. It was very close to the tracks, on the ocean side, an old, run down two-story, painted white, obviously neglected and empty. I think the only thing that loved the building, besides me, was the ivy that grew all over, covering the outdoor staircase, enclosing it in a protective layer, almost obscuring the windows. The all-important windows. You see, the second story featured two sides of long windows, providing a 180 degree view of the world around it. It is rare to find a house with a lot of windows in Japan. These windows were the kind that have been around for a very long time, so long that they were slightly warped little squares of glass, set in checkerboard panes. When I would see the sun shining into the windows lining the sides of the second story, I would imagine myself up in that room, curled in a comfy chair, reading a book, the smell of the ocean coming in on a gentle breeze. Isamu could train watch from the comfort of his own home. Perhaps this little building wasn't even a home, I think it was owned by the train company, but I wanted to live in it.

Cameo - #1

2009-10-05T21:24:00.002+09:00

On a train between Shinagawa and Kawasaki, an Italian Greyhound was sitting in a striped bag on the lap of a Japanese young lady. His name was Pierre. A dog with an identity crisis. She could have at least named him Giovanni. . . .or Taro.

Sweet Potaoes Coming Out of our Ears

2009-10-02T12:04:00.003+09:00

Pulling sweet potatoes is a right of passage for Japanese children. Most preschools organize a field trip and the kids get all dirty and bring home the fruits of their labor. My children's school offers them all kinds of wonderful opportunities, but sweet potato pulling is not one of them. I noticed a sign up at our local subway station advertising the chance to pull your own sweet potatoes, right in our backyard! I roped one of Sam's friends into the plan and we met at the station bright and early to try our hand at harvesting. I was so excited, you see, it was my first time too. I imagined the children tugging and pulling, laughing and falling back on their bums as they unearthed the precious potatoes, simultaneously realizing that that food doesn't come from the supermarket and that it takes labor to get it there. Well, when we got to the field, most of the work had already been done for us. All of the entwined vines and leaves that grow above ground had been chopped off and a small power shovel had come along each row and loosened the earth around the potatoes. The kids walked up to the stubs sticking out, lifted them up and watched the dirt fall off the sweet potatoes. Voila! Satsuma imo! The kids loved it, but I was ready to complain, what the heck?!? What happened to breaking a sweat?!?! It was so much fun for the kids and so easy that they kept pulling and pulling and in about 15 minutes we had two large plastic bags full of sweet potatoes. Stop! Stop! We have to buy these you know!!!! The price was right, 300 yen for one kilo, but we ended up with 10 kilos of sweet potatoes. TEN! I maybe buy five sweet potatoes over the course of fall and winter, what on earth and I going to do with 10 kilos! I think these farmers have a scam running. They make it easy, so you pull out 20 potatoes before you know what has happened. On the way home, the kids and I delivered sweet potatoes to several friends and neighbors. We gave half of the remainder of one bag to Jiji and Baba and the other half to Aunt Yoshiko. That still left us with more sweet potatoes than I have consumed in the entire time I have lived in Japan. We made sweet potato cakes, had them steamed in all their natural glory, cooked them cubed with the rice, Mina has had sweet potatoes in her lunch box everyday this week, sweet potato tempura and sweet potato fries. I am sweet potatoed out. Then, after school the other day, Mina's friend's mom tried to had me a bag of, you guessed it, sweet potatoes. Sweet lord.

Never Too Early for Communication Gaps

2009-09-08T16:22:00.002+09:00

After school today, Mina was babbling randomly as she was supposed to be doing her homework and I was playing around online while I was supposed to be giving my daughter my undivided attention. Something sinks in, she needs to take something to school tomorrow. Oh lord, please don't tell me I have to go back out again after I have just changed into my comfys! She needs lots of colors. I think she has to take balloons? Huh? What? When? Why? They have to be all in a row in the book and it is going to look so pretty. I ask her, you need to take balloons to school?!?!? No! She replies, FUSEN! Isn't that balloon?!?!?! She is stumped. I am stumped. I see the wheels turning, she walks over to the bookshelves and is scanning, scanning, what she is looking for is not there. She walks back to me and says, "Like the thing that is sticking out of the blue book that has all the maps!" Oh! Post-its! You need Post-its! Good thinking, Mina! She didn't know the word for Post-it (is there a generic name?) and she couldn't remember atlas, but she got her point across and, yes, I just happened to have some she could take to school.

Omiyage - Souvenirs

2009-09-06T15:26:00.003+09:00

Every time I go to California, of course, I think a lot about all the things I want to do, people I want to see and foods I want to eat; you might be surprised however by how much energy I put into buying souvenirs. Not just for friends and family, but for Toshi's coworkers, the neighbors, Mina's piano teacher and on and on. It is very tricky. First of all, ideally the gift should be something actually produced or from the locale you visited. Do you know how difficult it is to find things made in the USA, let alone California? Secondly, you have to consider the value of the gift. You can't give something thought be too extravagant or you will make your neighbors feel obligated. If you give something too chintzy, it reflects badly on you. Chocolate melts. Oranges don't clear customs. Throw your budget into the mix and it all adds up to nightmares and headaches. Then there is this peculiar quirk of mine where I don't like to buy things just for the sake of buying them. I like to pick something out that I actually think the person I am giving it to might enjoy. This year it was Knott's Berry Farm Shortbread Cookies for the neighbors. Bath and Body Works hand soap for friends. And Lil' Kinz for the kids' friends (I know, I know, not made in the USA, but a very popular US trend that has not yet hit big in Japan). Throw some American snacks and candy into the goody bag and there you have it! Now, I think I have written about all of this before, so this time around I am going to share with you the items we received as omiyage. Sweet potato cookies. Special Hello Kitty furikake (rice seasoning sprinkles) only available from the northern region of Honshu. Kona coffee. A painting of Isamu's name. A flower pin for Mina's hair. Apple flavored Hi-Chew candy available only in a certain part of Japan. Mickey Mouse cookies. An Ariel key chain. It is fun to receive those little bags, handed to you in stealth, with a disparaging word of how uninteresting the contents are, but I wonder, does everyone else stress out about it as much as I do?

Did you feel it?

2009-05-09T22:15:00.002+09:00

Yah, neither did I. I suppose that is because after I dropped Sam off, I killed 30 minutes in Starbucks before the grocery store opened, did some shopping, returned home to be sucked into the computer, shared lunch with Toshi and then it was time to head back out again. Behavior like this is not going to cause the ground to shake.

People have been asking me what I am going to do with all my time now that both kids are in school, but really, I am not sure where this idea that I'm going to have my hands full of empty hours is coming from. The bottom line is a maximum of nine unscheduled hours a week, subtract from that all the different meetings Japanese schools seem to be so fond of and I don't have much to work with here.

Please, don't think me ungrateful. I am going to make the most of these hours and to prove it I will list for you the things I would like to do with my time.

Read the newspaper. I mean really read it. Think about it. Question it. Know what is going on in the world again and maybe even form the occasional opinion of my own about those happenings.

Tame the jungle. I am not a gardener, but I have begun to envy the spring blossoms in my neighbors' yards and I would love to do something with our little patch of green.

Write letters. Because real mail is one of the great pleasures in life and my grandmothers are not online.

Make the house presentable. I have always been a slob, however since I am supposed to be a responsible adult now, I figure it is time to make more of an effort in the cleaning department. Japanese people do not often entertain in their homes. This is a big mistake, because how else are you supposed to get motivated to clean?

Read more books. I have read an average of 50 books a year for the last few years. This year I set a goal for myself of 75 books. Selfish? Yep.

Write the next great American novel. That isn't going to happen, but Toshi has more than once asked me to write the next Harry Potter. . . not as in fantastical children's literature . . . as in a book that becomes an international phenomenon making the author obscenely rich. Okay, honey. I'll get right on that and while I am at it, you discover an inexpensive, renewable source of clean energy!

At the very least, I figure I should be able to keep up this blog.

That's My Boy . . .

2009-05-07T16:58:00.002+09:00

Tomorrow Sam will have his first ever lunch box at school. He is very excited about this, so I thought I would give him some choice in the matter. I asked if he would like norimaki or onigiri in his obento. He answered, "mmmmm . . . . senbei." This is roughly the equivalent of asking someone if they would like mashed potatoes or baked potatoes with dinner and they respond "potato chips!" Norimaki is rice rolled around various fillings, covered in seaweed paper and cut into bite size cylinders. Onigiri are often called "riceballs" in English, but really, what image does that conjure? Rice is pressed into the shape of a triangle around some type of filling, such as salmon or a pickled plum and covered in nori (seaweed paper) to make an onigiri. Senbei are baked (or sometimes fried, naturally I prefer the fried ones) rice crackers. Somehow, I don't think the teacher would approve of a box full of rice crackers and yes, they do check. I have heard of mother's being called out for not providing enough variety, enough color, enough balance, enough cutesy inserts to make the lunchbox appealing . . . okay, I am kidding on that last one, but still. With Sam's first school lunch comes Mom's first morning at home on her own. Watch out! The Earth is going to shake!

Survey Says . . .

2009-04-07T17:08:00.002+09:00

Toshi often asks me to proofread his English business correspondence. Before he sends out any letters, he e-mails them to me. I clean them up and send them back to him. Sometimes I wonder how diligently I should perform this task. Today a letter came through with one of those charming translation quirks often found in letters written in a person's second language and I really had to think about whether or not to change it. You see, I used to work in an office where these quirks were a huge source of entertainment, brightening our days with a break from business as usual. Today Toshi wrote a letter requesting a company to send him a "drawing of the guts of the T-4042 for making the parts list in Japanese." The guts?!?!! Isn't that fantastic? I am not making fun of him, the image puts a big smile on my face. Sometimes it is refreshing to encounter these language hiccups. Is it my job to deprive the recipient of the letter the same simple pleasure? It was a tough call. Now, I ask those of you taking the time to read this to weigh in, leave a comment and let me know, would you have left it or changed it and if you would have changed it, what would you have changed it to?

Things I Love - #3

2009-04-05T16:12:00.005+09:00

I love the Japanese Postal Service! It is not just the fact that our letter carrier looks like something out of anime, racing around on her little red scooter, all of four feet tall, her bangs hanging down in front of her coke bottle glasses, though I do get a cheap thrill each time I see her and she smiles, showing off her slightly buck teeth that are too big for her mouth, but seriously the service is excellent. If you aren't home when a package is delivered, they leave a slip in your mailbox. Okay, pretty standard so far, right? But wait! If you return home by 6 PM, and you call, they will make their way back to your house and deliver your package that very same day! Here in the big city, we have an automated service to call, but back in the good ol' Omihachiman days, I used to call the post office and tell them my name (which was pretty much all I could do in Japanese at that time) and they would know exactly who I was and why I was calling and send someone out to my little apartment posthaste to put the care package from home into my eager hands as soon as humanly possible. For someone as big on instant gratification as myself, this alone would rate them five stars in my book. But there is more! On rainy days, they have been known to put my letters and catalogs into plastic bags to keep them from getting damp. One particular Auntie at our local post office adores Mina and Sam and always gives them some treasure or another whenever we visit, from tissue to old fashioned children's toys. My favorite employee in another post office I frequent always checks for the least expensive, most efficient way for me to send my books overseas without me even having to ask. We went to a new post office the other day to buy additional postage for letters we were sending out and the kind woman who helped us got the stamps, handed the envelopes back, gave Mina and Sam each a stamp, showed them the damp sponge on which to wet the stamp, instructed them where to place the stamps, and then praised them for being such wonderful children. I almost wanted to ask her to adopt all three of us, she was so sweet. Awhile ago the Japanese Postal System was privatized and I was worried that it would bring unpleasant changes, but no, I still love Japan Post!

It finally happened!

2009-04-04T23:13:00.004+09:00

Today was Mina's first day in the elementary age group classes at the pool. She has been feeling apprehensive about starting elementary school, swimming with the big kids, riding the trains, making new friends and facing all the changes coming her way this week. I have been dealing with lots of this: "I don't want to go to the pool. I don't want to go to school. I want to stay with you forever, Mommy." Today, hurdle one, the pool. Her class is now during a different time slot than Sam's, so she doesn't have her little brother's hand to hold anymore. To make matters worse, we switched our lesson day, so she didn't have any friends at the pool today either. She went without complaint, but the insecure body language was on full display. She couldn't keep her fingers out of her mouth to save her life. Once class started, she was fine and things kept getting better from there. When I went to meet her in the locker room, she quickly noticed that there were no mommies in the changing area with the big girls and said to me, "I am okay by myself!" I know you are sweet pea, and I am so glad you finally figured that out for yourself.

Nimotsu - or - The Baggage

2009-02-04T00:51:00.003+09:00

I arrive at LAX with one bag. One large suitcase that without fail causes my mother-in-law to exclaim at its enourmous girth upon our departure from Japan and my dad to ask upon our touch down in Southern California, "that's it?" The amount of baggage when I leave the good ol' US of A? Well, now, that is something to talk about. You see, in that one suitcase are four rolled up duffle bags waiting to be filled with my treasures, waiting to bulge with excess, tip scales into the red zone, test the limits of the generous trunk space of my mother's boat and cause the first tiff between Toshi and I of the new year. So yes, people wonder, what has she got in there? Besides the Christmas presents we received, which this year included a full size umbrella (okay, I asked for it) and hobby horses (didn't ask for them, but adore them), new clothes for the four of us, English workbooks for the kids, 42 Children's story books and 24 novels for mom, here is a list of the random things I unpacked from the first suitcase: two Thomas wooden wacky tracks (they were 50 percent off!), Planet Earth DVD set, three magazines, biscotti, doll clothes, children's vitamins, omiyage chocolate, two bags of cookie mix, a framed picture of Tinkerbell in the palm of Mina's hand in from of the castle at Disneyland, Neutrogena make-up removal sheets (the Japanese ones make my skin sting!), two boxes of hot chocolate (hey, if my mom buys it for me, I am not going to turn it away!), a bag of pink and purple hair accessories for Princess Mina, hot fudge (you just can't get it in Japan), two Mickey mouse sweatshirts, a Monorail (of course it's a toy!), a new raincoat for Toshi, notecards, three shoe boxes of miscellaneous crap (spices, confetti, printer refills, medicine, Sharpies, knitting needles, taco seasoning, scented candles). Things that are cheaper in the US, things that are better in the US, things I can only get in the US and things that give me little spots of sunshine on dark days. Now you know.

The Trip

2009-02-04T00:26:00.004+09:00

Home for the holidays, there is nothing better. Everyone in Japan keeps asking what I did while I was in California, but do they really want to hear about taking a walk with my sister and smiling as her husband lifted Sam up onto his shoulders, playing cards with my mom, checking out the new artwork in my aunt's home, having a slumber party with my sisters, meeting my brother for Super Mex, stocking up on bear hugs from my dad? This trip was all about family. It had been a year since I had been back and I only had two weeks to soak up the love. I was busy! Still, it was so great to browse in a bookstore where I could actually read the books, to try on clothes in shops where things actually fit, to place an order for coffee without confusion because the person behind the counter was not stunned by the Japanese words coming out of the American mouth. We went to Disneyland. I went to a King's game. Walked around Target for hours. I played Wii for the first time ever. I laughed. A lot. I ate. A lot. Enchiladas, nachos, burritos, tamales and best of all, my mom's chorizo breakfast. I drove. Pig man and his daughter descended upon the movie theatre. We celebrated Mina's 6th birthday at American Girl Place. I ate lunch with my father on California Pizza Kitchen's patio. Made egg rolls. Drank Cherry Coke. Had the best Sunday brunch of my life - yes, the food was good, but mostly I think it was the company.

My Mother's Daughter

2008-12-17T21:50:00.003+09:00

I was looking for the satisfaction of retail therapy and decided I would take advantage of the 25 percent off everything sale Eddie Bauer was having. They were also offering free shipping on orders over $100, so I couldn't pass it up, besides I think I am the only mom in the school who doesn't have tall boots to wear with her skirts in winter. I used to think tall boots were a fashion statement I didn't need to make when I lived in California, but now that I live somewhere where the temperature regularly drops low enough that you can see your own breathe, I realize they actually serve a purpose! I went through the entire process of adding the boots to shopping cart, entering in my addresses and then . . . THEN . . . the site would not let me enter in two promotion codes at one time. WHAT? So much for that shopper's high I was after, now I was ticked. I sent an e-mail to customer service and turned off my computer in a huff. The next morning, I had a reply waiting for me, stating that if I went ahead and placed the order, then e-mailed customer service with my order number, they would refund the shipping charges. The squeaky wheel gets the grease. I hope the boots fit. Now, the above story might seem normal, but I really started to worry about myself this morning.

Sam and I took Mina to school, ran a few errands and had about 20 minutes before the department store opened and we could shop for a new umbrella to replace the one that had just broken in a gust of wind. Sam doesn't like Starbucks. We went to Mr. Donuts on Monday. McDonald's is a bit of a walk from the station and we were umbrella-less on a rainy day. I suggested to Sam that we try a new place. Tully's coffee shop. We get to the counter and I ask about children's drinks. The cashier apologizes, but they don't have any special drinks for children. I say fine and order a short orange juice for Sam. She rings it up and the register displays the price of 390 yen. Four dollars for orange juice?!?!?! Mind you, it was "Valencia Blood Orange Juice," but Sam is three, like he cares! Instead of sucking it up, I told the lady, "I am sorry, but 390 yen is too much to pay for a child's drink, we will go somewhere else." As we walked out the door, I thought to myself, "Oh my god, it has happened, I have officially turned into my mother."

faux pas

2008-12-14T15:54:00.004+09:00

I can't sew. Preschools in Japan require an unbelievable number of little bags that should, if possible, be hand sewn by mom. Seriously. Mina has: a gear bag, a bag for indoor shoes, a bag for outdoor shoes, a bag for her PE clothes, a bag for her lunch box, a bag for her cup. Okay, so that is only six little bags, but it seems like a lot when you don't have a clue as to how to make them. I was in a panic about the bags Sam would be needing before he had even been accepted to the school. Every year the moms organize a bazaar at the preschool and sell all of these little bags. Different moms make them and all the proceeds go to UNICEF.

I put Sam in daycare, took the early train and was one of the first in line to enter the bazaar. My mission: to purchase a gear bag with a boy's design. The gear bags go quickly and I didn't even know if there would be one designed for boys available; I'd be happy with something neutral. I made a beeline for the table where the precious navy rectangles were laid out. There were two boyish designs! One, I loved. It had cross stitched red double decker buses all the way around, the design was simple, but it cost about $65.00. Ouch! The other had a helicopter, a quad, a boat and a bicycle sewn on by machine. They looked like patches. The lining didn't match and the back had a line of random ribbon with anchors sewn across it. I didn't really like it, but it was $45.00 and I figured Sam would prefer it. In spite of my fears of jinxing Sam chances by purchasing his gear bag before he had even had his interview, I bought the bag. I wasn't really happy with it, but it was better than anything I could make.

Fast forward, two months later. We are riding home on the train. Mina's friend's mom, making conversation, asks me if I have all of Sam's bags ready. I tell her that I bought a bag at the bazaar, but don't really like the design. She then proceeds to tell me that she made a boy's design gear bag for the bazaar, but she didn't see it on sale, maybe one of the bazaar committee members bought it. She worked so hard on it, it had four different vehicles on it, she was really happy with the way it turned out. Gulp. I glance down at her daughter's gear bag. It has those machine sewn, patch type designs on it. Brenda, you idiot! You can't go around telling the mothers you don't like something you bought at the bazaar - THE OTHER MOTHERS MAKE THE STUFF FOR THE BAZAAR!!!! AAAAARRRRGGHHHH! I am 100 percent certain that the bag I bought for Sam is the bag that was made by Mina's friend's mom. Now he can't use it. Now the second school bazaar, where they had really cute boy designs for a change that I didn't buy because I already had a bag I didn't like and didn't want to waste it or any more money, has come and gone. I will have one more chance to buy a gear bag. Sam may end up with flowers or kittens or ballerinas on his gear bag. The bag I bought didn't jinx Sam's entrance in to the school, but it is certainly cursed! I will donate the dreadful thing to the school bazaar next year. UNICEF loves me.

Second Thoughts

2008-12-13T21:32:00.003+09:00

A few weeks ago, Mina had to attend a health check at the local elementary school. Even though she will not be attending the school, the principal of our preschool advised us to go the health check because our elementary school does not have one. So, we took Mina out of preschool early and headed over the local elementary school. The campus is about a three minute walk from our house. On the way, we met up with some neighbors who were also heading to the health check. Mina was happy to see her friend, Natsumi, a playdate buddy since before either of them could walk. The two girls held hands as we worked our way through the different stations of the health check. The school building is very old, but it had a cheerful atmosphere. The halls were decorated colorfully with the children's artwork; every classroom surface displayed Japanese calligraphy or photo essays. The teachers were kind and helpful and the checks were completed efficiently. The mothers joked about the scent of cafeteria food lingering in the air and the really strange thing is that it is the same cafeteria smell as in the States! How can that be? I know the menus are different! As I laughed with the other mothers and Mina smiled with her longtime friend, I began to have second thoughts. Did we do the right thing, putting her into a private school? Is this school so bad? Maybe we made a mistake? When I think about her riding the train everyday, I often wonder if it is worth it. Plus, the little "outskirts of the big city" local school has only 52 first graders this year. That means two classes of twenty six children. The class size at Mina's school is shocking - 42 girls in one class. Then, I remember that the local school consistently has low test scores in comparison to other Yokohama schools. Then, I heard that when Mina's was in the classroom with the teacher during the interview portion of the check, they played a game of rock-scissors-paper where the teacher tells them what she is going to be and they have to figure out how to beat her. This is a game SAM plays in his little class! When we got home after the check, I decided to ask Mina. Where do you want to go to school, Mina? She chose her private school. Whew.

Thankful for Thanksgiving

2008-12-12T22:10:00.003+09:00

If Christmas is approaching too quickly for you, allow me to take you back to Thanksgiving. I always battle with myself over whether or not I am going to do Thanksgiving. This year the decision was taken out of my hands when a friend invited himself over for Thanksgiving dinner. I decided to make it a party and invited another family. So, we had three crazy Americans, two bewildered Japanese husbands and four wild Indians (read children ages 3-7). I ordered a turkey from FBC, my first turkey ever! When I told my mom it weighed 8 pounds, she told me that I didn't have a turkey, I had a big chicken. What can I say? I was more concerned about it fitting into my Japanese oven than I was about having enough to feed everyone. I started to stress about the delivery of the turkey. I feared it wouldn't defrost in time. I started to fret over the fact that I planned to cheat with instant mashed potatoes (oh my gosh they taste so good, I never knew, please don't tell my mother). I started to worry that my guests would not like my stuffing, that the turkey wouldn't cook, that I would run out of drinks, or someone would find a hair in their piece of pie. Then, once I started to make the stuffing and the smell of butter, onions, celery and sage started to fill my home, I relaxed, smiled and was grateful my friend decided we needed to have Thanksgiving. My mom sent seasonal napkins, confetti and other festive decorations. I used my Aunt's china that I brought back from the States last Christmas. Broke out the only item I ever had in my non-existent hope chest - Lenox crystal wine glasses and filled them with cola because none of us are drinkers! My friend brought her Waterford serving utensils for her vegetables and we pretended we were sophisticated grown ups. Then we proceeded to laugh so hard and so much that the kids told us we were being too loud and had better settle down. It was great. It felt great. It tasted great. And I hope it will become a great tradition.

You Know You Live In Japan When . . . .

2008-11-18T06:39:00.003+09:00

You walk into the living room and discover that your children have organized a Grand Sumo Tournament for their stuffed animals. Just in case you were wondering, the Bullfrog beat the German Shepherd.

You Deserve a Break Today

2008-11-06T22:40:00.002+09:00

When I first arrived in Japan, I was excited to discover an unfamiliar menu item at McDonald's. A Bacon Potato Pie. It was just like the Apples Pies, but filled with creamy potatoes and savory bacon bits instead. Yum. And in Japan, they still deep fry the pies. This thing was so good, I could not figure out why they didn't offer them in the States. Then one day, my new found friend just up and disappeared. Well, guess what?

"Now, Come Back! KARI KARI outside, TORORI inside ATSU ATSU mashed potatoes and tasty bacon. . . Good for your snack time!"

That is what is says on the pie sleeve and I can't say it any better. You have to count the simple pleasures in life.

So there you have it, the Autumn 2008 McDonald's Japan Update. . . reporting to you live with crumbs on my shirt.

Money, Money, Money

2008-11-06T22:38:00.003+09:00

The yen was so strong last week that when Toshi went to the bank, they were SOLD OUT of Traveler's Checks in US Dollars and Euros. Crazy.

Jumping Through Hoops

2008-11-06T20:35:00.003+09:00

While Americans were awaiting the results of yesterday's presidential election, mothers throughout Japan were eager to learn the results of an entirely different, if similarly grueling, selection process, acceptance into preschool.

Toshi left the house at 7 am on November 1 in order to line up to turn in Sam's application. We had strict instructions from the school not to line up before 8:00 am; the school opened its doors to receive applications from 9am. Yes, that means that Toshi stood in the morning cold for an hour to demonstrate our keenness to enter the school and secure desirable interview and testing times for our son. We can consider ourselves lucky because the school we applied to will accept as many applications (along with the $120 fee) as are submitted. Other schools, without testing and interview processes (called "ojuken" in Japanese), operate on a first come/first serve basis and this causes parents to camp out in front of the school as early as two days before November 1. We estimate that there were approximately 300 children vying for 70 spots in the school.

Interviews were held in the afternoon of the first and all day on the second. Tests were conducted on the third.

Our interview was scheduled for 1:15 on the 1st. I donned my navy suit (the uniform of Juken Mamas throughout the nation), Sam wore navy shorts, a white long sleeve polo shirt, a grey sweater vest and black loafers with real US pennies in them. Is this important (not the pennies, the get-up)? I didn't think so, however when it was Mina's turn three years ago, I told her prep school teacher I was considering a brown dress for Mina because it complimented her complexion and she cautioned me against such a drastic departure from tradition. Come on! It wasn't as if I was going to dress her in turquoise polka dots! Nevertheless, there is a formula to this entire process and if you want to be accepted, you follow the formula lest you find yourself crying on the night of November 5th, wondering, was it the brown dress? We have been instructed to arrive 20 minutes early. We arrive 25 minutes early and Sam takes about 10 minutes to change out of his loafers, with the realio trulio pennies, into his "uwabaki" (white, slip-on, indoor school shoes). We get our badges at the check in table and are escorted upstairs to wait with our group of six other hopefuls. While we wait we are given two essay questions and a blue book. Okay, I am kidding. We were given a half sheet of paper with two questions - what are your child's strengths and what are your thoughts on religious education? Since I am illiterate, I had time to look around at the other families as Toshi hissed through his teeth and wrote down responses. One mother was writing out rough drafts in a notebook; the father at a different table was wasting his time setting out a dictionary, three pencils, a brand new eraser, his lucky rabbit's foot, etc . . . so you can imagine the frenzy when the teacher announced that we would be lining up to proceed to the next torture chamber, I mean, hall in two minutes. In the main hall, there were various play things spread around and we were asked to play freely as we waited to be called for our interview. The catch? There were five teachers positioned on the sidelines of the hall, watching silently and writing notes! Sam, in contrast to his sister who spent almost the entire time on the balance beam, worked his was from bouncy horse, to ball, to hula hoop, to jump rope (where he insisted on holding the end and made Mommy jump over and climb under . . . in her suit), to balance beam and around the entire circuit again before we were called to our interview. There were two interview rooms, one reigned over by the principal and the other by the head teacher (who just happens to have been Mina's teacher for two years). We got Mina's teacher! This was great because I could relax a little bit, but perhaps I relaxed too much and babbled. They asked Sam his name, his age, his favorite color and if he watches TV or videos. Isamu desu. San sai desu (3). Ao (blue). Minai (bold faced lie, he does so watch TV AND videos). They asked Toshi something about what skills he uses at work that he can also apply to child rearing. Huh? Sam's strengths. Didn't we already discuss these? Thank goodness Sam has so many! Sam's interests. Trains. They asked me what I do when the children fight and I guess Sam learned how to lie so well from me because you can be sure I didn't tell them I just let them go at it or scream "STOP IT!" I knew there was a reason I read all those useless parenting manuals, so I could dutifully recite what a responsible parent is supposed to do when children fight. They asked me if Sam can take care of basic things on his own, like feeding himself, using the toilet and getting dressed. This is where I began to babble a bit and managed to contradict Toshi's answer about Sam's strengths and then mentioned that Sam prefers to eat with his hands still. See? I think I was a bit too comfortable with Mina's dear teacher. Lastly, they asked me if I work. Actually, I think the teacher phrased it more like this, "you don't work, do you?" They looked surprised when I informed them that I teach for two and a half hours every week, then asked me if I had any plans to increase the number of hours I work in the near future. You see, it is very important the the mothers be at the beck and call of the preschool. I informed them that I like my schedule just the way it is. Good dog!

On November 2, we had the day off.

The test was on November 3. One parent, only, is to accompany the child to the test. That would be the mother. That would be me. First we go into a room where there are toys set out on mats. When Mina participated in this exercise, the mothers all sat around the room and watched the children play. This time we were instructed to play with our children. After about ten minutes, the children were asked to make a train and choo-choo out of the room into the big hall - without mommy. I had hoped that Sam, being seven months older than Mina was when she was subjected to this rigamaroll, would be able to tell me more about what he did in the hall than Mina was able to, but no. He told me he looked at a book about a squirrel and an onigiri (riceball). And the teacher said "red." Okay. So, no idea what the test involved, but Sam was gone for about 20 minutes.

Another day off and then we had to go to the school to find out if we would be invited to enter. You go to the school, give them your card with your number on it and they hand you an envelope. Oh, there is lots of bowing thrown in there too, like, you bow, you get out your card, you bow as you hand over your card, the teacher bows as she hands you the envelope, you bow as you receive it, bow as you leave, like that.

So, what is the verdict? We are really good at jumping through hoops.

It Takes a Village -or- Stepping Out with my Paltry Language Skills

2008-10-18T13:05:00.005+09:00

I have said before that I never imagined I would use my degree in International Relations to become a Japanese housewife, but here I am, and now it seems I really should have taken Home Economics rather than French as an elective in high school because I certainly can't speak French. Who knew that my daughter would be embroidering her own place mat in kindergarten and that I, her mother, would be called upon to sew a simple hem around the rectangle of fabric sent home by the school? Homes without ovens in Japan? Not so surprising. Homes without sewing machines? SCANDALOUS! The in-laws are out of town and I can't sew. A button? Sure. Something with corners involved? Not a chance. It just so happens that my next door neighbor used to work in a fabric store. Her gorgeous quilts are on display whenever she airs them on sunny days. I have seen her sewing machine out on her table on numerous occasions. I muster up my courage, have an imaginary conversation in my mind and head next door. She isn't home. Three different times I trek next door, ring the doorbell and she isn't home. I am in a panic. Mina came home from school and informed me that all the other girls returned their place mats, neatly hemmed, the very next day. I have lined up a friend's mother-in-law as plan B or I can suffer the humiliation of taking my rectangle to the tailor. Finally! I catch her just before she is heading out for an evening run (yes, all housewives are perfect in Japan, excluding the foreign ones). I explain the situation to her, but rather than ask her directly to sew the damn thing for me, I ask her if she knows of a shop where I can take it to get it done. Now, if I can manage to be passive aggressive in Japanese, how lacking can my language skills be? On cue, she offers to do it for me, I protest saying she is so busy, she says she can do it in her sleep, I tell her how envious and embarrassed I am, kowtow, kiss her feet, etc., etc. Thank GOD! The next morning, the doorbell rings - here you go, Mina! I will have to make her some blueberry muffins to show my appreciation - with a mix from a box of course!

When Kindness Feels Like a Slap in the Face

2008-10-09T16:16:00.002+09:00

When I picked Mina up from kindergarten this afternoon, her teacher asked me to wait to speak with her. I step aside and my pulse quickens as I try to imagine what mistake I have made as the teacher individually bids farewell to to the remaining members of the class. On Tuesday we had a parent-teacher conference and everything went well. Toshi even asked if he really needs to come with me all the time, because I seem to understand everything and do most of the talking. I ask Mina if she knows what her teacher wants to talk to me about. She shakes her head. Finally her teacher approaches, pulls a flyer out of her apron and tells me that the the principal thought I might find this information useful. It is an advertisement for free Japanese lessons for foreigners organized by the city. "We aren't saying that you have to go; we just thought you might be interested." Oh. Oh, well, thank you so very much and please thank the principal for her kindness as well. Oh, look there she is now, I can thank her personally myself. Thank you, thank you, really, thank you. We walk through the gate, turn the corner, and here they come, predictable as ever, the tears that advertise my shame to the world. Yes, I did say that as soon as Sam enters preschool I hope that I will have more time to study and yes, I am always complaining about how crap my Japanese is and I do realize that I apologize every other day for my inability to speak Japanese properly, but that is part of speaking Japanese properly! I swear, I am trying as hard as I possibly can. First, I want to give up. Just forget it. I can speak Japanese well enough to communicate. My Japanese is not pretty, but it is functional. Who cares? Then, I want to set unrealistic goals for myself. I'll show them. I am going to pass the first level of the Japanese language proficiency test if it kills me (and it just might, the test is that difficult). Then, I face the facts. I am embarrassed that I have lived in this country for nine years, I am not fluent in the language and it shows. If I know myself at all, I will probably turn off the computer, wipe the running mascara off my cheeks and dig out the old textbooks. Still, this blow to my confidence could not come at a worse time. Next month I have to sit through two interviews in Japanese. One with the principal mentioned above, who so kindly expressed her concern for my deficiency. The other with the principal of the elementary school, who also happens to be a Catholic nun. So much for letting go of my security blanket (aka: Toshi).

The Last Day of Summer Vacation

2008-09-02T21:03:00.003+09:00

How did we spend it? A dear friend came over in the morning bearing gifts from home. She just returned from her summer in California. We haven't seen each other in a long while and it was good to just talk and talk to a friend with whom I can be completely myself. Plus, she brought me See's candy! I know! I told you she is a dear friend! All the treats and the good company helped pull me out of the deep pit I had myself dug into last night. She also brought a huge bag of hand-me-down clothes (she has twins, so it is no exaggeration when I say that Mina has enough dresses for two girls). When Toshi came home for lunch, he brought in a package from the mailbox. It was a giant envelope filled with surprises from my wonderful Aunt! The day just kept getting better! After lunch, we headed out to a department store to meet Mina's grandfather. He wanted to treat her to new shoes for the start of school. We had fun playing games on the subway - like trying to keep track of how many people got on and off of our car at each stop, counting to see if there were more people wearing hats than glasses. After we picked up Mina's new Mary Jane's, Ojiichan treated us to cake. The kids ordered fluorescent green Melon Soda to go with their desserts - a combination that is only allowed in the presence of a doting grandparent. To add to the list of things going my way, my chocolate cake was not only topped with a thin layer of raspberry sauce, but it was actually sweet, dense and delicious! The kids decided to continue on to Ojiichan's house once we got home, which means I had an hour to myself to prepare everything for tomorrow. Mina's bags are packed, her uniform is pressed, and her new shoes have her name written in them. We had the last of the season's corn for dinner. Mina finished the three pages she had left to do in her summer vacation activity book. We went upstairs for story time, only to discover that the new book Nana sent is not a bedtime story - it had the kids giggling madly! Now the house is quiet, but I can hear the cicada and crickets chirping in the yard, a breeze causes the bell on the wind chime Mina made to ring softly. Though I am sitting in the same chair I was when I posted last night, I am in a different place entirely.

American TV Can Damage Your Psyche

2008-09-01T21:49:00.003+09:00

This may not seem like news to you, however I was just hoping for a little mindless pleasure when I purchased some used DVDs from an Internet recycling group (kind of like an online garage sale for people living in Japan). I have watched exactly four episodes of Brothers and Sisters and I am wondering if the program is more trouble than it is worth. It makes me ache for my family, warts and all, heck especially the warts! I feel so far, so disconnected and yes, it is true that when I came to Japan I was looking to escape their closeness somewhat, to try to discover who I am outside of them, but I never imagined I'd stay here after I'd figured that out. I never imagined, when I promised to stay, that watching a simple TV drama would cut me like a knife. Why can't the damn thing be set in New York instead of California?

Snip, Snip

2008-08-23T15:46:00.004+09:00

The kids were in daycare, I had six entire hours to myself, what is a mother to do?!?!?! I thought I'd see a movie, but the choices were dismal. I considered getting a pedicure, but I just don't have $80 to blow on my toes. After an hour of mindless wandering downtown, I took a deep breath and decided to get my hair cut. Getting a hair cut in Japan is almost as nerve wracking at going to the doctor in Japan. I have had too many bad experiences. There was the lopsided blunt cut bob. The bangs cut too deep job. Then there was the last time I went for short hair and I was happy until the very end when the stylist took out a pair of thinning shears and in a matter of seconds turned me into a walking pom pom. For awhile I visited a friend's stylist. He was good, but we had trouble communicating and once when I told him that the last time he had given me more layers than I like, he actually sulked. Now, I am aware that the relationship between a woman and her stylist is a complex one, but I get enough moping from my children at home. So, where to get the deed done? There seem to be two hair salons on every street corner in Japan; I have no idea how they all stay in business, it isn't by giving good haircuts. Bad hair runs rampant in this country and it feeds my fear. Add to this the fact that I don't actually do anything with my hair and you can see why I have lived with the long, straight, all one length, natural color coif I have been sporting for the last three years. But this year, the stifling humidity of the Japanese summer got the better of me and I just had to cut it off. I was downtown, in a posh shopping center, with a high percentage of foreign visitors, like maybe 3%? I was hoping I could get a good cut by someone who had some experience handling gaijin locks. I checked the prices at a salon I have had my eye on for years (it is visible from the bookstore, how could I miss it). The cut would cost me less than the pedicure. Luckily they had a stylist available, even luckier still, he seemed to be able to understand my Japanese. Particularly the "NO THINNING SHEERS!!!" part. Oh wait, that isn't Japanese, nevertheless, he got it! I got a cut I am happy with and I might even go back to him again. Next time, highlights?!?!?!?

Scenes From a Japanese Summer, Act II

2008-08-01T08:48:00.002+09:00

We recently took a trip to the mountains. We were invited by Toshi's parents and I know I should be grateful to get out of town and not have to cook, however sometimes I just wonder if there isn't more to life than they enjoy. We leave the house, we eat lunch in the same exact restaurant every time, drive straight to one of the same four hotels and sit in our rooms "relaxing" until dinner. I know that these little trips are not for me, they are what my in-laws enjoy and they invite us along to spend time with the kids. I just wish sometimes we could DO SOMETHING, GO SOMEWHERE! For me, the point of a hotel is so you have somewhere to sleep when you visit somewhere far from home, for my in-laws, the point is the hotel. We were very close to Fujihighland Amusement Park which has "Thomasland." Sam would have loved that! We also passed an outlet shopping center. I stared at the shops longingly as we drove by, wishing I was part of a normal family and I could say, "Hey, let's pull over and check it out!" And someone would reply, "Okay!" Still, this time we did vary from the usual agenda slightly. We left early and had breakfast at the exact same restaurant as always instead of lunch! Ooooh, the excitement! We also stayed at a new (to me) hotel. We arrived and I was pleasantly surprised with the location. The Fuji View Hotel is situated on a small lake and boasts stunning views of Mt. Fuji. The grounds are quite extensive by Japanese standards and we did enjoy walking through the blooming hydrangea and fragrant wild mountain lilies. Okay, I have no idea if they were "wild mountain" lilies. The thing is, the only lilies I have ever seen have been in vases or potted, these were sprouting up from the earth, so huge and lovely that I took to calling them wild mountain lilies in my mind. However since this is Japan where very little is left to nature, I am certain they were exactly where they were supposed to be. There was also a nice rose garden, even if it was not at its peak. Since we had arrived early, we walked down to the lake and splashed our feet. Toshi's parents wanted to quickly return to the comfort of the hotel and I was dragging my splashed feet, thinking why did we come here if we aren't even going to spend anytime enjoying the lake?!?!?! We made it back to the hotel where we sat in the lobby until lunch was served. Yes, we SAT IN THE LOBBY. I was just beginning to wonder why we agree to these non-event trips, having a hard time concealing my discord with my in-laws idea of a vacation, when Mina asked me to take her to the Hot Spring Baths. We went down to the basement floor and I was thrilled to find that the two of us had the entire facility to ourselves! I LOVE it when that happens! We stripped, washed up and soaked our way to bliss. There were four different baths. One with thousands of bubbles shooting up from the floor, massaging your entire body as you try to balance yourself over them, another large bath with three powerful jets of water coming out of one wall, strategically placed to hit just the right spots on your back as you sit against them, a cold bath for after the sauna room and, the crown jewel, a rotenburo, an outdoor bath. We saved the best for last, the mountain air felt cool on our skin and as I sat back into the hot water, gazing at the garden that created a wall around the bath, complete with gorgeous wild mountain lilies, I said to myself, "THIS is why we do this." And I was happy. Unfortunately, we were only treated to a fleeting glimpse of the peak of Mt. Fuji when the clouds momentarily parted on the morning of our departure. One of the highlights of the trip for me was when Toshi pointed to an original drawing that was hanging by the elevator. John Lennon had stayed at the hotel! The drawing was of John and Yoko, their signatures and a sketch of Mt. Fuji with a question mark in the middle of it. Something tells me John Lennon didn't get such a good view of Fuji either.

Natsu Matsuri

2008-07-31T21:11:00.002+09:00

We recently had our neighborhood summer festival. It is a charming little event held at the local preschool, organized by the neighborhood association and one of the highlights of summer for us this year, since we are usually in California when it is held. The two day event kicked of with the parading of the "mikoshi" through the streets. The portable shrine was hoisted up onto the shoulders of several men (Yes, Toshi was actually one of them!) and they carried it around the neighborhood. It would be too boring to simply walk through the town, so they are all the time lifting the mikoshi up and down, walking in circles, back and forth, shouting "washoi! WASHOI!" The men carrying the mikoshi are followed by two teams of local elementary school kids, wearing matching hapi coats, carrying miniature versions of the mikoshi. Next came the large taiko drum, played by the older kids, on the bed of a small truck which had two long ropes attached to the front and was pulled through the neighborhood by the remaining kids - including Mina and Sam. Before the group headed out, the children were all given bells of various sizes and colors. They had been attached to a large board, each one assigned a number and the children picked numbers out of a box to see which bell they received. They tied their bells to themselves and the entire procession jingled as it walked. In case, the cries of "WASHOI!," taiko drum and jingle bells were not making enough of a ruckus, there is also a loud speaker blaring recorded festival music attached to the truck. As we walked through the neighborhood, people came out of their houses to watch, place coins in the offering box, and sometimes squirt us with hoses to cool us off. There were two breaks along the route and everyone was offered drinks and snacks; the men dancing around with the heavy mikoshi were fortified with sake and beer. Toshi thought he was going to be sick with all the alcohol and exertion before 11 AM. Once we returned to the preschool yard, the children were given onigiri rice balls to take home for lunch. Toshi was served cold somen noodles and more beer. Thankfully there was a lull after that during which Toshi promptly passed out on the couch in the air-conditioned living room. That evening, we returned to the festival area where games were organised for the children. One was a ring toss and the other was a rock, scissors, paper showdown. Five of the neighborhood elders lined up and the children had to win five matches in a row to get a prize. Mina advanced to the fourth man in the line up but lost with a weak rock in her final contest. Still, she won some bubbles in the ring toss. Every household in the neighborhood is given a kind of raffle ticket for a chance to win rice, potatoes or consolation prizes like tissue or dish soap. A few local organizations had set up booths selling curry, cotton candy, and hot dogs on sticks (not corn dogs, no cornmeal, just the naked wieners). At one booth you could fish for "yo-yos," really a water balloon attached to a rubber band, that you can bounce on your hand. There were no fish this year. Thank goodness. After awhile the "bon odori" started. Ladies in "yukata," summer kimono, made a circle around the large taiko drum and began the simple, traditional dancing. Mina enjoyed falling in line and trying to mimic their movements, so much so that at the end of the evening one of the dance leaders presented Mina with a folding fan. Perhaps the best part of the festival was not the event itself, but the week after the festival. Every time we pass someone walking through the neighborhood, they comment on how darling Mina looked in her purple yukata, or say that they saw her dancing. The festival gave us a chance to cement our ties to the community. We saw the twin girls whose piano lessons immediately follow Mina's and actually had the opportunity to talk with them for awhile. Mina had a chance to play with a few of her neighborhood friends, something she can't often do. I made a new friend through a friend of a friend, someone who had been wanting to meet me, but never had the opportunity to approach me until I was standing around the festival watching the children enjoy themselves. It is a community event and having a strong sense of community is something I truly appreciate about my life in Japan.

Still . . .

2008-07-20T17:29:00.004+09:00

Sam wanted to go to his grandparents house. I was walking him over, passed Obaachan on the way. She said, "Oh, there is some fish for you at the house, ask Ojiichan about it." We get to the house, go inside, I try to ask Ojiichan about the fish, but he moves on to something else, okay, maybe he didn't hear me. I return to our house. Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rings. Ojiichan is at the door, he shoves some fish at me and says, "hiMONO jaa na ku te, HImono . . . FISH." I apologize and say thank you . . . two things I must do about 15,000 times a day in Japan. Frankly, I am still not sure which is which, but it seems I was talking about thread instead of fish because of my poor intonation. Still. Eight years in and counting and I am still unable to communicate effectively.

On the train home from school, Mina's friend was telling her mother that so-and-so had "American Jelly" in her lunch box and she wanted to have "American Jelly" too and could they please go to the store and buy some "American Jelly" today. Finally, I had to ask her mother, what the heck is "American Jelly?!?!?!" AMERICAN JELLY, you know, "sakuranbo?" OH!!!! CHERRIES!!! For the life of me I could not hear "cherry" from their pronunciation. Then of course the mother was embarrassed by her poor pronunciation and I had to fall all over myself insisting that is was my bad ears!

I still cannot hear the difference, let alone utter the difference, between "obaachan" (which is grandmother) and "obachan" (which is aunt). This may not seem like a big deal, but it can be tricky because I could unknowingly offend someone if they think I am trying to say something about their age!

So, Ojiichan heard me, he just couldn't understand what the heck his crazy, foreign daughter-in-law was talking about. Maybe he should start a blog.

Japanese Youth - Always Good for a Chuckle

2008-07-15T14:21:00.003+09:00

Sitting across from us on the train today, I noticed a young lady. Probably a university student, she was plugged into her i-pod, had her beautiful glossy black hair cut into a stylish bob, was wearing some funky shoes and carrying a metallic bag. Then I noticed her T-shirt, printed with trendy English, boldly declaring "Life is better blonde!"

Bookmooch

2008-07-02T14:11:00.003+09:00

I have passed the 100 mark for books received from www.bookmooch.com! With the seven books I found in my mailbox yesterday, I have received a total of 104 books. Of those books, I have read 47 from cover to cover. Out of those 47, 39 have been sent back out to other book moochers. I cannot say it enough - I LOVE bookmooch! I have been a member since September of 2006 and the site has seriously improved the quality of my life here! It gives me access to a wider range of titles than what is generally available at the limited number of stores that even offer English books in Japan. Plus, the fact that is costs only postage and the willingness to part with unwanted used books of my own, allows me to indulge my book lust and try authors or titles that I would not be willing to buy. Because most of my mooches are international, I usually receive three book mooch points for every book I send out. This means that for every two books I send out, I can receive anywhere from three to six books in return - three books if I request them from other countries at a cost of two points per book and six if I find books I want from other members in Japan, because it only costs one point to mooch a book from within your own country. The book I have enjoyed the most from my mooch pile is Judi Hendricks' Bread Alone. I don't regret any mooches I have made, but I wasn't able to finish Joan Didion's Year of Magical Thinking. Bookmooch has become my main source for reading material. Of the 30 books I have read this year, only 7 of them came from sources other than bookmooch, six were from friends and only one was purchased outright. As for all the books trapped in my "to-be-read pile" that includes so many books it can't really be placed into a singular pile? Well, Kathleen Norris said "just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier." I couldn't agree more. Thanks to bookmooch (and Ken who introduced me to the site), I can look forward to many happy days ahead.

What's in a lunchbox

2008-06-20T21:15:00.002+09:00

Mina's lunchbox is so different from anything I remember taking to school with me. No PB'n'J. No cookies. No whole apples to bite into with satisfying crunch. Apples must sliced and the peel cut to resemble rabbit ears, then dipped in lightly salted water to prevent browning. Nothing is simple here, but I try to keep Mina's bento boxes as basic as possible. Thankfully she likes to eat the same foods and sometimes complains if I get too adventurous. She prefers rice to sandwiches, so I alternate nori maki (rice pressed into cylinders and rolled in seaweed paper) and onigiri (rice pressed into a triangular shape with seaweed paper wrapped around it). Some mothers put all sorts of interesting fillings inside, various pickles, different kinds of fish, cucumber, etc., but Mina just likes furikake. Furikake is little flakes of different things like seaweed paper, sesame seeds, dried salmon bits mixed together. It reminds me of fish food. The kids love to sprinkle it onto their rice and I mix it into the rice for Mina's lunch box. They love all sorts of strange things I would never touch, but I am happy they do because it is all good for them. Then I alternate between two types of egg. Hard boiled quail eggs (readily available in any supermarket and I have even found them at the convenience store on the corner) are stuck onto picks with meatballs. Tamagoyaki is a Japanese style omelet made with sake, sugar and salt. There is a special frying pan for the sole purpose of making tamagoyaki; it is a small rectangular shaped pan. Even though I have one, I buy my tamagoyaki pre-made at the store. Thin layers of the egg mixture are cooked and then rolled onto one another to make a dense log of egg. It cuts nicely into bite size squares. I almost always include cherry tomatoes and either edamame or broccoli for some green. Sometimes she gets individually wrapped yogurt or cheese balls. Her grandfather likes to buy sausages to put into her lunch box, so she often has sausages which I cut up (because she doesn't like to eat the "noses") and spear onto cute, colorful picks. If we have shumai dumplings for dinner, I will set two aside for her lunch. Otherwise it is mini hamburgers or mini potato fritters. If there is room, some fruit. This week it was blueberries everyday since we went blueberry picking last week. After you arrange the food in the little box - Mina is proud to have a "nidan bento" this year, a double decker lunch box - you have to be sure to add cute little plastic film inserts with pictures of flowers or squirrels or vegetables with happy faces. Then put the cute box into a cute little fabric bag (that I bought at the school bazaar since I can't sew) with her cute fork in it's own cute case (that matches her lunchbox) and a damp towel for wiping her hands. She has to take her own cup to school and it has it's own little cute fabric pouch (which matches the bento box bag and her place mat, of course!) and she will be served barley tea with her lunch, not milk. Yes, I swear, this is a really simplified version of the Japanese "bento." There are women who cut intricate designs out of seaweed paper at 4 o'clock in the morning so their children's onigiri will have panda bear faces, new books are printed every school year to provide moms new recipies and design ideas, there are also entire blogs devoted to the topic of obento preparation, with daily posts and photos. I am a novice, but Mina doesn't complain and her box comes home empty everyday. She even told me the other day that maybe she needs a "sandan bento box" - a triple decker!

Let's Rock 'n' Roll

2008-06-15T21:03:00.004+09:00

We checked out Shel Silverstein's A Light in the Attic from the library yesterday. I was reading the poems to Mina before going to sleep last night. We came to "Rock 'N' Roll Band."

If we were a rock 'n' roll band,
We'd travel all over the land.
We'd play and we'd sing and wear spangly things,
If we were a rock 'n' roll band.

At the end of the poem, I asked Mina if that sounded like fun. She replied, "I don't know because I don't know what a rock 'n' roll band is." Oh, how I hurt when I think of the gaps in her language and cultural exposure. I am her primary source of English language input. I am failing her. Toshi tries his best and her grandfather is always asking her to say things in English and praising her pronunciation, but these two are not going to enrich her vocabulary. I have to make more of a conscientious effort to help her become fluent and literate.

Poor Sam is even worse off than Mina. The other day we were looking at a picture book of animals. "Ooh, look, a gorilla!" I said. "Go Ri Ra!" Sam says with impeccable Japanese intonation. Okay, how about the name of Mina's stuffed horse, "Lily?" "RU RI!" HUH?!?!?! Okay, say "Grandpa Larry." "GRANDPA BEAR!!!"

My poor children. We are spending the summer in Japan this year and I think we will be playing school a lot.

Kachi-kachi

2008-05-30T18:20:00.003+09:00

It is our turn, this year, to be the leaders of our block for the neighborhood community association. It is not a major responsibility, but it does take some time. There is a monthly meeting (which Toshi attends), weekly patrol, distribution the community newspaper once a month, organization of the summer festival, collection of the community association annual fees, and the request for a donation to the Red Cross twice a year. When Toshi attended the first meeting, he realized that his childhood friend is the leader of his block this year, a happy coincidence that has lead to a BBQ at their house and a taco party at our house so far. Toshi started off doing the patrol, but then he went on a business trip and asked me to do it while he was gone. I agreed. He has been back for two weeks now, but somehow, I am still doing the patrol. Hmmmm. It is good for me though, a quick walk around the neighborhood after dinner, the leader announcing the patrol is making its circuit, reminding people to turn lights on, gas off, lock doors, holding a red flashing light or, if I am lucky, they might even let me do the kachi-kachi. My first night on patrol one member asked me how to say "kachi-kachi" in English. I had to honestly reply that I had no idea. I told him that this kind of patrol is not something we do in America. I realize this is a broad generalization and I can't speak for every neighborhood in America, but people ask me to speak for all of America on a daily basis. Sometimes I explain that America is a huge country and really I can only speak for myself, but other times I am too tired and I just tell people that, sorry, we don't have "kachi-kachi" in America. Please correct me if I am wrong. So, what the heck are "kachi-kachi" anyway? Well, they are a pair of long wooden blocks that you strike together to punctuate the announcements the leader makes. Like this: "This is the neighborhood patrol." CLACK CLACK "Please remember to turn on porch lights to keep the neighborhood bright." CLACK CLACK "This is the neighborhood patrol." CLACK CLACK "Let's keep our neighborhood safe and lock our doors." CLACK CLACK! Toshi says these have been used throughout Japan for ages to remind people to put out fires, turn off gas stoves, etc. before sleeping. If anyone knows how to say "kachi-kachi" in English, please enlighten me.

On Being Out of the Loop

2008-05-25T20:47:00.002+09:00

We got of the subway with Yamada-san, changed trains and met up with Takahashi-san on the platform. Mrs. Takahashi immediately leaned into Mrs. Yamada and started whispering fervently. She barely even said good morning to me. The train approached, we boarded and Mrs. Takahashi continued her discussion, in hushed tones, closing off the normal circle we would make around our daughters and effectively cut Mina off from the other two girls. I was so appalled at her rudeness that finally, I turned myself and my children around to look out the windows of the closed train doors behind us. I was shocked and I didn't know how to respond. I thought these women were my friends, we see each other every day, we have lunched together, shared information with each other - what was going on this morning? I have to admit that tears of frustration stung my eyes and I was grateful for my habit of wearing my sunglasses on the train simply because I never have a free hand with which to change them. After dropping the girls off at school, on the turn-around trip, I noticed the same two ladies had joined two other women and they were still going strong, yak-yak-yak-ing, nodding, whispering, talking over each other. Something was going on; I had no idea what.

This is how it is for me. I can exchange niceties, hold my own in surface conversations, understand the basic gist of the usual morning chatter on the trains, but when there is some burning topic, when people are speaking to each other with rapid fire urgency, I am lost. I miss all the good stuff.

On the field trip earlier this month, one senpai mom with a daughter at the high school was telling some story, all the mothers were laughing and making exclamations. I could not for the life of me follow what she was saying. Just after she finished talking, one of the other mothers turned to me and asked, "Isn't that amazing?" I had to admit that I didn't understand. I can talk about the weather, answer the same five questions that every other person on the street seems to ask me, but when it comes to the truly interesting tales that have the other mother's laughing, 95 percent of the time, I am wearing a plastic grin. This I was able to express to the mom to whom I had admitted my failure to comprehend and she sympathized with me, even took the time to explain it all to me, something not everyone is willing to do. I appreciated her help, but it didn't stop me from being sad about my limitations.

I am not even sure that studying more would help me. In Japanese, people often speak indirectly, circle around issues, rely on non-verbal cues, assume the subject is understood. If you grew up around this system of hearing what is unspoken, it might be easy for you to understand, but where I come from we say what we mean.

In Japanese, it is difficult to ask directly for help. If you want help with something, you voice a complaint and expect the other person to take action. This means that I have to be very careful when trying to make conversation with my in-laws. I was telling my in-laws, in passing, how I had stubbed my toe on the window frame when hanging out the laundry (yes, I have to step out of a window to get to my balcony, and no, I don't have a dryer, but those are different posts!) The next thing I know, my father-in-law is on the phone with a contractor looking into having the wall knocked out at our house! Wait! Stop! I was just filling in the uncomfortable silence with babble!

Still, my obliviousness does have advantages. Another friend was down because of the gossip that had been going around the school. I can't follow any of that nonsense. It all circles around over my head and that means I don't have to hear it, worry about it, think about it, spread it, believe it or even care. That right there saves me a lot of energy, energy I can use to try to send an e-mail in Japanese to Mrs. Takahashi to find out if there is something I need to know.

CPK

2008-05-20T22:39:00.004+09:00

California Pizza Kitchen is in Japan. I knew this, but I they are not conveniently located for me, so hadn't made the trip. One of the online groups I belong to decided to have a gathering there and that provided me with the reason I needed to hop onto a train. I dragged my dear friend with me, the two of us and four kids, on a mission. We arrived late and I ended up seated next to my friend (whom I talk to all the time) and the kids. So much for putting faces to the names on posts. When the Thai Chicken Pizza arrived, I took a bite, leaned over and whispered in my friend's ear, "I can't hear a thing anyone is saying and I don't even care! I am happy!" Now I am a maniac, telling everyone - we have to go! I have two lunch dates with mother's from Mina's school set up, my private student and I are planning to have a lesson at the restaurant soon and I am pretty sure that is where we will be headed to celebrate my birthday this summer. This might make it possible for me to survive the summer without that trip to California. If food is love, then true American food in Japan is unconditional love! On the train home, I said to my friend, "That was so good! We have to go again!" She replied, "what are you doing tomorrow?"

The Library Upstairs

2008-05-20T21:47:00.002+09:00

It is said that you can tell a lot about a person by the books they read. What about the books a person doesn't read? Today, I was cleaning out the tatami room upstairs and counted forty-seven books piled up next to the stereo. This is the room where we sleep and we don't keep much in it, but forty plus books have managed to find their way up there and never made it out. Most of the books are unread, pulled from the bookcases downstairs and taken to read in the quiet moments before sleep. Some, like Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy, are tomes too cumbersome to toss into my purse to be consumed on the train. There are books that failed to call out to me to be picked up the next night, now buried beneath other titles that remain unread, yet are still in that limbo land of the ever multiplying "to-be-read pile." I found a few self help titles and weight loss guides; books I finger when, at the end of the day, all I can think is "something has got to change." A few books are old friends, like The Simple Living Guide, whose ideals and philosophy I admire, but accept that I am far too much a lazy, materialistic glutton to ever live up to. Some parenting guides are there, books whose advice makes me laugh at myself when I follow it. "Are you feeling angry?" just doesn't role of the tongue in the same satisfying way as "Don't you speak to me that way, young lady!" Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth is there, a gorgeous, fascinating book that is, unfortunately, too depressing to read in its entirety within a week. Then we have the Harvard Psychologist Carol Gillian's The Birth of Pleasure, on loan from a friend, highly recommended, thrice dipped into, a book that taunts me with the reminder that no matter how I wish it to be so, I am not an intellectual. I am not giving the impression that I love books here, but I do. I can't count the number of books tucked into all the cupboards downstairs - the books I really want to read, the books I have yet to sample, and perhaps most importantly, the books that have the distinction of being titles with which I cannot part and are nestled in their permanent home in my bookshelves. No, the books upstairs are kind of like leftovers - you don't really want to eat them, but you can't bring yourself to throw them away either - the waste! Presently, I am reading at the pace of about a book a week. Perhaps I will count them again at the end of the year and if the number has grown to fifty-two, I will make it my resolution to read all those books next year. For now though, I am going to tuck back into The Woman at the Washington Zoo, who knows in which pile it will end up?

Spring Break

2008-04-06T16:08:00.003+09:00

Visit to the doctor for runny noses. Dental check up. Swimming lesson. Decorating Easter eggs. To the pool again to make up a missed class. National holiday, pouring rain, Sam gets cabin fever, so we head to a shopping center with a good play area for the kids. Mina has a little cooking class at Sam's daycare center (they made crepes), mom has coffee and two hours to herself. Easter Sunday egg hunt. Overnight stay at an onsen with Toshi's parents. Walk on the beach, Mina splashing in the wake, soaking herself then changing into Daddy's sweater, looking cute as a button. Sam and Mina each have an ice cream cone, Toshi and I figure we will eat the remainder after the kids are done, but those days are gone, both Mina and Sam finished their cones. Soaking in the hot spring baths. Fabulous teppan steak dinner. Ocean view hotel room. Back to the dentist's chair. A day of cooking and crafts at the daycare center for the kids. I taught a lesson, then had lunch with Mina's friend's mom - I have known this woman for two years and just discovered she speaks English. HELLO?!?!?!?! The first cherry blossoms picnic with the sakura shyly just beginning to show themselves off. Swimming lesson, test day, Mina advances to a yellow cap! Downtown to pick up Mina's new Japanese passport. Toshi takes advantage of escaping from the office and we have lunch at the red brick warehouses, huge hamburgers from a Hawaiian chain, eating on the patio in front of a temporary flower garden set up for the spring. A trip to a park with seven of Mina's classmates, playing, playing, playing hard then eating a picnic lunch under the cherry trees now in their full glory. Bi-weekly trip to the library, checking on our local trees that line the river and grace the park. Subway ride to retrieve Mina's pink Webkinz horse from the lost and found office. Sunday picnic under the trees with another family, it is cold and threatening to rain, but the blossoms won't stick around so we stick it out. Final visit to the dentist . . . until June anyway. A train trip five stations down the line to see what was on offer at the import shop. Into Tokyo to the embassy to apply for Mina's US passport, while there I unexpectedly ran into an online friend from the Married in Japan group. Lunch with Todd, whom the kids adore - bad food, great company. A visit to Nogeyama zoo with a friend from school and another picnic under the trees (no, you can't get enough of the trees once they bloom). A play date at a friend's house where the kids all played together in English until we moms brought it up and then they switched to Japanese. The promised trip to the aquarium. The annual evening cherry blossom viewing party with my Friday night English conversation group. Ending with the grand finale trek to Yokosuka base for the "Spring Fair," pizza for lunch, the chance to purchase a few snack items (like double stuf oreos and chips ahoy cookies) and the showers of cherry blossom petals being blown from the trees by the spring winds.

I Got a Feeling

2008-03-09T14:37:00.007+09:00

Mina and Sam have a new cousin. We went to go visit mom and baby, both doing well, at the hospital. Seeing him reminded me of how fitting the word for baby is in Japanese. "Akachan" is kind of like saying "little red one," and yes his face is so red and cute and everything, but that is not really the reason I am writing. I am writing because I was positively bowled over by the feelings seeing him brought on in me. I was completely drunk with the desire to have another baby. I can feel it in my entire body. I yearn for it from the depths of my soul. I ache for another baby with all my heart. Thank goodness my head is still in the game! I am shocked by these feelings, though. I cannot believe how instinctual they seem, how deeply programed my female body is to react to a newborn baby this way. My emotions were so persistent and intense that I brought it up with Toshi. He said, "hoshi, kedo . . ." meaning, "I want another, but . . ." That didn't help me much. I expected him to say "muri." "Impossible." Then I wouldn't have to think about it anymore, but think about it is all I have been able to do for the past week. I keep imagining what our family of five would be like. I started wondering about the details, like how many years apart the kids would be in school and where would we all sleep. I remembered holding a friend's 7 month old daughter and grinning like a fool, cooing at her to coax out those precious smiles that melt your heart like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream. Holding her was the spark that started all this nonsense and seeing the day old cousin did nothing but fan the flames. I talked to two friends about it. One, a mother of three, told me that three is perfect and suggested I get pregnant as soon as Sam has been accepted to preschool. The other said that she has been thinking about having another one too and wouldn't it be great to do it at the same time! Maybe this all seems normal and reasonable for a woman of child-bearing age, but if you know me, you will know that thoughts of motherhood had never even crossed my mind until I found myself pregnant. You might know that I thought raising one child in a foreign country was just about all I could handle, until number two came along. So you see, for me to be actively contemplating a third child is baffling to me. What I think it really speaks to though is the fact that I am happy. That I am not at my wits ends. That I feel that I can take on more. That I don't feel lost or helpless or frustrated. Life is good and when it is, you want more of what you've got. When I think about it again though, about breastfeeding and not sleeping and not having time to sit down to a meal and talking about nothing but the children with my husband, when I think about buying yet another airplane ticket every summer and those kanji books that are gathering dust on my shelves . . . when I think about things like this . . . I think we will be getting a dog.

The Game You Can Never Win

2008-02-24T15:19:00.003+09:00

Outgrown children's clothing that is still perfectly usable piles up pretty quickly around here. I am thrilled to find myself on the receiving end of hand-me-downs from a certain darling pair of twins whose mother has excellent taste in clothing, mostly bought in the States, and happier still to be able to pass many of those items on again to one of Mina's friends who is about half her size, even though she is only two weeks younger than Mina. As for Sam's things, well, we just don't know any boys! We have received exactly one moss green Guess jean jacket on the boy's hand-me-down front and I had not found anyone to pass things on to, until . . . until . . . Kaz was born.

Kaz is the new little brother of one of Mina's classmates. Her mother and I are acquaintances; she had sent me an e-mail once or twice in English and I was eager to develop a friendship with her. I asked her if she would like to have a few of Sam's things that were still in good condition and she replied affirmatively with a smile. I thought I had some things for baby boys, but I guess I got tired of looking at the bag full of clothing and finally put it out to be recycled, so I ended up having a lot less to give her than I had originally thought. Then, I found out that Mina and Sam's new cousin is going to be a boy. Still, I had to pass somethings on to Kaz because I had already mentioned it. I picked out the very best pieces, filled up one medium size paper handle bag and passed them to her one day after school. The rest I gave to my sister-in-law. I apologized to Kaz's mom, explaining that I thought I had more, and she told me that she was happy with anything and that I had really helped her out.

Two days later she hands me a bag and says, "thank you so much for giving us the clothes, this is just a little something." I was expecting this. The Japanese are always playing this game of "return gifts." You can't do anyone a favor with out being given towels or candy in return. When I got home and opened the bag, I was astonished. She had given us chocolates, princess snacks, two toothbrushes and children's toothpaste. This was more than enough, however there was another bag as well. Inside this bag were two wrapped packages, one pink and one blue. The pink one contained a gorgeous, white cotton little girl's slip with lace appliques. The blue one was filled with five cute, little boy's dinosaur undershirts. What was the point in me giving her the hand-me-downs?!?!?!? I swear, the bag I gave her had one super cute corduroy overalls set, two pairs of shorts, one pair of jeans and two T-shirts. Okay - one T-shirt was Ralph Lauren, which is really expensive in Japan and the other was Tommy Hilfiger, which is only available on the shishilala shopping street downtown, but I bought them at TJMaxx and they were used! Then I remembered when Kaz was born and all the moms in our class went in together to buy a gift for her, again the return gift had been more than the original gift. It is wonderful that she is so generous, however I feel badly. Taking our hand-me-downs cost her well over $50. I feel like I can never give her hand-me-downs again.

Another friend of mine once gave us a DVD of Mina's sports day at school. I gave her a thank you card and enclosed some Baskin Robbins gift certificates. The next day she returned them to me, insisting that it was not necessary and that if I gave them to her she would not be able to do a favor for me again and said that the letter was all that she needed. At the time I was heartbroken and confused; I was just doing what I thought was done in Japan. Now, however, I understand her feeling completely and I am grateful for her honesty and her friendship. I thought about doing the same and returning the clothing, however a few things stopped me. 1. I had already opened the gifts. 2. I don't have the language skills to express tactfully what the other mother had said to me. 3. I am not as close to this mother as I am to the mother who returned the gift to me. 4. I am afraid of offending her. So, I wrote her a thank you e-mail and if I ever do give her hand-me-downs again, I will ask her to please not give me anything in return and if she tries to, I will refuse it from the first moment.

I am so glad that the mother who gratefully accepts Mina's hand-me-downs does not respond in this extravagant way. Again, we are closer and have known each other longer. The thing that pleases me most is to see her daughter using the clothes.

So, even if I didn't succeed in cementing a new friendship, I did gain a deeper appreciation for two of the friends I already have, friends who do not go in for this over-the-top show of who can out gift whom. It is a game you can never win and one I don't really even want to play.

How Monsters Are Made

2008-02-16T14:35:00.003+09:00

Another Valentine's Day has come and gone. Sam is two years old and he received five Valentines. How many did Mina receive? One. From her American Grandparents. Sam got a box of Swiss chocolates with a picture of a train on the front from one of the ladies I teach. He was given a pack of chocolate cigarettes by one of the girl's at Mina's swimming school. He received a bag full of Disney's Car's chocolates from the little girl who is in his Friday class and attends the same day care center and some homemade chocolates from a family friend. The mother of the swimmer said to me, "he probably doesn't understand yet." I answered that he is learning quickly! Life is good for boys in Japan. What is with the focus on the males? No matter how many years I live here, I think this is one of those things that I will never get over. Japan is often accused of being a sexist nation and in so many ways it is. What can I do about it? I can raise Mina and Sam equally. I can teach them to respect others for how they live their lives and not because of their gender. And Mina can give Valentines to all of her friends at school. And Sam will absolutely be giving presents to those who gifted him when White Day comes around.

My Dream Job

2007-09-09T20:00:00.000+09:00

Toshi was watching a TV program last night and he called me in because he knows my heart so well. The program was all about a man traveling the world to see what the McDonald's in different countries offer on their menus. Yep. And it is a series! Two different countries a week! This would be the perfect job for me. I want to visit different countries and see everything, however when it comes to eating, I am not adventurous and my tastes are very lowbrow. This fact is so well known that when I told my friend Kate I was marrying Toshi, one of the first things she asked me was how I planned to live in a country whose cuisine I do not thoroughly enjoy. The answer, of course, lies in the fact that there is a McDonald's near almost every station in said country. Still, during our six week stay in California, I think we visited McDonald's twice and that was more for the kids than me (I, myself, would head straight to Del Taco). But you see, McDonald's is so widely available in Japan that it has become a comfort food for my kids. When they start missing Japan and all that is familiar to them, is it udon that they seek out? No, it is McDonald's. Yes, they are my children. Sam even fell in love with Carl's, Jr. while we were there (I know, I know, aside from the obvious health concerns many readers may have running through their minds, with Carl's there is the added guilt of political concerns, but that Western Bacon Cheese Burger just gets the better of me every time). When we would pass one of those huge, smiling, yellow stars, Sam would say, "Happy Star! French Fries!" No, I did not stop for him and things aren't as bad as I am making them out to be. The kids did readily share the sashimi their father ordered in a restaurant one night, so I haven’t completely ruined them. Mina was thrilled to discover that one of her favorite dining options in Japan also has restaurants in The States. “Mommy!” she said to me in the car as we were driving in California, “there’s Denny’s in America!” Poor thing, her little world is so confused. It is time for me to get dinner started. I’ll give you one guess at what we are having . . .

Way Beyond Thomas

2007-06-06T16:09:00.000+09:00

It's official. Sam is obsessed with trains. Yes, his dad is disappointed he is not obsessed with cars, but what do you expect when you make the kid ride the trains for over three hours five days a week? He loves his new Thomas train set. It is easy to get him to brush his teeth if you pretend you are a train on the way to the sink. When he hears the announcement for his sister's school's train station he says, "NeNe," because he knows that is where we pick up Mina. His favorite thing to do is visit the level crossing, with its flashing lights, clanging and passing trains five feet in front of his face. He also likes to ride in the very last or very first car of the train where he can watch the conductors. We were sitting in the first car on a little fold out bench that can be stowed away if a wheelchair needs to be placed there. We had just caught the earliest train possible after dropping Mina off at school and I was happy to be heading to the park with Sam. He was kneeling contentedly on the bench beside me looking out the window and I was breathing easy, making a "to do" list in my mind. Suddenly, I hear a buzzing sound and the train starts to slow down. I look around me, wondering what is going on, why the is train stopping between stations, and just over my right shoulder, between Sam and I is the Emergency SOS train stop button. Great. Just great. Yes. Sam pushed the button. A train full of people trying to get to work is stopping in the middle of nowhere because Sam is curious and clever enough to push the little cover aside to get at the button and I am a negligent parent. A voice comes over the speaker. I apologize and explain, then turning to bow in apology to everyone in the car. He understands and very shortly the train is on its way again. I am clutching Sam in my lap. He knows something serious has happened. I am sure he can feel my heart racing, he can certainly understand the hot tears of shame that are beginning to stream down my face. He sits quietly on my lap for the rest of the ride. I consider getting off at the next station, but stay where I am, thinking about how many of these people must be cursing the stupid foreigners who are ruining their country. I am sure it has happened to countless Japanese parents as well (or would they never dream of being so careless?), the conductor understood immediately, I am sure they even have a code for it to report in or write in their logs, but whenever you make a mistake here, you have to worry about it adding to the disdain towards foreigners. When I stopped cursing myself, I started cursing the country. If I wasn't living in Japan this never would have happened. Sure, I know my children would find ways to embarrass me in the States and I know I would still make mistakes there, but it is easy to turn your frustration, any frustration, into a frustration with Japan. Then I worked my way around to cursing our choice of school, when did we decide that it was sensible to take our children on the trains every day? Did I really sign up for this? Which took me right back to "if we lived in California!" I changed thought patterns (trains of thought?) and started to look at the positives. Thank God it wasn't the Express train. Thank God we were four stops from Mina's school rather than one, where a hundred other mothers would have been witness to my blunder. By that time we had arrived at our station, and I had reached two decisions: I was not going to share this little story with Toshi and we would NEVER sit near the wheelchair accessible SOS button ever again. I waited on the train platform as the train pulled out so that I could bow a final apology to the conductor at the rear of the train and off we went to the park.

The Best Kind of Compliment

2007-03-20T20:33:00.000+09:00

I went out to lunch with a friend from the YMCA Japanese language course I used to attend. He is a single guy who has lived in Japan longer than me and he is great with the kids. Today he said to me, "whenever I see your kids, it makes me want to have children of my own." Wow. After getting past all the jokey "you can have them" replies or the deflecting "you just caught them on a good day" remarks, really, I just want to say "thank you." That is the best compliment. As someone living away from her family, it is not often that I receive feedback on my child rearing. Hearing that was a big confidence booster. Of course, he did only spend two hours with us. We will have to wait and see what my mom and aunt have to say after they stay with us for three weeks.

A Happy Coincidence

2007-03-20T20:19:00.000+09:00

Today as Mina and I were preparing for an afternoon downtown, I gave her a clean towel to put into her purse. She said to me, "if there is smoke, I will use it to cover my face!" "Good thinking," I replied, knowing that this was something she had learned at her preschool, where all students must have a hand towel on them at all times and thinking that she was about one thousand times more likely to use the towel to dry her hands after washing since paper towels are hard to come by in Japanese restrooms. However, we decided to take the train line with the station a little farther from our house and as we walked past some fields, a farmer just happened to be burning something near the path. "Look, Mina! Smoke!" She happily got out her towel and covered her satisfied smile. Who needs scouts when your children are part of the Japanese school system?

A Review of Ben Hills' "Princess Masako: Prisoner of the Chrysanthemum Crown"

2007-02-19T21:02:00.000+09:00

As a fan of Princess Masako, I was so happy a book had finally been written about her life that I actually pre-ordered my copy. I was anxious to learn more about this diplomat who gave up her career with the Japanese Foreign Service to become Crown Prince Naruhito’s Princess. Unfortunately, the writer to take on this task was the Australian Ben Hills. The tone of the book is shockingly irreverent, passages are littered with slang and curse words and Mr. Hills is constantly mocking the people in his book, including his sources. I am not certain why a man who could fail to see even the beauty in Masako-sama’s gorgeous, traditional wedding costume (choosing instead to focus on her stilted walk under the weight of the garments) would take on the task of trying to write the story of one of the nations most beloved cultural symbols. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking perhaps he might be unaware that little girls throughout Japan display dolls wearing this elaborate dress every year on Girls’s Day, however later in the book he made reference to these O-hina-sama, proving that he was just out to be cruel. Sadly, there are also several references to Japan’s seedier side included in the book. All nations have their blemishes, however this book was not the place to point them out, especially when they were entirely unrelated to Princess Masako. It is as if Mr. Hills was unable to produce enough substantial content and so he resorted to muckraking in a failed attempt to make the book interesting. I continued my way through the book simply because I had paid for it. Surprisingly, I am glad that I did (finish it, not pay for it). The last three chapters of the book were interesting. The tone changes, the content improves and I actually learned something - even a few things about Masako-sama. Still, it was not enough to redeem the first seven chapters. I do believe that there is an amazing story to be told in Princess Masako’s life, a sad story even. I just do not feel that Mr. Hills has told it. Perhaps the only way the story will ever be told is if the Princess, herself, is allowed to write it.

A little story

2007-02-14T15:33:00.000+09:00

Once upon a time there were three American friends dining in a cafe in Japan. The waitress serving them spoke to them in near perfect English. She had been living in Boston and only returned to Japan because she had been unable to renew her visa and was actively looking for a way to return to the States. She asked, "Why? Why do you want to live in Japan? Don't you think life in the United States so much better?"

Some days, it really is difficult to answer those questions.

Please don't ask . . .

2007-02-14T14:57:00.000+09:00

Ask me what, you say? Well, Please don't ask me how my Valentine's Day was. Since I married a Japanese man, Valentine's Day is pretty much a non-event in my life. You see, Valentine's Day has been distorted into a complete disaster of a day in Japan. Why? How? Because the tradition here is that only the MEN receive chocolate! I know! It is criminal! Women are to give men chocolate on Valentine's day and expect nothing in return. There is even this concept of "giri choco," obligatory chocolate which women are expected to give to their male superiors. The men's answer to any complaints of unfairness is that women have "White Day." On March 13th, men are supposed to present the women who gave them chocolates on Valentine's day with return sweets . . . that is . . . only if they return their affection! Wait, it get worse! Women don't even get good chocolate on White day, they get WHITE CHOCOLATE or marshmallow confections. Who wants those?!? Also, there is no "giri white-o," so only the kindest of bosses will be handing their office ladies white treats. I told you, it is just plain wrong. Still, Mina and I just finished making brownies to give to her daddy, grandfather and uncle. I did buy Toshi some heart shaped senbei (Japanese rice crackers) and two pieces of dark chocolate (no, I am not bitter, okay, I am bitter, but I am not mean, he has really been watching his diet recently, so that is why). But, I won't be holding my breath for "White Day" as only once have I received something and that was from a teacher I used to work with who was very careful to make sure my experiences in Japan were as positive as possible. It is probably his fault I am still here, he really did make things nice. Too bad it wasn't him I married! (I hope you can see the sarcasm in my letters.) So, I sit here with a bag of Hershey's Miniatures I scored at an import shop earlier in the week and try to remember the lonely Valentine's Days in my past when I cursed the holiday rather than the scent of yellow roses. My children are napping simultaneously presently and that really is the best gift for me these days anyway. I think I will go lose myself in a book, maybe even a cheesey romance. Happy Valentine's Day!

Has it really been that long?

2007-01-02T15:28:00.000+09:00

It has been well over a month since my last post. All of my writing energies and the time when both children were sleeping (and I was not) were allocated to penning Christmas Cards and then the New Year's post cards that are traditionally sent here. I enjoyed the card exchange more than usual this year. Maybe it was because Mina had such fun checking the mailbox everyday. Maybe it was because we made a string of Christmas cards over the television in our living room and Toshi's mom saw it and then hung one in her house too. Maybe it was because I loved every picture enclosed of familiar smiling faces I see in person too rarely these days. Maybe it was because Mina decorated her own New Year's Cards this year and received more cards than either Toshi or I did. We have also been quite busy, which means I have several things to write about . . . it is just finding the time to sit at the computer. I write today to check in and let it be known that I have not abandoned the blog. I will be posting again in the very new future. First, I have to see to those thank you notes though!

A Different Kind of Thanksgiving

2006-11-26T07:55:00.000+09:00

It just so happened that this year the American Thanksgiving fell on a Japanese national holiday. Of course, I went all out and made a turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, the works, right? Well, I bought everything I needed to make a pumpkin pie, including a new pie dish. Still, my oven did not get a workout. Thanksgiving was always one of my favorite holidays growing up. We would usually be out in the desert camping and my mom would go to the ends of the earth to prepare a complete Thanksgiving feast in our camper. I swear that woman has a magic wand hidden somewhere. Amazing. Then there were the left over turkey sandwiches on squishy white bread, with Miracle Whip, lots of salt and pepper and if you did not eat them quickly enough, the dry desert air would make your bread crusty. Sorry, what was I writing about again? Oh, yes! Thanksgiving in Japan. One year I went to dinner at a missionary’s home in Kobe. The food was fabulous, but the best part was playing games after the meal. Another year all the local foreign English teachers held a pot luck and that was good fun, too. Then came the year I went all out trying to keep my American traditions alive and they were met with such a lukewarm response that I was still too deflated the next year to go to all the effort again. Every year, I think about Thanksgiving a lot, but I have not been able to pull it together. As Sam and Mina get older, I want them to have what I had growing up, but, well, there are no deserts in Japan and I am nowhere near as skillful as my mother in the kitchen. When I was thinking about writing this, I planned to write about how we had a nice family day and that maybe our Thanksgiving will just take on a different shape. Now that I am writing it though, I want Thanksgiving. I really do. I don’t want a substitute tradition or just the pumpkin pie. So, I resolve now to get my act together next year. I will buy a turkey baster in The States this summer. I will order the turkey from The Foreign Buyers Club and make sure it is small enough to fit into my Japanese oven. I will ask my mother for her stuffing recipe and I will shell out five dollars for the can of cranberry even though I may be the only one who eats any. After all, I already have the pie dish.

Things I Love - #2

2006-11-26T07:52:00.000+09:00

In addition to the Station Master saying “welcome home!” to us when we return on the subway, I have yet another reason to sing the praises of our station. We went out to dinner the other night (which in and of itself is something to write about). It had been cloudy all day, but our laundry dried. By the time we got back to our station it had started to rain and we were caught without umbrellas. This is not a problem though because our little station is just too cute. When it begins to rain suddenly or unexpectedly, they put out a stand of umbrellas for loan. If you need an umbrella, you take one and bring it back to the station the next time you come through. They even had a small one for Mina. I asked the ladies on one of the internet groups I belong to if the stations they live near do this too and only one person responded in the affirmative. See, I knew our station was special!

A Week of Surprises

2006-11-12T21:05:00.000+09:00

Monday - I discovered that Starbucks in Japan is offering a peppermint mocha on this years holiday menu! I am absolutely certain this is due to the comment card I filled out last year when I noticed it was not on the menu. I did not cry last year because I knew I could get one in the States while home for the holidays, but this year there will be no trip to CA for Christmas and I am counting every comfort. One!

Two for Tuesday - an exquisite hand stitched doll that fits in the palm of my hand dressed in MinaÂs school uniform, one of the cutest things I have ever seen and the perfect stocking stuffer. Then lunch with a different set of moms. They were so easy going and funny; they did not speak in the stiff formal language that is so difficult for me to wrap my ears around. I was able to follow the conversation and even laugh with them.

Wednesday - Mina only has two and a half hours of school on Wednesdays, so Sam and I usually hang out at a nearby aquarium. Before the aquarium opens we take a walk along the beach. On this particular day, the skies were such a startling blue and so clear that the view of the bay was made even more beautiful by the majestic backdrop of the elusive Mt. Fuji. As I walked, I took in the scenery of the beach's golden curve of sand, gentle waves dotted with a few surfers, then Mt. Fuji, looming large, with a picture perfect dusting of snow on the peak.

Thursday - On Thursday, I started a great new book. How to be Lost by Amanda Eyre Ward. It is one of those titles that makes you fall asleep with the light on because you can not stop reading until your eyes close on you involuntarily. I am not going to write anymore about it because I really want to get back to it now!

Friday - Sam in day care. Kanji studies with a peppermint mocha. Lunch with a true friend. We were planning to go to Subway, but they were closed for renovation. We ended up stumbling upon a pretty good hamburger joint instead.

Saturday - A lazy, rainy day spent mostly in PJs. Lightening violently cracked so close to our house that I actually screamed and jumped back from the kitchen sink. Mina ran to the doorframe as if it were an earthquake! At least I know she has been listening to me!

Sunday - There was an International Festival in Kamakura with a local newsletter offering used English books for sale at 100 yen each (about 85 cents)!!!!!!!!!!! What a steal! I picked out ten paperbacks and practically skipped and whistled my way home.

Now it is time I got back to learning How to be Lost, so I can move on to my next literary adventure.

I've Been Wondering . . .

2006-11-04T21:15:00.000+09:00

Is it really appropriate to wear black velvet to escort your child to and from pre-school? I have bowed to the pressure and usually wear a skirt, nylons and heels to take Mina to school, but the black velvet pencil skirt I saw one mother wearing the other day had me raising an eyebrow. I miss my jeans like a woman on a diet misses chocolate. At least I know I am not the only one who is uncomfortable adhering to the unwritten dress code that prevails among the mothers at Mina’s school. One mother made a whispered confession that she had to buy stockings for the purpose of coming to the school because she did not have any in her possession previously. This same mother and I have tilted our heads together to discuss the wardrobe of a certain senpai mother who has worn jeans once or twice, albeit dressed up with heels, a blazer and her usual gaggle of trendy accessories. That means it is okay, right? I mean, they are not going to kick us out of the school if we show up in pants, are they? Is the man who stands in front of the school gate there for security reasons or is he the fashion police? My co-conspirator and I have each once tested the waters and sported jeans on the way to school. One rainy day, I noticed the six inches of denim left uncovered above her rain boots and below the hem of her coat. On the day of the school field trip, I took a chance, since the girls were not wearing their uniforms, and wore my favorite jeans with a crisp button down shirt and loafers. Sadly, we both caved and were back in our skirts for pick up time. It is not just jeans that are a problem either, there is also a certain spectrum of colors which the majority of mothers seem to always wear. Once I met the mother from Singapore at the station in the morning and she was wearing a beautiful linen dress in a deep red with a cream floral pattern. She looked fabulous, but she leaned into me on the train and admitted that the dress had been in her closet for two years and that this was the first time she had dared to wear it. I have told my mom before that I often feel like I stand out like a canary in a flock of pigeons. Is it my fault I happen to look best in pastels? This is one of those times when being a foreigner comes in handy. I am not expected to tow the line. I am given more leeway. I can get away with things that the other mothers cannot. Still, you have to find a balance between being yourself and alienating yourself. So, skirts and stockings it is for me, even if the skirt is my new favorite which is mostly brown, but has stripes like a Mexican sarape!

What I have been up to lately

2006-10-24T16:27:00.001+09:00

1. Pretending to be a lady who lunches. I had lunch with the Mina's classmates' moms last week. We went to a little tiny Italian restaurant that sat the nine of us and one other table for two. Everyone ordered the course lunch, so I did the Japanese thing and ordered what they were ordering. It was a large meal of a salad plate, pasta course, meat course, dessert and coffee. The food was great and well, you pay for what you get. Lunch set me back about $35.00. I won't be doing that very often!

2. Pretending to be a writer. I have been meaning to contribute to the AFWJ (Association of Foreign Wives of Japanese) monthly journal for months now. This time around the topic is reading, so I may actually manage to send something. We will see if they actually print it.

3. Pretending to speak Japanese. My skills are experiencing a strange lapse. I have been having trouble communicating recently, trouble understanding people and making myself understood. I don't know what is going on, but I will muddle my way through and just as with my kanji studies, hope that it will one day click. One day soon would be nice.

4. Pretending to clean my house. We have a guest coming this weekend. It is always frightening to see your home through other peoples eyes, at least it is for me as I don't even pretend to be a good housekeeper! I have made an effort this week though, to make our home presentable. The person who is coming will probably read this and think, "she actually cleaned before I arrived? I'd hate to have seen it before that!"

Things I Love - #1

2006-10-15T07:08:00.000+09:00

Downey. It is the name of the new cafe I have discovered. It is near the major station on the way to Mina's school and I plan to become a regular. The shop is named after the Southern California city and claims to offer California cuisine. I had to try it out to see if their claim was true and it is!!! They offer wrap sandwiches and bagel sandwiches (billed on the menu as "bagle" sandwiches, you have got to love those endearing English errors) stuffed with fresh vegetables. I have been twice now, once having the avocado and shrimp "bagle" sandwich and on my second visit trying the teriyaki chicken wrap. YUM! The lunch set comes with a drink, a small dessert and your sandwich is served with two dollops of different salads, for about $12.00. If there is something a little off with the fact that my first entry in the "things I love about Japan" feature is a California style cafe well . . . that is just the way it is.

Things I Hate - #1

2006-10-15T06:58:00.000+09:00

That a root canal procedure takes SIX visits to the dentist. Yes, six. Yes, for one tooth. As if getting myself to the dentist even once isn't traumatic enough! That is six times I had to arrange child care. Six times I had to muster up the courage to overcome the sick feelings in my stomach. Six times I had to pay about four dollars round trip in train tickets. Six times I had to sit in the waiting room for approximately 20 minutes (honestly though that part didn't bother me so much as I'll take any chunk of uninterrupted reading time that comes my way, even if it is with the back ground noise of dental drilling). Six sessions of open, endure, rinse. Everyone says it has to do with the way the national insurance system works here. Whatever it is, it sucks.

Aisatsu - Greetings

2006-10-15T06:39:00.000+09:00

There are certain phrases in Japanese that have no appropriate translation in the English language. The words that the station master uttered to me as I passed through the ticket gates fall into this category. There are several awkward translations, but to me, they fail to capture the feeling behind the words. He said to me, as I returned from escorting my daughter to school, “Otsukare-sama.” It is something you say to someone who has finished their work, as they leave the office, or complete a task. I have heard it directly translated as “you are the tired one,” but I don’t think anyone one would ever say that in English and if they did the person they were talking to would look at them like they were nuts. Anyway, I smiled to myself as he said it to me for several reasons. First of all, I love that we live near a station small enough that the station master is aware of the comings and goings of his regulars and that he is kind enough, that we live enough on the outskirts of the city, to freely acknowledge this. Second of all, I appreciate the fact that he recognizes my taking my daughter to school everyday as work. Women may not enjoy as much respect as they deserve in the workplace in Japan, however traditional “women’s work,” which is often invisible in the USA, is considered work here and a respectable, valid occupation of one’s time.
There are several books and articles in publication now about working moms facing off against stay-at-home moms. This is a tragedy. As if women need to be criticizing each others choices. I am thankful we have choices. Both women who focus their energy on their children and mothers who successfully maintain careers are deserving of commendation. In a collection of essays titled Because I Said So, Beth Kephart wrote about “the mother who gave her child both all she had and not enough.” I think that is all of us, it just looks different the way we each manage to individually accomplish it. Now I am waiting for my copy of Confessions of a Slacker Mom to arrive from www.bookmooch.com so I can get into some reading I can really identify with.

2006-10-09T05:06:00.000+09:00

As a foreigner in Japan, you tend to be asked the same questions over and over again. Can you eat raw fish? Can you use chopsticks? Do you like natto (smelly, viscous, fermented soy beans)? Though it can become tedious, it is generally believed that these questions are just a way that the Japanese have of reaching out to you. I have noticed that the mothers at the pre-school have similar set phrases and patterns that repeat themselves, too. After the sports festival. It was “your husband seems so kind.” Now, I am aware that the correct response in Japanese is to deflect any thing that at all resembles a compliment. When you are told you are good at speaking Japanese, you say “No, no I still have a long way to go.” So when mothers said this to me about my husband I wasn’t sure what to say. I tried the blasé, “Really?” Then I tried the vague, “No, it is different.” With a mother I know a little bit better I said, “No, he has two faces.” She said, “Only two? Mine has four or five!” “Well, then, I guess I have it easy!” I replied and we laughed, which went a long way in developing my relations with that mother, however I felt like I was short changing Toshi. The fact of the matter is that things have been wonderful between us recently. We laugh, we touch, we jump in and help one another out with the kids when rescuing is needed. This month we will celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary. I guess it just took us that long to learn to live with each other. So when yet another mother said to me “Go-shujin yasashi so.” I said to her, in my broken Japanese something like this: “I know that I am supposed to say, no, no, not at all. But recently my husband has been helping me out so much and we have been so happy together that I want to say, YES! I am so lucky! He is great!.” To my honesty she replied with the standard phrases that are always bandied about “Really? I envy you.” And even though I hadn’t said what was expected of me, I felt as though I had said the right thing. Now I just hoped I haven’t jinxed it.

Mom's Over Enthusiasm Spoils the Day

2006-09-29T16:58:00.000+09:00

For what I am certain will not be the last time, my over enthusiasm caused Mina an embarrassment today. It was her very first sports festival, an autumn ritual for all Japanese school children, and I caused a false start in her first ever race. She was standing on the starting line, cute as ever, I cheered her on “Go! Mina, Go!” and she went. Too bad the starting whistle had not yet been blown. Why did she have to choose that moment in time to finally start listening to me and following directions?!?!?! No, it was all my fault and next year I will keep my big mouth shut. She did not listen to me however, when I called after her, “WAIT!! STOP!!!” She kept on like a thoroughbred all the way to the white tape and took first place in a race against herself. Then they sat her down with the other kids who had already raced and did not let her go back to race against her friends. I was almost in tears I felt so badly, but she was fine and it did not end up spoiling the day. Her grandfather congratulated her on her first place win and there were other events that she enjoyed more, such as the dance she did to the Totoro theme song with her class mates and the race she participated in with her dad as her partner. The morning culminated in a dance routine in which all of the students participated. Now, I had thought that the song was called “Chiki Chiki Boom,” at least that is what it sounded like the other mothers were calling it. When the music started I was relieved to hear the familiar notes of the “Tiki Tiki Room” song. Whew! “Chiki Chiki Boom” sounded a little risqué for pre-school children! So, as always in Japan, I live and learn. Perhaps by the time she graduates I will have it all figured out.

Can You Not Do That

2006-09-21T06:32:00.000+09:00

Last week in the middle of the night, I heard Mina talking in her sleep. The small bubble of pleasure of witnessing her do something I have been known to do was popped by the fact that she spoke in Japanese. My heart broke a little to hear it. To think that my daughter’s most inner, private world was going on inside her mind in Japanese made me feel distanced from her. Intellectually I understand how wonderful, and how challenging, it is to raise bilingual children, however I never anticipated the emotional difficulty of the fact that my children’s first language is Japanese. Even if English is their “mother tongue,” Japanese will always be the stronger language for them.
Last night, I was awake in the middle of the night, when suddenly Mina said, “can you not do that.” In her sleep. In English. I could not help from smiling with the realization that my daughter’s dream world is just as blended, bilingual, creative, mysterious and multifaceted as she herself is. And then she proceeded to grind her teeth, just like her father.

It's a Boy!

2006-09-06T17:29:00.000+09:00

No, our family is not expanding, however the Japanese Imperial Family welcomed a son into the world today. While others are breathing sighs of relief, I breathe a sigh of exasperation. The country was on the verge of changing its constitution to allow a female to ascend the throne. This would have meant an improvement in status for all women in Japan. It is no longer to be; a male heir has been produced.
It was exciting to be a part of the buzz. All the morning news programs centered on the topic. During a mid-morning phone conversation with a friend, she informed me that the baby was male and we shared our mutual disappointment. As I walked through the aquarium with Sam, we watched workers construct a display in honor of the new royal in a section dedicated to the present Emperor’s research. The mothers were discussing the topic as we waited to pick up our daughters from school and the focus of conversation was on Crown Princess Masako and the implications of the birth for her. Interestingly, the consensus seemed to be that it would increase pressure upon her to produce a male heir, whereas I had thought that it would relieve pressure since a male heir now exists. When we passed through the station, copies of a special edition extra that had been printed were being handed out, complete with one page reporting on the event in English.
It would have been so interesting to watch the nation evolve had she given birth to a girl. Now it will be business as usual until the next catalyst for change comes along. Who knows, maybe Mina or Sam will shake the nation up somehow. But I think I’ll put my money on Aiko-sama, the would-be Empress.

Home again, home again

2006-09-02T13:36:00.000+09:00

“You must be tired. Mina needs to recover before school starts again. We’ll just see you on the fifth.”
WHAT?!?!?! The FIFTH?!?!? My concerns over why this mother was deflecting my attempts to set up a play date with her daughter were over shadowed by the realization that I had been planning to return to school on the wrong day. The fourth, Mina goes back to school on the fourth, right? Wrong. The first day of school is the fifth. So even though this mother doesn’t seem to want to hang out with us, I still have to hang on to her because she has saved me once again. Will I ever get my act together? At least I was planning on getting to school a day early, that’s better than a day late, kind of.
That leaves me with a three day weekend. Today we walked with Ojiichan to a local fruit grower. Asian pears and grapes are now in season. There was a line of people around the traditional storehouse on the farmer’s property. We arrived about five minutes before they opened and thirty minutes passed before it was our turn to pay $12.00 for six pears and $20.00 for four bunches of grapes. Ojiichan’s treat of course.
Being back in Japan means a return to walking to the grocery store, to the station, to the post office, almost everywhere. Thank goodness, because I need to walk off my month long American food binge and it might just take me the next eleven months to do so. You should have seen me, I could not resist anything. I ate an entire three pack of Twinkies. Twinkies! I would have eaten an entire box, however I managed to show one little tiny shred of restraint in the grocery store and opted for the three pack.
Even still, the focus of our return has been on eating the foods we missed from Japan. Today’s lunch was cold udon noodles in a broth seasoned with freshly grated ginger and leek. Our first dinner home was Ma Bou Dofu and Gyoza. Toshi is a master at perfectly browning the bottoms to a golden crisp. They are so good that we already bought another pack at the store today!
Otherwise, the time has been filled getting my new train pass (it freaks me out a little that one little card is worth more than $400), signing Sam up for daycare (yes he did start screaming in his stroller as soon as we crossed the threshold of the center, even though we didn’t leave him there) and taking care of other lose ends, including a trip to the dentist for moi. Thank goodness there is a box of See’s candy in the fridge to help me through it all.

Here We Go!

2006-05-07T06:29:00.000+09:00

Why I am taking this on now is a bit of a puzzler. We are still adjusting to Mina's school schedule and Sam is entering one of those super needy, cry when I leave the room phases. For the moment they are seated in front of a video of English cartoons sharing a donut (that right there tells you plenty about just what kind of mother I am, but, come on, it's a Japanese donut, which means it is not particulary yummy, which means is can't be all that bad for you, right?) and in my meanderings on the net I somehow found myself here. I was reading an article on being a good mommy (which I am decidedly not) and one suggestion was to make sure you take time for yourself. Well, of course I jumped on that advice! I like to write. I haven't been writing. I am going to start writing again. The question is, will anyone be interested in reading what I write here? Maybe Aunt Jo will come see me now and again.