denbushi | blog

We took a trip to the beach yesterday, joined by a couple that lives in our building and their 2 year-old daughter. Our destination this time was a new beach we’d never visited, down past Zushi and Hayama near the bottom of the Miura Peninsula. We tried a different day trip format this time around, mostly owing to the plan proposed by our companions. Instead of heading out “whenever we’re packed and ready” (noonish, typically) we instead had a firm 8:30 AM meeting time in the parking lot to keep. That found us up at 6:30 Saturday morning (ouch) and on the road by 08:45. 私たちにとってはけっこう珍しいことだけど… Pretty rare for us.

Nonetheless, we’re sold on the format and might even put it to use going forward. The roads were wide-open, and it took maybe an hour to get from our place to the beach, making the ocean seeming for perhaps the first time truly accessible. Better yet, the place we went to is off the beaten path, and offered FREE (!!!) beachside parking. Incredible! Our favorite beach in Zushi (一色海岸, isshiki kaigan) has 3500 yen parking 300 yards from the beach, creating are a far less attractive Pay and Schlep situation.

Waves were perhaps the only thing missing, but the calm waters meant the girls could get in there and play with no threat of being kocked over by the surf. We all had a great time and are looking forward to going back. We stuck around till around 12:30 then went to a local restaurant for lunch that specialized in local ocean fare. Should have taken pictures, and not sure why I didn’t, but it was all exceptional. Boiled crab, thickly-sliced sashimi, steamed fish in a light ginger sauce and all the Japanese trimmings you would expect: miso soup, hijiki and tea. Vry fresh, very tasty.

We were amazed to find ourselves back home at around 16:00, with the whole late afternoon and evening still in front of us. When the last time that happened? Normally we’d just be packing up now, looking forward to a long and crowded road home. Add another adherent to the Starting Early school of thought…

From Blog Photos

Stumbled across this while scrolling through my local Picasa library of photos and remembered by how much I like it. While it looks like the bridge of some massive vessel, this shot was actually taken from the observation deck of the 海ほたる (umi hotaru), the artificial island built atop one end of the Tokyo Bay Aqua-Line. It’s the longest underwater tunnel for cars in the world at just under 10 kilometers and quite a bit of fun to drive, unless the idea of all those millions of tons of water overhead makes you feel uneasy.

The Umi Hotaru is a great place to stop and take a break, offering great views to Tokyo Bay on all sides and a variety of restaurants and shops. We had kaiten sushi there while watching the sun set and thought it just great.

From Blog Photos

Uoki sushi in Ark Hills (Akasaka) has long been one of my favorite kaiten sushi restaurants. Consistantly fresh, the portions are large and the quality exceptional. Not too expensive, either, when you consider the building it’s in. (You can’t swing a stick in the place without hitting a French investment banker…) I have a client nearby, and whenever I visit them I make it a point to stop by Uoki for lunch or an afternoon snack.

I noticed on a recent visit that they redid their counter-top menu, apparently going to great pains to make it accessible to the local foreign population as well. Too bad they did so without the involvement of a native English speaker. So, who’s hungry?

We spent Golden Week this year in Kumamoto (where R is from.) and  had a swinging time. I was informed that this–unlike some of our other vacations–would NOT include me hovering over my ThinkPad tappity-tapping away in the name of work. No sir, this was going to be a PROPER vacation complete with lots and lots of Fambly Fun and entertainment for the girls. I followed the rules and we had a great  week-long break in Kyushu.  Visiting Kumamoto always means lots of good stuff like daily trips to the onsen and dining on tasty fare, but this time we also make it a point to get out and take the girls around to different places like the zoo and the mountains, which they enjoyed immensely. We also made an overnight trip to Kagoshima (my first) for a bit of outdoor fun and domestic tourism (= visiting temples and steeping in hot springs). I shot scads of photos and have put them online, have a look if you’re interested in seeing a visual summary of the trip.

Met up with old friends Donald and Jason and a couple of other folks last night at Andy’s fantastic izakaya under the Yamanote Line tracks in Yuraku-cho (有楽町). British ex-footballer Andy has run Shin Hinomoto (新日の基) for as long as I’ve lived here in Tokyo (much longer, actually) and serves up some of the best home style izakaya fare around. The portions are massive and the prices cheap. What could be finer? I hadn’t been in maybe a year or more this time, and it was great to see that the food and raucous atmosphere are still as enjoyable as I remember. We samples some of out standard dishes–sauteed enringi mushrooms, grilled asparagus spears, sashimi moriawase–and also ventured into new ground, enjoying lightly-battered John Dory (マトウダイ) and steamed black cod (ギンダラ). Everything was great, and we washed it all down with chilled mugs of beer and imojochu (芋焼酎). Gotta remember to get over there more often!

Denentoshi Line, 12:11 AM. You can’t tell from the photo, but the train was otherwise crowded. People give catatonic folks like this a wide berth for fear of getting puked on. I was thinking I might try this move next time I don’t feel like standing.

Had the folks over to Japan for the first time last week. We shink’ed around the country, stopping in Kyoto, Hiroshima and Kurokawa Onsen before joining the rest of the family in Kumamoto. Lots of good food, onsen, hanami and exploring in the 10 days they were here, some of which is chronicled in the photo album below. I think I may have run them ragged while they were here, but we all had a good time and it was good to have the different generations all together for a brief spell. Looking forward to a repeat very soon!!

Japan Trip

Funny how age can creep up on you. There I was, minding my own business as a thirtysomething, when suddenly the 16th rolled around and forty-fied me. WTF? Had I been paying more attention I might have ducked or something, but along with the typical surprise and alarm, advancing age also brings with it an unfortunate dulling of the reflexes. Now look at me. Makes me think of that great “Glass” piece by Eric Bogosian where he says:

And suddenly one day you realize your hair is starting to fall out, and that your stomach isn’t as flat as it used to be, and that your dick’s not as hard as it used to be, and from that day forward that’s ALL you can think about. All you can think about is how your hair is falling, your stomach’s drooping, your dick is limping, and basically it just gets worse and worse and worse until you’re incontinent, mindless and drooling, stuck in some fire-trap senior citizen’s home on the edge of an interstate highway where your big thrill of the day is when they’re serving strained peaches.

You get the idea. Funny, eh? Ha! Anyway, now I can’t keep saying “I’m not an oyaji!” and mean it. I’ve become one. Blech.

So what better to do than visit Fukuoka and catch some sumo? Exactly! And that’s what we did. I had made plans the previous month to join Seattle friends Mike and Larry (now living in Kumamoto) for a day-long foray into northern Kyushu, and was much looking forward to it when the day arrived. Larry pulled a ドタキャン (sudden cancellation) that morning, looking fit but citing a sniffle, so it ended up being just Mike and I. We somehow managed to have a good time without him… (Bad Larry! Bad!)

Fukuoka is a GREAT city, all spic-and-span and sporting wide streets the likes of which you just don’t find in Tokyo, and with friendly locals and a great nightlife to boot. We had a good time exploring the downtown area and enjoying lunch before the Main Event of the day. The 16th was also the day the “ban was lifted” (解禁) on this year’s selection of grossly over-hyped Beaujolais Nouveau, so we succumbed to the intense media pressure we had been enduring the previous week and sampled a couple of glasses of the variety the Spanish restaurant we enjoyed lunch at was promoting this year. Surprisingly, it was quite good! Must be something to that whole “gotta get to it fast” thing.

We got to the sumo event space, a massive sports arena-type affair located downtown near the waterfront, paid for the cheapest tickets we could buy (30 bucks) and sat in seats much closer to the dohyo at the center of the arena (priced at 400 bucks). The area was sparsely populated at that point, but after about 10 minutes the “owners” of said seats showed up and we had to beat a hasty retreat. One row back. I tell you, we gaijin really have no shame…

Outside we had seen a few of the athletes (called 力士, or rikishi) heading back to the stable (they really say that) and I was surprised at how absolutely massive they are. They’re all around six feet tall or better, and horizontally huge as well. The three shown here actually warped space-time, just standing there waiting for a taxi. Crazy.

Anyway, inside it was what you might expect. An afternoon of these giants hurling themselves at each other, massive bodies crashing together and fighting to toss the other to the ground or out of the ring altogether. Mike is a big sumo fan, and had started off by choosing his picks to win for each match and then followed up with running commentary on many of the competitors. It was almost like watching it on TV, except for the hawkers selling overpriced chestnuts and the 800 foot ceiling.

After the sumo fun we went and enjoyed dinner downtown, somehow ending up at one of the two (count ‘em!) Global Dining restaurants in the city. Go figure. However, the food and wine at the QUALITA location were first-rate, and we totally lost track of time as the evening wore on.

As we meandered back to the train station I got to get a taste of the city at night, and was very impressed with both the beauty of it and the wonderful “island of yatai” (open-air street food stalls) that occupies a large swath of downtown, wedged between two forks of the river that runs through the middle of the city. To have only had more time to explore! I can’t wait to go back for another taste.

Finally, beyond the yatay we ventured back through the hot tourist spot known as Canal City, a kind a urban playgound-meets-mall located in Hakata Ward. Passing through earlier in the day we had seen a wonderful fountain performance with a few dozen high-pressure water nozzles shooting spray into the air in a deliciously choreographed production. At night, however, the place had become even more glorious, with spectacular “illumination” to rival the best of what Tokyo has to offer.

It was a great finish to a great day in a new city. Till next time, Fukuoka!

I don’t remember what eight unbroken hours of sleep feels like.

One thing I’ve never gotten used to living here is the way people disregard their surroundings altogether when moving about on foot. Put a Japanese person in a car and he’s a veritable Mars Rover of sensory awareness, but as soon as those heels hit the pavement out come the cell phones, game boys and manga.

At least once a day I’ll be strolling down the sidewalk, minding my own business, only to have some JC student skip out of a doorway with nary a look left or right, lighting a cigarette or flipping open his keitai as he lands immediately in front of me.

Or in a crowded station, where people often conclude their conversations with the wicket guy or a friend, then whip around suddenly and make to speed off, instead crashing directly into yours truly. When I first got here I spent a lot of time dodging, ducking and weaving to avoid these people, always amazed that they never took even a second to survey the landscape before bounding ahead.

These days I just keep walking. At first that resulted in lots of crashing into other people and countless interrupted games of Tetris, but before long people seemed to sense my presence differently, and would kind of flow around me like any other obstacle hovering on the periphery. Now all I have to watch out for is the 歩きタバコ guys who puff away on crowded streets and are sometimes given to wild, ciggie-accentuated gestures that invariably target the small space between my nose and forehead. 歩きタバコって、格好悪いぞ。

Anyway, the reason behind much of this behavior had been a mystery to me, but thanks to this piece from the Tokyo Damage Report I think I understand why…

The beginning of the year here is also marked by visits to local (or distant) shrines to pray for a prosperous and healthy new year. Also, because Rie is back in Kumamoto so infrequently we also paid a visit to a simple shrine that holds the ashes of some of her relatives.

Although I had expected something more akin to a stone alter like you might find in a Japanese graveyard, the site we visited was instead and smallish room filled with maybe a hundred or so lockers and dominated by a single, simple shrine near the back of the room.

We opened their locker to find a small butsudan, a Buddhist alter before which you pray for your ancestors. After praying at the main alter we approached the smaller one in turn. First we took a stick of incense and lit, then stood it up in a bowl of ashes near the front of the alter. Next to that is a small, ornate brass bowl which you strike lightly with a short piece of rounded, lacquered wood. Then you pray briefly, bow, and step back.

Over as quickly as it had begun, we were out the door and on our way to the next place. This time we drove for two hours (further) into the country to visit a shrine called 蛇石神社 and devoted to the spirit of a mythical white snake. Praying at this shrine is supposed to bring prosperity in business, and is visited each year by the Ogatas.

I picked up an お守り (protective charm) and a お札 for a prosperous year for the company, then we all made the rounds, praying at each of the shrines at the temple and also peeking in on the two albino snakes that lay curled in a glass cage installed on a small rise behind the shrine.

Afterwards we drove back to the city and visited another Shinto shrine, praying at the many alters in the same pre-defined fashion: two bows, shake the hanging rope to rattle a simple round bell affixed to the top, clap twice, pray, bow again. We also bought お御籤 (o-mikuji), little slips of paper that tell your prospects and fortune for the coming year. Mine, sadly, was only so-so, so I decided not to give it too much stock.

Throughout the day we all took turns holding Mia and worrying all the while that it was too cold for her to be outside like this and hurrying to get back to the warmth of the car. O-basan (Grandma) was no different, of course, except that when her came turn to hold Mia she was in no rush to go anywhere…

In Japan, the 1st of January is a quiet time to rise early and be with the family. Like Christmas morning in the US, but without all of the gift-giving and other fanfare, it’s the one time of year when all of the kids are back home, perhaps with kids of their own in tow, and everyone spends the day lolling around in the warmest room of the house, sipping can beer and eating o-sechi ryori.

Things around the Ogata household we’re no different today. We awoke late after the previous evenings debauchery, amazingly not hungover, and joined the folks downstairs, slipping under the warmth of the kotatsu and settling in for the traditional feast.

Rie’s mother had spent many hours preparing the various dishes laid out before us on the low table, and we would enjoy them over the next 2-3 days. Everything was delicious except for the crab, which was… not delicious. It was also nice to bite into a chilled, dark beer first thing in the morning, which is one of those things I can only bring myself to do on days like today, unless “today” is actually yesterday and you’re still out somewhere and… well, never mind.

Anyway, we spent the whole day laying around, watching 笑い番組 on television and generally being lazy. In the Ogata home the TV is kept on and at high volume throughout the day, leaving me with two options: stay in the only warm room in the house and watch TV, and escape to a cold room and read a book. The frigid weather played a heavy role in my decision-making, and let’s just say I’m now fully up-to-date on current events in the 芸能界 and Japanese advertising industry.

Whaddya gonna do. I guess the only I can say is: Welcome to the Year of the Rooster!

We got up at 4:30, got ready and were out the door an hour later. Rie and I each had one small bag for the weeklong trip, while Mia somehow required three. In her case it’s not the size of the clothes, but the many, many layers.

Kazu (the father-in-law) was parked downstairs, and his Harrier sat gleaming and steaming in the crisp light of this cold Wednesday morning. He was grappling with the new child seat when we arrived, fumbling with the various straps and levers in a clearly trial-and-error fashion and mumbling under his breath about this or that thing being strange. Somewhere a four-page manual lay folded and taped inside a clear plastic pouch, I was sure, never to see the light of day.

We loaded the car, climbed in, and sped off before screeching to a halt and heading back for Mia. She lay in the middle of the living room floor, absently sucking her pinky and waiting for the next bit of fun.

We bundled her into the car and strapped her into the child seat. She didn’t warm to the concept of complete immobilization right away or, for that matter, ever. But at least she didn’t start crying about it until much later in the day. We pointed the Harrier in the direction of Kumamoto and sped off into the morning.

The distance between Tokya and Kumamoto is over 1200 kilometers, or about 800 miles. We made the trip in only 16 hours, which is pretty good when you consider that most of the “highways” between here and there have only four lanes (total) and are typically congested. We stopped often but briefly at the regular and identical rest areas that line the highway here. Rie had to nurse every two hours or so, while the rest of us made due with the low-grade rest stop fare and assorted snacks we brought along for the ride.

Kazu and I took turns driving and sleeping thoughout the day. We sped through Shizuoka and Nagoya, Osaka and Okayama, Hiroshima and Yamaguchi before finally getting down into Kyushu. By evening the drive was beginning to wear us all down, and Mia finally decided she had had enough and launched into a screaming fit that wouldn’t subside. I tried all of the tried-and-true means of placating her–the orange rattle, the foot massage, the (Day-O) Banana Boat Song singing, the Big Smile, everything–but to no avail. She wanted out of that seat and nothing else was going to please her.

Unfortunately there were no rest areas for another 30 km, so we raced along at 130 kph with Mia’s wailing rattling the windows, trying to get there as soon as possible. By the time we did arrive Mia was completely red and tears streamed down both sides of her face. It broke my heart to see her like that, and we took a longer-than-usual break while I walked her around and chanted non-sensical things about it going to be alright.

We finally arrived at the homestead at around nine-thirty in the evening. We were all wreaked, and お母さん had prepared dinner for us so we relaxed and drank beers and talked about what a tough trip it had been. I had only had three hours of sleep the previous evening and brief bits here and there throughout the day, so when it came time to retire shortly thereafter I crashed hard and stayed that way. Until Mia woke up at dawn the next morning.

How nice it is to finally be on vacation…

Leaving for Kumamoto now, back in 2005…

You see plenty of freaky things in Shinjuku’s 2-chome, but this is by far the most messed up I’ve ever seen an early-morning host. They said he stayed like that for maybe an hour.

These days it’s fairly common to see young girls preening themselves on the train on their way to センター街 or wherever, but today was the first time I actually saw someone curl their hair on a crowded train. These two girls shared a portable roller, took phone calls, and applied six or seven coats of makeup, all between Gotanda and Shinjuku and much to the unspoken derision of their elders seated nearby. I got the impression they actually had plenty of time to get ready *before* leaving the house, but saved it all for the train just for the shock value. You go, girls.

Work takes me to Akasaka (Tameike-Sanno) about once a week, and on those days I hop on my bike, ride over to 武蔵小山 and jump on the Namboku Line for a one-shot, no transfer ride across town.

Unfortunately, I share this habit with about 1,756 other people, and the only place for all these bikes is a narrow little spit of land along the tracks that would normally accommodate somewhere in the vicinity of, what, 200 bicycles?

And how does the local municipality respond to this dilemma? Why they hire three オヤジ to cram the bicycles as tightly as possible into the available space, all day every day, creating a hellish scene that looks like this:

That’s right. And that’s right where my bike was two days after I left it there. It took me twenty minutes to clear away enough bikes to get to my own, and then 10 more to extricate mine from the bikes directly atop or beside it.

And this not 300 meters from the local municipal office, which sports a large sign out front saying, “この社会、あなたの税がいきています” (This society, your taxes at work [alive]) Shyeah right. They should change it to read, “This society, dismal urban planning our specialty!”

Hmph.

I made my first trip to the Pacific Coast in Chiba Prefecture just east of Tokyo. The chosen destination was the semi-remote town of Onjuku, home to Onjuku Beach. (Listed here in group 3, or you can click on the approrpiate block in this map for a close-up of the beach area..)

I had been jonesing to get out of the city and into some roiling surf for months, but invariably ended up either disappointed with muddy Kanagawa beaches or cancelling altogether at the last minute due to poor weather or oversleeping. I wanted to get onto a real beach without having to go all the way down to Izu, so I thought, “Hey, why not Chiba?”

The main why-not was not ever having been there, and not knowing if it was actually worth the trip. As it turns out, it most certainly is, and thanks for Brent and Andrew for giving me the basic knowledge to get me moving in the right direction.

To get to Onjuku I bought an express ticket for the Wakashio (特急わかしお) train out of Tokyo station. It leaves from the Keiyo (京葉線) tracks at the far end of the station, and gets you all the way out to and down the coast in a whopping 79 minutes. An open seat ticket (自由席, jiyuu-seki) will set you back 3,192 yen, and you may have to stand the whole way. Alternatively, you can pay an additional 700 yen for a reserved seat (指定席, shitei-seki) which–as the name implies–guarantees you your very own seat all the way.

Once arriving in Onjuku City it was a short 7-10 minute walk to the beach. I was immediately struck by how perfectly beach-like it was. コレこそまさにビーチだぞ！ (Now this is what I call a beach!) was the first thing out of my mouth on seeing the long expanse of white sand and frothy, crashing surf. Blue skies over a forest of colorful parasols, and thousands of mostly-yound Japanese out in their darkly-tanned best.

I grabbed a boogie board from local surf shop and spent the afternoon riding some respectable waves and working on my first good sunburn of the Summer. The waves aren’t quite as big as those in Shimoda, perhaps, but they were more than adequate for me on this uncrowded strecth of rock-free sand a mere hour-and-a-half from home.

Very good to see Alberto (also from those heady Cafe Ole days) back in Tokyo on a brief visit. We met up (yet again) at the beer garden on top of Keio department store in Shinjuku before moving (and sweating profusely!) over to Frigo nearby for more fun and games. Staring out as two and eventually becoming ten we enjoyed a great evening catching up with old friends and meeting new ones as well.

Alberto goes on from here to pursue a doctorate in Anthropology at ASU, focusing on the background and lives of Cambodian immigrants in Vietnam. The only person I know fluent in two South-east Asian languages and four European ones, Aberto remains an enigma to me (and many others as well, to be sure). I mean, a hard-core scholar with that ponytail and beard…?

Enjoy your studies in Arizona, mate. We’ll see you again in about three years…

I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but somewhere along the line I started enjoying natto. If you live in Japan you’re no doubt already familiar with this pungent, sticky delicacy, but if not let me get you up to speed. Natto is fermented soybeans, the same ubiquitous bean you enjoy in your tofu and miso soup, only this time they have been boiled, heated and left to rot. Or ferment. I don’t know exactly what the difference is, and once you smell them you’ll understand what I mean.

Natto, while enjoyed by most Japanese in the East of the country as a must-have morning staple, most other Japanese (and practically all foreigners) can’t force the stuff down. I mean, face it, it stinks.

It stinks, but it’s good. Like most addictions, it started with just a little taste, me sharing a bit of the wife’s Styrofoam tin on those mornings when we had nihon-shoku for breakfast. But then little by little I found I wanted more. Had to have more, until now I eat more than she does, and not just for breakfast, either. I get it on the side at Matsuya or 定食屋, or in the evening when I have too much rice, or at kaiten-sushi places when I see it come by. I mean I’m hooked, baby.

But I didn’t come here to evangelize. Instead, I’m here to show you how you, too, can enjoy natto right in your very own home following a few simple steps. For this example I’ll be using some traditional natto I received as お土産 from a friend in Ibaraki, the home of natto. Rather than the familiar square Styrofoam you’re used to seeing in the supermarket, traditional natto is wrapped in straw, and the flavor and scent are far superior. If you ever get to Mito be sure to pick some up for yourself.

Anyway, here we go. We begin at the breakfast table one cheery Tokyo morning. The fish has been grilled, the rice laid out, and the natto deployed to the left. Big, isn’t it? You pick up that bundle and the smell of fresh-cut straw (and natto, of course) fills your nose.

You clips the ropes at the ends of the bundle to free the straw which has been folded over in half to enclose the natto. Opening the bundle you find a pristine core of natto goodness nestled within, it’s cloying charms stoking your appetite and wilting the houseplants some meters away.

Using your chopsticks you gingerly extricate the natto from its bed of straw and pop it into the bowl you’ve prepared for this purpose.

Once it the bowl you break it up slightly and work it into the bowl, and then vigorously whip it in a circular motion until the neba-neba (stickiness) starts to come out, and then you whip it some more.

Finally, you add tare (sauce), mustard, nori (seaweed), or whatever else strikes you fancy to taste and mix it up real good.

And then you’re ready to dine in style! Pour some of that natto onto your waiting bed of rice, get it there with the chopsticks and off you go. Nothing, I tell you, could be finer in the morning. Keeping those sticky threads off your chopsticks, chin and lips takes a bit of practice, but if you can keep the chopsticks on the rice only when you eat you’ll be ahead of the game.

Wanna know more? Check out this excellent article by Mark Schreiber in the Tokyo Weekender for more natto facts and information.