JAPAN JOURNAL 2006 - week 2

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Day 8: Aug. 21

A long day with an early start. Accompanied only by Yukari this time, we caught a train to spend a day in Tokyo. We had considered using the famous Shinkansen, known as "The Bullet Train", but we learned that the fare would be 4500 yen (over 40 dollars) per person EACH WAY - a total of about 350 bucks just to get all of us to town and back! So we settled instead for the conventional train (densha), which was rather slower but far cheaper. We did, however, see the Bullet Train a couple of times, though it was not traveling at its legendary high speed of up to 186 mph.

As we approached Tokyo, we began seeing quite a number of bicycle lots and even multi-level bicycle garages, some of them filled with hundreds or even thousands of bikes. We also passed the John Lennon Museum, adjacent to the enormous Saitama Super Arena, a prime rock concert venue, and marked down the museum as another must-see attraction for some future trip.

After 3 or 4 transfers, we disembarked at The Ginza, the famous and quite ritzy shopping district that reminded us of Times Square in New York City. Except that it was much, much cleaner - all of Japan, from what we have seen, is immaculate, or about as close to it as a country can get. (Certainly, the Japanese are typically hygienic to an extent that would seem obsessive-compulsive to some Americans) It was also, much to our astonishment, far less crowded. We'd expected that Tokyo, having at least 3 times the population as the 5 boroughs of New York combined, would be even more jam-packed than midtown Manhattan, if that's possible. But Tokyo seems to be spread out over a much wider area than New York - it doesn't have one central cluster of skyscrapers in its profile - and consequently, we found elbow room aplenty. Of course, we were able to avoid riding the subway during rush hour, which reportedly is sheer bedlam. We saw some of the white-gloved attendants whose especial duty is to cram people ever-tighter onto the trains, but we missed out on a chance to witness this skill in action.

We of course didn't go to Ginza with the intent of doing any actual over-priced shopping, but merely to do some gawking. Nonetheless, it was mandatory that we browse through the Yamano Music Store, an 8-floor emporium offering recorded music, sheet music, instruction books, and all manner of instruments - including a display case full of ocarinas, some of which would set you back hundreds of dollars. High prices or no, Zephyr couldn't leave the premises without buying something; at first, he settled for just a few souvenir guitar picks, but then he decided he had to have a CD by a group called Ten Feet, whom he has decided he really likes. We insisted that he approach the sales clerk and make the transaction himself in Japanese. After a bit of prodding, he did so, and did it quite satisfactorily - Yukari hovered nearby in case he needed an interpreter, but he really didn't. In fact, he went through the process twice, as the first clerk referred him to the next lower floor.

Hopping on another train, we next headed to Tokyo Tower, the tallest building in the city since 1959, and the tallest self-supporting iron tower in the world. Standing at 333 meters (1093 feet to us Amurrcans), this imposing landmark was modeled after The Eiffel Tower, which it exceeds in height by 9 meters. Nonetheless, the Tokyo Tower is less than HALF as heavy as the Eiffel Tower, thanks to advancements in metal technology. There are two observation decks in this structure; it costs about 800 yen to ascend to the first one, about halfway up, and then once your appetite is whetted, you have to shell out another 600 yen or so to go up the rest of the way. But even from the lower deck, you get an impressive panorama of the city. We also had an impressive view of a young man who, egged on by his companions, walked through the crowd on his hands for a full minute or more.

It was now mid-afternoon and we were all hungry. After searching in vain for a suitable lunch venue in the tower itself (the restaurants there were essentially burger and pizza joints, including a McDonald's) we found one a few blocks away, where some tasty-looking items appeared on the menu for as little as 300 yen. We had Yukari ask the cooks about one particular dish we were interested in, a bowl of noodles with a cluster of fried battered vegetables on top, to see if it was vegetarian. They said they normally put shrimp in it, but would be glad to leave it out if we didn't want it.

So we went ahead and ordered our meals - not from a waitperson, but from a machine. It's fairly common, especially in lunch restaurants and fast-food establishments, to see vending machines with which you place your order, make your payment, and receive a receipt to present to the cooks when your food is ready. But this was our first time to actually use one.

When paying for lunch, Tokyo Tower and the trains, we had to be unusually assertive today, because it was our plan to pay Yukari's way for everything. We figured it was the least we could do, considering how generous they've been. But she put up a fuss every time, and kept trying to sneak in to pay her own way, until we had to practically throw a linebacker's block on her to hold her back. But we were successful in our intentions.

After hopping on yet another train, we had some time before a 4:00 appointment we'd made, so we went to Hie Shrine, a Shinto place of worship constructed in 1958 to replicate the shrine that was built on the same location in 1607 and destroyed by bombs in 1945. We avoided the steep flight of stairs, and instead chose the escalator, which we at first thought was out of order. But then Yukari showed us clueless Westerners that it's activated by sensor when you step on it.

Up to the hilltop plaza we ascended, passing businessmen and businesswomen who were pausing to pray during their appointed rounds. Outside the temple, there is a chest into which people can toss a coin before offering up a prayer, then pulling a thick rope to ring a bell that apparently sends the prayer on its way into the ether. Well hey, we're not believers, but we couldn't pass up a chance to partake of the ritual, especially since we had wishes of speedy recovery to offer for Kimberly's Bay Area friend and former high school classmate who is battling cancer. Kimberly also purchased for her a souvenir talisman for good health. Tania is a Buddhist rather than an adherent of Shinto, but it still couldn't hurt.

After sitting for a while to rest in the pensive environment of the courtyard, we made our way back downhill. On the way out, we couldn't help notice a bench, painted in the same shade of deep red as the other structures in the complex. And painted on it in conspicuous white letters was the sacred word "Coca-Cola".

Across the street, we popped into the offices of Erklaren translation services, where we'd made an appointment. Erklaren produces Japanese Podcast 101, which we've been listening to on a daily basis for the past three months to help learn Japanese. The lead commentator on these podcasts is an American, Peter Galante, but he has a rotating cast of Japanese co-stars to act out little scripts in Japanese and discuss the culture of Japan. (We hear, by the way, that the organization recently was written about in Newsweek.) They all seem to have a great time, and after being immersed in their dialogues and repartee all summer, we feel like they're all old friends. So we emailed them saying we'd be in town soon and would like to come by and meet them if possible. And they responded saying drop on in, so here we are.

Front L to R: Yoshi-san, Nathan-san, Sakura-san, Tako-san, Kimberly, Dennis
Rear: Kazanori-san, Peter-san, Zephyr

Peter in person is exactly like Peter in the podcasts - unflappably cheerful and bubbly, responding to the smallest details with overwhelming enthusiasm. When we mentioned to him that Zephyr did a good Peter impersonation, he said, "everybody in this office does a Peter impersonation". He also said that he'd been quite unaware that he said "very, very nice" so frequently until somebody pointed it out to him. When we asked him how he got into this business, he said that he had come over from New York 7 years ago to teach English for one year - and he could speak hardly a word of Japanese at the time - but he loved it here so much that one year quickly turned into seven. We also met all the others whom we've been listening to, including Yoshi, Sakura and Natsuko - -all a very amiable group. We intend to keep listening to the podcasts, though not as intensively, and now we have faces to go with the voices!

Our introductory little excursion into Tokyo now complete, we managed to catch a train back home before the crowds got thick.

At dinner tonight, we were introduced to natto, which we'd heard about on one of the podcasts. It's a delicacy made by fermenting a type of small bean, and we gather that folks either love it or hate it. Our verdicts are: Quite good (Kimberly), Not bad (Dennis), and I'll pass (Zephyr). The biggest problem with it is that it produces stringy, gummy filaments like spiderwebs that get stuck to your chopsticks, your fingers and everything else.

Day 9: Aug. 22

The Big Event of the day was a performance in Japan by Act!vated Storytellers. No, we're not kidding. Yukari, at our request, arranged for us to present a story to a group of her English students and some of their parents, an audience of about 40 people in all. We were limited, of course, to what trappings we could bring with us on the plane. Hauling along our trademark set - - a six-foot "book" we use as a backdrop - - was utterly out of the question. Nor did we pack any costumes with us, and we only had room for the smallest and most essential props, especially since we weren't even sure when we left that the performance was a go.

So this morning we found ourselves scrambling to gather some makeshift props, including a pot from the kitchen and a flashlight to serve as a lantern. The real rub, however, was the tennis racquet. Anyone who's ever seen one of our shows is familiar with Kimberly's signature stunt of squeezing through a (stringless) tennis racquet - - which represents a cave, a tiny door, a hole in the wall, etc. - - with much feigned difficulty, supposedly after getting stuck in it. We first used this bit in a story about 8 years ago, and it was such a hit that we decided to make it a recurring gag. Nowadays, whenever our perennial fans see us whip out the racquet, they immediately start chuckling because they know what's coming.

Trouble is, we considered the racquet too unwieldy to lug along (and how would you ever explain it to airport security), and we figured we could just pick up another one over here. We bought our last one at a Goodwill for a measly buck. But alas, there seem to be no thrift stores as we know them in these parts at all. There are a few secondhand stores, but they sell mostly clothing; the used racquet racket has yet to make a racket. And we certainly didn't want to spring for a new one, especially since we'd have to ruin it in order to use it.

Thus, as we so often do, we were pondering alternatives. After scouring the house in vain (Yukari even dug into her storage closet to retrieve a couple of objects that seemed promising but didn't pan out.), Dennis went shopping for something else to use, escorted by his "Japanese daughter", Ayaka. Amazingly, they found a good prospect immediately in the first store they went into: a butterfly/fish net for a mere 105 yen. (There is no sales tax here, by the way, at least not that we've seen.)

The net was the largest of three sizes available, but even so it was snugger than the racquet. Kimberly tried it on for size (after the netting had been removed to leave just the frame) and did indeed manage to squeeze through, aided and abetted by her two accomplices. She commented, however, that for once she wasn't just acting when she appeared to be stuck.

The next step was to examine the script to see how we could make it clearer to someone with limited English skills. We were to perform a Japanese folk tale that we'd been doing for over a year, and we hoped that the audience already would be familiar with it in one version or another. Our highly physical style also should help, we figured. And to make ourselves even better understood, we selected a few key Japanese words to inject into the dialogue. Additionally, we looked at how we could eliminate or simplify some of the English words and phrases.

With all of these adjustments, it was vital that we have a run-through, especially since we perform this particular story to musical accompaniment, and timing is crucial. So we dragged a reluctant Zephyr away from his vacation and put him to work for a few minutes. A couple of days ago, Yukari told him that Ayaka had a friend who wanted to meet him, but cautioned that she was a bit shy, so he should "try not to surprise her too much." We pointed out that she was asking a lot there, and she seemed perfectly aware of it. Well, today the girl and her brother came over, and all the kids have been having a great time together.

The CD of our music for the story was one essential that we did bring over, but we only brought one copy of it. And wouldn't you know it, halfway through our rehearsal, it began to skip like a stone across a pond. Even after repeated cleaning, it still acted up. So we resigned ourselves to doing the tale without music for the first time ever - - which not only would affect our timing, but also cause the story to lose some of its interest for those having difficulty following the dialogue. But just before curtain, the CD decided to start functioning properly again, so we were back to being as close to normal as we could be under the circumstances.

The refreshments were set out, the kids came, and the shoes were lined up in the foyer like soldiers. And so, feeling a bit jittery for the first time in ages, we launched into our first ever international performance.

All in all, the show went quite well. The kids certainly didn't understand every word we said, but we never expected they would. We just hoped they'd get the gist of it, and we feel confident they did. It was quite hot, and Kimberly perspired so much that she REALLY had a struggle getting through the hoop, but she still managed to make it on cue.

At the conclusion of the story, we also gave the kids an introduction to sign language, which they seemed rather intrigued by. And then Yukari got up and spoke to them a bit, and we heard her mention that Kimberly was in "Independence Day", whereupon the kids all responded with amazement. But the embarrassment was only beginning; Keisuke dragged out a DVD of the film (dubbed in Japanese, of course), popped into the player, and the kids eagerly huddled around the TV as he fast-forwarded to her scenes.

*****

The weather has been rather strange lately, being mostly hot, but having occasional thunderstorms (and, of course, the typhoon). The TV showed footage of the city of Osaka flooded by at least two feet of water in some places.

*****

Kimberly was doing some stretches in the living room in the evening when Toshihide came in and joined her. Although we'd already discussed with him his history as a gymnast back in high school, we never suspected that he still was athletically inclined. But he demonstrated beyond a doubt that he still can strut his stuff. He and Kimberly got into a veritable duel, challenging each other with various stunts - - he can walk on his hands with the best of them - - while the rest of us laughed and cheered them on.

Day 10: Aug. 23

Bread is something that the Japanese seem to eat very little of. Aside from pastry-type goods, we see few loaves in stores, and they're rather small. Until this morning, we'd never eaten bread here at all. But this morning, we were served a rather American-style breakfast of toast, jam, peanut butter and hard-boiled eggs. The peanut butter, however, was very different from what we're accustomed to: lighter, creamier, sweeter, less salty. And quite delicious. Dennis caused some astonished gasps when he glopped a heavy layer of the stuff on his toast rather than just a thin smearing, but he ate it all.

After breakfast, Yukari took us on a two-hour drive to see her parents. On the way, we passed an auto salvage yard, the only one we've seen. (Accidents seem to be very rare, despite the narrow roads and abundance of bicycles.) We commented about how amazed we were by the pristine condition of all the vehicles on the road; we haven't seen a single "clunker", and we've only seen one vehicle with a dent in it. All the others look pretty much as if they'd just rolled off the assembly line. Yukari said that yes, if someone here gets body damage to his or her vehicle, they have it repaired immediately. And we explained to her that in the States, many people let it go because auto repair is prohibitively expensive, and it's often cheaper to buy another vehicle than fix up a damaged one. She, in turn, was amazed. (Another interesting tidbit about driving in Japan: they have traffic lights with red, yellow and green just as the U.S. does. But they refer to a green light as a "blue light". Go figure. Well, they are a different shade of green, but to American eyes, they're still as green as a garden hose.)

Crossing a river, we also passed what appeared to be a homeless person camped under the bridge - the first such individual we've seen. Even in Tokyo, we witnessed no homelessness, no panhandling, no signs of dereliction. Maybe we just didn't look in the right neighborhoods, but we get the unavoidable impression that poverty is just not the problem here that it is back at home. Certainly, Japan doesn't have nearly the problem with crime - it may be, in fact, the safest nation in the world.

We arrived at her parents' house just in time for lunch, and we were met eagerly at the door by an elderly couple who displayed typical Japanese hospitality and generosity. They also lived in a typical, or at least traditional, Japanese home, including several pairs of slippers stationed in each room, waiting for feet to fill them. A different set of slippers is used for each room, so if you get a tour of the house, as we did, you'll be changing footwear several times. The toilet, by the way, was also the more traditional style, built into the floor horizontally rather than vertically. This contrasts with the toilet in the house where we're staying, which is more western in design except for the addition of several gizmos not normally found in the U.S.

(Public restrooms are usually of the traditional type, but restrooms having several stalls - such as at a train station, for instance - generally offer at least one western style toilet as well. All the stalls tend to be more private than back at home, with walls from floor to ceiling. Except that in the men's rooms, the urinals are much more open, and even may be exposed to public view.)

The one room that wasn't equipped with slippers was the living room (we would call it), which had tatami (straw mats) on the floors, which are not to be touched by footwear of any kind, except for socks. In the center of this room, of course, was a low table surrounded by pillows, at which we had our lunch.

While we were eating, a rather curious object caught our eye: just above the doorway was a long wooden "rifle", with a rubber tip on the end of the barrel. We wondered during lunch what its purpose could be. Our curiosity soon would be satisfied.

Yukari's father told us (with Yukari's assistance as interpreter) that he had served in the army during World War II; he even brought his uniform out of the wardrobe to show us. We asked about his rank, and he replied that he was the fourth rank out of 14, which, on the assumption that he was counting from the bottom instead of the top (in which case his jacket would have been more adorned), would have made him about the equivalent of a sergeant - maybe even master sergeant. In any event, he had a couple of commendations displayed on the wall, as well as the wooden rifle - which, he explained, was a practice bayonet that he had trained with.

He served for 4 years, the last 2 of which he was a POW in Siberia, working in waist-deep snow chopping down trees up to 4 meters thick. There was little food, and many of his fellow prisoners died. Looking at him now, it's difficult to imagine that he ever was sturdy enough to survive such strenuous work and harsh conditions. And meeting such cheerful, gentle, amiable people, it's hard to believe that they ever were The Enemy.

Yukari's mother presented Zephyr with some money wrapped in tissue paper, explaining that it was customary to give such gifts to visiting grandchildren - of which she now considered him one! She also had such packets for Keisuke and Ayaka, but Yukari insisted that they wait until they could pick these up in person. It was obviously paper inside, so we assumed that it was 1000 yen (about 10 dollars), which is the smallest bill available. But when Zephyr unwrapped it later, he discovered that she had enclosed THREE such bills - all for a "grandson" she'd just met!

We arrived back at "home" in mid-afternoon, and Yukari, with the aid of Dennis, began making rice balls to take along to a special event tonight. Rice, as you no doubt are aware, is the backbone of the Japanese diet just as wheat is the backbone of the American diet, except to an even greater extent. Indeed, the word for rice (gohan) is also used to mean meal, and the words for breakfast, lunch and dinner (asa-gohan, hiru-gohan and ban-gohan) mean literally "morning rice", "noon rice" and "evening rice". Sometimes, however, rice is replaced by noodles - either udon or ramen (made from wheat) or soba (made from buckwheat).

Anyway, rice balls are really rice triangles, unless they're made by novice hands like Dennis', in which case they're more like rice fifth-dimensional blobs. They were quite a source of amusement to Yukari, who commented that nobody would have trouble telling which ones were his. For one thing, he inserted a noticeably larger quantity of filling (either seaweed, cooked mustard greens or pickled plums). Once the ball/wedge is molded into more or less the proper form, it's partially wrapped with a thin layer of seaweed. And now you have the secret recipe!

In the course of afternoon snacking, we brought out some grapes we'd picked up on a walk to a nearby market, and it was interesting to see another food habit of our host family, if not of the Japanese in general. Namely, only the pulp of the grape was eaten; after it was extracted in the mouth, the skin was discarded.

The event for which the rice thingies were prepared was held at a nearby military base. The military outfit is called the Japan Air Self Defense Force, and our hosts explained to us (or attempted to) that Japan does not have a regular army. We wondered, then, if the JASDF is more like a reserve unit. We later realized that in fact the constitution prohibits not only a regular military (apparently due in part to pressure from the U.S. at the end of the Great War), but Article 9 states that the Japanese people have forever renounced warfare as a way of solving conflicts. Wow. In reality, the country's military status is too complicated to explain here.

Tonight the base was opening its doors for a Bon Dance, a festival held in conjunction with Obon. (Festival of the Dead) This celebration started out as a Buddhist ceremony to cheer the spirits of the departed, but nowadays much of its religious character seems to have given way to an atmosphere of merrymaking. Traditional music and dance appeared alongside more contemporary hokey-pokey type dancing to such songs as the American pop hit "Beautiful Sunday", with lyrics in both Japanese and English. The logo of the JASDF, by the way, was displayed consistently in English. The military men were dressed in sweat pants and T-shirts, and one might say that they joined the dancing, but in truth they tended to parody it and just indulge in general horsing around. Others took the occasion more seriously and wore traditional costumes - Ayaka was quite fetching in her light blue kimono, though she refused to dance. Dennis and Kimberly, however, had to jump in and learn some of the traditional dance steps. They followed behind a woman in costume who seemed to know what she was doing. After a dance or two, she complimented them on how well they danced, apparently unaware that they were just following her lead!

Day 11: Aug. 24

You know something's really afoot when Zephyr gets up at 6:00 a.m. (Tokyo time, New York time, Los Angeles time or Timbuktu time), especially without someone dousing him with cold water and dragging him out of bed by his big toe. This morning was obviously special, because he was up with the roosters, as were we all. This was THE day, as far as he was concerned, the day of our visit to what he considers the highlight of our trip: Tokyo Disney. We were on the road by 7:00, hoping to avoid the morning commute traffic.

Didn't work. We got into that quaint little burg just in time for the thick rush hour, and spent two and a half hours making a drive that should have taken about an hour. So we had time to marvel at such sights as a parasailer right by the river - a most unexpected location for such an activity - and a couple of the enormous, slow-moving Ferris wheels that seem to be quite popular here.

We pulled into the Disney parking lot at about 9:30, which means we still were early enough to put in a full day of it. Since we'd already seen plenty of the original Disneyland in Anaheim when we purchased a year's pass there about 10 years ago, we opted instead for Tokyo Disney Sea, which is celebrating its 5th anniversary. (It amazes us that many people who are planning for, or have already begun, a vacation at a Disney resort are unaware that each complex offers more than one theme park to choose from. Even Disneyland in Anaheim, which for many years stood alone, now sits next to California Adventure. Walt Disney World in Orlando has always featured 4 parks: Magic Kingdom - which is virtually identical to Disneyland; Animal Kingdom, EPCOT, and Disney MGM. Tokyo Disney now has Disney Sea in addition to Disneyland, also the same as the one in Anaheim.)

After pulling a sneaky one on our hosts by rushing up to the window and buying their tickets for them (Take that, Yukari!) we placed ourselves in the hands of our resident Disney expert, Zephyr. He herded us to the rear of the park, to a section called Lost River Delta, because early in the day, most guests are still clustered near the entrance. Thus, there should be shorter lines for the rides in the back. The main one we were interested in was "Indiana Jones", which as far as we are concerned is the most memorable attraction in Anaheim (at least now that Zephyr is past the Mickey and Minnie stage, if anyone truly does get past it).

Seeing that the wait for Indy was estimated at 30 minutes, we moseyed on next door to another ride that looked promising, a wooden roller coaster cum water dash called "Raging Spirits". The line here was 35 minutes long, so we obtained a Fast Pass (which is like making a reservation for a much faster-moving line), then went back to "Indiana Jones" to wait with the masses. The actual anticipation time seemed to be only about 20 minutes, but that could be in part because the queue was designed to be more spacious and speedier than the one in Anaheim. The ride itself was essentially the same (except in Japanese, of course) with a few minor differences. It seemed to us, for one thing, that the animatronic figure of Indy was given slightly Asian features rather than trying to make him look exactly like Harrison Ford. We all enjoyed this ride so much that we turned around and did it again while waiting on our Fast Pass to be valid.

Having had a really early start to the day, Dennis and Kimberly felt the need for a cup of tea to give them a jolt. Actually, they preferred chilled tea, considering the stifling weather, but they didn't see any after checking in several places. In fact, this was the first place they'd even seen hot tea - at a café in the nearby section called Arabian Coast. The cups were about half normal size and the tea was flavored with mint, in the Arabic fashion, of which we are not particularly fond. But it hit the spot and gave us a punch to go have some more fun.

We next used our Fast Pass for "Raging Spirits", which was not really as thrilling as we'd hoped - it really was all built around a single loop. But Toshihide considered it his favorite attraction of the day, at least until the last one.

Heading over to Mysterious Island, we next obtained a Fast Pass for "Journey to the Center of the Earth". Then we started to cool off by riding Aquatopia, which was rather like bumper cars on water, except they didn't actually bump. But as we were about to enter, we saw that the attraction was closing due to a breakdown that left dozens of people stranded in their little water cars. Well, they weren't stranded for very long; the water was drained out within minutes.

Next stop was Mermaid Lagoon, where we caught a live revue based on the movie "The Little Mermaid". We'd viewed such a production at MGM in Orlando, and were curious whether they were the same. In a word, iie (No in Japanese). This one was a performance in the round, with songs in English and dialogue in Japanese. The performers, including some rather large and elaborate puppets, were suspended on trapezes, and in fact the trapeze bar seemed to be stuck right through Ariel's tail, allowing her to spin in some pretty deft, if seemingly painful, maneuvers. All in all, it was a decidedly entertaining program.

This presentation was staged in a pavilion that included a restaurant, gift shops, carnival-type rides for tots, and a play area complete with an intermittently-spurting splashing fountain. Dennis, who's never very comfortable in hot weather, jumped into the latter to cool off by getting drenched.

It was mid-afternoon, and the snacks we'd brought had just about played out, so we started trying to round up some grub. We ended up going back to the café in Arabian Coast and having a pita sandwich filled with a sort of potato salad. Delicious, though not very filling. While we were there, we asked the servers to fill Kimberly's teacup (still with the bag in it) with more hot water. It was the type of request we make often in the States, but here it caused a great deal of puzzlement and disbelief, thanks in part to the language obstacle. We feared perhaps we'd committed a major diplomatic blunder until Yukari helped us smooth things over; so Kimberly got her hot water and her second wind after all, and all was right with the world.

Thus fortified, we were off to sample more attractions. "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" was a bit of hokey fun during which we marveled at how well they made it look as if we really were underwater. "Journey to the Center of the Earth" was a jolting atmospheric cruise, somewhat like "Indiana Jones", but with a surprise thrill at the end. In the section called Port Discovery, "Storm Rider" was a simulated flight into the heart of a storm, featuring the Disney trademark of the unpredicted occurring with delightful predictability. On to Mediterranean Harbor, where we took a ride on a Venetian gondola, complete with a volcano erupting in the background. Our hosts, who've actually been to Italy, remarked that the setup was amazingly similar to the real thing - minus the active volcano, presumably. We passed "Aquatopia" again, and saw that it had reopened, so we couldn't resist getting on in the hopes of getting a good splash. But the only person who did was Dennis, who'd finally dried out from his little adventure in Mermaid Lagoon, and now was soaked all over again.

Hopping onto the DisneySea Electric Railway, we headed over to American Waterfront, the last section we were to explore, even though it was closest to the entrance. And you'd think that with a name like American Waterfront, we would have seen a few Caucasians on the staff. But everyone we saw working here was Japanese, or at least Asian. Which doesn't necessarily sacrifice credibility; there are, after all, plenty of Asian-Americans. But the thing is, we've seen almost no Caucasians during our time in Japan - not even in Tokyo, and not even in Disney. Which is especially curious considering that it's the height of tourist season. It saddens us to think that not nearly enough people from other parts of the world are discovering this fabulous country for themselves.

What we have seen a surprising number of is women and girls dressed in kimonos. And there were several of them here today, most of them surprisingly rather young. One adorable little girl was decked in the unlikely combination of a kimono and a baseball cap. We spotted two young ladies dressed in the traditional garb and Kimberly asked them if she could take their picture. Misunderstanding, they gladly started to take the camera from her to snap her picture; but then she explained that in fact she wanted a photo of them, and they were surprised and flattered.

It was at American Waterfront that we decided it was time for dinner. It was more difficult than we expected to locate food for vegetarians, except for what some might call California cuisine (fruits and nuts). The American style restaurants had nothing but salad. But at a Japanese style place (in American Waterfront, no less) we finally found suitable dishes. And suitable food on those dishes, as well.

It was also at American Waterfront that we saw an enjoyable song and dance revue on an outdoor stage, incorporating several costumed Disney characters. But the real highlight of this section of the park - and indeed the highlight of the park itself - was an attraction that officially wasn't even open yet: "Tower of Terror". Zephyr was quite excited when he saw the looming structure with a calculatedly crumbled look to it, and guessed that it might be "Tower of Terror". He was even more delighted when he learned that indeed it was. But he was crushed to find out that it wouldn't be opening until Sept. 4. But then hope was resurrected when he recalled from his extensive (one even might say obsessive) research into theme parks that attractions often will have a "soft opening" - that is, a preview - in advance of the actual official scheduled grand opening. And upon investigation we found that (Oh joy, oh bliss) such a preview was in fact taking place today. And because so few people were aware of it, the lines were quite short in comparison to elsewhere in the park.

We've written about "Tower of Terror" in our previous accounts of our fact-finding missions to Disney MGM in Orlando; and now there's one at California Adventure as well. In those locations, the "hotel" is an Art Deco era monstrosity in which the dominant motif is the classic TV series "The Twilight Zone". In fact, the parlor in which the orientation is given, via a black-and-white film clip featuring Rod Serling, is adorned with mementoes from various episodes.

But, presumably because the public over here is not particularly familiar with "The Twilight one", the present site sports an entirely different theme. The context is a decrepit luxury hotel built by fictional hotel magnate Harrison Hightower, a Robert Ripleyesque character who supposedly traveled the world a century ago collecting all manner of souvenirs and artifacts, some of them (Shhh!!) possessing supernatural powers. Among these was a little idol called Shiriki Utundu. (In Japanese pronunciation, Shiriki is "shrieky", which is what teenage girls tend to become on this ride.) Evidently, this idol was by no means idle, and caused Hightower's mysterious disappearance - after which the property closed and fell into disrepair. Moreover, any brazen soul who dares enter the hotel even today meets a similar fate. That's where you and I come in, pilgrim.

The line into this attraction was considerably more interesting than its counterparts in the U.S., thanks to a larger assortment of curios to admire while waiting. And we discovered two "Hidden Mickeys"! (Mickies? Mickia? Mickey Mice?) The orientation, of course, was quite different, and introduced us to Shiriki, not only in the video clip, but also in the form of a statuette that disappeared before our very eyes amidst some fancy lighting effects. Even after witnessing this feat several times, we're still uncertain how it was accomplished.

And witness it several times we did. Even if every ride on "Tower of Terror" was the same, it still would be worth repeating again and again (at least for some members of our party). But it is NOT the same every time; the little gnomes that live in the attraction's computer have a wry sense of humor, and change the program a little each time. But the experience always includes a wrenching series of lifts and drops in a large "elevator car" (with seats on it?), a sudden view from the heights as the doors abruptly fly open near the top, a moment of weightless sensation, and the sheer exhilaration of feeling your liver stuck in your throat a time or two. For some folks (e.g., Kimberly, Ayaka and Keisuke) once a night is enough. Yukari refused to challenge the Hightower curse at all. But Dennis, Zephyr and Toshihide were gluttons for punishment, feeling confident that they'd saved the biggest thrill for last.

Before we knew it, the witching hour of 10:00 was upon us, Disney started closing its gates, and we had to get our carriage back to the palace before it turned into a pumpkin. As we headed to the garage, Toshihide assured us that he remembered where we parked. We soon learned that he was overconfident on that point. But he made up for it, getting us back in a brisk 45 minutes. For many of us, though, the drive was even briefer, as we were fast asleep.

Day 12: Aug. 25

Our long day at Disney is now behind us, although that doesn't stop Zephyr and Kimberly from making everyone crack up with their spot-on imitations of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck respectively. We all slept in a bit late today, except that Toshihide was, as usual up at 6:30 at least long enough to feed the yapping little Hana monster.

This morning, or at least what was left of it, Kimberly began viewing photos from yesterday on her laptop, and ended up entertaining our hosts with a "slide show" of pictures from the U.S. These included scenes from Zephyr's favorite time of year, Halloween; and since we noticed yesterday that Disney is gearing up for the occasion, we asked Yukari whether this holiday is generally celebrated in Japan. She replied no (which is not surprising, since Halloween is of Christian origin, and most Japanese are Buddhist or Shinto), but she commemorates Halloween with her students, who are learning American culture as well as the English language. We think it's a great idea to expose kids of any country to the trick-or-treat tradition, and we're sure their dentists will agree.

Today was housecleaning day, and we tried to contribute our own labors to the cause as much as we could, but it isn't easy when you're staying with folks who insist on doing everything for you. We were intrigued by the central vacuuming system installed in the house; each room has a port in the floor, to which a vacuum hose can be attached, then you just flip a central switch and the whole house functions as a vacuum cleaner. Maybe this type of apparatus is more common than we realize (After all, when was the last time we lived in a house?) but we'd never seen it before.

At lunch, we were served some vegetarian "ham", which a friend of Yukari's sent over when she learned that some American vegetarians were coming. (Yukari displayed her sense of humor by informing us it was vegetarian, and then gasping with horror and pretending it was real meat when Dennis started eating some.) Though quite good, it was rather different from comparable products we have at home, and it appears that vegetarian "meats" are not nearly as common here. We also had some more of the rice grown in the paddy next to the house; we inquired what time of year it's harvested, and were told that it would be in October. And Dennis told them, quite sincerely, that if he were ever here in October, he'd be glad to help them harvest it.

This afternoon, the kids took off to see a new movie by the son of legendary animator Hayao Miyazaki, of whom Zephyr is quite fond, and of whom we'll hear more later. This much we knew in advance, but what we didn't learn until later was that the film was "Tales of Earthsea", based on the work of noted American science fiction author Ursula LeGuin. Perhaps we'll have a chance to catch it in the States in a couple of years. In the meantime, Zephyr is one of the very few Americans to have seen it, even if he didn't exactly follow the dialogue very well.

Meanwhile, Kimberly and Dennis were escorted by Toshihide to take a peek at the local library. Since we've performed at innumerable libraries across the U.S., we were curious to see what a library in Japan would look like. The answer is that it really didn't look different from an American library. It was a rather small branch, but nonetheless the children's department had a shelf of books in English, including the entire Harry Potter series.

While we were in the building, we headed upstairs to the Kumagaya City Museum, an unpretentious little facility that nonetheless turned out to be perhaps the most engaging museum we've visited.

It displayed a full assortment of the wildlife native to the area (stuffed and mounted, alas, but that's why they call it a museum instead of a zoo), including varieties of birds we'd never seen before, even in books. There was also a wild pig, about the size of Hana monster. And most impressive of all, a fish called the Musashi Tomi-yo, which is found nowhere else in the world except in the river around this community. What makes this species so special is that it seems to think it's a bird - it builds a nest under the water.

Another sector visually related a history of the community, going back to the days when coins with holes in them were carried on a cord, and leading up to an exhibit about a prominent local author. Most noteworthy of all was a display about World War II. American forces bombed Kumagaya City the day before the war ended - upon hearing which Kimberly told Toshihide, "gomen nasai" (very sorry). This was not an atomic warhead, such as demolished Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but the photos reveal that they still wrought some pretty nasty devastation. There were also some pictures drawn by children at the time depicting their impressions of the horrors, as well as an assortment of military and general war propaganda posters. (Before we came here, we'd heard that it should be considered taboo to discuss The War with the Japanese. But they've broached the subject to us several times since we've been here. Our impression is that in fact, they want to discuss it, but are perhaps afraid that Americans don't want to.)

Later in the day, Toshihide drove us to a hotel he was familiar with to take a look at the traditional Japanese garden on the grounds. We've seen Japanese gardens before, of course, but never in Japan. As she snapped some shots of the brightly colored koi (carp) in the pond, Kimberly commented that in this place it's impossible to take a bad picture. Even with cameras as temperamental as the two we're currently stuck with.

Tonight our hosts took us out to eat - something they've been doing rather often. This time, it was because of something Zephyr had brought up. For some time now, he's been a devotee of manga, which are graphic novels (whatever you do, don't call them comic books) published in Japan. In one of these, he'd read about a dish he referred to as "Japanese pizza", which he mentioned he'd like to try. So they were taking us to try it.

Initially our target was a franchise restaurant noted for this particular concoction, officially known as okonomiyaki. When we pulled up into its parking lot, we heard a sound somewhat like church bells, followed by an announcement on a P.A. system. We were told that the announcement was to the effect that it was now 6:00, and children should go home. (This apparently was just a municipal service, as we didn't hear about this sort of thing anywhere else.)

Inside the restaurant, we inserted our shoes into wooden lockers equipped with wooden keys about the size of credit cards, only thicker - a safety precaution that seemed a bit odd considering the low crime rate in this nation. We retrieved our shoes again shortly, however, because we discovered that there was a 45-minute wait for a table.

Yukari and Toshihide were disappointed, because this evidently was their favorite place to have okonomiyaki. But after pondering for a moment in the parking lot while Zephyr and Ayaka wrestled, they came up with an alternative, an eatery that was a bit more out of the way. In driving there, Toshihide took a number of turns and false turns and convoluted turnarounds, and at one point - we swear - even contemplated driving up what appeared to be a bicycle path.

but it was all well worth the trouble. This particular restaurant was smaller, simpler, less crowded and more intimate than the first - seemingly a sort of mom and pop operation. Most important, the food was outstanding, the best meal of our entire trip. In fact, Yukari and Toshihide decided that they liked it better than the place they originally intended to take us.

"Japanese pizza" is perhaps not a very accurate appellation for what we had. It was more like Japanese pancakes, or at least pancakes aspiring to be omlets. In any case, it was a grilled entrée made from batter, an egg, some vegetables (some of which we couldn't identify) shredded cheese on top (the first cheese we've seen served in a meal here, except for the grilled cheese sandwiches Yukari made for us one day) and a dark sauce. It was the first meal, excluding some of our breakfasts, which didn't include either rice or noodles.

What made the dinner especially memorable was that we were able to cook it ourselves, on an electric grill built into the center of the table. Our hosts decided not to cook their own, but ordered it fully prepared - perhaps the fact that theirs had meat in it made self-cooking a bit more of a hassle. In any case, we enjoyed the opportunity to stir up the little bowl of batter, oil the grill, pour on the batter and watch it burn. By the time we'd made three attempts (one serving for each of us, although each one was nearly enough for all of us) we were pros.

When we got back home, Zephyr and Keisuke walked to the video store and rented a couple of films, apparently not satisfied to watch just one a day. They stayed up until the wee hours watching them, including "Saw", which is one of Zephyr's favorite horror flicks. He'd already seen it several times, but never with Japanese subtitles before. Keisuke loved it too, although he's rather squeamish about such things.

Day 13: Aug. 26

This morning at breakfast we had nashi, or Japanese pears, which actually had the taste and texture of a pear masquerading as a jicama. We'd had something similar in the States, although never this good.

Once again we all piled into the van and headed out for a field trip. When we stopped for gas, it was hard not to notice some of the features that this station (and presumably many others in Japan) offers that you generally won't find in the back home. For one thing, there were cheerful uniformed attendants on hand to provide any required assistance, including rags. This sort of thing vanished in the U.S. during the late Pleistocene epoch. Then there were the rectangles painted on the pavement next to the pumps, indicating where you should park so that the hose could reach your tank conveniently. (This only works, of course, in a country where all the vehicles are approximately the same size.) Each pump contained a static discharger that you could touch to eliminate any hazardous buildup of electricity, as well as a holder to keep your gas cap in plain sight so you wouldn't drive away and forget it - which heaven knows, nobody we know of has ever done.

The most interesting feature of all was a video display depicting reels of a slot machine. When a customer buys gas, he or she can spin the reels for a chance to win a discount on the purchase. Dennis was awarded the honor of spinning the reels, and he came up with three bars, resulting in a discount of three yen per liter. Hey, glad to be of service.

On this drive, we saw something that we haven't seen here before: a reckless driver, weaving in and out of traffic lanes at intervals too close for comfort. One sees that kind of thing in the U.S. every day, of course; and while it can be annoying, we just accept it as normal. But the reaction to this motorist seemed to be not only that he was annoying, but that he was embarrassing, and even a national disgrace.

Today's first adventure was at a place referred to as the Mountain of the Five Hundred Buddhas. When we pulled into the parking lot, we heard an announcement on a speaker that a 75-year-old woman was missing in this vicinity. It made us wonder what kind of wilderness maze we were about to plunge into. But while there were indeed plenty of wooded hiking trails to meander off on, the one we were to take was pretty straightforward (if one can apply that word to any path that zigzags so frenetically) right up the side of the hill.

At the base was an old temple left unmanned (unpersoned?) so that tourists could wander in and examine it for themselves, and purchase little talismans and souvenirs on the honor system. Nearby,the ubiquitous soda machine sat near one of the ancient statues, a stark contrast between the ancient and the ultramodern. Inspired by this contrast, the equally ubiquitous Goza Family posed for the camera while doing their best to blend in with stone holy men.

Up the hill we trekked, passing hundreds of watchful little buddhas of every imaginable flavor: sitting buddhas, standing buddhas, crouching buddhas, broken buddhas, weathered buddhas, somber buddhas, merry buddhas, wistful and enigmatic buddhas, buddhas that seemed to evoke the old "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil" pose, buddhas adorned with red headgear and bandanas that obviously are a recent addition, since the little fellers themselves have been stationed here for centuries.

Most members of our party, however, never had the opportunity to do a head count on this battalion of stone sentinels, because they were driven away by a welcoming committee of mosquitoes quite happy to have something to sink their schnozzes into besides sculpture. While everyone else retreated to the parking lot, only Dennis and Toshihide were stalwart enough to carry on all the way to the forbidding summit, braving angry and hungry hordes of bloodsucking varmints. Once at the top, they'd earned the privilege of viewing the remains of an ancient temple, with an added marker wishing peace to the world's peoples in different languages - Dennis even managed to snap some decent pictures despite his uncooperative camera and what Kimberly regards as his general state of photo-impairment. They'd also earned the privilege of scurrying back down the hill through the cloud of mosquitoes again.

Next on the itinerary was Hyakyuana, which means "100 Caves". It's a pretty accurate description, except that there are far more than 100 of them, and they're not really caves. There are, to be more or less accurate, 216 of them. And what they really are is tombs, little burial enclaves dug into the side of a very steep hill.

Most of them are rather snug, but some are roomy enough to be the summer home of a hobbit. We entered one of these, and were astounded by its acoustic properties. When we spoke, the sound reverberated off the domed interior with a palpable intensity, a series of increasingly overlapping harmonics that seemed about to bore a hole in the ceiling. We don't know if this sonic sorcery was deliberate, but the effect certainly was wasted on the intended occupants.

Likewise the rare form of vegetation called hiyaki goke, or "shining moss", which we spotted inside a couple of the "caves" at the bottom of the hill. It really does shine, i.e., glow in the dark.

The only way to the top of the hill is a rather arduous staircase of modern vintage; which leaves us wondering, exactly how did the old-timers make their way up here with corpses and how did they go about hacking out these neat holes? And up at the top there was - would you believe - one of those inescapable soda machines. We don't envy the guys who had to haul it up here. In fact, we don't envy the people who have to refill it periodically.

Speaking of soda, we popped into the gift shop near the entrance to the attraction and purchased a type of soft drink that Yukari's been urging us to try. It's a refreshing beverage with hints of lemon and lime, a little like 7Up or Sprite but not nearly as sweet and heavy. (Even so, Kimberly and Dennis split one, neither having much of a sweet tooth.) It was just the thing to wash down a treat we also bought, a type of slightly sweet bean cake coated with some kind of powdery substance. What makes the beverage really fun is the container, a clear bottle with a vaguely totemic shape, looking almost as if it's trying to form a face. The cap is plastic, and it's opened by a complex procedure that we had to have performed by the salesperson, who punched some kind of attached peg into it. The bottle is divided by a partial partition into lower and upper segments, and the latter contains (don't ask us why) a clear marble. It may sound like a choking hazard, but a plastic ring secured around the rim keeps it from popping out and into your throat. Once the drink is drunk, you can, with a bit of effort, rip off the ring to remove the marble, and then you can choke on it if you really want to.

Also next to the entrance was a little museum exhibiting artifacts from the age of the samurai, who were ensconced in these hillside tombs. In a side room, youngsters and not-so-youngsters are able to dress up in full samurai gear for a photo op. It seemed too good to pass up, but we ultimately passed it up anyway, because several kids were in line for the makeover, and the wait would have been at least half an hour. We just didn't want to impose on our hosts to this extent - especially since Yukari was waiting out in the van. (Cultural note: when the Japanese ask if you want to do something and you don't really want to inconvenience them, do not say, "That's all right." While we interpret this as no thank you, they interpret it as affirmative.)

Once we were back at home, Toshihide insisted on walking Dennis down to the Pachinko parlor a couple of blocks away to show him how the game is played. Although he enjoys engaging in the pastime elsewhere, he insisted that he wasn't fond of this particular location. This, however, did not prevent him from staying there long enough to feed a 1000 yen bill through the machines 3 times. He was particularly drawn to one with an Indiana Jones motif that played the "Raiders of the Lost Ark" march every time a player managed to shoot one of the tiny steel balls into the impossibly tinier hole - which Toshihide actually did rather skillfully, though not quite skillfully enough to come out ahead. The conclusion that Dennis drew from the whole experience was that if you enjoy throwing away money, being bombarded with noise and bathing in cigarette smoke, then Pachinko is definitely your thing.

Our dinner tonight included a bowlful of what appeared to be small potatoes, but turned out to be taro root, which we'd never had before. For our vegetables, we were provided with a special kind of sauce, a type of soy sauce with vinegar, as we understand it. Kimberly elicited acute panic from our hosts when she started to pour some of it on her rice, which apparently would have been a major faux pas if not a cause for being banished into exile. We were so amused by the reaction that Dennis teased them by pretending he was about to dump a dollop of it on his own rice, while laughing demonically. (Actually, he'd already done so earlier when they weren't looking. It was in fact delicious, and he still hasn't been struck by a lightning bolt. Shhh!!) Fortunately, they had a sense of humor about the whole thing - as Yukari did when we pointed out the problem with her statement that "Food is on the table, so please eat yourself." (Heaven knows how many times they've refrained from guffawing at one of our awkward attempts to speak Japanese.)

After dark, we went outside and lit some sparklers, just because they were there. And then we went back inside to play Apples to Apples, which is one of our favorite games. We try it out on everybody we meet, and almost everyone loves it, regardless of age, income, gender or political persuasion. One of the gifts we brought over for our Japanese family was their very own Apples to Apples set, which we figured would be an asset to their study of English. (We gave them the Junior edition, which uses a simpler vocabulary and more common references than the Adult version.) They seemed to enjoy it too, once they got the hang of it; and as always, the game produced moments of utter hilarity. We're not being paid to promote Apples to Apples, but maybe we should be.

Day 14: Aug. 27

And now back, as promised, to Hayao Miyazaki. This was our day to tour the Ghibli Museum, dedicated to Miyazaki's animation studio, Studio Ghibli. Since there is no parking available at the museum in the Tokyo suburb of Mitaka, it's necessary to go by public transit, tour bus, bicycle, motorcycle or pogo stick. We considered the tour bus to be the most practical and pleasant option. In fact, Yukari already bought tickets for all of us in advance, and when we asked her how much they were so we could reimburse her, she smiled defiantly and said, "You should have been here." Guess she's trying to get even with us for Disney.

Accompanied by Yukari, Ayaka and Keisuke, we headed into downtown Kumagaya City on this sleepy Sunday morning and caught our bus for the long ride into Tokyo. Zephyr and Ayaka stopped pestering each other long enough to share a seat, and both even fell asleep in a charming pose that we couldn't resist photographing to blackmail him with later.

About halfway through the ride, we took a bathroom and refreshment break at one of the rest stops along the tollway. Dennis was in the mood for some coffee, which he had yet to drink in Japan; but because of his hypersensitivity to caffeine, he restricts himself to the decaffeinated variety. At a coffee stand in the rest stop he tried inquiring if they had any decaf, but was getting nowhere - he didn't know the Japanese word for decaf, but figured it must be similar to English, just as "kohi" is similar to coffee. Along came Yukari to the rescue, and informed him that in fact, there is no decaf anywhere in Japan! And yet the people are fairly heavy coffee drinkers and cola drinkers, and extremely heavy tea drinkers. With this much stimulant being pumped into their systems, how on earth do they manage to stay so mellow?

En route to Tokyo, we passed by quite a number of baseball fields, all in full swing, as it were. Baseball ("yakyu") is an extremely popular activity in Japan. Not only do people love watching the professional teams play, but many also play on amateur teams, wearing uniforms modeled after those in the major leagues, including English lettering. And Sunday morning seems to be prime time for these games.

The bus tour was in two parts; Ghibli would come later in the afternoon, but first we all were let loose at a shopping center in Tokyo, down by the waterfront. We had a view of a variety of vessels passing by, ranging from what appeared to be a spaceship/submarine to one that looked like an ancient junk. And we could see one of those gigantic Ferris wheels and the landmark Rainbow Bridge - which, we learned, earned its moniker not from any pigmentation in the concrete, but from the colored lighting that illuminates the structure at night after absorbing energy from the sun in the daytime. Also not far away was Tokyo Tower. Been there, done that.

As soon as we were off the bus, we descended upon a Chinese restaurant for an all-you-can-eat lunch buffet included in the price of the tour. (For an additional fee, one could partake of an all-you-can-drink liquor bar as well, but we didn't see anyone taking advantage of that this early in the day.) We managed to round up enough vegetarian items (many of which featured eggs in one form or another), which weren't too shabby, to fill our tummies.

Then we were all free to do a mall crawl on our own, for over 2 hours. This, we all agreed, was entirely too long. We were eager to get on to Ghibli, and none of us is a professional shopper (well, except maybe for Keisuke). We figured it was all a pretty shrewd move by the tour company: they cut a deal with the restaurant and the shops to bring in fresh bodies; kiddies put up with their mothers shopping for a while because they know the mommies will be more contented taking them to Ghibli later.

In any case, even though we were malled too heavily, there were plenty of interesting shops to browse through, including one that specialized in those wonderful old tin robots and rockets and futuristic cars. There was also a whole gamut of sweets and treats, including every kind of mochi this side of the Milky Way. So we didn't mind spending some time prospecting, especially since time was running short to complete our gift shopping for folks back home. (We didn't have much success here, but it was an educational expedition anyway.) Oh yes, and we mustn't forget those "designer" hermit crabs for sale with brightly painted shells, happily munching away on popcorn.

The clothing stores were a bit pricey, but Kimberly was compelled to scour them anyway, after she discovered a hole in her pants. The tags on most of the prospects she examined were steep enough to encourage her to just keep on wearing Ayaka's sweater tied around her waist instead. But she did manage to find one pair of suitable brown trousers on sale for only 1000 yen (10 bucks) so she snapped them up and snapped them on. We now call them her japants.

Speaking of clothing, we've been searching in vain, everywhere we go, for T-shirts and/or caps with Japanese writing on them. But they seem to be nowhere in captivity. It's very trendy here to wear clothes with English lettering and wording, but the words don't always form a coherent sentence. There are stories about Americans getting tattoos (which, by the way, you rarely see over here, as they're quite frowned upon) of Chinese or Japanese characters, and then learning that the meaning is radically and embarrassingly different from what they'd thought. We haven't seen anything that drastic, but there have been a few messages to make us give a double take. One such T-shirt, witnessed at Disney, proclaimed; "It is surely possible. Let's spend it all. We live in space." Which is either patent nonsense, or utterly profound. But the one we spotted today was even better yet: "Spiral and Girl. New Imagine Create. Splash out a season's subscription to your face, and each month you'll get."

Likewise, the merchandise you'll see promoting sports teams is far more likely to "sport" the logo of an American club than a local one. Kimberly has been searching for a souvenir for a friend who's a baseball nut - specifically, he requested something touting the Yomiuri Giants. And you'd think, given the reverence the Japanese have for that particular organization, that a cornucopia of such items would be found in sporting goods and souvenir shops such as the ones here. But nope. She might as well have been searching for hen's teeth.

Zephyr took advantage of our extended layover to patronize Joypolis, a fabled indoor video "amusement park". His parents, however, would have found a monkey more entertaining. Come to think of it, they did. Just outside on a walkway was a young street performer with a very well trained monkey who enthralled the crowds with all kinds of fantastic tricks, including making some very difficult hoop jumps. (It was the monkey who did this, not the young man.) They brought laughter and enthusiastic applause from even the most staid of onlookers.

At last, we were ready to move on to Ghibli, and admire the legacy of Hayao Miyazaki and company. Miyazaki is often thought of as the Japanese Walt Disney, and indeed Disney has marketed English-dubbed editions of some of his works. The results, however, have not been consistently favorable; we heartily enjoyed the original "Tenku no Shiro Rapyuta" (or "Laputa"), which we viewed with English subtitles, but we hear that its Disney incarnation, "Castle in the Sky", never got off the ground. Ghibli is reported to be less than enchanted with some such makeovers, and accordingly has demanded a policy of stricter adherence to the originals. The rumor goes that in dispatching one of his creations to the U.S. for dubbing, Miyazaki enclosed a note reminding "no cuts" - and emphasized the point by attaching it to a samurai sword!

When we arrived at Ghibli Museum, the first thing that caught our eye was the towering cyclopean steel robot, like the ones appearing in "Laputa", standing guard over the premises. Up front, by the entrance window, visitors are greeted by a furrier and less foreboding presence: Totoro, the 6-foot Harvey/teddy bearish star of "My Neighbor Totoro".

Inside the building is one of the most creatively laid-out museums we've ever encountered, built upon the theme "Let's lose our way together", and it certainly is a fun place to get lost in. There's not a plain, straight or barren wall in the place; but the architecture, like the content, is flowing, organic, convoluted, natural and wonder-invoking. It's not really a maze, but there is a hint of a labyrinth in its spatial orientation - or disorientation. There are spiral staircases, a small bridge curiously arching over the main floor, and unexpected nooks and crannies into which unexpected treasures have been tucked.

These included a mock-up of an animator's studio (and a rather old-fashioned one at that); a depiction of the steps involved in animating a film; demonstrations of the principles of animation via a strobe diorama and an elaborate zoetrope; and a temporary exhibit of claymation figures used in "Wallace and Gromit".

There was also a theatre for screening animation shorts (about 15 minutes long), decked out in the motifs of nature; the ceiling was a rotunda with the sun painted on it, and when the lights dim, the moon appears. The short we saw was "Monmon the Water Spider", a cute little love story - with no dialogue, yet - involving a water spider and a flying creature (mosquito?) who apparently were supposed to be an odd couple, though not as odd as Michael and Lisa Marie. Admission to the film was included in admission to the museum (there are three shorts screened daily, but each visit only entitles you to see one) and the ticket to the theatre contained a celluloid strip with a few frames of animation on it. Each person receives a different set of images, so you can compare yours to your neighbors' while you wait in line.

We also just had to spend some time browsing in the gift shop, even though it was elbow-to-rib with people. We managed to pick up another gift or two, and Dennis couldn't force himself to exit without buying a CD of soundtrack music from "Tales of Earthsea". It was playing when we entered the shop, and he immediately fell in love with it, as he generally does with Ghibli music. Most of the Miyazaki features are scored by Mamoru Fujisawa, better known as Joe Hisaishi, a pseudonym derived from the Japanese transcription of Quincy Jones, the American composer/arranger whom he admires. Hisaishi has an extraordinary gift for poignant, lyrical, hummable melodies - which, especially when played by the Tokyo Symphony (surely one of the most expressive orchestras ever to follow a baton), results in some of the most haunting soundtracks ever to be ignored by the majority of filmgoers. "Laputa" especially is one of our favorites.

The "Earthsea" score was not composed by Hisaishi, but it sounds very much like his style. We knew what it was, because footage from the film was being shown along with it, on a screen on the wall. But three albums were displayed beside the screen, and although we thought we knew which one we should select, we weren't sure, since none of them had English on the cover. So Dennis carried what he figured was the right one to the register and asked "Eigo hanashimasu ka?" ("Do you speak English?") He was referred to a young man who replied "Little bit". (His "little bit", however, seemed to be a little bit more than the "little bit" of Japanese that we speak.) So then Dennis asked, "I want to know, is this movie soundtrack?" The young man responded in the affirmative, so he shelled out his hard-earned yen, and the bustling store spat him back out.

Once we'd seen the inside of the building, we went to the roof, to stroll through the little sculpture garden, and attempt to obtain a photo of all of us coddling the giant robot - whose eyes themselves look like lenses of a camera. But even though the woman to whom we handed our camera was quite patient, she was unable to coax a single pixel out of our cantankerous new camera.

After hurriedly buying some snacks at a quick shop across the street for our long ride home, we all boarded the bus and settled in to hear the same woman who'd yapped all the way out here (she was supposed to be having a conversation, but it turned out to be a monologue) resume where she left off. Keisuke passed the time by playing with his cell phone, and we were amazed to learn that he could enter kanji into it. Not just the phonetic writing systems of katakana or hiragana, but kanji, which consists of the complex ideograms borrowed from the Chinese. How do they do that?

Day 15: Aug. 28

Okay, we know. This is the 14th day of our trip, and also a Monday; so technically, we should be starting another week, right? Aha, gotcha! If you'll look back to Day 1 and Day 2, you'll see that for all practical purposes, they were the same day. And since we arrived on a Tuesday, then today, Monday, is the last day of our second week in Japan. So there.

However you label it, today was a day when we were treated to a rare opportunity for cultural enrichment that we had hoped for but hadn't banked on. We'd expressed an interest in witnessing a traditional Japanese tea ceremony. Well, it turns out that Yukari knows a woman who is versed in this exacting ritual, and she came to this very house on this very day, our last full day in Japan, to give us a demonstration. In fact, it was more than a demonstration; it was also a private lesson, as we shall see.

She arrived carrying a slender wooden case full of her paraphernalia, including the bowls the tea was to be served in, some of which can be quite expensive. The little urn that holds the tea (as well as the embroidered bag that holds the urn) also can be quite elaborate, and quite costly - we were told that some of these containers can cost as much as a new car!

She wore a blue kimono, and produced a similar garment that Kimberly could put on, which she did. (Ayaka, who as we already know is quite striking in a kimono herself, told her, "You look beautiful.") Kimberly's not exactly a stranger to blue kimonos; in high school, she and her best friend decided for some reason they were going to wear kimonos to their prom, and hers was rather similar to this one. And three years later, she resurrected it to use as a costume piece when Dennis cast her in his first play. Still, she doesn't wear this particular attire every day, so it was a bit awkward for her to get up and down. Dennis stood by with the camera whenever possible and tried his best to capture a candid shot of her stumbling, but she wasn't entirely cooperative in that regard.

Before we partook of our tea, we'd already been served some particularly exquisite mochi to wash down with the beverage. And we'd taken our positions kneeling on suitable cushions for the occasion - in our case, we knelt on genuine authentic antique Nipponese Mickey Mouse cushions.

The tea used in the ceremony was a special type of green tea, known as matcha, that is darker than regular green tea and ground into a powder. It's scooped sparingly into the bowl into which a dash of hot water is ladled, and then stirred with a special bamboo whisk. All of this, of course, is enacted with strictly prescribed motions, procedures and tools. The tea is served in individual bowls, although traditionally it was more common for everyone to use the same bowl. These vessels are unique works of art, and some of them are designed to be used only at specified times of the year.

Each bowl in turn was placed to the right of the recipient on the far right, with an exchange of low bows. In like manner, this participant would pass bowls to each of the other participants. The side of the bowl with the artwork was turned toward us, but after we'd had an opportunity to appreciate it, we respected it by turning it away from us to sip from the plain side of the bowl instead. We held the vessel with our right hand cupped underneath and our left hand curved around the side.

There is, indeed, a specific manner of doing EVERYTHING associated with a tea ceremony (although the details will vary depending upon which school of tea ceremony you're talking about), down to how the dishes are rinsed and wiped, and how the dirty water is carried out - it's the only time the server ever turns her back on her guests, but the backside apparently is considered less gauche than the bowl of soiled water. There is even a prescribed number of steps, a specified foot to start them on, and a number of times to turn around and in which direction.

Very well, so after we'd savored our tea and mochi and the webwork of ritual in which they were presented, we were all done, right? Not quite. It looked as if our server was about to pack up her goods and exit, but if so, she changed her mind. Maybe she intended to go on to the next phase already; maybe she was just pleased with the little gift of appreciation we presented her with; maybe she noticed that our interest level was higher than she'd anticipated; maybe she just liked the way Kimberly looked in her kimono. But in any case, she announced that she would now give Kimu-san her own private class in conducting a tea ceremony.

And so, as Toshihide, Keisuke and Ayaka took their places on the authentic traditional Mickey Mouse cushions, Dennis and Yukari aimed their cameras and assumed their posts as chroniclers of history in the making - Kimu-san earning her wings as a provider of ceremonial tea. Although her teacher didn't utter a syllable of English, she was able to communicate through gesture and movement, as well as her protégé's knowledge of Japanese, resorting only occasionally to the aid of an interpreter. For Kimu-san, this was the most memorable experience of the entire trip.

This afternoon was our last chance to attempt returning the camera, which has made us less than ecstatic, to the department store from whence it came. So we all went back there, and our translators patiently explained the nightmares we were having with it, and discussed the situation with a manager for at least 15 minutes. And then they gave us the Cliff's Notes version of his response: that's just the way these cameras are - they do gobble batteries rapidly, so you should use rechargeables, which they'd be happy to sell us; and as for its failure to function at times, he couldn't tell us anything because it's functioning fine at the moment. That was all that came out of the lengthy discussion, and we felt like Bill Murray in "Lost in Translation". But when he saw our disgruntlement, he did present us with a free case so we'd have something to hide it in when we got too frustrated to look at it. (Note; after we returned to the States, Kimberly's aunt in Oregon bought the camera from us and even paid more than we asked for, and almost as much as we paid. So far as we know, she hasn't yet thrown it under a train.)

While we were out, we also did some more gift shopping, and we couldn't pass up some purple soft-serve ice cream we saw at a snack bar in one of the stores. Turned out to be grape flavored, apparently a more popular flavor here than at home.

This evening, Toshihide took us to a shaolin class in a large gym. He used to take shaolin himself, and so did Dennis, although it was a very different species. This was a class for kids (ages about 6 to 12, it appeared), but after Toshihide spoke to the sensei (teacher), we were invited to join in the group exercises and try to keep up as best we dared. So for the next half hour or so, we stretched, kicked, punched, blocked and pretzeled with the best of them. Kimberly and Toshihide were feeling it in their bones before it was over, and knew they'd be sore tomorrow; but Dennis, who does yoga and other exercises on a daily basis, was having no problems except for his ingrained habit of mirroring the sensei (i.e., doing the exercise on the left side when teacher is doing right side and vice versa) rather than reversing the image so as to be doing the same side, thereby almost getting accidentally smacked by someone doing it correctly.

During the second phase of the class, the students executed (oops, we won't use that word, since it was more playful than deadly) or rather performed drills with partners and small groups, so we sat it out. We were quite impressed by how well these youngsters performed these disciplined maneuvers, especially one little girl who seemed to be among the youngest of the lot.

The final third (or so) was taken up by chanting. The sensei sat on the stage and the students sat cross-legged on the gym floor. He would recite passages - apparently from the significant scrolls displayed before him - and they in turn would intone responses in unison. If they were going through their credo, it was a very detailed one indeed.

At the conclusion, an assistant instructor walked through the ranks carrying a wooden staff, with which he gauged the uprightness of the sitting students. Once satisfied, he stepped aside to a spot out of their line of vision and suddenly whacked the staff against the floor quite audibly to see if any of them flinched. None did.

Back at home, we were forced to start the thing we'd been dreading for several days now: packing and preparing for tomorrow's return flight. This included, as usual, working out the schedule for everyone in the house to get a shower. We quickly discovered when we came here that our hosts, like us (and unlike most Americans) prefer to shower in the evening rather than the morning; and legendry Japanese politeness requires making certain your guests have had the opportunity to bathe before doing so yourself. So we've learned to shower earlier than we normally would so that nobody would stay up until the wee hours waiting for us to finish. It isn't a chore to do so, since the showers here are rather fun; they're situated in a room as big as the average American bathroom, but the toilet is separate. One side of the room features a large tub, and the entire remainder of the room is the shower. It's customary to clean off in the shower, and then use the tub just to soak in afterward. But we never used it, because our showers took up quite enough time.

In the course of packing, we discovered that we just didn't have enough room in our luggage for everything we were taking back, despite having unloaded quite a few gifts here, and despite the careful planning and organizing by official resident non-testosterone Libra Kimberly. So, at about 8:30 we found ourselves scrambling to get to a sporting goods store before it closed in search of a small (and cheap) travel bag. At first, we only saw gym bags at around 100 bucks, and really a little larger than we needed. But just when we were about to reign ourselves to carrying a bundle on a stick, we found one just about the right size for less than 20 dollars.

Day 16: Aug. 29

And so, we come at last to the end. We know, we know. This is the 16th day, and it's Tuesday, so there's no way we can be justified in calling it a part of Week Two. But it's our last day of the trip, and pretty much all we did today was go home. And we don't feel justified in starting a third week just for that. So cut us some slack, huh?

As soon as we were up, we finished our packing and then had breakfast. While eating, we discussed our next trip here, which at this point is only theoretical, but which we certainly hope will come to pass. And we talked about their next trip to the U.S., which could be as early as March. They said they'd even like to rent an RV and follow us around for a while. We say that sounds just "sugoi". Toshihide also asked if he should reveal the solution to the matchstick puzzle that's been puzzling Dennis for several days - he solved the first one within minutes, but the second one has him stumped so far. Dennis promised, however, that he'd conquer it soon, and report on the solution the next time we see them.

Before we left, we all decided to pose for one more group portrait. But it turned out to be not so cheery. In fact, everyone looked pretty somber.

Oh, and Yukari presented us with some farewell gifts, including some T-shirts with Japanese writing on them. (Did she fly to San Francisco overnight to pick them up?) Doesn't she know that it's the guests who are supposed to give the presents? Does the generosity never cease?

Then we said our goodbyes to Hana monster and headed on out toward Tokyo, marveling at a fuschia-colored dumptruck we passed. Before long, Ayaka began her customary chant of "Shee-dee, shee-dee" until her dad put one of her CDs in the player. (It happens on every drive we take.) For the most part, we're not overly fond of the music she listens to, but we've introduced her and Keisuke to the American band Green Day, whom they seem to like. Zephyr also has taught her some nifty, indispensable American phrases like "Shut up" and "Me first!" (Fortunately her parents realize it's just kidding.)

At the airport, we had to go a through a security checkpoint before entering the parking structure, a measure we don't recall seeing at an American airport, but then we fly about as often as we cook lentils. Despite the language hurdles, check-in went pretty much as smoothly as it had in San Francisco, except that one of our bags was singled out for manual inspection. It was the one into which our gifts were stuffed; the inspector handled them gingerly, and seemed appreciative of our taste.

Speaking of gifts, we had plenty of time to do some browsing through the airport shops to fill in the remaining gaps. It was a surprisingly good place to browse; Narita has a better choice of merchandise than just about any airport we've ever been in. There was even an ample selection of clothing with the native language emblazoned on it. (So this is where you find these!!)

All too soon , it was time to take our bittersweet leave of our wonderful host family and head down to the boarding gate. And by the way, no matter what you may have seen in the movies, you NEVER want to say "sayonara" to a Japanese friend. That grim word is a final farewell reserved only for someone you never expect to cross paths with again. Otherwise, use an expression like "mata ne", or more informally "ja ne", both equivalent to "see you again". The only time we heard the s-word, it came from the agent who checked our passports here at Narita. And we hate to break the news to him, but it's just possible he hasn't seen the last of us.

In Japanese society, open displays of affection are uncommon. You rarely see anyone hugging or kissing or even holding hands in public. But our Japanese "relatives" risked embarrassment enough to indulge in a "group hug" with us in the middle of the busy airport. Yukari, who's had quite a bit of Westernism rub off on her, gave us individual embraces. And Ayaka, who hasn't yet absorbed the requisite social taboos, offered each of us a hearty, tearful bear hug. Then we were off, turning occasionally to wave to them one more time as they stood watching until we were out of sight.

We still had a lengthy wait down at the boarding gate, so Kimu-san had enough time to crank up her laptop and get some work done. And another first: we saw the cleaning crew scurry onto our aircraft to ready it for our imminent regal occupancy.

After we were aboard, we experienced our only delay and only inconvenience - though really quite minor - of the entire trip. As we were on the runway about to push the ground away from us, a flight attendant came scurrying up the aisle and yelled "Sir, you need to sit down. We're taking off!" And then he grabbed a phone linking him to the cockpit. A short time later, the captain announced that we would be returning to the terminal to "evacuate" a passenger. Then he commented to the effect that "When you've been doing this as long as I have, unfortunately you encounter people occasionally who don't want to play by the rules." We never saw the individual in question, nor did we ever witness the undesirable behavior. But we heard later that he was intoxicated or worse, and had been giving the attendants trouble previously. It was perhaps just as well that he was taken off before takeoff.

Thus, after about an hour's delay (which really didn't seem that long) we once again zoomed along our northerly arc across the Pacific. Once again, we had a pleasant flight (except maybe for those of us who think flight is a demonic aberration, but he slept half the way again), although a bit bumpier this time. Zephyr again overdosed on heavily edited movies, and we again passed up the option to play video games or do "airobics" in our seats as directed by an instructional video. This time, however, we had vegetarian meals waiting for us, thanks to arrangements made by our travel agent whom we'd emailed, and they really weren't bad.

It was Tuesday afternoon when we left Tokyo, and thanks to the cloud of magic fairy dust we flew through, it was Tuesday morning when we touched down in San Francisco. Thus concluded the first honest-to-Pete vacation we'd ever taken. Oh sure, we've traveled to oodles of interesting places and done gobs of interesting things. But it was always in the line of duty. This time, notwithstanding the little performance we really gave just for fun and our journal to share our experiences with others, it was really just a pleasure trip that was looooong overdue. We've had two weeks of being treated like royalty, and of having "the ears of our ears opened and the eyes of our eyes awake". Two weeks of no phone calls, no mail, no bills, no graffiti, and not a single "W'04" sticker. And much to our relief, none of us got sick. It was, in sum, a perfect trip that far exceeded our expectations.

As we hopped on BART to head back to the East Bay (Dennis again misplaced his ticket for a moment, but this time didn't have to jet halfway around the world to find it) we reflected on our adventure, realizing it might take us another couple of weeks or so to fully return from Japan and settle back into our "normal" lifestyle. We also realized that this voyage had spoiled us, and we'd no longer be satisfied with just roaming the fruited plain from sea to shining sea. Look out, world: the Gozas have found you out, and they're coming after you.

But for the time being, we were content with the short train ride to San Leandro, where we found our RV just as we'd left it and collapsed onto our beds for a well-earned nap.