Monthly Archives: October 2013

Today we traveled from Kyoto to Osaka. A short train ride, and only for one night before flying north tomorrow to Hokkaido and the Japanese version of our Pacific Northwest.

Kyoto was fantastic, and while we would have loved to stay longer, it was time to go. Perhaps we’re a little temple-d out. Every day we saw a new and impressive 500 year-old shrine or temple, but after a while, they sort-of start to look the same. Like the Grand Canyon – “wow, this is incredible…will you look at that…I’ll be damned…okay, let’s go.” And it’s also unseasonably hot in Japan for this time of year, and with all humidity and the climbing of lengthy paths and unending stairs at the sites, it’s been a somewhat sweaty affair.

But the one thing more incredible than the temples, and of course, the food (like “takotamago” – a small octopus with a quail egg shoved in its head), was the people. Everywhere we went in Kyoto, we met the nicest folks.

Take our first night. We went to a local izakaya and sat at the counter. Within minutes, we struck up a conversation with the two older gentlemen next to us. They asked about us, and where we were from, how we got to Kyoto, our general impressions. They introduced themselves – Nobuhiro and Yosiyoshi – and bought us drinks.

And throughout, they apologized that their English was bad. Like our Japanese even existed! We traded several rounds of sake, and at one point, Yosiyoshi said he was thankful to meet us, and thankful for the American people. And then he handed us this:

I have to say, I was stunned and not sure how to respond. Here I was, a guest in his country, not speaking his language, on the receiving end of his hospitality, and he thanked our country for the prosperity of his. We told him we were grateful for our friendship, on both a national and personal level. More handshakes. More drinks. More laughs.

Several nights later, after a great okonomiyaki dinner, we explored a dark, narrow alley with the sounds of tinkling glasses and singing emerging.

Here we stumbled on a row of small restaurant counters, and summoned the courage to go into one of them, finding a group of well-oiled salarymen enjoying shochu and karaoke. Almost immediately, they greeted us, asked our names, and where we were from. And then – mayhem. I was asked to sing a song. For some reason, they wanted to hear the Carpenters. I willingly obliged, and was rewarded with the first of many shochus.

We became fast friends, made faster by the lubricating effects of the drinks, and perhaps Michael Jackson’s “Beat It.” More shochu, more singing, and then one of the junior salarymen handed me his smartphone:

Yes, it was. The best day we had in Kyoto.

Last night, we celebrated our final night in Kyoto with a nightcap in a small non-descript bar, one of many in the Pontocho-dori area. The women behind the bar were welcoming, and again, asked where we were from, what our story was. An older gentleman and his wife offered travel advice and asked about New York. And just before last call, an unassuming young guy who had sat quietly in the corner got up, moved over, and sat next to us. He pulled out a book of illustrated postcards he had drawn, and in very broken English asked us to take a look. We looked through the two dozen or so postcards, each with explanations about his interests and travels. Then he asked us to pick one that we liked. Here’s the sales pitch, I thought. I said they were all very nice, and thank you for showing us (but no thank you). He went on to explain – his English wasn’t very good, he said, but pick one we liked. He wanted to draw one for us as a gift. And so he did.

He even had a cool little car that picked up his eraser bits.

And that’s how we met “John” Shimaneko, and got this very cool hand-drawn illustration.

We’ll miss Kyoto. We’ll miss the food, the nightlife, the bike rental, the temples – the heat, not so much – but most of all, we’ll miss the people. Like Shimaneko’s cat, it’s time to fly…

Although this was the number 3 choice among our voters, it was the top request from the Japanese who actually requested that John sing this particular song…

Coming in second in a very close race, Michael Jackson!  Also quite popular with our new friends in Kyoto despite John being unable to hit the high notes…

And the winner…our new favorite Japanese tune entitled “Don Don” (or at least that’s what we call it since those were the only words we knew).  A duet by John and his Kyoto karaoke kindred spirit…

I’m not sure if it was the Sapporo, the sake, or the shochu (or a combination of the three), but if these Japanese salarymen are any indication,  John is big in Japan.

We’re having a blast, Mom.  Clearly.

Please vote in the comment section below as to what song you would like to hear John sing:

1. The Beatles

2. The Carpenters

3. Michael Jackson

4. A Japanese song

This one goes out to Todd and Sally who always enjoy the hotel room videos.  This is our room in Kyoto.  90 seconds.  Enjoy!

Today on the Shinkansen train from Tokyo to Kyoto, I experienced the seminal travel moment of every major journey overseas: my first squat toilet of the trip. When the door opens and there it is, facing you like some giant sinkhole in the floor of the bathroom, there’s a moment of anxiety not unlike your annual colonoscopy – “Oh no. Not this again.”

I quickly faced my fear and assumed the position. This was not my first rodeo. In fact, “rodeo” isn’t a bad metaphor, because you’re straddled over a beast that may kill you unless you can hold on long enough. I’ll skip the graphic details, obviously, but here are some observations I made during my tenure at the Mouth of the Devil:

First, this is a delicate procedure, made only more delicate by this one being on a moving train. A moving high-speed Japanese “bullet train,” that is. That position is unkind enough while stationary, it’s another when there’s a constant sway and shifting speeds.

Second, I suggest you take your wallet out of your back pocket before doing this. Don’t get me wrong, there were no mishaps, but a constant fear stuck with me during the entire event, made worse by the fact that my hands were preoccupied holding onto stabilizing rails, and any release of my grip could spell disaster. But next time, I’ll take precautions.

Third, I’ve always thought I had strong leg muscles. Untrue. My quads and calves were barking about 30 seconds in, made only worse by the discomfort of my jeans clinging tightly to my knees and thighs. This is one of those positions they make you assume in Gitmo, and I was trying to assume this position while taking care of important matters.

Lastly, there is no room for error. Unlike the typical western toilet, where you’ve got a straight shot, in this case you’re hovering a good six inches to a foot over the target. What your looking for here is a surgical strike, because carpet bombing will be as messy here as it was in Dresden during “the big one.”

But there are some advantages:

1. Excellent core strength work-out, both legs and abs.
2. There’s no lingering. There will be no reading of Entertainment Weekly or the ingredients of the Lysol can under the sink, or checking your Facebook updates.
3. You really get to know yourself, because you’re very focused on your body and its multiple interdependent functions.
4. You’ll truly value your suede Adidas sneakers, now more than ever.
5. There’s a somewhat cool, breezy lightness to the whole affair that you don’t get often, like skinny-dipping, or going commando.

These are the observations I made during my brief, two-minute interaction with fate. As I write this and think back on the whole thing, I almost miss it. Almost…