Renee, ne? Sunday
Aug. 8th, 2008 05:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
parasitegirlKyoto: Sunday! Scott's a coming!
I have managed to kill hours and hours writing this at work.
Renee and I woke up around 7ish. Each of us, in our individuals beds, went through our small yawns, stretches, and the things that simply must be done in the morning to gain your bearings. Renee slipped off the end of her bed and proceeded to do the cow and cat stretches as I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth.
"Good. You wake up slowly." Renee remarked approvingly.
"uuuuh"
I'm not a morning person. I'm not an oversleeper, I can get up and move toward a goal, but I'm not going to expend extra energy while I do it. Everything gets stripped down in the morning.
At some point, in middle school or high school, a friend of mine was having a bad spot with her family and stayed with Dean Mommy and me for a few days during a school week. We were prepared to make some changes so that she'd feel at home, including buying sugary breakfast cereals. Dean Mommy felt the need to prepare her for our lack-of-language on weekday mornings. The night before, Dean Mommy explained that we really don't do morning conversation and that it wouldn't be anything personal. The next morning we woke and all converged on the
breakfast table. My friend started conversing with us, and we made non-comital grunts back...and continued to until she remarked "you were serious about not talking!"...and we nodded, silently.
Renee is slightly more talkative than I am in the morning, but that's just because she seems to be able to navigate whole sentences with a modest rate of success. My sentences in the morning are more along the lines of:
"So.....breakfast and then we'll....pack and...` corporate coffee?"
The night before we'd decided to get whatever hotel buffet breakfast was on offer. Both of us need and expect a certain level of protein, calories, and complexity in our morning food. If we don't get it we crash midmorning and become confused and disoriented.
Dean Mommy and I are big fans of hotel breakfast buffets while in Asia. Hotel breakfasts offer the path of least resistance in the goal of getting complex calories and simple coffee first thing in the morning. The coffee isn't good coffee, but it give you the power to obtain more coffee. Our use of hotel breakfasts is restricted to Asia. Asia has different ideas from the western world about what makes a breakfast. If you search out breakfast in Japan, toast and a small salad or fish, rice, natto, and nori is what you'll find outside of a hotel...that isn't worth the effort of non-fueled mobility....you can't compare that to huevos rancheros. In Thailand you'll get more fruits, but you'll also have plenty of fruits in-hotel. In Cambodia and Vietnam I've never stayed in a place large enough for a buffet in those locals, guest houses usually serve fruits, baguettes, and butter. It makes sense to eat in your guest house the first few days and scout for other locations in the day.... Cambodia has tasty eggs and are not afraid to eat them for breakfast! Vietnam has Vietnamese coffee.....mmmmm...
In North America and the UK the breakfasts are well worth leaving the hotel for. I can picture some of the breakfasts I had in Mexico 2 years ago...no problem... I plan to gain at least 3 pounds in western breakfasts this September while on the west coast.
I have vague memories of the French thinking that a little chocolately coffee and cookie/biscuit is breakfast...they make up for it with the lunches and dinners but it is hard at first. If you're staying with a French family you can always scrounge...they don't lack for food and they'll just chalk it up to crude American snack-nature/weaknesses..
Renee and I went, groggily, to our buffet. We skipped the french fries and spaghetti and went for our needs. Because I can't very well eat bacon, I made sure to get enough eggs, rice, and natto with my fruits, yogurts and granola. My breakfasts are madly balanced.
Midway through the breakfast we became human. The words on the guidebook pages made sense to us once more! We could READ!
We decided that we would pack up and drop off our luggage at the Kyoto Tower Hotel (before official check-in) prior to hitting the sights. The Tower Hotel is right next to Kyoto station and is more convenient for travel, food, Starbucks, and other needs. I would stay for a night and Renee and Scott would stay for four nights.
We planned to go to Ginkakuji (the silver pavilion), the more touristy Handicraft Center (having been thwarted by the Craft Center the day before) and some department stores.
We checked out. Renee put it on her card and I gave her cash, because neither of us really knew what ATMs would give her cash for her American card. I don't have an American bank account...my cash card has Tin Tin on it.
Exiting Kyoto Station, we walked toward Kyoto Tower. I pointed out the Starbucks in the same building, and pumped my arms up and down...probably making a "whoo-ooo!" noise. I'd had coffee at breakfast, but it was hotel coffee. Had there been a Tully's or a Sigafriedo I probably would have wet myself with excitement.
Renee remarked, once again, that it was nice to have someone who was so clearly on the same travel page as her. She also expressed willingness to travel to Turkey with me in the future if things worked out that way. Whoo hooo!
We dropped off the luggage at the front desk and went to Starbucks. Renee, who had previously ordered simple Starbucks drinks, for fear of confusing the staff, made tentative steps towards her usual drink (half decaf hazelnut latte....maybe...might have some more modifiers?) and learned that Starbucks Japan has no decaf, but does have hazelnut syrup. I had no idea, because I'm a straight-up black coffee or double expresso girl. I don't by nature respect complex coffee people, I have a corporate mall-oriented coffee worker past, but Renee if can overlook my ugly-beautiful polyester thing I can accept complex coffee concoctions.
We walked to the station we'd need for the Silver Pavilion. On the way we missed a turn and ended up meandering some smaller streets. We found a statue-maker with some lovely brass Kannons on display, which made the side streets worth it. We walked and compared notes on dance workshops we'd taken and how we'd felt about them, eventually reaching our station
As we were walking toward Gingakuji, the sun started getting brutal. We trekked past Proverb cafe and onward. When we hit the tiny stores leading up to Gingakuji, Renee found a nice fabric belt. She busted out her sun umbrella as I loaded up my second layer of sunscreen. I stopped and scoped out a cat-related handmade bag for my mother...natural woven fabrics, big enough to carry books on the buss, cat motif...totally Dean Mommy. Nearer to Gingakuji we also saw a few stores with shaved ice.
On my first trip to Kyoto, with Warning, we went to Gingakuji. We never made it to the Kinkaguji (The Golden Pavilion) because we burned out and went to a samurai theme land instead...besides, we'd both seen Mishima... Dean Mommy and I made it to the Kinkakuji (and it really is a stunner) as had Renee and Scott on their last trip. So, it was once more Gingakuji time.
Unfortunately the actual Silver Pavilion with the pheonix on top was being restored and was covered by tarps and scafolding...but that was ok because the building is lovely, but nowhere near the Golden one for raw stunning power. The draw for the Silver Pavillion is the gardens and land around the main building, which are lovely. Japanese gardens are everything that they are cracked up to be. I've seen these gardens in spring and summer, and I know from photos that they are equally as inspiring in fall and winter.
The cutest thing about the Gingakuji gardens is the live, labeled display of the mosses that cover it. Yup. Moss. I'd vaguely remembered this from my trip with Warning. No detail too small that someone in Japan doesn't geek out about it. At labeled the Gingakuji there is at least one moss-loving curator. There are the mosses labeled (In English and Japanese) "Very Important Mosses: like V.I.P.!" the prizes of the moss garden. Also on display are "Moss, The Interrupter!" (ちょっと邪魔な）those mosses that will, if given a chance, get a little out of control and destructive, the drunken frat boys of the moss world.
We also saw some lovely beetles and lizards as we walked, Renee got some nice shots. We also became increasingly more wilted in the sun and humidity.
"Shaved ice" I'd mumble.
"Snowcone!" Renee would cheerfully respond.
Renee purchased some auspicious/honorable charms (which had been on her shopping list) in an air conditioned gift shop and then we returned to the main street. We found a shaved ice place that wasn't all plastic, but that had powerful air-conditioning, and entered. I got the menu and explained our options. Strawberry, Melon, Lemon, Kanji I don't Know, Green tea......
It used to be that explaining Japanese menus was my greatest source of visitor-hosting stress. When I am alone and look at a menu there are many kanji where I simply parse the radical for meat (or fish) and skip over, because I don't order those things. I've never had the need to learn which fish or meat those kanji stand for. In the land of things that I can eat, there are often things I am not 100% sure about what they are, but order anyways...but when guests come I don't want to take those risks on their behalf. Warning, Dean Mommy and I all share the save dietary restrictions and tastes and adventure, so they are the easiest Japan visitors for me to eat with.
I used to avoid places with all-kanji menus when I had visitors, looking for picture-menus and random English ones. Even when I do understand most of a menu, I don't want to have to read a whole menu aloud to a person. I need my guests to be able to articulate generally what they might want and what options are out for them so I can focus my reading. As visitors go, my father was particularly hard to go out with because he had no clue about Japanese food and what he liked or wanted so he couldn't help me narrow down what I needed to be explaining...a possible tie would be Praveen's visit when I first moved here. Praveen wanted authentic adventuresome Japan eating at a time when I barely had a grasp on what was in the rice-balls at the convini and couldn't read a menu. Prior to our first meal, Praveen and I had already had a fight about inconveniences I put him through (ones I regularly put myself through) that stemmed from my avoidance of Japanese-language interactions that challenged me (such as not taking a taxi when weighed down with luggage...)
The other issue with reading menus to visitors is the fact that if my blood sugar falls dramatically low, I can't even make heads or tales of English menus for myself, much less translate and articulate clearly.
The general ease with which I can now skim and boil down menu information, and did in Kyoto, surprised and pleased me. Although I wish that Japanese restaurants going for the whole authentic Japan thing would stop using kanji for numbers so that non-reading visitors could quickly have a general idea of the price range of the restaurant they are entering.
And, as Warning and I both know....if there are no numbers and no kanji and a little old lady in a kimono keeps bringing you snacks...it's gonna cost you...get the fuck out of Gion and hit the vending machines.
I enjoyed my toxic-yellow lemon shaved ice, Renee her strawberry. We sipped the leftover syrup as we discussed the expression of emotions of a song in dance.
Fortified with sugarwaterice and air conditioning, we set back out. I stopped and bought my mother the carry-all purse I'd seen, and got myself a huge, cheap, sun umbrella. We then set out for the long walk to the Handicraft Center.
The sun and the sweat slowly pulled the conversation from us. I stayed alert enough to watch for bikes, because being plowed down by a sidewalk bike is the reason you have to watch your back in Japan, but started smacking into poles with my umbrella.
We walked and walked.
I started stumbling occasionally.
I remembered the kind words I had received (in two languages) from Wataguy, Puppy and my co-workers when I told them I was going to Kyoto. "Don't get heat stroke!"
We reached the general area of the Handicraft Center and checked maps, doubled back, check, and found it. Renee expressed the fact that we needed food and maybe we'd need it before the center...but there was nothing much around that looked edible...
The 5th floor of the handicraft center had a buffet, but I do not trust buffets beyond breakfast. On the 7th floor of the handicraft center we had overpriced ginger ale, many glasses of water, and a pack of peanuts and crackers. We became, if not human, less zombie.
I wouldn't have been able to stomach the Handicraft Center in zombie mode. While there are some items at reasonable prices, other items that are hard to find, and some items that can only be purchased in a tourist center (cotton yukata that fit someone as tall as Renee are not going to be found at a department store or a used textile mart...which is where I go for my yukata and yukata-robe needs) the majority of the Handicraft Center is over-priced or straight-up tourist-junk and makes my skin crawl. I like bargains. My polyester fetish is refined and specific. I do not like polyester "kimono". Kiiiiiiiimoiiii nooooo!!
Polyester Kimono are to Japan as Turkish Airport Specials are to Belly Dance.
Handicraft Center has floors of polyester kimono, crapy dolls, crazy samurai headbands...it but it also has enough toe-socks with Japanese themes that you can buy them for your whole troupe (and real Japanese girls wear silly toe socks with Japan-themed motifs, so I can give them an "authentic" stamp), non-poly Yukata in Amazon Lady sizes, and a few surprisingly nice crafts.
They had shuttles to hotels, but ours wouldn't leave for 45 minutes. We braved the heat, somehow making it to the hotel. On the train we had an on odd conversation as I assured her that the slouching boy in the girl's uniform was actually a girl. Don't let them tell you Asian women don't have facial hair issues. We were low functioning when we returned to the Kyoto Tower to officially check in to our hotel rooms.
My room reeked of smoke. I had not been asked smoking or non smoking on the phone.
Renee's room...two beds, not one...not acceptable for a husband and wife that had been away from each other for a week. I had specifically said, in my phone Japanese "They are married and want a big bed."
Back down to the front desk.
Renee listened as my voice dropped an octave and I made the changes that needed to be made. When I need to be taken seriously, am frustrated, am giving veiled commands, or need directions, my voice goes into a lower range. If you know me in person and have heard my voice drop into the "I'm gonna explain this nice and slow to you once...once... before I seriously lose my shit and we are past the point of no return" range...it's that voice..in Japanese. Generally, my Japanese voice only gets higher than my English voice when I want generic good service, or want someone to do me a favor....or am talking to a boss.
My voice is at its highest when I am imitating Yoko from The Afet Collective....beyond that it becomes a high pitched noise that only dogs can hear.
They were able to change the rooms. My voice returned to normal. We retreated to our individual rooms and showered and changed into dry clothing.
Had Renee and I not hit it off, this would have been the point at which we would have been thanking the heavens that Scott would be arriving soon and that it was separate room time. Had things not gone smoothly I am pretty sure both of us would have suggested hunting down an internet cafe so that we could catch-up with the outside world...and not have to talk to each other for a while. As it was, sometimes "shower-up time" is just shower-up time, a cigar is just a cigar, and an assaya is just an assaya.
Showered and changed, we were ready to hunt food. We were functioning on a slightly higher plane than when we'd checked in, but not by much. Our game plan was to hit the restaurant level of the Kyoto-station complex.
Japan is not vegetarian friendly. It's not like American cities I've lived in where even the meatyest restaurant (steak houses) have something to toss the vegetarian (just like how fast food places have one healthyish item on menu; it's called denying the deny-er). Japanese ramen places don't have a non-pork option. Japanese steak houses aren't gonna grill you up some veggies, toss them over ancient pasta and pat you on the head. The Denny's here do NOT have veggie-burgers. It is 100% possible for me to enter a place where I cannot eat anything, and it is also very probable...even with the fact that I eat some fish and seafood now.
Renee can find many options of foods she likes at Japanese sushi restaurants in America, but not so much in Japan. I have come to enjoy a little bit of sushi and sashimi, but she's not keen on "raw-fish" sushi and is particular about the fish that she she'll eat when they are cooked. Also, not a shellfish-if-they-still-have-faces person (and presumably, not a fish-head person)...and while this limits her options in Japan, these limits would not be alarmingly evident without me because Japan is FULL of meat options. Chicken! Pork! Beef! We've got it! And we sneak ham into everything because we think vegetarians are wrong....
But the fish I eat are not the fish she eats...and the meat places she enjoys have nothing I can eat. And much of the food still has faces.
Which brings us down to noodles and tempura as a fall-back. In the restaurant floor I found a place I could eat, because she'd asked 'where can you eat?" I zeroed in on a place serving tofu (and tofu and more tofu) and we went in. It was clear from the menu and asking questions that Renee needed to eat an animal, but the only fish on offer were sashimi. We left before ordering.
We found a tempura and noodle/rice place. The menu, despite the restaurant being in the Kyoto station where thousands of foreigners stumble through, was all in kanji....I asked questions and negotiated some vegetable and known seafoods both of us would eat tempura in a tempura set.
Language fell away as we waited for food.
Our food came (or started to come. These things come in waves in Kyoto...part of a long tradition of multiple small courses...and water) Renee went to pour her soy into what she thought was her dipping bowl. A waitress, not our waitress, rushed in to stop her, indicating that her soy was to go in the larger empty bowl and that the smaller empty bowl was for discarding the tails of her shrimp...HEATHEN!
"What are those?" She asked as I ate some pickled vegetables...whatever pickled veggies Kyoto is famous for...I can never keep track.
"Crunchy. They are crunchy." was my educated reply.
(crunch)
"So they are!"
As we started to chow down, Scott called my cel-phone. I was in food mode. No time for talking. I quickly dodged his attempts at polite pre-asking-for-his-wife chit-chat and handed him off to Renee and returned to my meal.
Now, I'd met Scott twice before. He and the other husbands and boyfriends of InFusion were there when I first had drinks with the troupe two years ago. It is always a good sign when the significant others are enjoying interactions with each other and the troupe. He had tagged along to brunch last year when Renee and I hung out together, alone, for the first time....ya know...just in case I was a conversational loser and the warm fuzzies were due to on-line persona and the drinks we'd had the year before. I remember that when they arrived for brunch I'd been holding my coffee and chatting with a waiter...but the waiter had been outside of their line of sight and their second impression of me was "Oh shit, crazy lady who talks to herself/her coffee"
For the record, I don't need to talk to my coffee, our communication is beyond words.
I like Scott. He's an active participant in any conversation he's dropped into and is my (and Renee's...obviously) brand of smart-ass, joking, inquisitive, quick to return to humorous themes from prior talks, borderline know-it-all. He's a combination linguistics/techology geek. Many of my Madison friends would looooove him. Renee is not one of those "very similar to me but I can't understand why it is she loves the guy she loves" women. From what I remembered of him, I knew that hanging with Scott would not render either of us "the third wheel"
..but my personal fondness didn't mean Scott was coming between me and my food-salvation. Fuck that. 'shroomy tempura awaits.
"Here's your wife."
Scott had every reason to wonder if Renee was ok. She hadn't been in touch for a while (their cellphones don't work here, so no texting) and she hadn't bothered to find an internet cafe because we'd found conversation better than typing...and now her travel companion was being brusk with him.
Renee explained away the lack of contact and reassured him that we were doing very well, the fact that I share her low-blood-sugar no-talking-now issues was just one of the many things we'd bonded on.
He would be meeting us at the hotel between 6-6:30 and then we'd look for food. All good.
When Renee and I were fed we went to Isetan, one of the major department store chains of Japan. Now, I can go to an Isetan anytime (or, the Takeshimaya in Kashiwa...or...ya know...TOKYO) but I understand the appeal to looking around. More than the fact that we both enjoy clothing, Renee and I share a similar joy in fashion revulsion. Some of Japan's fashions just shouldn't be. When I saw Renee looking at people's feet it made perfect sense...she was marveling the wtfery that is the parade of ill-fiting/questionable shoes in Japan....and Kyoto is mild in comparison to Tokyo.
Fashion in Japan goes so wrong sometimes, wrong enough that even my father notices.
Early-on in our travels Renee might have thought she was taking a risk with a new travel partner when, on an escalator, she quietly asked me "What is up with jeans that have pockets that look like they are sliding off someone's ass? No one looks good in those! Pocket placement is an important....." but I was right there with her, pocket placement on jeans are very important for making or breaking a good ass-line.
So we, the one who can go to Isetan any day and the one too tall to buy anything, cruised Isetan. We were rewarded with bad fashion and bad presentation. Renee refined her quietly-taking-pictures-she-shouldn't skills.
We saw manequins with paper bags on their heads.
I tried on a hat that cost 600$ and had to be unchained for me, it was very Holly Golightly....straw and blue tulle!
This season, fashion seems to be actively courting my love of un-burnable 60's-70's polyester dresses. Clearance sales in fall will be a busy time for me.
And then we saw the ugliest boots ever.
They are hard to put into words, Renee needs to send me her photo.
The were knee-ish length leather boots. The leather was not fitted to the leg, instead it stood away from the leg, slightly baggy...not unlike the loose socks that used to be popular in schools here. ..but LETHAH. The leg of the boots didn't smoothly merge with the foot/toes. Instead it looked like the bottoms of too-long and too- baggy pants legs with a matching pair of boots peaking out.
For those of you watching Project Runway...it was as if Leather Lady had designed an outfit for a plus-sized model...an outfit with large black leather pants and leather biker boots...and then, in a fit of insanity, she took an axe and cut everything off her model at the knee-line, and personally stepped into the bloody leather leg-foot stumps and called it a day.
We not only got to see the boots on display, we also got to see them on a sales lady.
SCORE! Fashion zoo! Live fashion safari! Natives!
We worked our way down through the stores, across the underground mall, and popped up at Kyoto Tower. Scott had beaten us there and was waiting for Renee in her room. It was time for more cleaning up and for them to do whatever re-unioning they needed to do. We'd met up again in an hour or so.
As we rode the elevator up, we both admitted that we could be ready to eat fairly quickly because we didn't feel as full as we thought we should be.
Of course, I had a brick of tasty chocolates from Renee in myyyy room. After washing and lounging, I had some of the chocolate-something-and-fig bar. I am soooo taking the chocolate factory tour in Seattle next time.
After enough time had passed, I went over and knocked on their door.
Scott was more bearded than I had remembered, I remembered him clean shaven. I'm not anti-beard, but due to Japan being a fairly anti-facial hair country, I'm not used to them. Scott was sporting a respectable "international linguistics geekery" beard. Had it been more sparse, it would have been a scraggly creature, had it been less groomed it would have been aggressive, and had he been a geek of fewer grooming habits, it could easily have become a nasty nasty thing of shame...I'm sure he can imagine the beards his beard could be without care, because Scott comes from the geek and knows what happens when the solo geek spirals downward.
Scott speaks and reads a little Japanese and was telling me about having had a few of those run-ins with waitstaff where you ask them something in Japanese and they act as if you have spoken to them in English...because they don't hear gaijin Japanese.... and randomly reply to things you haven't asked, or they tap your menu and repeat what they've just said.
Renee didn't understand the annoyance because no one had pulled that with me and she doesn't speak enough Japanese to have her attempts poo-pooed. I did the talking for her. She's the wife of a linguistics geek, if she was craving the joys of learning and applying a new language she didn't mention it. I was pretty sure she wasn't lacking for educational-language-vacation-experiences in life and might have a few foisted on her once I was gone. I knew she'd be eating octopus balls before she left.
I later realized why I haven't been annoyed by "gaijin-shock-earblock" recently. It isn't because it doesn't happen...it's because my response has changed. At those times I say, in Japanese "oh, I'm sorry my pronunciation is so terribly bad." or "I must have use the wrong word, can you teach me the right one?" and because Japan is what it is, even if my pronunciation were shit...their only real option or reply is to tell me that I speak like an angel and that it's not my fault.
I'm sure Scott would be on my side if I told him of the couple times I've snottily questioned a Starbucks worker about WHY they are dropping the "keigo" (the politeness forms) when talking to me.
Renee and I had been looking at our guidebooks. We hadn't been alert enough to really find a specific restaurant that we wanted, but we picked the area with the most "restaurants we recommend" dots and figured that if we headed to that area we'd be swimming in options.
As we waited for our train, Scott told us about the conference highlights of his last week here in Japan. He dished who rocked the karaoke mic and who didn't. Apparently Scott rocks the mic hard. He gets a little offended when people express surprise at his signing skills. Me, I've given up on guessing the good singers. You can't spot them. They don't walk or stand like dancers. I've met a few annoying mother-fuckers with mind-blowingly lovely voices and they've made me realize the good voices are distributed without rhyme or reason.
Apparently Scott's ability to rock the mic is not limited to voice and extends to language. Battleship Yamato one verse...Starblazers the next!
Disclaimer: I may frequently call Scott a geek. It might happen. Dude, Yamato/Starblazers alone would earn him that. But know that I use it simply as a term of recognition, of as a tern labeling him as other. I come from the geek. I don't even want to know how many of you on my friends list could sing both versions, in both languages, WITHOUT teleprompting, I'm guessing 10 but that might be low. I am of the geek.... Scott, I mean well. You of all people KNOW first hand the geek-bellydance bridge that many of us have crossed.
That's right, your wife is a geek too.
A Suhalia Level-3 prepping GEEK.
And me? Dude, I'm blogging this all.
Ok.
We popped out of the station and...uh...
Corporate buildings.
We checked maps, trying to find our way to the street or streets that were supposed to be filled with recommended restaurants.
Uuuuuuuuhhh.
At one point I did see a storefront I recognized, that I knew to be near a restaurant I love in Kyoto...but I didn't say anything because it was a "home cooking vegetarian" place that would have offered very little for the meat-cravings Renee was starting to have...and I knew Scott, as much as he liked my company, was secretly hankering to relive an all-meat dining experience he'd had his previous time. I knew it was going to turn into some sort of crazed carne-orgy when I left and figured it was for the best if we got some meat into them.
We went down side streets. I did turn down some Italian restaurants because...well...Japan not so good at that. I had told Renee about the Italian restaurant that I'd been to with pizza covered in broccoli and mayo and the jazz band that played a Disney medley and a Super Mario brothers tune. I don't think I ever wrote about it. It was pretty godawful. It also was decorated like a 80's hostess club.
Around severe hunger time we found a restaurant...
uhhh...
Noodles and tempura.
Again.
But....food.
I don't know what you know about Japan's zoning laws. If you know anything, I'd love to learn a bit about them, because to the best of my knowledge they do not exist. My waxing salon/day spa is a woman named Takako's living room (Beauty Bastard day spa! ) There was a "snack pub" (hostess bar) in my last residential areas. It's sometimes hard to find restaurants and certain stores even when you know what to look for, because they might be snuggled between two houses, or on the 6th floor of a corporate building. Even when I am armed with a website-provided map it is an adventure.
Finding a restaurant on a side street in Kyoto is harder than you realize...because it involves separating the homes from the storefront. Where we went was probably both. We were the only customers. I'd guess that the grandma in the kitchen was probably related to our young, chipper, server. It would take them a while to get rolling. We were taken into what looked like a living room with tables.
The room had seen better days and wasn't as cool as we'd like, but we were hungry...and it would have been more of an emotional thing to say no to a family than it had been to say no to a server in the Kyoto Station complex...
In the room there was a painting of a Geisha/Maiko. Her eyes were lopsided and one of her arms appeared to have been broken in the artist's attempt to not draw a second hand.
I translated what I could on the menu and asked questions to the server about the words I didn't understand.
Some Japanese staff get very happy when they learn that I speak Japanese, beyond the simple fact that it makes their lives easier...I become a chance to teach someone something about Japan/noodles/fabric/sake...or how the style of sitting changed in the Edo era.
So, he started explaining that the painting was a famous geisha, the "honey" of a famous actor...and so on.
When he was gone we started to bullshit about if the eyes were an artistic flaw or a mark of beauty standards of bygone days. Scott and I both exibitted our natural enjoyment of spewing out information and ideas we've encountered and how that alternates between our natural enjoyment of creating amusing bullshit answers to questions.
"the eyes being lopsided reflect a larger theme in Asian art, that of the deliberate introduction of flaws into crafted items.blah.blah.blah."
We ate, talked, blathered...ya know.
We ate enough to be almost full, and then headed back to our hotel.
We all started craving a real, non-foofy no-beanpaste, dessert. This is when I gave them the gift that keeps giving when it comes to being in Japan...knowledge. Give a man a fish, teach him to fish, you know...
In this case it was the words "Hagendaaz, we can buy Hagendaaz at any major convienece store...." and the hunt for a convini was on. Tokyo and Okinawa are full of Hagendaz locations, but I hadn't seen any in Kyoto...but a convini is a convini.
Convinis are usually every few blocks in Tokyo. The property price right next to Kyoto Station must be insane, so there was less convini density than I am used to. Scott was mocking my muttering "there must be one nearby"
And then we spotted the Lawson and headed for it. I think one of them asked what flavors the pints came in. Pints! Japan! Fools! We don't get that much goodness in our serving size...but we do get some great seasonal Hagendaaz specialties. I am currently enjoying the Tiramisu, but I miss the tiny berry parfait available last summer.
I made a dismissive wave at the first freezer in Lawson. The freezer nearest the entrance always has cheap-ass low-rent ice-creams...the goods are farther in...they aren't for the impulse purchace victim, they are for the discriminating trufflehunters.
We first grabbed bars and individual tiny packs..and then saw the six pack (cookies & creme, strawberry, and vanilla, two each) and got that instead. The Lawson worker gave us more than six spoons. FOOL!
We scurried back to the hotel.
Ice cream! Ice cream!
Nom nom nom nom nooooooom
Iiiiice cream.
Perfect.
We decided that we would do breakfast at 8....and that if either of us needed food earlier (me and Renee being the ones who don't solider through hunger) we could knock earlier.
Good night!
I have managed to kill hours and hours writing this at work.
Renee and I woke up around 7ish. Each of us, in our individuals beds, went through our small yawns, stretches, and the things that simply must be done in the morning to gain your bearings. Renee slipped off the end of her bed and proceeded to do the cow and cat stretches as I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth.
"Good. You wake up slowly." Renee remarked approvingly.
"uuuuh"
I'm not a morning person. I'm not an oversleeper, I can get up and move toward a goal, but I'm not going to expend extra energy while I do it. Everything gets stripped down in the morning.
At some point, in middle school or high school, a friend of mine was having a bad spot with her family and stayed with Dean Mommy and me for a few days during a school week. We were prepared to make some changes so that she'd feel at home, including buying sugary breakfast cereals. Dean Mommy felt the need to prepare her for our lack-of-language on weekday mornings. The night before, Dean Mommy explained that we really don't do morning conversation and that it wouldn't be anything personal. The next morning we woke and all converged on the
breakfast table. My friend started conversing with us, and we made non-comital grunts back...and continued to until she remarked "you were serious about not talking!"...and we nodded, silently.
Renee is slightly more talkative than I am in the morning, but that's just because she seems to be able to navigate whole sentences with a modest rate of success. My sentences in the morning are more along the lines of:
"So.....breakfast and then we'll....pack and...` corporate coffee?"
The night before we'd decided to get whatever hotel buffet breakfast was on offer. Both of us need and expect a certain level of protein, calories, and complexity in our morning food. If we don't get it we crash midmorning and become confused and disoriented.
Dean Mommy and I are big fans of hotel breakfast buffets while in Asia. Hotel breakfasts offer the path of least resistance in the goal of getting complex calories and simple coffee first thing in the morning. The coffee isn't good coffee, but it give you the power to obtain more coffee. Our use of hotel breakfasts is restricted to Asia. Asia has different ideas from the western world about what makes a breakfast. If you search out breakfast in Japan, toast and a small salad or fish, rice, natto, and nori is what you'll find outside of a hotel...that isn't worth the effort of non-fueled mobility....you can't compare that to huevos rancheros. In Thailand you'll get more fruits, but you'll also have plenty of fruits in-hotel. In Cambodia and Vietnam I've never stayed in a place large enough for a buffet in those locals, guest houses usually serve fruits, baguettes, and butter. It makes sense to eat in your guest house the first few days and scout for other locations in the day.... Cambodia has tasty eggs and are not afraid to eat them for breakfast! Vietnam has Vietnamese coffee.....mmmmm...
In North America and the UK the breakfasts are well worth leaving the hotel for. I can picture some of the breakfasts I had in Mexico 2 years ago...no problem... I plan to gain at least 3 pounds in western breakfasts this September while on the west coast.
I have vague memories of the French thinking that a little chocolately coffee and cookie/biscuit is breakfast...they make up for it with the lunches and dinners but it is hard at first. If you're staying with a French family you can always scrounge...they don't lack for food and they'll just chalk it up to crude American snack-nature/weaknesses..
Renee and I went, groggily, to our buffet. We skipped the french fries and spaghetti and went for our needs. Because I can't very well eat bacon, I made sure to get enough eggs, rice, and natto with my fruits, yogurts and granola. My breakfasts are madly balanced.
Midway through the breakfast we became human. The words on the guidebook pages made sense to us once more! We could READ!
We decided that we would pack up and drop off our luggage at the Kyoto Tower Hotel (before official check-in) prior to hitting the sights. The Tower Hotel is right next to Kyoto station and is more convenient for travel, food, Starbucks, and other needs. I would stay for a night and Renee and Scott would stay for four nights.
We planned to go to Ginkakuji (the silver pavilion), the more touristy Handicraft Center (having been thwarted by the Craft Center the day before) and some department stores.
We checked out. Renee put it on her card and I gave her cash, because neither of us really knew what ATMs would give her cash for her American card. I don't have an American bank account...my cash card has Tin Tin on it.
Exiting Kyoto Station, we walked toward Kyoto Tower. I pointed out the Starbucks in the same building, and pumped my arms up and down...probably making a "whoo-ooo!" noise. I'd had coffee at breakfast, but it was hotel coffee. Had there been a Tully's or a Sigafriedo I probably would have wet myself with excitement.
Renee remarked, once again, that it was nice to have someone who was so clearly on the same travel page as her. She also expressed willingness to travel to Turkey with me in the future if things worked out that way. Whoo hooo!
We dropped off the luggage at the front desk and went to Starbucks. Renee, who had previously ordered simple Starbucks drinks, for fear of confusing the staff, made tentative steps towards her usual drink (half decaf hazelnut latte....maybe...might have some more modifiers?) and learned that Starbucks Japan has no decaf, but does have hazelnut syrup. I had no idea, because I'm a straight-up black coffee or double expresso girl. I don't by nature respect complex coffee people, I have a corporate mall-oriented coffee worker past, but Renee if can overlook my ugly-beautiful polyester thing I can accept complex coffee concoctions.
We walked to the station we'd need for the Silver Pavilion. On the way we missed a turn and ended up meandering some smaller streets. We found a statue-maker with some lovely brass Kannons on display, which made the side streets worth it. We walked and compared notes on dance workshops we'd taken and how we'd felt about them, eventually reaching our station
As we were walking toward Gingakuji, the sun started getting brutal. We trekked past Proverb cafe and onward. When we hit the tiny stores leading up to Gingakuji, Renee found a nice fabric belt. She busted out her sun umbrella as I loaded up my second layer of sunscreen. I stopped and scoped out a cat-related handmade bag for my mother...natural woven fabrics, big enough to carry books on the buss, cat motif...totally Dean Mommy. Nearer to Gingakuji we also saw a few stores with shaved ice.
On my first trip to Kyoto, with Warning, we went to Gingakuji. We never made it to the Kinkaguji (The Golden Pavilion) because we burned out and went to a samurai theme land instead...besides, we'd both seen Mishima... Dean Mommy and I made it to the Kinkakuji (and it really is a stunner) as had Renee and Scott on their last trip. So, it was once more Gingakuji time.
Unfortunately the actual Silver Pavilion with the pheonix on top was being restored and was covered by tarps and scafolding...but that was ok because the building is lovely, but nowhere near the Golden one for raw stunning power. The draw for the Silver Pavillion is the gardens and land around the main building, which are lovely. Japanese gardens are everything that they are cracked up to be. I've seen these gardens in spring and summer, and I know from photos that they are equally as inspiring in fall and winter.
The cutest thing about the Gingakuji gardens is the live, labeled display of the mosses that cover it. Yup. Moss. I'd vaguely remembered this from my trip with Warning. No detail too small that someone in Japan doesn't geek out about it. At labeled the Gingakuji there is at least one moss-loving curator. There are the mosses labeled (In English and Japanese) "Very Important Mosses: like V.I.P.!" the prizes of the moss garden. Also on display are "Moss, The Interrupter!" (ちょっと邪魔な）those mosses that will, if given a chance, get a little out of control and destructive, the drunken frat boys of the moss world.
We also saw some lovely beetles and lizards as we walked, Renee got some nice shots. We also became increasingly more wilted in the sun and humidity.
"Shaved ice" I'd mumble.
"Snowcone!" Renee would cheerfully respond.
Renee purchased some auspicious/honorable charms (which had been on her shopping list) in an air conditioned gift shop and then we returned to the main street. We found a shaved ice place that wasn't all plastic, but that had powerful air-conditioning, and entered. I got the menu and explained our options. Strawberry, Melon, Lemon, Kanji I don't Know, Green tea......
It used to be that explaining Japanese menus was my greatest source of visitor-hosting stress. When I am alone and look at a menu there are many kanji where I simply parse the radical for meat (or fish) and skip over, because I don't order those things. I've never had the need to learn which fish or meat those kanji stand for. In the land of things that I can eat, there are often things I am not 100% sure about what they are, but order anyways...but when guests come I don't want to take those risks on their behalf. Warning, Dean Mommy and I all share the save dietary restrictions and tastes and adventure, so they are the easiest Japan visitors for me to eat with.
I used to avoid places with all-kanji menus when I had visitors, looking for picture-menus and random English ones. Even when I do understand most of a menu, I don't want to have to read a whole menu aloud to a person. I need my guests to be able to articulate generally what they might want and what options are out for them so I can focus my reading. As visitors go, my father was particularly hard to go out with because he had no clue about Japanese food and what he liked or wanted so he couldn't help me narrow down what I needed to be explaining...a possible tie would be Praveen's visit when I first moved here. Praveen wanted authentic adventuresome Japan eating at a time when I barely had a grasp on what was in the rice-balls at the convini and couldn't read a menu. Prior to our first meal, Praveen and I had already had a fight about inconveniences I put him through (ones I regularly put myself through) that stemmed from my avoidance of Japanese-language interactions that challenged me (such as not taking a taxi when weighed down with luggage...)
The other issue with reading menus to visitors is the fact that if my blood sugar falls dramatically low, I can't even make heads or tales of English menus for myself, much less translate and articulate clearly.
The general ease with which I can now skim and boil down menu information, and did in Kyoto, surprised and pleased me. Although I wish that Japanese restaurants going for the whole authentic Japan thing would stop using kanji for numbers so that non-reading visitors could quickly have a general idea of the price range of the restaurant they are entering.
And, as Warning and I both know....if there are no numbers and no kanji and a little old lady in a kimono keeps bringing you snacks...it's gonna cost you...get the fuck out of Gion and hit the vending machines.
I enjoyed my toxic-yellow lemon shaved ice, Renee her strawberry. We sipped the leftover syrup as we discussed the expression of emotions of a song in dance.
Fortified with sugarwaterice and air conditioning, we set back out. I stopped and bought my mother the carry-all purse I'd seen, and got myself a huge, cheap, sun umbrella. We then set out for the long walk to the Handicraft Center.
The sun and the sweat slowly pulled the conversation from us. I stayed alert enough to watch for bikes, because being plowed down by a sidewalk bike is the reason you have to watch your back in Japan, but started smacking into poles with my umbrella.
We walked and walked.
I started stumbling occasionally.
I remembered the kind words I had received (in two languages) from Wataguy, Puppy and my co-workers when I told them I was going to Kyoto. "Don't get heat stroke!"
We reached the general area of the Handicraft Center and checked maps, doubled back, check, and found it. Renee expressed the fact that we needed food and maybe we'd need it before the center...but there was nothing much around that looked edible...
The 5th floor of the handicraft center had a buffet, but I do not trust buffets beyond breakfast. On the 7th floor of the handicraft center we had overpriced ginger ale, many glasses of water, and a pack of peanuts and crackers. We became, if not human, less zombie.
I wouldn't have been able to stomach the Handicraft Center in zombie mode. While there are some items at reasonable prices, other items that are hard to find, and some items that can only be purchased in a tourist center (cotton yukata that fit someone as tall as Renee are not going to be found at a department store or a used textile mart...which is where I go for my yukata and yukata-robe needs) the majority of the Handicraft Center is over-priced or straight-up tourist-junk and makes my skin crawl. I like bargains. My polyester fetish is refined and specific. I do not like polyester "kimono". Kiiiiiiiimoiiii nooooo!!
Polyester Kimono are to Japan as Turkish Airport Specials are to Belly Dance.
Handicraft Center has floors of polyester kimono, crapy dolls, crazy samurai headbands...it but it also has enough toe-socks with Japanese themes that you can buy them for your whole troupe (and real Japanese girls wear silly toe socks with Japan-themed motifs, so I can give them an "authentic" stamp), non-poly Yukata in Amazon Lady sizes, and a few surprisingly nice crafts.
They had shuttles to hotels, but ours wouldn't leave for 45 minutes. We braved the heat, somehow making it to the hotel. On the train we had an on odd conversation as I assured her that the slouching boy in the girl's uniform was actually a girl. Don't let them tell you Asian women don't have facial hair issues. We were low functioning when we returned to the Kyoto Tower to officially check in to our hotel rooms.
My room reeked of smoke. I had not been asked smoking or non smoking on the phone.
Renee's room...two beds, not one...not acceptable for a husband and wife that had been away from each other for a week. I had specifically said, in my phone Japanese "They are married and want a big bed."
Back down to the front desk.
Renee listened as my voice dropped an octave and I made the changes that needed to be made. When I need to be taken seriously, am frustrated, am giving veiled commands, or need directions, my voice goes into a lower range. If you know me in person and have heard my voice drop into the "I'm gonna explain this nice and slow to you once...once... before I seriously lose my shit and we are past the point of no return" range...it's that voice..in Japanese. Generally, my Japanese voice only gets higher than my English voice when I want generic good service, or want someone to do me a favor....or am talking to a boss.
My voice is at its highest when I am imitating Yoko from The Afet Collective....beyond that it becomes a high pitched noise that only dogs can hear.
They were able to change the rooms. My voice returned to normal. We retreated to our individual rooms and showered and changed into dry clothing.
Had Renee and I not hit it off, this would have been the point at which we would have been thanking the heavens that Scott would be arriving soon and that it was separate room time. Had things not gone smoothly I am pretty sure both of us would have suggested hunting down an internet cafe so that we could catch-up with the outside world...and not have to talk to each other for a while. As it was, sometimes "shower-up time" is just shower-up time, a cigar is just a cigar, and an assaya is just an assaya.
Showered and changed, we were ready to hunt food. We were functioning on a slightly higher plane than when we'd checked in, but not by much. Our game plan was to hit the restaurant level of the Kyoto-station complex.
Japan is not vegetarian friendly. It's not like American cities I've lived in where even the meatyest restaurant (steak houses) have something to toss the vegetarian (just like how fast food places have one healthyish item on menu; it's called denying the deny-er). Japanese ramen places don't have a non-pork option. Japanese steak houses aren't gonna grill you up some veggies, toss them over ancient pasta and pat you on the head. The Denny's here do NOT have veggie-burgers. It is 100% possible for me to enter a place where I cannot eat anything, and it is also very probable...even with the fact that I eat some fish and seafood now.
Renee can find many options of foods she likes at Japanese sushi restaurants in America, but not so much in Japan. I have come to enjoy a little bit of sushi and sashimi, but she's not keen on "raw-fish" sushi and is particular about the fish that she she'll eat when they are cooked. Also, not a shellfish-if-they-still-have-faces person (and presumably, not a fish-head person)...and while this limits her options in Japan, these limits would not be alarmingly evident without me because Japan is FULL of meat options. Chicken! Pork! Beef! We've got it! And we sneak ham into everything because we think vegetarians are wrong....
But the fish I eat are not the fish she eats...and the meat places she enjoys have nothing I can eat. And much of the food still has faces.
Which brings us down to noodles and tempura as a fall-back. In the restaurant floor I found a place I could eat, because she'd asked 'where can you eat?" I zeroed in on a place serving tofu (and tofu and more tofu) and we went in. It was clear from the menu and asking questions that Renee needed to eat an animal, but the only fish on offer were sashimi. We left before ordering.
We found a tempura and noodle/rice place. The menu, despite the restaurant being in the Kyoto station where thousands of foreigners stumble through, was all in kanji....I asked questions and negotiated some vegetable and known seafoods both of us would eat tempura in a tempura set.
Language fell away as we waited for food.
Our food came (or started to come. These things come in waves in Kyoto...part of a long tradition of multiple small courses...and water) Renee went to pour her soy into what she thought was her dipping bowl. A waitress, not our waitress, rushed in to stop her, indicating that her soy was to go in the larger empty bowl and that the smaller empty bowl was for discarding the tails of her shrimp...HEATHEN!
"What are those?" She asked as I ate some pickled vegetables...whatever pickled veggies Kyoto is famous for...I can never keep track.
"Crunchy. They are crunchy." was my educated reply.
(crunch)
"So they are!"
As we started to chow down, Scott called my cel-phone. I was in food mode. No time for talking. I quickly dodged his attempts at polite pre-asking-for-his-wife chit-chat and handed him off to Renee and returned to my meal.
Now, I'd met Scott twice before. He and the other husbands and boyfriends of InFusion were there when I first had drinks with the troupe two years ago. It is always a good sign when the significant others are enjoying interactions with each other and the troupe. He had tagged along to brunch last year when Renee and I hung out together, alone, for the first time....ya know...just in case I was a conversational loser and the warm fuzzies were due to on-line persona and the drinks we'd had the year before. I remember that when they arrived for brunch I'd been holding my coffee and chatting with a waiter...but the waiter had been outside of their line of sight and their second impression of me was "Oh shit, crazy lady who talks to herself/her coffee"
For the record, I don't need to talk to my coffee, our communication is beyond words.
I like Scott. He's an active participant in any conversation he's dropped into and is my (and Renee's...obviously) brand of smart-ass, joking, inquisitive, quick to return to humorous themes from prior talks, borderline know-it-all. He's a combination linguistics/techology geek. Many of my Madison friends would looooove him. Renee is not one of those "very similar to me but I can't understand why it is she loves the guy she loves" women. From what I remembered of him, I knew that hanging with Scott would not render either of us "the third wheel"
..but my personal fondness didn't mean Scott was coming between me and my food-salvation. Fuck that. 'shroomy tempura awaits.
"Here's your wife."
Scott had every reason to wonder if Renee was ok. She hadn't been in touch for a while (their cellphones don't work here, so no texting) and she hadn't bothered to find an internet cafe because we'd found conversation better than typing...and now her travel companion was being brusk with him.
Renee explained away the lack of contact and reassured him that we were doing very well, the fact that I share her low-blood-sugar no-talking-now issues was just one of the many things we'd bonded on.
He would be meeting us at the hotel between 6-6:30 and then we'd look for food. All good.
When Renee and I were fed we went to Isetan, one of the major department store chains of Japan. Now, I can go to an Isetan anytime (or, the Takeshimaya in Kashiwa...or...ya know...TOKYO) but I understand the appeal to looking around. More than the fact that we both enjoy clothing, Renee and I share a similar joy in fashion revulsion. Some of Japan's fashions just shouldn't be. When I saw Renee looking at people's feet it made perfect sense...she was marveling the wtfery that is the parade of ill-fiting/questionable shoes in Japan....and Kyoto is mild in comparison to Tokyo.
Fashion in Japan goes so wrong sometimes, wrong enough that even my father notices.
Early-on in our travels Renee might have thought she was taking a risk with a new travel partner when, on an escalator, she quietly asked me "What is up with jeans that have pockets that look like they are sliding off someone's ass? No one looks good in those! Pocket placement is an important....." but I was right there with her, pocket placement on jeans are very important for making or breaking a good ass-line.
So we, the one who can go to Isetan any day and the one too tall to buy anything, cruised Isetan. We were rewarded with bad fashion and bad presentation. Renee refined her quietly-taking-pictures-she-shouldn't skills.
We saw manequins with paper bags on their heads.
I tried on a hat that cost 600$ and had to be unchained for me, it was very Holly Golightly....straw and blue tulle!
This season, fashion seems to be actively courting my love of un-burnable 60's-70's polyester dresses. Clearance sales in fall will be a busy time for me.
And then we saw the ugliest boots ever.
They are hard to put into words, Renee needs to send me her photo.
The were knee-ish length leather boots. The leather was not fitted to the leg, instead it stood away from the leg, slightly baggy...not unlike the loose socks that used to be popular in schools here. ..but LETHAH. The leg of the boots didn't smoothly merge with the foot/toes. Instead it looked like the bottoms of too-long and too- baggy pants legs with a matching pair of boots peaking out.
For those of you watching Project Runway...it was as if Leather Lady had designed an outfit for a plus-sized model...an outfit with large black leather pants and leather biker boots...and then, in a fit of insanity, she took an axe and cut everything off her model at the knee-line, and personally stepped into the bloody leather leg-foot stumps and called it a day.
We not only got to see the boots on display, we also got to see them on a sales lady.
SCORE! Fashion zoo! Live fashion safari! Natives!
We worked our way down through the stores, across the underground mall, and popped up at Kyoto Tower. Scott had beaten us there and was waiting for Renee in her room. It was time for more cleaning up and for them to do whatever re-unioning they needed to do. We'd met up again in an hour or so.
As we rode the elevator up, we both admitted that we could be ready to eat fairly quickly because we didn't feel as full as we thought we should be.
Of course, I had a brick of tasty chocolates from Renee in myyyy room. After washing and lounging, I had some of the chocolate-something-and-fig bar. I am soooo taking the chocolate factory tour in Seattle next time.
After enough time had passed, I went over and knocked on their door.
Scott was more bearded than I had remembered, I remembered him clean shaven. I'm not anti-beard, but due to Japan being a fairly anti-facial hair country, I'm not used to them. Scott was sporting a respectable "international linguistics geekery" beard. Had it been more sparse, it would have been a scraggly creature, had it been less groomed it would have been aggressive, and had he been a geek of fewer grooming habits, it could easily have become a nasty nasty thing of shame...I'm sure he can imagine the beards his beard could be without care, because Scott comes from the geek and knows what happens when the solo geek spirals downward.
Scott speaks and reads a little Japanese and was telling me about having had a few of those run-ins with waitstaff where you ask them something in Japanese and they act as if you have spoken to them in English...because they don't hear gaijin Japanese.... and randomly reply to things you haven't asked, or they tap your menu and repeat what they've just said.
Renee didn't understand the annoyance because no one had pulled that with me and she doesn't speak enough Japanese to have her attempts poo-pooed. I did the talking for her. She's the wife of a linguistics geek, if she was craving the joys of learning and applying a new language she didn't mention it. I was pretty sure she wasn't lacking for educational-language-vacation-experiences in life and might have a few foisted on her once I was gone. I knew she'd be eating octopus balls before she left.
I later realized why I haven't been annoyed by "gaijin-shock-earblock" recently. It isn't because it doesn't happen...it's because my response has changed. At those times I say, in Japanese "oh, I'm sorry my pronunciation is so terribly bad." or "I must have use the wrong word, can you teach me the right one?" and because Japan is what it is, even if my pronunciation were shit...their only real option or reply is to tell me that I speak like an angel and that it's not my fault.
I'm sure Scott would be on my side if I told him of the couple times I've snottily questioned a Starbucks worker about WHY they are dropping the "keigo" (the politeness forms) when talking to me.
Renee and I had been looking at our guidebooks. We hadn't been alert enough to really find a specific restaurant that we wanted, but we picked the area with the most "restaurants we recommend" dots and figured that if we headed to that area we'd be swimming in options.
As we waited for our train, Scott told us about the conference highlights of his last week here in Japan. He dished who rocked the karaoke mic and who didn't. Apparently Scott rocks the mic hard. He gets a little offended when people express surprise at his signing skills. Me, I've given up on guessing the good singers. You can't spot them. They don't walk or stand like dancers. I've met a few annoying mother-fuckers with mind-blowingly lovely voices and they've made me realize the good voices are distributed without rhyme or reason.
Apparently Scott's ability to rock the mic is not limited to voice and extends to language. Battleship Yamato one verse...Starblazers the next!
Disclaimer: I may frequently call Scott a geek. It might happen. Dude, Yamato/Starblazers alone would earn him that. But know that I use it simply as a term of recognition, of as a tern labeling him as other. I come from the geek. I don't even want to know how many of you on my friends list could sing both versions, in both languages, WITHOUT teleprompting, I'm guessing 10 but that might be low. I am of the geek.... Scott, I mean well. You of all people KNOW first hand the geek-bellydance bridge that many of us have crossed.
That's right, your wife is a geek too.
A Suhalia Level-3 prepping GEEK.
And me? Dude, I'm blogging this all.
Ok.
We popped out of the station and...uh...
Corporate buildings.
We checked maps, trying to find our way to the street or streets that were supposed to be filled with recommended restaurants.
Uuuuuuuuhhh.
At one point I did see a storefront I recognized, that I knew to be near a restaurant I love in Kyoto...but I didn't say anything because it was a "home cooking vegetarian" place that would have offered very little for the meat-cravings Renee was starting to have...and I knew Scott, as much as he liked my company, was secretly hankering to relive an all-meat dining experience he'd had his previous time. I knew it was going to turn into some sort of crazed carne-orgy when I left and figured it was for the best if we got some meat into them.
We went down side streets. I did turn down some Italian restaurants because...well...Japan not so good at that. I had told Renee about the Italian restaurant that I'd been to with pizza covered in broccoli and mayo and the jazz band that played a Disney medley and a Super Mario brothers tune. I don't think I ever wrote about it. It was pretty godawful. It also was decorated like a 80's hostess club.
Around severe hunger time we found a restaurant...
uhhh...
Noodles and tempura.
Again.
But....food.
I don't know what you know about Japan's zoning laws. If you know anything, I'd love to learn a bit about them, because to the best of my knowledge they do not exist. My waxing salon/day spa is a woman named Takako's living room (Beauty Bastard day spa! ) There was a "snack pub" (hostess bar) in my last residential areas. It's sometimes hard to find restaurants and certain stores even when you know what to look for, because they might be snuggled between two houses, or on the 6th floor of a corporate building. Even when I am armed with a website-provided map it is an adventure.
Finding a restaurant on a side street in Kyoto is harder than you realize...because it involves separating the homes from the storefront. Where we went was probably both. We were the only customers. I'd guess that the grandma in the kitchen was probably related to our young, chipper, server. It would take them a while to get rolling. We were taken into what looked like a living room with tables.
The room had seen better days and wasn't as cool as we'd like, but we were hungry...and it would have been more of an emotional thing to say no to a family than it had been to say no to a server in the Kyoto Station complex...
In the room there was a painting of a Geisha/Maiko. Her eyes were lopsided and one of her arms appeared to have been broken in the artist's attempt to not draw a second hand.
I translated what I could on the menu and asked questions to the server about the words I didn't understand.
Some Japanese staff get very happy when they learn that I speak Japanese, beyond the simple fact that it makes their lives easier...I become a chance to teach someone something about Japan/noodles/fabric/sake...or how the style of sitting changed in the Edo era.
So, he started explaining that the painting was a famous geisha, the "honey" of a famous actor...and so on.
When he was gone we started to bullshit about if the eyes were an artistic flaw or a mark of beauty standards of bygone days. Scott and I both exibitted our natural enjoyment of spewing out information and ideas we've encountered and how that alternates between our natural enjoyment of creating amusing bullshit answers to questions.
"the eyes being lopsided reflect a larger theme in Asian art, that of the deliberate introduction of flaws into crafted items.blah.blah.blah."
We ate, talked, blathered...ya know.
We ate enough to be almost full, and then headed back to our hotel.
We all started craving a real, non-foofy no-beanpaste, dessert. This is when I gave them the gift that keeps giving when it comes to being in Japan...knowledge. Give a man a fish, teach him to fish, you know...
In this case it was the words "Hagendaaz, we can buy Hagendaaz at any major convienece store...." and the hunt for a convini was on. Tokyo and Okinawa are full of Hagendaz locations, but I hadn't seen any in Kyoto...but a convini is a convini.
Convinis are usually every few blocks in Tokyo. The property price right next to Kyoto Station must be insane, so there was less convini density than I am used to. Scott was mocking my muttering "there must be one nearby"
And then we spotted the Lawson and headed for it. I think one of them asked what flavors the pints came in. Pints! Japan! Fools! We don't get that much goodness in our serving size...but we do get some great seasonal Hagendaaz specialties. I am currently enjoying the Tiramisu, but I miss the tiny berry parfait available last summer.
I made a dismissive wave at the first freezer in Lawson. The freezer nearest the entrance always has cheap-ass low-rent ice-creams...the goods are farther in...they aren't for the impulse purchace victim, they are for the discriminating trufflehunters.
We first grabbed bars and individual tiny packs..and then saw the six pack (cookies & creme, strawberry, and vanilla, two each) and got that instead. The Lawson worker gave us more than six spoons. FOOL!
We scurried back to the hotel.
Ice cream! Ice cream!
Nom nom nom nom nooooooom
Iiiiice cream.
Perfect.
We decided that we would do breakfast at 8....and that if either of us needed food earlier (me and Renee being the ones who don't solider through hunger) we could knock earlier.
Good night!
