Kabuki Rhymes With....?

Nothing.

Kabuki rhymes with nothing but it is bizarre.  It is believed Kabuki is derived from the verb "Kubuku" which means out of the ordinary or bizarre. I'll say. Kabuki theater is classical Japanese drama known for the elaborate costumes and make-up.

In kanji characters it means "sing", "dance" and "skill."  However you define it, it's something anyone living in Japan should see at least once.

Russell and I went as part of our acculturation campaign.  Friday night was Kabuki Theater, Saturday night was Sumo Wrestling, (watching; not participating) and Sunday night was a party on the roof of our apartment to meet the neighbors.  After this weekend we're feeling very acculturated.

Kabuki Theater was an experience.  Our seats were great, right next to the runway. Yes, runway.  Characters occasionally enter the stage on it.  We had secured the tickets through TAC (The Tokyo American Club).  In fact one of the TAC employees who always assists me with cultural events was seated in our row.

Our seats adjoining the walkway.

The program we saw included three plays, or parts of plays, as well as, a naming ceremony.  Apparently everyone in Kabuki theater is related to each other and the acting names get passed down from one to another based on acting ability and rank.  The ceremony we saw honored a father and son both assuming their father before thems' acting name.  According to the TAC employee the father being honored today is the son of an actor who is considered a "national treasure." He is literally called that.  Can you imagine?  "Yes I'd like you to meet Mr. Russell X - National Treasure."  I can't think of any actor or athlete who is called "a natural treasure" in America.  We don't have those kind of distinctions.  In England they give out knighthoods.  In America, they just give you lots of money and gift bags.

Curtain commemorating the naming ceremony.

Apparently naming ceremonies are a very important part of Kabuki theater, in which titles are passed down through families. In fact, you can't even get into Kabuki theater unless you were born into it.   Male descendants are expected to follow in their father's footsteps.  Kind of like the Sheens and the Baldwins.  Women aren't allowed to participate. What?  In ancient days Kabuki theater was played by an all women cast.  Apparently a lot of the themes were suggestive and actresses performed off stage as well as on stage, if you know what I mean.  Some uptight shogun banned women from kabuki in 1629, after which women's roles were played by young men. However that drew another type of um, unsavory audience.  You can take the Kabuki out of the theater but you can't take the Kabuki out of the audience.  So then only men above a certain age were allowed to act in Kabuki theater.

It's been 500 years now and the boys are back but women are still banned.  Hello?

Russell and I were armed with English translators and I couldn't help but chuckle when the audio declared that one of the actors being honored, although of an elevated age (over 50), could still persuasively play female characters.  I think I need more persuasion or more sake.  He wasn't pretty.

At first I thought the acting was comical.  The sets were magical and the costumes were awe inspiring but the synchronized expressions, drawn out for maximum impact, were a little over dramatic.  But then I started to appreciate it. The translator definitely helped.  One of Russell's associates told me Kabuki was hard enough to follow in Japanese, much less English.  He was right.

Illegally taken picture of the first kabuki play.

One of the plays was about a famous thief from the 15th century.  Yeah, these people never forget. I thought perhaps it was a Japanese Robin Hood story.  No. He wasn't famous for stealing, he was famous for the way he died.  How nice.  Apparently there was a new shogun in power and he wanted to demonstrate he wasn't soft on crime so he concocted a new way to kill a thief - boil them.  I believe they call it "parboiling."  And I thought it was just a gourmet cooking term.  As this was being broadcast over our interpreting devices, Russell turned to me and said, "perfect."  I had to stifle a giggle.

After the second play we were escorted back stage by a woman who works with TAC and given the amazing privilege of meeting the senior actor being honored.  Russell and I were astounded.  The other TAC associate was with us and when I asked him if this was normal, his face and the fact I thought he was going to faint when he met the famous actor, indicated how rare an occasion this was.  Russell and I were profoundly grateful.

We had our picture taken with the actor.  In America it would be the equivalent of meeting Sean Connery or somebody equally exalted.  Course Sean wouldn't be wearing five kimonos weighing over 75 pounds and three coats of heavy white pancake makeup.

Yes, that's a real man in that costume.

Shot of the theater.

Not a good angle for me but the hair looks good.

Amount of time remaining in intermission.

There were several - each about 30 minutes long.

No wonder the thing went from 4 to 9.

Roke the Typhoon

When Russell called and told me to fill the bathtub with water and run down to the grocery store for emergency provisions, I teased him for over-reacting.  "But the U.S. Embassy sent us a warning; didn't you see it?" he uttered nervously.

"Of course I saw it.  I promptly deleted it because it's like the third or fourth typhoon warning we've gotten in the past two months and this one doesn't even claim to have more velocity than the last warning.  Is this the first warning you've read?"

"Um, yeah, " he stated rather timorously.

The last two typhoon warnings translated to some wind and rain.  And one actually left behind a gloriously clear and humidity free day.  Bring it on!

I didn't fill the bathtub and I wasn't about to go to the grocery store again.  I'd already been to two different grocery stores in the past two days and we have plenty of candles and wine.  Candles, wine and Pepperidge Farm cookies - that ought to tide us over if the warnings actually came true and we happen to lose electricity for a few days, I reasoned and turned the TV on.  Ranger settled onto the couch next to me.

Since Russell had called that afternoon it had grown ominously dark.  Looks like rain I concluded.  The wind picked up.  By the end of Ugly Betty it was actually stormy.  The wind was really blowing, actually howling and the trees in the backyard were raging back and forth.  Hmmmm.  Even Ranger took notice of the tumult.  Then came the rain - angry, torrential downpours that seemed to have a purpose: soak everything.  Oh, you're not wet yet - take that - now you are!

Watching the storm was kind of mesmerizing, more interesting than TV.  Ranger and I lay on the couch transfixed.  By the time Russell came home the rain had stopped but the wind was still creating havoc.

We had agreed to eat out but Russell was concerned about getting electrocuted by loose power lines.
I didn't want to start on the candles and cookies and I sure didn't feel like cooking. The power was still on and it was early, just 7:30p.

"Let's go out.  It will be an adventure."  Russell didn't think any restaurants would be open. I suggested La Cigogne, a French restaurant less than 500 yards from our front door.  We called and they were open.  When we arrived five minutes later, there was only one other diner.  We were trying to figure out if they were happy we were there or wished we hadn't come so they could close early.  Russell asked them and they enthusiastically welcomed our presence.  A few minutes later we saw why, they were expecting a large party.

By the time we got out of dinner the typhoon was gone.  At first I thought maybe we were in the eye of the storm, but Russell's favorite app, Weather Channel - he's addicted to Doppler, proved the typhoon had just magically disappeared, kind of like the chocolate dessert we just ate.

The next morning it was a gloriously clear and COOL day.  It was so refreshing.  It was actually 70 degrees and NO HUMIDITY.  Ranger and I were ecstatic!  We couldn't wait to get outside.  This was California weather.

The carnage at the park was proof there had been a typhoon - a real one.  Leaves were everywhere.  It was like Fall had happened over night. There were a lot of fallen trees, not just branches, but whole trees.  It was kind of scary.  Imagine if we had been walking through the park when they fell?  Yikes!

That still doesn't warrant filling the bathtub though.

Drunkbread

It was Saturday night and Russell and I were drunk, with friends.  It was just like old times, except we were in Tokyo, with people we just met, expats, no less.

Somehow the waiting list had been opened up to accommodate those of us who signed up late for the Cakebread Wine dinner at TAC (Tokyo American Club).  All of us seemed to be seated at the same table, the rowdy table.  

Generally I try to avoid all events at TAC due to my perception, now corrected, that all TAC members are snobs and unfriendly, unless you can further their ego or career. But this was different.  Could I have been wrong?  I was wrong once, but I was mistaken.  Was it wrong to assume that just because I smile and say hi and nobody else does it back, they're all snobs?   It seemed like a good assumption at the time.

But there we were in a room full of strangers, all vying for another pour of the Cakebread Sauvignon Blanc, when I spotted a pretty blond woman struggling with her phone, her purse and her wine.  She didn't have enough hands.  I offered to hold her wine.  Big of me, right?  Of course Russell suspected I was after her drink.  As if?!

She was a newbie, she and her husband had just moved here, and they didn't have any kids.  No way!  The few expats I've met all have kids and we have none, well, except for Russell.  But he doesn't go to the International School so I find I have nothing in common with the expat moms, plus I get the feeling they look at any woman without kids suspiciously.  Course, I'm not insecure at all.

She was nice and friendly and soon enough we were standing there talking amicably with her husband and his boss and we all had more wine.  It ended up they were not assigned to our table so we agreed to meet for drinks afterwards.

Our table was all expats, all American, except for the unlucky Japanese guest of one of the TAC members. By the second course our table was showing its true American colors, loud, raucous and merry.  The guest must have been wondering what she had gotten herself into.   Our table was lively and the conversation was refreshing and insightful.  It seems I'm not the only one with the perception that TAC members are snobby.  Apparently a lot of expats share the same view as I do and feel the same sense of newly found reserve and appreciation for the Japanese culture.  We shared our experiences about the earthquake and how the Japanese's humility and discipline, especially in the face of tragedy, had made us all take a look at ourselves and our own culture.  It was cathartic, eased along by the wine, of course.

The food was surprisingly good and so was the wine.  Between each course Bruce Cakebread would amuse the crowd with wine anecdotes and tell us what we were drinking.  We all noted how generous the pouring had been at the beginning of the evening, but how now, toward the end, it seemed to have slowed to a trickle.  Or was it that we were all just really thirsty by then?  Conversation, and six glasses of wine, can do that.  This was about the time our host himself made it around to our table.   Big mistake.

He was welcomed by an overwhelming demand for more wine, of course implored with the deepest appreciation for what we had drunk so far.  This just after the premiere red of the evening, the Dancing Bear Ranch Cabernet, had been served in one minute pour per guest.  So of course we were all clamoring for more.  

But my favorite part was when Russell enthusiastically lauded Bruce for the amazing Dancing Bear Chardonnay he said he had tried at the Cakebread winery in Napa.  Bruce looked at him strangely for a minute then slowly nodded in understanding, concluding - drunk American - gottcha, and then said, "I'd love to try it too but we don't have a Dancing Bear white." Russell undeterred, expostulated how great it had been, sure he had tried a special, white Cakebread wine with a bear on the label.  Bruce smiled magnanimously and said, "well you'll be the first to know when we do."  

Soon after that it was obvious they wanted us to vacate the premises, pretty much all of the other tables had already left.  Was it something we said?  We took our new friends and the witty conversation downstairs to the bar.   Two bottles later the house lights came on in the bar too.  Is this a hint?  I was beginning to suspect they wanted to close or something?  

The rest of the night is a blur.  Somehow we made it home.  Thank goodness we don't have a car.  One of the benefits of Tokyo - you don't need a car, it's safe, and the train or a taxi will take you anywhere you need to go, even shit faced.

The next morning we woke up with epic hangovers.  It had been a while since we'd had one.  A hangover is like a really old irascible friend who has no qualms telling you, you look like shit, and reminding you of all the inappropriate things you said the night before.  Hello, old friend.   Can you come back later?

 The rowdy table

Yes, my husband would like another glass 

of the Dancing Bear Chardonnay

Nature Study

One of the things I miss the most about living in Southern California is the ability to get in your car and drive less than 30 minutes into nature.  I love to hike and being outdoors, in nature, cleanses my soul.  It also keeps me sane, which is nice.  Russell would agree.

Since living in Tokyo I haven't had a lot of soul cleansing.  I yearn for it.   So does Russell.

But recently I discovered that less than a twenty minute walk from my apartment (or ten minutes on a bike) is the Tokyo Institute for Nature Study.  Sounds official doesn't it?  Before I went there I imagined all kinds of weird things.   What kind of nature are they studying?  Are they breeding giant man eating turtles a la piranha?  Not quite.  Basically it's a big park that used to be some lord's property that has been left undisturbed for the past 500 to 600 years.  The brochure actually says that, "for the past 500 to 600 years..."  I love that.  Who needs to be precise?

For a mere 300 yen, about $3.60, you too can wear a pink ribbon (so everyone knows you paid to get in) and meander the gravel paths through ancient trees and marshland.  It's not hiking but it's a nice walk, with a lot of butterflies to keep you company. The turtles are the best part.  They climb all over themselves to come say hi. I wonder what they're feeding them?  Tourists?

Gravel path from 500 to 600 years ago, give or take.

Well hello there little turtle. 

Must be feeding time.

Nice dappled, path.

Summertime and the living's easy and hot.

Nice place for a nap.

Well, except for the big spiders.

They were everywhere and they were huge.

The males are a lot smaller.

I had to pay 2 yen to get this butterfly to pose for me.

Geez.

I think you can smoke this.

Blue dragon fly kept following me around.

I am Snow White - it's true.

Those are real wood log steps, not concrete

like in the park where I walk Ranger.

That's Russell - something that doesn't occur in nature very often.

He's thinking, "why did I let her convince me to walk in this heat"

See how far ahead of me he is - moving expeditiously towards the exit.

Cat got your tail?

Even the park benches are ornamental.

Where are the frogs?

Pool, pond? Pond would be good for you.

I think these are aliens.

500 to 600 year old tree

No Peanuts!

Imagine my surprise when we went to the baseball game and there were no peanuts.  No peanuts!  How can you go to a baseball game without peanuts?  The Japanese might say, how do you go to a baseball game without rice crackers.  Instead of hawking peanuts and cracker jacks, the vendors were hawking rice crackers and Baskin Robbins ice cream.

Baskin Robbins girl with menu.

I'd like mine with whip cream and sprinkles, please.

Actually beer was the primary commodity being sold seat-side and unlike America where only one company can sell their products, every beer company was selling their wares.  Capitalism at its most quenching example.  Asahi, Kirin, Suntory, Ebisu, they all had a gang of attractive employees, each wearing a baseball themed uniform with the company logo and a beer on tap backpack.  Suntory even had a guy selling Suntory whiskey and soda seat-side.  I wondered if the females sell more than the males.

Beer Girl.

Where's the Suntory and soda guy - I could use another.

Kirin Beer girl

Instead of hot dogs the food stations sold croqette balls (known as a korokke), rice or noodle bowls.  Russell exclaimed, "there's no noodles in baseball!"  In Tokyo there are.  But we opted for the fried balls, or as we like to call them,  hot, sweaty balls.  They were awesome and addictive.  There was a long line for them.  We had two orders.  Note to self, wait till after the 5th inning and the line decreases considerably.  And try the squid snacks, basically squid jerky, salty and sweet, awesome.

Just like Dodger stadium there were bats.  I mean real live bats, fluttering in the lights to feast on the bugs drawn by the light.  Just like Dodger stadium there were drunken fans that had to be escorted out by security.

Unlike Dodger stadium there were no fat, lazy baseball players, spitting chew in disgusting gobs.  All of the Japanese players were fit and all of them hustled to first base even when it was obvious they would never make it there before the throw.  Russell thought it was hilarious the coach hung out with pitcher on the mound while the pitcher warmed up between innings. I didn't really see the humor in this but he was tickled.  I guess it's a guy thing.  He also thought it odd the #3 hitter bunted, a lot.  "The #3 hitter never bunts," he kept muttering each time they bunted, which was a lot.  I added, "or asks for a second cup of coffee."

Each time a new pitcher would come out his theme song would play, just like in American baseball.  I told Russell my theme would be "I'm bossy" by Kelis.  Smartly he did not comment.  The average pitch thrown was 80 mpg vs. 90 mpg in American baseball.  Russell said the Japanese players are better at the basics; American players are all about the show.  Yeah, show me the money!

So what should we get Ichiro for a wedding gift?

The game was exciting.  The Tokyo Giants were playing the Yakult Swallows, (I know, intimidating name huh?) the other Tokyo team.  So it was like watching the Anaheim Angels (or whatever they're called these days) and the Los Angeles Dodgers play.  The crowd was crazy.  The fans in the cheap seats (the outfield) chanted cheers and waved banners the entire game.

We opted for a better view, along the third base line about 25 rows up.  Baseball is expensive!  Our tickets cost $110.00, plus food.

The view from our seats.

I got why the announcer and all the signage were in Japanese but every once in a while he'd say something in English or flash something English on the jumbotron.  It was bizzare.  There would be a long diatribe of Japanese and then out of the blue the announcer would say, "First out! in his best announcer voice"  with matching graphics.  Ok?   Why?

Like American baseball they had their equivalent of a rally monkey.  In this case it was a mini umbrella.  They came in a multitude of variations, some with statues on top, like hood ornaments.  Apparently they're collectors items and it seemed like the entire stadium thrust them into the air when a hit was made.  But instead of "rally maker" it's more like "rain maker".  And make rain they did.  A typhoon was blowing over Tokyo that day and it arrived at the stadium in the sixth inning.  There was a torrential downpour.  After 85 degree heat and 90% humidity, it was a welcome relief.  We didn't even mind that we were drenched.  Real umbrellas came out to handle this.  It lasted ten minutes.  I've never seen the infield covered so quickly.  And then the rain was gone and the game was back on.

Interestingly however when I researched the umbrella rainmaker it's really not a rainmaker at all.

According to the website below, Yakult fans open a sea of umbrellas whenever the Swallows score a run - their sarcastic way of telling the opposing pitcher he'll soon be headed to the showers.
http://www.baywell.ne.jp/users/drlatham/baseball/news/essays/japanbb.htm

The sea of umbrellas when the Swallows scored a run.

I want one!

 Ok, where's my squid snack?

Japan flag flying over the stadium

Oh What a Night!

So there we were Saturday afternoon, just Russell and me and about two million Japanese people, all vying for a place to sit to watch the 2011 Sumida River Fireworks, allegedly one of the best fireworks displays in the world.  We had considered leaving first thing in the morning to camp out but our neighbors told us that would not be necessary.  "Just head over there in the afternoon," they advised.

When we got there around 3pm, it was already pandemonium.  It seemed like everything was blocked off.  We had strategically identified two parks that run alongside the river as possible viewing locations.  But a large portion of these were blocked off and were being used as police staging areas.  That's not right.
Thousands of people were just milling about, a lot of them wearing colorful kimono's.  It was a cacophony of colors.

We kept walking, bustled along by the throngs around us.  Finally we seemed to be beyond the police barricade and to a section of the park open to the public.  It was packed, not a sliver of grass showed through the multi-colored patchwork of blankets and tarps.  What are we going to do now?!  We looked on dismayed.

But then something miraculous happened.  As we were walking down the stairs from yet another impounded area, a kindly Japanese man smiled at us and made a comment in excellent English, "Hard to find a spot isn't it?"  Truer words could not be spoken.  Russell and I both wholeheartedly exclaimed, "Yes!"  And then he said, "Why don't you come sit with me and my family."  Russell and I looked at each other in shock.  "Really! You sure you don't mind?"  "Absolutely!" he encouraged.

And suddenly we found ourselves following him across the patchwork of tarps and blankets to a premiere viewing location, right next to the river.  He explained how his oldest son, who lives in Tokyo, had come the night before with one of his friends to secure this location.  We could not believe our luck.

His family could not believe it either.  Look whose coming to dinner! Suddenly I felt like Sidney Poitier.  The looks we got when we showed up were comical to say the least.  I don't know who looked more shocked - us or them.  Russell broke the ice.  "We brought wine!"  That seemed to get a chuckle out of those who understood English.

Our host showed us where to sit and introduced us to his sons and wife.  Everyone seemed to call him Papa.  Although he told us he was over 60, like so many Japanese, he looked at least ten years younger.  The fact he was dressed rather hip in white jeans, a designer silver gilded shirt and a smart cap belied his age as well.  He had a great smile and an easy laugh.  He translated our conversation to his younger son who seemed very interested in us and where we came from.  Russell opened a bottle of rose we had brought and soon we had a lot of new friends wanting to try this strange vintage.  I didn't know if they were interested in the wine or the surprise American couple now sharing their hard sought space.

One bottle turned into four and soon we had made friends with several of his family and friends, even his wife seemed to abide us.  They had sequestered a pretty large space, right next to the fence along the river.  Their area was barricaded off with ice chest after ice chest filled with Japanese canned mixed drinks.  When our wine ran out we switched to these delicious canned concoctions. They were dangerous because they tasted like peach or grape sodas but were laced with soju, an Asian kind of vodka.

The middle of the space had low tables each piled high with Japanese snacks.  At first we felt uncomfortable eating their food, especially when we discovered his wife had stayed up all night making it especially for her family and friends.  But soon we were tipsy and decided we better eat something.  So we ate and it was great.  It was so interesting.  His family was so gracious.  His own son and his female friends served us both personally. They actually made us each a plate, carefully selecting the choicest food, as opposed to the American way, aka, the serve-yourself-you're-on-your-own-pal.

As we sat enjoying the homemade food, I couldn't help but muse how different the fare would be if we were at a fireworks display in America.  Instead of eating squid jerky (awesome btw), sweet egg omelets (Tomago) and rice wrapped in fried tofu, we'd be eating chips and salsa, cheese and crackers, sandwiches and maybe some potato salad, probably bought at CostCo.  Would we invite a random Japanese couple walking by?

The fireworks, although spectacular, were secondary to the experience we were having.

We truly had an amazing time!  I'm still in awe when I think about it.  I've always thought I lead a charmed life and this experience was just another testament to that but more importantly, it served as a lesson in how generous and gracious the Japanese are.  As we rode home on the train later that night we still couldn't believe it and we were grateful.

Thank you to Papa and his family and friends for giving us this gift.  The memories will last a lifetime.

Our host and his youngest son. 

That's my hat.

Russell with our host's daughter-in-law (on the right, in the hat)

and her friends, holding the rice wrapped in tofu

and sparkling shiraz!  Both super yummy.

His younger son and his friends.

Oh yeah, there were Fireworks

Over an hour and a half of them

Shot off from two locations

My new friends.  

I think my hat may look better on her.

Do I Have to Gut It First?

Last Friday Russell and I went out to dinner with our friend, the baker.  Not only did he bring his daughter, a rare privilege, but he also brought a cake and a bottle of wine.  I brought Russell.  I was feeling a little empty handed.

The baker is so incredibly nice.  We are so lucky to know him.  I was so honored to meet his daughter.  People have told us never to expect to meet a Japanese person's family or be invited to their house.  It just doesn't happen.  So you can imagine my surprise when he asked if he could bring her to dinner.

She turned out to be the highlight of the dinner.  Still at University (that's what they call it here), but graduating next May, she wants to have a career in International Security.  Russell thought she meant like at a rock concert.  Just kidding, he really thought it was selling securities for Morgan Stanley or the like.  No, more like writing security policy for different countries - slightly different.  It was such a great experience to have the opportunity to talk to a young person about their perspective on the possibilities of life here in Japan versus the U.S..  Like her father, she spent one year as a High School exchange student in America.  She stayed with a family in Maine.

According to her, unlike the U.S. where you can have several jobs in your career, so it's OK if you don't have it all figured out when you graduate, in Japan you usually only have one job in your lifetime, so you better know what you want to do.  Talk about pressure.  She said they pretty much have to have it figured out by high school.  High school, apparently, is where all the studying takes place, not college.  This is the absolute opposite from the U.S..  I never studied in High School.  Well I didn't really study in college either.  Just partied.  Another major difference, I suspect.

She was so bright and warm and gracious, it was yet another subtle reminder of how crass and obnoxious Americans are.

We ate at a place called "Bird Land."  At first, I thought maybe "Bird Land" was code for KFC.  But no, it's code for great chicken yakitori.  They serve pretty much every part of the chicken on a stick, including chicken oysters, which at first I thought was going to be a clever name for something really atrocious like chicken testicles or stomach.  But actually it turned out to be the best meat on the chicken, you know, that small ball of meat on the back of the chicken.  Yummy!  We agreed it would be best for us to eat each morsel before identifying it.  This way we couldn't  apply any prejudices to the food before we ate it.  And since it was all chicken - I  thought we'd be safe.  If someone had told me I was eating calf glands before I tried sweet breads, I never would have tasted it.  Everything was delicious.

Naturally, this induced a conversation about my ignorance in shopping for Japanese ingredients at the grocery store.  Every week I make a point to buy a Japanese ingredient and cook with it.  I usually have no idea what it is.  It's part of the fun.  I buy it.  I bring it home.  I taste it first, usually with a large glass of wine as a chaser, just in case it's nasty.  And then I cook with it.  Garlic and butter will make anything tasty.  I mentioned how I had something in my refrigerator right now that is a total mystery but wrapped in pretty pink paper.

The baker offered to take us to the grocery store and educate me.  We agreed to meet the next morning at the International Supermarket.  If I hadn't been slightly tipsy and slightly intimidated by his offer I might have stopped to think twice about the International Supermarket.  If I really wanted to understand Japanese products, wouldn't it be better to go to a Japanese supermarket?

But it turned out to be one of the best educational experiences for all of us.  Turns out the international supermarket has a lot of Japanese products.  The baker patiently explained each product, its uses and even offered suggestions on how to cook it.  The fish section was especially interesting.  I don't usually shop at the international super market - it's too expensive.  I shop at the Wholesale local market where almost nothing is in English.  The fish section is always the most intimidating.  Lots of whole fish or fish heads or live fish.  While I actually know how to scale and gut a fish, I'm not going to do it for Tuesday night dinner, when I can buy something already filleted.  I can just imagine it now.  "Honey, what did you do today?"  "Oh, you know, the usual, gutted a fish. I saved the eyeballs for you."

The baker showed me several kinds of fish that don't require gutting.  He explained which ones were great for BBQ and which ones were best cooked in the oven and even how to eat each of them.  I was feeling much more confident now.  I can do this!

He solved several mysteries for me too.  Like the fact they don't have half & half in Japan. Bummer.   Like which packages contain the infamous Japanese stinky beans.  Every time I meet a new Japanese person and talk about food they ask me if I've tried them.  Like how to tell which soy sauce is low salt.  I can tell you staring at the labels for several minutes never garnered the answer.  Turns out the mystery product in my refrigerator in the pretty pink wrapper is fish paste.  Glad I knew that before I tried it.

He recommended specific products and brands.  He even showed me the plethora of products with no calories.  Apparently they're made with a special potato the human body cannot digest.  They're very popular. They clean your system out.  Uh, I'll save that for another time.

By the end of our tour I had a basket filled with Japanese products to try at home and a head full of knowledge.  He had a can of Hansen's natural soda, my one contribution.  I bought him this.  Tangerine-lime - my favorite.

I was so thankful he would take the time to teach me all that.  I wished we had more time so we could take him to lunch or something.  But we already had other plans.  I thanked him profusely, gave him a hug and gushed on about how fun this was and how much I learned.  Russell agreed.

The baker said he learned a lot too.   Where he lives, Nagano, they don't have the depth of products found at the International Supermarket.  He was impressed by the variety, and probably by the number of ex-pats.  He said he didn't feel like he was in Japan.  The last time he'd been to this neighborhood was when he was a student, probably over twenty years ago.    I'm guessing it's a little different now.

These pretty ribbons are fish you eat raw.

No gutting required - good for BBQ

No gut, just cook in the oven and eat with chopsticks.

The head is the best part.

Russell, you go first.

Tiny squid and fish you eat on rice.

Can you tell which one is low salt?

It's the middle ones of course.