Posted in Shanghai on September 5, 2008 by denisgwong
You know Dory in Finding Nemo? Well, I’ve adopted her motto, and am just trying to get through each day. Actually, teaching is getting better. The kids, they actually listen to me, well at least I think they do, since many of them don’t speak English.
As for the hell psych class; I’ve decided that next week I’m going to powerpoint them to death with hardcore facts to counteract the chaos of our first meeting. Then maybe show a video or two.
On another note: our apt is finally furnished! Ikea has become like a second home, we’re there every week, getting various stuff and their food’s not bad either. Oh, and we managed to find good burgers. Yesterday I even had a beef bowl from the Shanghai Yoshinoya. Japan, how I miss you.
This weekend I’ll put up the first post at www.denisgwong.blogspot.com
at that point this blog will go on hiatus, maybe I’ll pick it up again when we get back to the US. for now, it’s going to be the blogspot one.
Posted in Shanghai on September 3, 2008 by denisgwong
Three days into teaching, sleep has become a distant memory, I’ve forgotten how to eat and have lost nearly ten pounds. A heightened sense of impending doom and nerves dominate my days. From class to class, I scramble, and I am still trying to recover from the disaster of my psychology class. You see, I had prepared for a writing class, and even managed to teach five whole minutes of writing…until the kids informed me that the subject was psychology. Oh…ok. One of the worst hours of my life. Horrible. Can barely type about it.
But, teaching is getting better. Most of my kids are great, especially in my English classes. I’ll have to keep this short though, because I’m (actually both cole and I) are still just keeping afloat with our work.
Also, the new blog will be at: http://denisgwong.blogspot.com/
so any further updates will be there (including all those japan photos and videos I still have to post, and a few from shanghai too!). The new blog is empty at the moment, but I hope to have some time next week maybe.
Posted in Uncategorized on August 25, 2008 by denisgwong
Yes, that’s right. We found out our classes today and among two non-native English classes, one writing class, and one history, I’m also teaching a section of ecology and evolution, which I’m pretty excited about. Here we come natural history museum. All of the classes are for ninth graders too, my first choice.
Cole has two native 9th grade English classes, a 9th grade writing, and a twelfth grade history…hmmm, a bit lighter than my schedule. Still, getting my classes has put me into work mode. It’s been awhile since I’ve done anything productive besides wandering around the world, so I’m ready to put in some effort into this teaching gig. Watch out kiddies…
Normally, I would have more descriptive paragraphs, and I really do have to tell you about this Shanghai area we’re in. It’s not at all what I expected; kinda crazy, but not in a bad way, and probably not crazier than any other part of China. I can’t get into all that yet because at any moment I could be firewalled out of wordpress again.
Both cole and I will be starting new blogspot blogs soon. There, we’ll have a thorough account of our first shanghai impressions, and the long awaited Japan roundup with Hiroshima and Kyoto. Lots of fun videos still to post.
So, once we have those up and running, I’ll link them here and send out a few emails.
Posted in Uncategorized on August 23, 2008 by denisgwong
ok, not quite settled into the new apt yet. but one thing is clear, and that’s that wordpress is not going to work well here. each attempt involves way too much leaping and hiding around various firewalls. so, I’ll soon post the location of the new china blog, which I think will look much like the old china blog. stay tuned. same goes for nicole too, she has even more trouble getting onto hers.
Posted in Shanghai on August 22, 2008 by denisgwong
China is not Japan. Not even in the slightest. No welcomes, no greetings, and (here at least), no anime haircuts. All the layers of politeness that we’ve grown used to traveling through Japan are gone. China just doesn’t give a damn. Ok fine. We can deal. Or maybe, it’ll take longer than I thought.
At the airport: lining up to get out, an old Chinese grandma, about waist high, is determined to dig her shoulder into my buttocks. Perhaps she thinks that since she can not go around me, she will literally go through me. I twist and turn to prevent further occurances of what my old Webster (as in the tv show) record taught me was “a bad touch” but what I’m really starting to learn here is that in China, you can’t avoid all the bad touches.
A brief stop in Carrefore (a French turned Chinese Wal-Mart-esque store): we walk down an aisle, and heads swivel completely around to stare…and stare (at least they were somewhat discreet about this in Japan). Then, cole pauses to observe the hairdryers, and one attendent comes up to us, smiling, pointing to the most expensive one. Then another woman sidles on over, then another, and one last latecomer (seriously, aren’t we in Shanghai? There are plenty of laowais around, look there’s one, and she has kids! Isn’t she gawk-worthy?) They are crowded into a huddle wondering which one cole will buy. Cole smiles…and we retreat. Scurry scurry away.
Ok, cole needs a hairdryer, so we try again. This time only two smell out our foreigness. One of them says something to me. Um…I don’t speak Mandarin, and I tell her so in Mandarin, Cantonese I say, and she understands but that doesn’t deter her as she continues to talk to me like I understand. She too, points out the most expensive hairdryer. I take out a calculator and try to bargain down (that is what one does in China no?) but she laughs and says no. Instead, we buy another brand. We pay at a not so obvious counter, and on the way out (more stares), I reach for a plastic bag, and am denied by a manager type. No plastic bag for us.
I carry the hairdryer back to our hotel, because we need a rest. Because Shanghai is not easy, and neither is getting a hairdryer. We’ll see how lunch and dinner go.
By tomorrow, we’ll be whisked away to our school enclosure, where hopefully things will make at least a little sense to us.
Posted in Shanghai on August 22, 2008 by denisgwong
We’re here. It’s official. The plane landed, we squeezed into a taxi, and arrived in our hotel in Pudong, Shanghai. I didn’t sleep at all last night, until finally, around 5am, I decided to pop two nightquills to chase away the nonstop jitteriness that china was giving me. Groggy awareness returned around 9am, and we found a way around the great firewall (otherwise I wouldn’t be posting this). The first full day in Shanghai is staring at me full in the face.
The rest of Hiroshima and Kyoto is coming up. Also a full account of crossing over to shanghai. Still can’t believe we made it…
Hiroshima is a city completely unlike Tokyo. The sidewalks are wider, the people smile more, the greetings are softer; everything around us breathes in deep, slow breaths, from the cicadas in the trees, to the bicycles winding along the sides of the inland sea. If Hiroshima is known as the city of peace, then it is because of the determined openness of its people, who seem to be accepting and welcoming of everyone.
Back in the US I might be wary of surroundings like this—friendliness? Slow, relaxed pace of life? I would miss the hustle, and speed-walk my way around the those strolling along. Yes, peace would be great, but keeping an eye out for trouble, and viewing the world with a layer of skepticism is a necessary part of everyday living.
Would I tell a complete stranger where I was going in the middle of New York? Probably not; I would lie, like I did when I was twenty or so, and an old bearded guy started walking beside me while I was on my way to Port Authority. After shadowing me for two blocks, he asked me my name, where I was from, if I needed help getting to wherever it was I was going, and if I had a girlfriend. (Answers: David, Massachusetts, no, and yes—first two answers false, last two true).
But in Hiroshima, it was different. Cole and I were just out of the JR train station, and we were looking for our hotel. We knew that the way involved taking the one of the local trams
which Hiroshima is famous for. We even knew which stop we wanted and the name of the street the hotel was on. We were confirming it on a map, when we heard a voice. “Where are you going?”
We turned around, and saw that its source was a sturdy old man wearing traditional blue garments. “Peace Park?” He asked.
“No, no.” I pointed at the stop on the map. “Fukuro-machi.”
“Ah…Fukuro-machi?” He seemed confused. “Dome?”
“Um…hotel,” I answered, but it was hard to get the idea across, and it didn’t help that I have a tendency to mumble.
“Speak slowly and clearly and I will understand,” he said.
“We’re going to our hotel,” cole said carefully, and she mimed a sleeping motion.
He got it. “Hotel! What hotel?”
We told him, and he thought for a minute. Then he borrowed a piece of paper from us, and not only did he begin to tell us where exactly the hotel was, but he also drew us a map of the entire area, with arrows to point us in the correct direction.
We thanked him both in Japanese and in English.
“Are you American?” he asked cole.
“Yes.” She nodded.
He looked to me. “Japanese?”
“No, no. Chinese.”
“Oh.”
“But American too.”
“Ah.” He paused. “I am Peace park guide.”
I looked at him closer, and I began to wonder how he came to be a guide. How long had he lived in Hiroshima? He was definitely the right age, but I couldn’t ask. I mean, how do you ask someone if he or she lived through one of the most horrific tragedies of our time?
As the tram came, he told us where to sit, how to pay, and before he got off, he told the driver where to stop for us.
None of this would have happened in New York. Not meaning that New Yorkers aren’t friendly, if fact, I bet that almost every single person you stop on the street would help out with directions if asked, but none would seek out to help confused tourists. There are reasons for this . What if the tourists are crazy? What if they mispronounce greenwich or houston? Even worse, what if they’re wearing fanny packs….But thank you Mr. Peace Park guide, for helping two strangers out. I’ll try to extend the same gesture back home or maybe even in Shanghai once I know the area.
We settled into our hotel, and then went out to explore our immediate surroundings. Hiroshima was re-built into a grid, so finding places wasn’t that hard. Near our hotel was an extensive covered shopping arcade, which was needed to escape the sun (actually, the weather was a bit cooler and drier there).
The hundred yen shop.
Dinner was a restaurant with absolutely no English menu and few pictures to point at. The waitress didn’t know any English either so ordering was a struggle.
We sat in enclosed booths, cute place.
We ended up ordering a strange combo of cold soba (buckwheat) noodles, grilled fish, white rice and pickles.
The aftermath.
The next morning we decided to be decadent. You see, I had been developing intense cravings for the most silly basic things, like corn flakes with bananas and PB&J. I mean, I love Japanese food, and probably have it two or three times a week usually; but I’m also used to a burrito now and then, or some pasta, or some chow fun, or a turkey sandwich. Eating in Japan is great, but the variety isn’t quite there. But I should get used to this, as I’m sure China will be missing a few staples (what…no knishes or matza ball soup?).
Cole thought that the perfect antidote for my cravings would be the hotel’s breakfast buffet, so we went for it, and boy did I go for it.
First round was the Western breakfast: pancakes, sausage, eggs, fruit. The sausage was good, but the eggs were way too buttery, and the pancakes were a little dry. When I found the waffles I got all excited and put some syrup on them. What I didn’t realize was that the waffles were a kind of dessert bread, already sweet and dense like a roll. With the syrup on top it was too much to take. Complete sugar overload. But, none of it mattered, because sitting on an innocuous side table, were corn flakes. Real, honest to god, cornflakes. A decanter of milk lay next to it, and it wasn’t long until I found a banana. Oh, it was good; never have I appreciated corn flakes and bananas like this.
Second round was the Japanese breakfast. Rice porridge, salted fish, pickles.
Cole showed more restraint than I.
Completely stuffed, we waddled to Peace Park, the A-Bomb dome and the Peace Museum.
Nicole in full Japanese fashion, sporting a sunblocking umbrella (purchased in London).
The side of Peace Park. Carp would unexpectantly leap out of the water every now and then.
The A-Bomb dome. The more I learned about the devastation, the more amazed I was that any of this building survived at all.
Sights from Peace Park:
The Peace Museum was an experience as well, some of it almost too much to bear. I had conflicted emotions about it all. I was an American looking at the terrible effects of our atom bomb, but in the back of my mind I also knew of all the atrocities that Japan committed, including those against the Chinese.
In the museum though, I was struck by how genuine and fair their displays were. No political angles, just documentation. I still can’t quite grasp how a society can recover from such destruction, when there’s literally barely anything left of a city. How do you go on? It seemed unreal that we were walking right in the epicenter of the explosion, where there were now birds hopping along branches.
We collected ourselves, and wandered for awhile, until eventually we found ourselves in a random restaurant for dinner. Upon walking in, I heard old-fashioned music sung in Mandarin and knew immediately that we were a Chinese restaurant. Sadly, the kind of Chinese food served was the same trimmed down version that is common in Japan…in other words, it was a slight variant of a ramen restaurant. As I slurped my noodles (eh, they were ok), I looked at the one guy that worked there, who served as host, waiter, and cook. Was he Chinese? He seemed like he could be, but since arriving in Japan, I had learned that my ability to discern different ethnicities wasn’t as dead-on as I thought. “Oh well, who cares,” I thought. I was in Japan anyway, it was as good as place as any to try out my awful Mandarin.
With my nerves steeled, I went up to the register pay the bill. He took my money and I let it loose:
“Ni shi zhongguo ren ma?” (are you chinese?)
He gave me a funny look. Ok…maybe my tones were off. I tried the line in Cantonese, which I know is pretty close to what a normal Canton person would sound like. Nope, no luck.
Er…”Ni hui shao putong hau ma?” (do you speak mandarin?)
A light bulb went off, and his mouth lifted into a wide smile. “No,” he said. He spoke something else. And then he went on, saying where he was from, but I couldn’t understand him because of his dialect. He asked me if I was from Shanghai. (did I sound like I was speaking Shanghainese?)
I wanted to tell him that I was moving there in a few weeks to be a teacher, but that was way beyond my meager putuong hau skills, so instead I said that my parents are from Hong Kong, but I was an American. “Keshi, wo shi Meiguo ren.”
And after that there was an awkward pause, because I had exhausted all of my Mandarin (unless he wanted to talk about hobbies or numbers, I got those down), and Cantonese wasn’t going to work, so I thanked him for the meal, and said see you later.
Alright, not the greatest conversation, but it was my first one in Mandarin, and it worked! A nice end to day two.
Hiroshima had much more to offer, but I’ll get into that in the next post. I’ll leave you with a few pictures we took for fun in our hotel room.
“heeheeheehee, butter?” she said. Her laugh was the kind of high-pitched schoolgirl giggle I thought only existed as a stereotype, a kind of anime myth, but nope, here it was, in full skittish glory. To complete the image, her petite pink nailpolished hand covered her mouth in a dainty gesture. The amused tittering was shared by her co-worker, like asking for butter on my bagel was the most insane and inappropriate request ever. I even thought for a second that maybe “butter” sounded phonetically like a dirty Japanese word.
She crossed her arms in an “X,” the universal Japanese gesture for “no.” As in, “No, I will not be having butter with my bagel.” I slinked away and out of the cafe as they continued to laugh their light stacatto laughter of cruelty.
Score: Japanese counter girls 1 - Denis 0
Even now, Nicole feels the need to mock me with the laugh. Oh the laugh…
I ate my bagel plain, and an unadorned bagel is a sad thing, especially an unadorned Japanese bagel.
To help me get over my wounded sense of self, we went to one of the largest food halls in Tokyo, located in the basement level of the Seibu department store in Ikebukuro. Cole knew that this would cheer me up because besides eating food, looking at food comes in as a close second in my ranking of food-related activities (don’t ask me what comes in at third–finger painting with soy sauce?).
And the food hall did not disappoint. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen so many types of edible goodies packed so closely together (Barcelona?), from mysterious jellies and cakes (could be mochi) to gyoza, tempura, sushi, grilled eel (oh, the grilled eel) and pastries, among much much more.
In fact, we were so overwhelmed by the massive crowd and number of choices (and the complete lack of seating didn’t help either), we actually decided to pick up lunch at a supermarket close to our hotel and bring it up to our room.
Gyoza: even the Japanese supermarket specimens are better than the restaurant versions back home (this is true of most sushi too).
A variaty of fried rice with bits of veggies and seafood.
“Feeling better?” Cole said to me while we ate.
“I guess so, but the echoes of the laugh will forever haunt me.”
or so went our completely made-up conversation.
Anyhoo, after our patched-together lunch, we headed out to the Edo-Tokyo Museum. As the name implies, the museum is dedicated to the history of Tokyo, from the Edo period to the present.
Kabuki.
Old Japanese currency.
All of the exhibits were contained within one large space, seperated by two levels. Everything was really neat (and by neat I mean interesting, though they were also neat as in coordinated and clean) and we took our time looking at the items, so much so that we ran out of time and missed the modern section. The 1930s and onward will have to wait until next time I guess.
As usual, we were drawn right to the printing and publishing section of the museum. Yep, wherever we are, we’ll find the books.
Model of an Edo-era bookstore.
A little more modern.
Standing.
Outside of the museum.
After the museum we walked around town for a bit, sweating like crazed monkeys (they sweat a lot I hear) and eventually time passed as it’s prone to do, and we were ready for dinner.
Dinner was again at our little udon place under the tracks.
Beef bowl w/ udon, does it get any better? Beef bowl consists of strips of marinated beef, cooked down with onions, on top of white rice.
And with that day three was over.
As an aside, I don’t think I’ve mentioned how clean Japan is. So…it’s really clean. Litter barely exists, and there are people cleaning the sidewalk and floors everywhere we go. Really, when’s the last time you cleaned your sidewalk? Also, Tokyo must be the only city I’ve been where my nose doesn’t get all sooty after using the subway. Blowing my nose after London was like coal mining, but here, no soot at all! I can almost feel my body suffering from pollution withdrawal. Must make sure to get my fill once I get to China.
Ok, now that that’s over, we’re onto day four:
August 9th, otherwise known as my 28th birthday
The main part of the morning was spent getting to and then exploring the Ghibli museum, the museum of the Miyazaki production company, known for many of my favorite movies such as Spirited Away, My Neighbor Totoro, and Princess Monenoke (yeahyeah I know, I’m super-asiany). Because of its popularity, we booked our tickets way in advance, back in June or so through the Japan travel agency in the Mitsuwa supermarket in Edgewater, NJ.
The museum was a bit out there in the burbs, in Mitaka, maybe a 30 minute train ride outside of Tokyo. The neighborhood was cute, and a nice change of pace from downtown Tokyo. As for the museum itself, well…let’s just say that if you like to being overrun by never-ending streams of Japanese children while simutaneously suffering slow asphyxiation, then a visit to the Ghibli museum on a weekend will do wonders for you.
Maybe I’m being harsh. The rooms showing the original art could have been nice (no picture-taking allowed inside, sorry), but it was impossible to see anything over hundreds of little kids crawling on top of each other. The short film we saw inside was fun, and I found out that the new Miyazaki film was about a goldfish princess who wished to be human (and I can’t wait to see it!), but all in all, I was relieved to get out of there.
It says “New York.” Not a deli like I hoped, but a pachinko place.
We walked around Mitaka for awhile and I spotted a Yoshinoya. For some background: Yoshinoya used to have a restaurant near 23rd street, and it was my favorite lunch spot back when I worked in the Flatiron building. At least twice a week, I would go there for a beef bowl or a chicken teriyaki (the real kind, not the bits of chicken of mall teriyaki), but sadly it closed, and the only other Yoshinoya was in Times Square, or denis-kryptonite-land. My Yoshinoya closed at least three years ago, so it had been some time since I had gotten one of its beef bowls.
When we got in though, as much as I wanted a beef bowl, I saw a special for eel rice and I couldn’t resist. I wound up eating half of nicole’s beef so it didn’t matter anyway.
Ginza was our next destination, which sounds funny because we had been staying Ginza all that time, but we hadn’t really gone out to Ginza-proper. Saturday was the perfect day to roam, because the main roads are closed off from cars on the weekends.
Japan has a definite fetish for high-priced designer brands, you can’t go anywhere without bumping into them. I think I actually said, “Do they really need two Louis-Vutton stores fifty feet from one another?”
“Yes, yes they do,” cole responded in complete seriousness. And you know…I think they do.
For the grand finale of the b-day, we searched high and low for a suitable mid-priced sushi restaurant (hey, we’re going to be teachers after all, not investment bankers or anything like that, must pay some mind to budget), and we decided on this cute one where else, but near the train tracks. I rattled off my quick checklist for sushi restaurants, and by checklist I mean only my singular requirement…is the place busy? Yes? Check.
We ordered one sushi combination, and another assortment of just tuna nigiri. Oh my God (sorry for those of you who may be religious and/or do not like using the lord’s name to illustrate the divine nature of fresh sushi in Japan, but hey, it was that good). I know we weren’t at the most expensive place ever; it wasn’t Nobu or anything, but compared to the bunch of expensive sushi spots I have been to in nyc, this little no-name restaurant under the tracks blew them all away.
The fatty tuna (the closest pieces to the left), I have no words. In fact, there were different grades of fatty tuna. The medium fatty tuna was enough to make me pass out in delight, but high fatty tuna…I can’t take it, even typing about it now gives me the shakes for another piece, I’m like an addict. If you like sushi, you must have a piece of toro in Japan. First one isn’t free though, more like 400-500 yen.
That one piece of tuna was enough of a birthday present, but to be having it in Tokyo? with cole? with further Japan and China adventures to come? Couldn’t ask for more. Not a bad b-day at all.
For those of you who enjoy extended monologues (two houses, both alike in dignity…), day five, or the final full day of Tokyo is up.
Harajuku and Shinjuku
The guidebooks, the travel channel, America’s Next Top Model–all agree that Harajuku is the hub of Japanese street fashion. I say, “Cosplayers on a Sunday? Sure why not.”
But, the cosplayers were hard to find, maybe ten in the morning is too early for Naruto or Cloud or L of Death Note (I hope you don’t know what I’m talking about, if you do then I’m sorry, but you must be a nerd). No great loss; my main goal was to visit the Meiji Shrine.
Entering the Meiji Shrine area, for the first time I didn’t notice the outside city. This park had real trees, and had the feel of a forest if not the actual area of one.
Cole cleansed herself before entering the shrine, as was proper. She declined to swish around the water in her mouth and spit.
Classic example of Asian posing.
Not winking. Sun was shining into my eyes.
One of the few pictures we have together.
Although the Meiji Shrine was a reconstruction of the original, it was built with all the same details as the first. It wasn’t just a tourist destination either, while we were there, at least two weddings were going on, along with the Shinto version of a baby Christening.
Lunch break. Very good ramen.
Our next stop, Shinjuku, had plenty to see too.
Shinjuku is known as the glitzy/seedy side of Tokyo. It has all the flashy bits, which includes the main red-light district of Tokyo.
Look, a coach store.
Cole and I didn’t see anything all that shady, maybe because we weren’t looking, maybe because we were already pooped out.
I did see this though, across the street.
In our tired state, we went to our most natural environment…a bookstore. The Kinokuniya bookstore in Shinjuku had seven levels, and the entire sixth floor was devoted to foreign books. It was blissful being surrounded by novels again. They even had a paperback version of Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao, which isn’t even out in the US yet. I couldn’t buy the hardcover because of the extra weight, but I was more than willing to buy the paperback. Another surprise was that the Kinokuniya carried a fair amount of books from my former employer.
A few of the books I worked on.
I made it to Japan! Does this mean I’m famous? Er…no.
And that’s it, the end of Tokyo. It was better than I imagined, and I’ve been wanted to visit Tokyo for a long time now. Eventually, we’ll come back. I’m sure of it.
Next up is Hiroshima, where cole and I would seriously consider living, and where I had my first use of Mandarin in Japan…great success!
The following is self-explanatory. Taken over a few days in various bakeries in and around Tokyo. I didn’t try most except for the melon buns, which tastes a lot like the Chinese pineapple buns I grew up on. Ginza is said to be the melon bun capitol.
Two different melon buns.
Buns in the shapes of animals.
Cute
Also cute. How do people bear to eat it? That bottom middle one looks a little special.
Buns from a convenience store across the street. I do indeed love mayo, but maybe not quite like that.
Not a bun but a donut. I thought this place was only in NYC, how did it end up in Shinjuku Japan? The drink is a real Canada Dry diet ginger ale, imported from the US. It cost almost $4, worth every penny (or yen).
A wafflewich, ice cream and chocalate on the inside.
Ok, also not buns, but “New York Style” bagels. Zoom in and you’ll find that new york style includes a grilled teriyaki bagel. Hey, what about miso bialies?
The flight. It was long; so long that parts of my backside lost all feeling and did not regain said feeling for many hours afterwards. By the twelfth hour, sitting in the airplane seat had become an endurance sport, not exactly an active one, but one that hinged on the successful management of pain.
Occasional viewings of Kung-Fu Panda
and seafood curry broke the monotony (you’ll come to see how I organize most days by the meals, since I’m almost always thinking about food).
But we made it. After navigating through the convoluted rail stations, Nicole and I stumbled to our hotel.
Our room is actually rather large, and almost all of the staff speaks English, so checking in was easy. All we really did was sleep that first night, but I couldn’t resist snapping a few pictures of our toilet before going to bed.
Multiple cleansing functions.
On our first full day, we decided to trek over to the Ueno area, which is home to a park, zoo, and the National Museum.
Breakfast, tuna onigiri (basically a ball of white rice with cooked tunafish inside, wrapped in seaweed) and diet coke. Just like London, they don’t have real diet coke here, only the “new taste” kind, and this vitamin one. I’m starting to think that I’ll have to go without normal diet coke for the entire year…so sad. At least I was able to guess that the blue wrapping on my onigiri meant tuna, just like it does back home.
Here are a few quick things I’ve noticed about Tokyo before I get to Ueno Park:
1. It is really really hot. Like 100 degrees-humid-soaked-through-your-clothes-after-a-minute hot.
2. Guys don’t wear shorts, at least not on workdays. I expected this, but in the heat, it’s tough to deal with. I’ve been sucking it up and wearing them every now and then anyway. Oh well, guess I’m a tourist.
This was in the middle of Shimbashi station near our hotel. Just about everyone wears white shirts with dress pants.
3. A lot of people in Japan know English. From the counter lady at McDonald’s (yes, I did go once for breakfast out of curiosity, tastes the same, a little better actually), to the train station attendants, to people on the street. When they don’t know English, playing the mime game has worked well.
4. On the flip side, everyone assumes that I know Japanese, and that if they look at me hard enough and speak clearly, I’ll eventually understand them. This has given rise to lots of awkward pauses. And I’ve always thought that I looked prototypically Chinese.
5. There are much fewer foreigners than expected. Almost everywhere we go, cole is the only round-eye,(sorry), whitey(scratch that), um…pigmently challenged, person around. She gets her fair share of stares. Then again so do I. Maybe we just look funny.
6. Tokyo’s not that expensive. Really. Most food costs about the same, a typical meal is only about 600-700 yen, about 6-7 dollars. Nice restaurants do cost more though, and clothing is ridiculously pricey, even chains like The Gap. A pair of jeans is like, $120.
7. I’m not super short here! I’m around average height, but I think I must outweigh the normal Japanese guy by ten pounds. I’ve been sizing up a lot of guys by estimating if I could post them up in a game of basketball, and the answer is usually “yes, yes I can.”
8. Vending machines really are everywhere.
Ok, moving on to Ueno.
Map.
Water-lilies
Shrine.
Lights.
Turtle.
Kinda mangy stray cat. It hissed at me.
A video for reference, to illustrate how loud Ueno Park is. I didn’t know at first what was making that screeching noise, but it turned out that they were really large (and vocal) cicadas, and they’re not only in parks. Anywhere there’s a tree, you’ll find a screeching cicada. They’re so loud, sometimes you can’t hear anything else when among them. The crows are gigantic too. That’s me mumbling in the background like an idiot. Go amateur camera work.
Since it was so hot, we stopped for some shaved ice. We kept on trying to order it at the counter to no avail. We finally learned that we had to buy a ticket first. Later on, we came across a few eateries that worked on the same premise, which we liked because it took the challenge out of ordering. Just pay, press button, and hand over ticket.
One yellow ice please. Mmm, lemon kinda.
At the other end of the park was the Tokyo National Museum. We slowly trudged our way up to it. Wet jeans is a horrible sensation.
A scroll depicting an earthquake. The Japanese used to believe that giant catfish underneath the ground caused earthquakes.
From the museum bookstore. A Japanese phrasebook. “He whittled away at his body.”
Sculpture of unidentified animal.
We had lunch near the train station, which has become a theme for us. Every train station has tons of restaurants in or around them, and they’re usually the best bargains. Above are soba noodles with shrimp tempura.
Gotcha shrimpy.
Also in Ueno is the Ameyoko Arcade shopping market, full of fun stuff
like fishies
and hormone drugs.
This was one of the ticket machine restaurants I was talking about. We ate dinner here. The counter looked like it was straight out of an old deli, but this one served grilled steak and chicken over rice.
Pretty good. Super cheap.
This poster is in the train stations. I get the sentiment, but what does the “Please do it at the beach.” refer to?
So that was it for the first day.
Now for day two.
Day two wasn’t the most active of days. The main part was spent at the Imperial Palace East Gardens. Now, on a normal day, say…any day that isn’t hotter than a sauna, cole and I would be good for an entire afternoon of walking, but this wasn’t a normal day, this day was hot even by the insane Japanese standards. To combat the heat, Japanese people like to carry around umbrellas to block the sun, and wipe themselves off with sweat rags.
And, the Japanese idea of a park does not automatically mean that there will be shade. Nope, sometimes you get large large stretches of open pavement and gravel, like at the Imperial Palace.
A diet coke to help with the heat. Ick, can’t take the new taste.
The Imperial Palace itself was closed (of course we didn’t figure this out until we reached the gates), but the gardens were open.
A part of the inner palace region, segregated from us common folk.
Gardens.
I could say more, but really, most of what cole and I did was sweat, and trudge our way to the rest stations to sit in the a/c and eat ice pops.
Would have been really nice, if it was thirty degrees cooler or so.
Lunch was udon noodles at this cute place under the train tracks. That croquette was really good.
Ginza at night.
Dinner was under the tracks too (yeah we really liked the tracks). It was an Italian restaurant, or at least a Japanese version.
The pizza and spaghetti almost tasted right.
By the time we finished dinner we were too tired to do anything else. Walking around under the sun all day was more than enough.
We’ve probably sweat off about five pounds each by now. It’s been worth it though, to see the sights.
On that note, ends the second day of Tokyo.
Next post coming up immediately: buns, buns, and more buns.
