Two Runs and a Funeral

All this week, there have been black helicopters buzzing overhead. They flew in formations of twos and threes and stood out against the otherwise clear skies of central Tokyo. This was the week of Shinzo Abe's state funeral. Abe, Japan's longest-serving prime minister, was assassinated in Nara during a stump speech he was making on behalf of another politician. During the weeks leading up to his state funeral, there have been protests all over Tokyo. 

At first glance, it may seem unreasonable to protest a state funeral for a former prime minister who was, after all, gunned down in the line of political duty. Then again, public protests are not all that common in Japan. So when it happens on a large scale, there must be a good reason for it. The reason here is that this funeral cost the state at least 1.66 billion yen, the equivalent of 11.5 million USD. Most of the cost went towards security and hosting foreign guests, former and current representatives and heads of state. Understandably, this did not go over well with the general public. Hence the protests. 

Though he contributed to the development of modern Japan, Abe himself was a divisive and sometimes shadowy figure, not a universally loved one. His party is Japan's right-wing Liberal Democratic Party. Abe vigorously advocated to reform Japan's pacifist constitution, set in place after World War II. He enacted military reforms that allowed deployments overseas for purposes of collective security. One of the most surprising things about the protests against Abe's funeral was the people who were protesting. In America, public protests belong mostly to the realm of the young. This month in Japan, it was older people who were protesting. I read that it is because they are the ones that still remember World War II and what followed. Because of this, they are the staunchest opponents of the right-wing threat to Japanese pacifism. 

He deserved a funeral, but not at the expense of what 11.5 million dollars could have done for social welfare. It is sad because the country was somewhat united in grief after the assassination, and now it is not. 

The Imperial Palace run.

On a happier note, the weather is much more habitable. The mornings usually begin in the 70s, though on sunny days it inevitably reaches the 80s. Still, it is cool enough to run, and so running season has begun! I'm so out of shape that it takes me two miles just to warm up. My warm up pace is barely faster than a brisk walk right now. I got in two morning runs this week. Most of my running routes involve a bit of uphill, which is difficult to avoid in Tokyo. One of my favorites is the 5km circuit around the Imperial Palace. But when I need a confidence-boosting run, there is a shorter route that is not nearly as scenic but completely flat. It's such a relief to run again. The best antidote to living in a topsy-turvy world. 

As a bonus, the sweet olive trees have bloomed. I hadn't smelled its scent since living in New Orleans. Then, last year, my first in Japan, I was pleasantly surprised to find that they are everywhere in Tokyo. Their scent is sweet and intoxicating. I can smell it as I ride past on my bicycle. I can even smell it through my mask (yes, masking outdoors is still nearly universal in Japan). Its bloom only lasts for a handful of days, so I am enjoying it while I can. This is autumn in Tokyo. 

A Very Slow-Moving Typhoon + Denny's in Japan

I didn't know that typhoons and hurricanes were essentially the same until recently. Growing up by the Gulf of Mexico, June through November was known as hurricane season. Anything below a category 3 was probably ok, and anything above it would warrant an evacuation. In most cases, there would be a lot of anxiety and buildup only for the storm to change direction at the last moment. The big exception, of course, was Hurricane Katrina, when we packed enough things for the standard two days away and ended up not returning for two months. 

During our first year in Japan, someone would shrug and casually say, "a typhoon is coming, so it's going to rain tomorrow." Nobody seemed particularly worried about emergency supplies, piling on the sandbags, or taping up the windows - telltales signs of an approaching hurricane where I grew up. It all seemed rather downplayed here, probably because the infrastructure is well-designed and better built. It's funny how the same natural phenomenon manifests completely differently in different places. 

This typhoon we are experiencing at the moment is a large one, though it has not Tokyo directly. It is also a very slow-moving one. It started raining on Sunday morning, with unpredictable waves of squalls throughout the day, and it is still raining as I write this on Tuesday afternoon. It also happens to be a long holiday weekend here, so indoor spaces were more crowded than usual with locals and tourists alike seeking entertainment while sheltering from the rain. 

We went to Tokyo Skytree, which contains a massive shopping complex with nearly as many places to eat as there are to shop. There is also an aquarium, an arcade, exhibits, and other entertainment venues. If you have a choice, stay clear of tourist hot spots on Japanese holidays, especially when the weather herds everyone indoors. The crowd was insane. Lines snaking out the door of the souvenir shop. One hour wait for lunch. We were lucky - I got in the line of a ramen restaurant around 11:15 (the lines begin forming at 11 and grow exponentially with every passing minute). Considered literally to be a fast food, ramen shops have quick turnover. We waited just over half an hour. 

The other semi-eventful thing we did this weekend was visit Denny's. I had been curious about it ever since I read Matthew Amster-Burton's book Pretty Good Number One: An American Family Eats Tokyo. Denny's in Japan looks just like the Denny's in America. Or at least the sign does. Beyond the sign, Denny's is a completely different restaurant from its American counterpart. It is known as a family restaurant serving a wide variety of Japanese comfort foods at a reasonable price. The atmosphere inside kind of reminded me of a Shoney's from the 90s, except with better food. 

It's not a bad place for a well balanced family meal when nobody feels like cooking. There are plenty of vegetables, and everything is reasonably priced. Unlike American family restaurants, portions are smaller but probably perfect for the average adult. I ordered their seasonal hambagu (Japanese hamburger steak, a staple of modern comfort food in this country) with mushrooms. 

We also ordered a spinach sautéed with bacon and a chicken jambalaya, which looked very different from the jambalaya I know but tasted surprisingly similar. The kids menu, like everywhere else, is full of things like juice, jello, and french fries. I didn't order anything from there. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but it was satisfying, and we ate well. I should mention that Denny's Japan is known for their drink bar (i.e., soda bar) and dessert menu, which is full of ice creams and parfaits. In terms of a balanced meal, it's a sliding scale, and the diner has a lot of leeway to choose. 

As I am finishing up this post (many hours later), the typhoon is already receding. It's left a cool breeze in its wake. Could this be the beginning of autumn? I hope so. No matter how hot it gets in the summer here, you can reasonably count on each season arriving with characteristically Japanese punctuality.  

If You're Going to Japan in the Summer

    I have moaned enough about summer, so in this post I'm going to share all the nice things about summers in Japan. This is our family's second in Japan. We stayed here last summer because there were still too many travel restrictions, both abroad and in Japan. The Olympics were taking place, and in an attempt to keep the Covid-19 cases under control, the Japanese government was limiting entry into the country. This summer, with worldwide inflation and the war in Europe, airplane tickets were expensive. Since Japan has begun receiving foreign visitors again, we decided to wait for my parents to visit rather than visit them in America. All this is to say that, by remaining in Japan for two summers, we learned how to make the most of it. 

    If you are going to Japan in the summer, you can't miss going to a matsuri, or festival. These are based in Shinto-ism and usually take place outdoors with street food, music, dancing, games, and sometimes fireworks. Each region, town, and village has its own traditions. After a two-year hiatus due to covid, summer festivals returned this summer. We stumbled upon one a few weekends ago near Yoyogi Park. My kids had never been to one, and they were completely captivated by the sight of matsuri dancers dressed in colorful costume. Every ten to fifteen minutes, a different group of dancers and drummers would take to the stage to perform. Each group had unique but equally eye-catching costumes. E would have stayed to watch the performances the entire day. 

    Since this festival was in the middle of Tokyo, it wasn't the traditional matsuri you might find in a smaller city, but we still enjoyed good food (seaweed flavored udon noodles in a cold broth + Okinawan ramen) and sake samples (a rarity). A more local matsuri would have most people dressed in their summer yukata, something E has been asking for. These robes are more casual than kimonos, have range of vibrant patterns, and make for excellent photos and even better people watching. 

I wouldn't have survived this past summer without kakigori. Kakigori is Japanese shaved ice, and it is ubiquitous in the summer. You will find it at food stands, public parks, and as seasonal items in restaurants and cafes. If you ask E, she will probably say that all her favorite summer memories include kakigori. In Tokyo there are fancy ones. The famous Sebastian cafe makes one that looks just like a cake. My favorite is the one you eat when you've been biking, hiking, or playing with your kids outside on a hot day - usually the one made with chunky shaved ice, food coloring, and syrup. E's favorite flavor is "Blue Hawaiian."

At the top of my to-do-in-Japan list is to climb Mount Fuji. You can only climb it in the summer because it is too cold during the other seasons. It is easy enough for children to climb, though mine are still too young. My nephews, ages 8 and 11 at the time, climbed it with their father and from all accounts, it was a fantastic experience. Although it is known as an easy climb, the ascent still takes 5-7 hours. Most climbers stay in a mountain cabin and start their ascent in the early hours of the morning so that they can 1) see the sunrise, 2) reach the chilly peak during the warmest hours of daylight, and 3) make it back down by nightfall. 

The last thing I have enjoyed most about summers here are the evenings. Sure, it could be cooler (the air is usually thick and still even after the sun has gone down), but enjoying summer evenings like this without worrying about personal safety is a true luxury. In Chicago, I would never voluntarily go out after dark. Usually it was to walk my dog or attend a work-related event. I definitely never thought of myself as a night person. Here I can walk around at night alone, without pepper spray, without being hyper vigilant. So I've rediscovered the enjoyment of being out at night: going to an izakaya, sitting outdoors at a cafe, window shopping, or just taking a walk. 

May next summer be cooler than this one, a little more Covid-free, and filled with hikes, kakigori, matsuri, and evening strolls.