Hakone: Part One

    On Monday, we packed our bags, strapped the kids in, and drove towards Hakone for a little vacation. Hakone is a mountain town about an hour and a half southwest of Tokyo by car. Due to its proximity to Tokyo, it is a popular tourist destination for Tokyoites. We had actually visited once before, almost three years ago. When we arrived in Hakone then, it was raining. It's funny, because the weather was exactly the same when we arrived this time. 

    The rain was persistent, so we spent the afternoon at Hakone Crafthouse, which offers glassblowing, ceramics, and jewelry-making workshops for adults and children. It is located inside the Hakone Gora Park. Since we arrived right around noon, we parked the car next to the Crafthouse and had lunch at a soba restaurant across the street. In retrospect, we should have first made reservations for the Crafthouse workshop before eating lunch, because there turned out to be a two hour wait until the next workshop slot. Given the rain, this should not have been a surprise. 

    Hakone Gora Park is a beautifully curated garden in the French and Japanese styles. It boasts a variety of flower gardens, a rose garden, and several greenhouses. We didn't walk around the garden this time due to the rain but enjoyed exploring it when we visited three years ago.

    While E waited with her dad for the glass decorating workshop, I checked into our hotel with M, whose nap was long overdue. Our hotel, Hakone Retreat Fore, had a distinctively minimalist, woodsy, tree-housey feel. They provided amenities for children, including pajamas, toothbrush, baby bathtub, and slippers. And there were lots of families with young children. While my kids enjoyed staying here, I wouldn't say it was particularly geared towards families with children. For instance, M kept playing with the coffee beans and grinder, but there was no shelf or table high enough to keep them out of reach. Then again, low shelving and tables are pretty standard in Japan, so this was not out of the ordinary. 

Coffee beans for you to grind. Laborious but delicious. 

A stool for aesthetic purposes only. M found out the hard way after attempting to sit on it. 

    The rain only got heavier as the day wore on. Luckily, Solo Pizza, the pizza place we had in mind for dinner, was right next to the hotel. Solo Pizza had a cozy atmosphere fit for a small eatery in the mountains. Its menu was mostly Italian-style pizza (as is most pizzas in Japan), but there were also a variety of appetizers, sides, pastas, and dessert. We ordered spare ribs, roast chicken, a Genovese pizza, a Margherita pizza, and bagna cauda (also curiously ubiquitous in Japan). This sounds like a lot of food, but the portions were small and the food was very good but light. Plus, we had had a light lunch and were starving by our 6 pm reservation. 

By the time dinner ended, it was pouring outside. After a morning on the road and an afternoon in the rain, most of us were ready to go to bed. E, however, wanted to go to the onsen. Onsens are Japanese hot spring baths. The water flows directly from active volcanos and are supposedly rich in minerals good for your skin. Onsen etiquette requires you to strip down completely and thoroughly wash yourself at one of the shower stalls before entering the bath. Clothing and bathing suits are prohibited. This is to ensure that anything entering the shared bath has been cleaned. 

A hot spring bath was a nice way to end our rainy first day in Hakone. While the rain lent a nice ambience to the mountains, it wasn't the most convenient for walking around and sightseeing. So we were very glad to have good weather the following two days. Stay tuned for part two, where we go see an active volcano and visit one of my favorite museums in the world. 

Sakura Season

If you visit Japan when the sakura trees bloom, be prepared to be amazed by their beauty. Also be prepared to swim through crowds at prime locations. The good news is that these blossoms are ubiquitous around town, so you can see and appreciate them anywhere. The sakura blossom is so exalted in art, literature, culture, and tourism that it has become iconic. Its image is larger than life. So it seems both odd and remarkable that, for a couple of weeks, I am surrounded by them in my daily life. For example, today I was biking to the grocery store on a small street lined with unassuming, unattractive even, buildings. Then, out of the blue, there is a large and beautiful sakura tree that looks more like art than real life. 

Sakura season is fleeting, though there are multiple varieties that peak at different times from early March to mid-April. The flowers from early March, for instance, are a darker shade of pink. Near my home there are a few popular places for blossom-viewing: the Meguro River in the Nakamegura neighborhood and the park near the Midtown shopping plaza, though the ambience there is more curated. In fact, all the major parks will have blossoms. My favorite is Shinjuku Gyoen, which becomes unbearably crowded during these spring weekends. If you visit without a membership pass, you will need to make an online reservation at least one day in advance. 

Shinjuku Gyoen

The sakura squad studying the map to strategize crowd control.

Even though this was a weekday, there were a lot of people and picnickers.

Passing by on a morning run.

Alas, there is always a balance to things. And the balance to all this beauty is hazy air full of pollen, unleashing hay fever on its inhabitants. 

Spring haze: usually you would be able to see Mount Fuji. 

This weekend will perhaps be the last one of full blossoms. We plan to take a lot of walks, maybe have a picnic, and snap a few photos. Happy spring!

Year Two: What I Miss and Don't Miss

It was funny to re-read my old blog post about "What I Miss After Two Weeks." A year in now, I have found happy alternatives to little things and gotten over other things. When my brother-in-law visited last summer, the only thing I asked him to bring was floss and face moisturizer. A lot has changed since then. It took a year for the dust to settle, and now this is my Nora Ephronesque list of what I miss and what I don't. Of course, there are the things I like and have learned to like - love, even - here in Japan. But I think my every blog post reflects a little bit of that. So here are the two lists: 

What I Miss

Cheese, especially the stinky ones.
Butter, Kerrygold in particular.

Girl colors that are not pink.

REI.

Our pediatrician and family physician, mostly because I knew them well and they, me. 

My dog.

The Montrose Dog Beach on a cool day.

Neighborhood ice rinks.

Trees outside my window.

Snow-covered trees outside my window.

Experiencing sunshine at higher latitudes.

Uncrowded places.

Cafe Istanbul and the general abundance of Middle Eastern food. 

Organic produce. 

The bulk section at Whole Foods.

Ovens.

Autumn walks in Bucktown. 

Halloween with kids in Bucktown.

Chicago Public Library. 

Taller counters. 

Putting things into walls, like shelves. 

Mrs. Meyers and Method All-Purpose Spray. 

Generous return policies, though I realize this is a double-edged sword. 

Bagels. 

What I Don't Miss

The mind numbing stream of sales and discounts.

Online shopping.

Receiving an invoice for $1000 six months after a doctor's appointment.

Calling my health insurance for clarification. 

Big cars, though the trend is not promising here. May the narrow streets of Tokyo prevail. 

Car-centric infrastructure.

Deep dish pizza.

Gun violence.

Being afraid to go out at night. 

The news.

Shoes inside the home by default.

The CTA.

CTA elevators. 

Range hoods that are connected to nowhere. 

Public toilets. 

Tipping.

Anything that has to do with American football. 

Small talk in elevators.

Small talk whilst checking out at Trader Joe's.

The massive discrepancy in the quality of primary education.

The incessant blast of air conditioning.

Vaccination debates. 

And since sakura season is so fleeting, I leave you with a couple photos of blossoms around town. They haven't yet reached their peak, so more photos to come next week. 

Karuizawa in March

    We took a quick weekend trip to Karuizawa. It's been our go-to for skiing with the kids (or the kid, for now), because at two and a half hours away via car and an hour away via Shinkansen, it is relatively close. The slopes there are also great for beginners. Winter is shorter in this part of the world, and with the effects of global warming, there are precious few months left for skiing. With warm weather having already reached Tokyo, we packed our bags for one last ski adventure. 

    We departed in the late afternoon and aimed for a dinnertime arrival. For a small resort town, Karuizawa has an astonishing number of good restaurants and bakeries. Our favorite soba restaurant Kawakami-an also has branches in Tokyo, but their Karuizawa restaurant offers more variety and nearly double the portion size. I mean this in a good way, as this is more a blessing than a curse in Japan, particularly with my two hungry girls. The catch right now is that it is low season for visitors. Many restaurants are now closed until the summer, when people flock to the mountains to escape the city heat. The restaurants that remain open now fill up quickly with reservations. We opted for takeaway from Kastanie Rotiserrie, which makes amazing roast chicken. 

   Since we were there just for the weekend, we headed for the slopes on Saturday morning. The slopes were unexpectedly crowded. Super crowded. I thought it would peak around noon, but it just grew throughout the afternoon. The downside of a ski resort like Karuizawa is that it there are a lot of beginners. While there are a decent number of ski runs, some are quite narrow. It felt at times more like dodging people than skiing. 

    Despite this, E had a great time. We had enrolled her in a group lesson this winter. E is a cautious by nature, and I thought being around other kids would be more encouraging. The fun thing about kids is their ability to surprise you. E had no fear of the slopes. On the contrary, she preferred skiing with us to group lessons because the latter meant less action and more waiting around. Of course, skiing together was also more fun because we were doing it together. And she learned much more quickly on her feet. As my old school motto goes, discimus agere agendo - we learn to do by doing. 

    Kids, since they are small, don't lose control of their speed as easily as adults. This is one reason why E had little trepidation. I would love to introduce her to cross-country skiing, but that is harder to come by in Japan. Near my parents home in Minnesota is an amazing cross country course that winds through a national park. It makes you fall in love with winter. Maybe we will be able to return there next year. It seems cross country skiing requires a bit more coordination and strength than alpine, so waiting a year or two will be good anyways. 

For now, it's goodbye to winter and hello to spring. 

Blossoms, Ballet, and a Bowl of Ramen

As if on cue, the trees started blossoming on March 1. Just like that, from one day to the next, temperatures rose and spring began, though it feels like winter was hardly here. Spring in Tokyo is long and beautiful. Spring weather sustains from March until June. In the last week, trees and flowers have been blossoming at a frenetic speed. One day, you see one or two blooms. Two days later, the entire tree has blossomed. 

The first sign of spring: the plum blossoms.

Yoyogi Park

I went with my daughter, her friend, and her friend's mother to a viewing of the ballet Swan Lake. We had seen the Nutcracker by the same Tokyo-based ballet company a few months ago. The Nutcracker was a huge hit with E. She has a book that tells the story while playing bits of all the major pieces, and she has been reading it several times a week since November. I wasn't sure how she would like Swan Lake. The Nutcracker definitely lends itself as a children's tale more than the more melancholy Swan Lake. E ended up liking it just fine, especially the last couple of acts where all the drama unfolds. Still, the Nutcracker holds a special place in her heart. Anyways, it was a beautiful day to go to the ballet. 

Little people enjoying the park before the ballet.  

Not that winter is inhospitable here, but everything is relative, and now that it feels warmer outside, we have been spending more times outdoors. Longs walks and open patios trigger my appetite. So do the decreased number of Covid cases. All these things have pushed me to try eateries beyond my neighborhood. Last week, I went to a ramen shop in the Ebisu neighborhood that hand-pulls its own noodles. "Traditional" ramen is made with a fish base, pork base, or a combination of the two. This one specializes in a ramen bowl with a chicken base. The noodles were incredible - you can really taste the difference! The broth was salty, but I guess no one eats ramen as a part of a low sodium diet. You might think chicken offers a leaner, more one-dimensional flavor than pork, but the broth was rich and flavorful. 

Love the deep orange color of Japanese eggs

This weekend, we are off to the mountains for one last ski trip before the snow disappears. By the time we return and my next post, spring in Tokyo will be in full swing!

A Tour of Japan's Dollar Store

    Before moving to Japan, I could count the number of times I had been to an American dollar store: three. Now I have already lost track of the number of times I have visited a Japanese dollar store. The big ones are Daiso, Can Do, and Seria. They are marvels of consumer culture and innovation. I limit the number of visits I allow myself because it is too easy to walk away with things I don't actually need - in a word, junk. I made a trip yesterday to pick up craft supplies for my daughter. Some items are permanent inventory, but others are seasonal. Here are some interesting things I found at Daiso:

Insulated Lunch Bags

Note the insulated case made especially for onigiri, rice balls.

Mini Measuring Cup

Super cute and dishwasher safe. It measure in milliliters, tablespoons, and teaspoons.

Animal-shaped Sponges

Training chopsticks

The bottom row is Shinkansen-themed and attaches to any chopstick to create a training chopstick.

A Bun Cover

Possibly the most bizarre item I saw.

Baby Shoe Clips

In Japan, adults, kids, and even babies take off their shoes whenever there is the possibility of the shoe sullying a clean surface. This is the case for babies in strollers. I see these baby shoe clips everywhere - wish I discovered this a few years earlier!

Nasal Aspirator

Like Nose Frida, and just as effective, but much cheaper. I bought one for our travel bag, because vacations need not be disrupted by congestion. 

Kids & Travel Toys

Baby Drink Holder

Mask Holder

Crafts Supplies Galore

Just a fraction of the crafts supplies.

Arts Supplies

Craft Project Kits

These are the kinds of all-inclusive craft kits that I like to buy for school holidays.

Some things are 300 or 500 yen.

Origami Paper

Daiso is so large. These are a small selection of things I usually buy or find interesting. As a tourist, I could probably spend two hours here. It is the perfect place to buy souvenirs on a budget. 

Year Two

    I've heard that there are phases to an expat's adaptation in a new country. First, there is the honeymoon phase, where everything is still novel and interesting. When the novelty fades, the homesickness comes, and so do the frustrations. Things don't work as you expect. Things don't work at all because you can't communicate properly. Beyond these frustrations, there is adjustment, and finally, some assimilation. 

    It has been a year since we moved, and I feel like I have finally landed in the assimilation stage. My frustration phase was in the summer, with the unpleasant weather offering an inauspicious backdrop to my homesickness. For me, the redeeming thing about summer has always been the farmer's markets: the abundant vegetables, the succulent stone fruits, and the beautiful berries. While the concept of the farmer's market exists in Tokyo, it is still rare in the city center. There is one near to us, but its offerings are relatively meager. As for stone fruits, there are barely any. As for berries, they are practically a delicacy.

    For the first few months, I bought whatever was easiest from the closest grocery stores. I was a servant to convenience because I didn't have the capacity to do more. I let go of a lot of details: organic, non-gmo, locally sourced, grass-fed, sustainably fished, etc. My goal was just to get a decently balanced meal on the table. That's how I ended up with a lot of Asian ingredients that I didn't know what to do with. (While I am intimately familiar with eating Chinese food, I am not as familiar with cooking it.) So I scrambled blindly from meal to meal, wishing I could just make something like a one pot chili (beans are expensive) or roast chicken (whole chickens and roasting ovens hard to come by). 

    These days, I am better at cooking with Japanese ingredients. I am also better at shopping for non-Japanese ingredients. All in all, things have been easier. I've learned how to better clean my produce, figured out where I like to buy what, and come to terms with what is available. We have a handful of favorite restaurants in the neighborhood. This is to me what the beginning of assimilation feels like. Still, I look forward to the day when I can sit down to a hearty takeaway meal of shawarma, tabbouleh, and hummus. 

Buying organic isn't easy in Japan. I have been using a naturally derived powder for cleaning impurities and residual pesticides. 

Nowadays Cafe, one of favorite neighborhood lunch spots. 

Behold the bright-orange Japanese egg yolk!

    Spending more time at home, however, is one aspect of my new life to which I am still adjusting. "Adjusting" is a polite way of putting it. I have the near-exclusive privilege to sort out the used dishes, the dirty clothes, the laundered clothes, the outgrown clothes, the toys, the groceries, the crazy recycling (though I truly appreciate the opportunity to recycle properly), etc., etc.. When you spend more time at home than your family members, all the above naturally becomes your purview. Doing these things feels different when you are doing it for other people, even if they are your family. It also feels different when you do more of this than anything else. I do almost everything, yet I do nothing. If I am honest, I sometimes grapple with my dignity. 

    Despite this, I am grateful for our life here. Although the society we live in is not perfect, it is safe. And for the first time, I feel like a direct beneficiary of the public welfare state. Allowances for children and subsidized healthcare and childcare are just a few examples (read about my husband's experience as a patient in a Japanese ER here). I'm grateful that my kids have enjoyed uninterrupted schooling at a time when this can't be taken for granted. E's school recently wrote: 

"[S]chools play a critical role in the lives of children – academically, socially and emotionally. As such, face-to-face learning and the ability to physically interact with friends and teachers is crucial for our    students, especially in the third year of an education disrupted by COVID. This is self-evident and non-negotiable.... [A] nuanced, adaptive, and flexible strategy is required to balance health and safety...while prioritising our students' learning. We have to live as a society...with the reality of COVID." 

I feel lucky that E's school espouses a philosophy that I share. 

    Until this move, all my major decisions were natural progressions of the previous status quo. Everything buzzed along predictably. In this sense, this year has felt like a passage to real adulthood. As we begin our second year in Japan, and as Covid-19 restrictions continue to ease, we hope to do less adapting and more exploring. 

It Snows in Tokyo

It has been a snowy rainy snowy week here in Tokyo. It's more sleet than snow, but more snow than rain. Did you know that it does snow here? Tokyo gets a small handful of snow each winter, though it rarely accumulates to a significant degree. Because of this, the city is not really equipped to handle snowfall. And because of that, I panic a bit at the mere hint of snow, as even a little bit can affect biking conditions, and I have become very dependent on my bicycle. 

Rainy snow.

This past week, the snow has mercifully melted by the next day. Last month, it snowed enough to accumulate a couple of inches and the temperature stayed low. What would have been cleared in Chicago in hours stayed on the ground for days here. I've spent nearly half my life now in cold, snowy regions, and have totally taken snow-clearing for granted. I naively set out on my bike only to encounter a road frozen solid with a layer of ice. Having never biked on ice like this, I continued thinking it would be ok. I paid for my optimism with a fall. At least I was going at a snail's pace. I suffered zero injuries and learnt a lesson: don't test the Tokyo roads after a snowfall. In retrospect, the fact that there were zero cyclists - cyclists who ordinarily bike through typhoons - should have been a warning sign. 

In other news, E recently had a birthday which we could not celebrate with friends due to the rising Covid-19 infections. Despite daily infection rates reaching all time highs, there has been no state of emergency due to high vaccination rates and relatively mild symptoms. Still, a party was an unnecessary risk, so we decided on an outdoor walk-by celebration. Her friend's family, wanting to make her day extra special, took E out for a pancake lunch and a playdate at the park. 

Just weeks ago, Covid numbers in Tokyo had been in the single digits and birthday parties abounded. It's all about timing. Although I felt guilty for not giving E the same birthday party experience, I learnt that kids don't care as much as adults think they do. E was just as happy having pancakes with her friend and playing at the park. In fact, her "disappointment" was really just a projection of my own disappointment. There are so many ways to make kids happy, and their happiness is not always proportional to the time, effort, and money you spend. So, despite another Covid birthday, it was a great one. 

To Pacifier or Not

My two year old daughter M, who previously slept like a log from 8:30 pm to 8:30 am, now sleeps with complete inconsistency. Last night she woke up crying four times. Each time, she asked for a sip of water, took a sip, and went back to sleep. Two nights ago she woke us up once. Three nights ago, twice. Each wake-up lasts just a minute and involves no more than a sip of water or a repositioning. This has been going on for the past five days - ever since we took her pacifier away. 

The pacifier issue is a controversial one in our family. Both my kids have used pacifiers from birth. E walked around with a pacifier until she was almost two and a half years old. She slept with one until she was three. Eventually, my husband, who is not fond of pacifier usage, took it away. When the time came, E cried for half and hour and moved on. It was a relatively quick and painless adjustment. 

My husband does not like the idea of M being addicted, in his words, to the pacifier. E was similar in that she would ask for the pacifier, and when denied, would negotiate "just a little bit." She would proceed to take a hit of pacifier for just a few seconds and return it satisfied. This drove my husband crazy. "See? It's an addiction," he would say. I suppose it sort of was, but it didn't bother me. Similar behavior in an adult is a different matter, but when it is a two year old and a pacifier, well, I don't view it as a problem. 

Our different perspectives on this issue stem partially from cultural differences. Pacifier use is not widespread in Japan, and certainly not on babies older than age one. A pacifier becomes a thing that only newborns use. From this angle, it's about emotional independence and maturity. It would seem then that a toddler's pacifier use signals over-reliance on an external source for emotional support. Yet it is a common practice for Japanese children to co-sleep with their parent/(s) well past toddlerhood and into childhood. While parents will lament this arrangement, they accept it as a cultural norm. And while this norm originated from a time when limited space warranted the practice, this is no longer true for many families. 

So here we have two similar but different examples of childhood dependence on external sources. The merits and flaws of each, I think, is simply a matter of cultural perspective.  

At any rate, we took the pacifier away from M with too much fanfare. There were lots of tears and prolonged protesting. In addition to what it was, it also became a symbol of rebellion. It's a loaded issue. We made it impossible to turn back on the decision.