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. 

Last Week of January

This month has passed by in a blur. First with our race and then with a couple of unfortunate events afterwards that have kept us on our toes. 

The first of these events was a stomach bug, or possibly food poisoning - it was difficult to determine. The half marathon took place on a Sunday morning. By early afternoon, E was complaining that she didn't feel well. She fell asleep uncharacteristically on the living room sofa. At around 3pm, her sister woke up from her nap having had an accident. As I was running to change the baby and the sheets, I heard E wake up crying. By the time I ran back to the living room, it was too late: she had thrown up. It was a double disaster. Turns out, I was next in line. By bedtime, I had the same symptoms as E. Needless to say, it was a rough night. 

The bug lasted 24 hours, but it took a few days longer for our energy and appetites to return. This was three weeks ago now. I went for an easy run a week later and just didn't feel up to it. Whether it was the exertion from running the race or the fatigue from being ill, I have had little motivation to exercise. I don't feel the restlessness I usually feel after a few days of not exercising. And even though I ran a half marathon just a few weeks ago, the training has left me depleted. You would expect such training to leave you in great running shape, but my runs are slower and shorter than before. 

The second thing was that my husband broke his wrist after a fall from his bicycle. He fell trying to put his mittens on while cycling. At least he won't need surgery. We learned from the experience that emergency room medical service in Japan cost about $200. It took three and a half hours to undergo two rounds of imaging and an examination. Not too bad considering it was late at night when there are fewer doctors on service. 

With all that behind us, I've belatedly been thinking about New Year's resolutions. Although I do set goals for myself, they are not always in the form of New Year's resolutions. This year, however, is my first new year in a new country, so I've been thinking more about how last year went and how I want this year to go. 

My first is to engage in activities I enjoy rather than complete tasks that I feel should be done. One of my biggest pleasures in life is reading, and so my goal is to find three classics to read, three works of fiction, and three of non fiction in the next few months. My first classic is Au Bonheur des Dames, or The Ladies' Paradise in English, by Émile Zola. I've read excerpts for school assignments a long time ago. It is also a particularly intriguing topic for me living in Japan, where the department store and department store culture still flourishes, and women are still the center of that microcosm. My first nonfiction is Becoming by Michelle Obama. I'm almost done reading it. It is a wise, uplifting and grounding read. If you have any suggestions for good books, please leave them in the comments!

While Tokyo is known for great winter weather, it has been cloudy more often than usual these days. This is actually my preference. Coincidentally, it's also my perfect reading weather. So I will leave you here to finish my book with a cup of coffee. 

Beyond Two Kilometers: Setagaya Park

In terms of both population and geographical area, Tokyo is a massive city. It would take more than two hours to drive from some parts of the Greater Tokyo Area to other parts. However, our living radius, the area in which we live, work, and play, is much smaller. Our neighborhood, like all neighborhoods in Tokyo, operates like a self-sufficient town. There are least five grocery stores within 1 km from our home. E's school is less than 2 km away, and so most of her school friends are nearby as well. The grandparents are less than 1 km away. There are also countless services such as dry cleaners, dentists, medical clinics, flower shops, etc., within a short walk away. Compared to Chicago and probably most American cities, there are more independent businesses in Tokyo. Therefore, there is more competition and variety of businesses in each neighborhood. We don't all have to drive to the one Whole Foods or mega Target servicing a larger area. Cycling is also a favorite mode of transportation, so distances are measured in terms of cycling or walking rather than driving. 

We have no practical reason to leave our two kilometer bubble. While this is convenient a lot of the times (especially with little kids), it can lull you into a complacent routine that lacks novelty and exploration. This weekend, with winter temperatures being relatively warm, we decided to leave our bubble and visit Setagaya, a neighboring ward of Shibuya. We buckled our kids onto our electric bicycle and headed off to Setagaya Park. 

I have been wanting to visit Setagaya Park, but I didn't know much about it. We arrived around 10 am, and unlike most parks in our neighborhood, it was surprisingly uncrowded. We were greeted at the entrance by a large abstract fountain and some ducks. 

There were tons of activities for kids. The kids first tried the pedal go-carts. It was free and there was no line, a rarity in this city. It had real lanes, pedestrian walkways, traffic signs, and working traffic lights. It tickled me that the kids solemnly abided by all these rules. The kids drove on the left, yielded to "vehicles" as the signs designated, and stopped at red lights for a full minute before speeding off when it turned green. As there was no age minimum, M gave it a go. Although she loved it, she was too short to reach the pedals and not coordinated enough to steer. I pushed her and steered, which was slightly stressful because I'm not great at driving on real roads, and this resembled the real thing too much. The size of the carts was much more suitable for E, who also enjoyed it very much. We guided her a bit with the traffic signals. Based on their experiences, the ideal age for enjoying these go-carts is 4-6 years old. 

Next to the go-carts was a model steam train. You can't go inside the compartments, but you can climb onto and between the cars to examine it up close, which E found endlessly amusing. 

The model train and go-carts are located near the main fountain. Also near the fountain is a play gym with swings, slides, a sand pit, and a few bouncy cars. On the other side of the park is a second, larger play structure. Near this is a mini train that kids can ride. It goes around in small loop with real train sounds and a crossing guard who, to the kids' delight, puts down the crossing rails as the train passes. It is free for kids under 6 years old and 100 yen (less than one USD) for everyone else. 

By the time the kids finished the ride, it was nearly noon. The park had a couple food trucks as well as a decent concession stand. Since it was a nice day, there were lots of park goers picnicking outdoors. We went to a restaurant called Fungo just across the street from the park. Fungo is a small diner-like restaurant with hot and cold sandwiches, burgers, soups, and salads. Just the basics, but all decently made. The proximity to the park makes it the most convenient option for winter dining. Across the street is a pie shop called Granny Smith Apple. They sell whole pies and slices. We tried the English Custard and Rum Raisin flavors. The slices were small but delicious. 

E had wanted to explore the larger play complex, so we headed there after lunch. It so happened that a story teller was there reading to a group of captivated children. The storytelling was enhanced with music and sound effects. Whether it was impromptu or scheduled, it was very charming and the sort of thing I love encountering. 

By this time, my kids were tired out from playing. Two and a half hours was not enough time to explore the entire park, but we have more than enough reason to return. E spent the first half of the bike ride home negotiating her way out of a nap and promptly fell asleep for the rest of the way home. 

Half-Marathon Sunday

Earlier today I just ran - and finished - my first half-marathon. I love the feeling of finishing a race. I previously wrote a post describing what it was like to train for a half-marathon. Towards the end of my 15 week training period, I was feeling mentally demotivated. I love running but was getting tired of the training regimen that dictated my week. Each week I would complete one long run, one speed run, one tempo run, and one recovery run if I had the time. I also made myself do strength training every week to prevent injury. And yoga once a week to soothe the muscles. 

The last two weeks before a race is suppose to be the tapering period, where you reduce your mileage and allow your body to recover. It's a good thing that my tapering period coincided with Christmas and the New Year. Who wants to be exercising all the time when there is so much delicious food to eat? I still had to do something, just not as much as before. With all those long runs farther and farther away in the rearview mirror, however, I was doubting my ability to reach my race goal. Trust the training, my husband would tell me. 

I reluctantly got out of bed around 6:45 am this morning to eat breakfast. It seems like Japanese races, like the Japanese work place, starts later than their American counterparts. Our 9:30 am start gave me plenty of time to eat and digest. I ate a small bowl of muesli, an onigiri, half a banana, and an espresso. We were out the door and on our way by 8 am, as the race site was 45 minutes away by metro. 

Japan has a long and intense tradition of long distance running. Whereas races in Chicago were fun events, sometimes even family events, races here feel more serious. I think it is far more common to be a casual runner who runs races for fun in America. And so when we arrived at the race site, everyone looked serious and professional. At the start line, my husband practically sprinted off, turning around to wave good-bye. 

The hardest thing about long distance running is that you are not fully in control of what happens to your body. You can push through 5 kilometers with as much as speed as you can muster, but 21 kilometers requires preparation, restraint, and a bit of estimation. The most difficult part of the first few miles was not allowing the environment and adrenaline to get the better of me. I had to hold myself back when I wanted to run faster. I had to focus on my own running and save enough energy for the rest of the race. But I also didn't want to go so slowly as to look back on my pace and have regrets. It was an ongoing conversation I had with myself throughout the race. 

It was a sunny and relatively warm winter day - great running conditions, though I would have preferred some clouds. Since the sun dehydrates you more quickly, I grabbed a cup of water as I passed a hydration station. Let me tell you, drinking water from a cup while running is a skill by itself. It's not something I usually do, and I was terrible at it. What I drank was half water and half air. I felt a giant air bubble in my chest as the water went down. 

I peaked around mile 8. At that point, my muscles were warmed up and engaged. I had plenty of energy left and felt I could run my fastest. I also knew from practice runs, however, that my energy deteriorates rapidly after mile 11. This part of the run, the third quarter, is the ultimate balancing act. You want to run full out, but you know that you shouldn't. Turns out my husband went full speed ahead, and though he burned through his energy earlier than planned, he had enough physical and mental resolve to push through the pain and reach the finish line. 

I played it safer. I felt in control at the end of the race in the sense that I did not need to stop. My husband later told me that I looked a little too relaxed. I probably could have pushed myself more, but the problem was, I couldn't physically see the finish line, and even with 400 meters to go, the risk of burning out was on my mind. Regardless, by the end of a race, all you can do is keep moving. It's hard to gauge how fast you are even going by the end. The training takes over, and all you can do is go along with the journey. 

In the end, I reached my goal of finishing under two hours. My official time was one hour and fifty-five minutes, or about eight minutes and forty-eight seconds per mile. It was a great experience...and I think I would do it again. My husband far exceeded his goal and finished in one hour and thirty-seven minutes.

The best thing about finishing a race is eating afterwards when the food tastes extra good. We stopped by our local Shake Shack on our return for a little taste of home. The rest of this Sunday will be filled with lots of water, some Netflix, and if you know me, just a little bit of ice cream. 

Happy New Year from Japan

New Year's in Japan is perhaps the biggest holiday of the year. It is when businesses close, employees enjoy a longish stretch of vacation, and winter holidays begin for students. Cities become emptier as residents, especially younger ones, return to their families to celebrate the New Years. There are a lot of Shinto traditions embedded in the celebrations, but I'm not familiar with those since my husband's family does not really observe them. Nevertheless, New Year's decorations everywhere reflect this distinct Japanese aesthetic.

Modern arrangement waiting to be picked up at my favorite flower shop in Tokyo's Jingumae neighborhood.

A more traditional New Year's arrangement.

More traditional decorations for the New Year. 

This year, we are also leaving the city for a more rural setting. We are headed to the mountain town of Karuizawa. If you read my summer posts, you will recognize it as a place we have visited before. Karuizawa is a family favorite because, as a mountain town, it is cool in the summer and good for downhill skiing in the winter. On previous trips, we borrowed my in-laws' car, but both my kids, especially E, have been getting car sick recently. They are more sensitive to the jerky zippiness of electric cars. The curvy mountain roads don't help. Maybe it is an age-related thing too? 

Anyhow, we decided to take the Shinkansen this time. It was both girls' first time riding it. E was super excited. In my opinion, the best part about riding the Shinkansen is choosing a bento to eat during the ride. Shinkansen trains always depart from large stations offering a dizzying array of bentos and snacks. E spotted a Shinkansen-shaped bento and of course wanted that. While it was not the most delicious choice, it was an adamant one, so we got it. It was insanely crowded in Tokyo station. The ride lasted just over an hour compared with a two-and-a-half hour car drive without traffic. 

E has been asking me why it does not snow in Tokyo. Born and raised in Chicago with interludes in Minnesota until she was four years old, the girl knows only snowy and frigid winters. She is naturally suspicious of a balmy sunny Christmas. Here in Karuizawa, she finally got her snow. It snowed all day on New Year's Eve, covering the trees, sidewalks, and slopes with a fine, powdery snow. 

A side street in Kyu-Karuizawa, or old Karuizawa

Karuizawa is a ski town. It has its own ski resort and is a good base for day trips to other resorts. The gentle local slopes are good for beginners and intermediate skiers. E dappled in downhill skiing last year with her grandpa. I think she enjoyed spending time with her grandpa more than the skiing itself. This year, we enrolled her in a group ski class, hoping that learning with other kids would be more fun. E, unlike her sister, harbors reservations when it comes to physical activities outside her comfort zone. The great thing about kids is how much they manage to surprise you. E quickly warmed up to skiing. On the second day, she almost gave up on skiing in the afternoon. With a little nudge, she decided to ski after all. It's a good thing she did, because she made the most progress that afternoon and ended the day on a high note. I want to ski tomorrow too, she proclaimed. 

Enjoying toddler ski school.

Skiing with grandpa. 

New Year's Day in Karuizawa began with sunshine and blue skies. My husband's mother and grandmother had spent the previous two days preparing a traditional New Year's breakfast, called Osechi Ryori. It is served in a lacquered black and red vessel called jubako. I think foods eaten for Osechi Ryori are designed to last a few days so that it can be prepared ahead of time. This way, everyone can relax and eat together on New Year's morning. 

Burdock root, carrots, chicken, lotus root, and mountain yam stewed in a dashi broth.

An assortment of fish cakes, rolled egg, sweet chestnut, fish eggs, and abalone.

Ozoni, New Year's soup: daikon, carrot, fish cake, toasted mochi, chicken, yuzu, and Japanese herbs.

New Year's Day in Karuizawa: cold and sunny with one fox sighting (no photo though). Wishing all of you a happy, healthy, and all around better year in 2022!

A Very Warm Christmas

I can't wrap my head around the fact that it is Christmas today. The streets are still lined with golden leaves clinging to the branches of gingko trees. The sidewalks, too, are strewn with fallen leaves. It is definitely cold, but on a windless day, there is no bite in the air. I can get away with a sweater and light jacket. In other words, it still feels like autumn. 

Tokyo winters are relatively mild, but I read that even Chicago, has not received its first snow of the season. It is unprecedented and worrisome. It makes me rethink the things I can do better for the environment. Starting with wrapping paper. It helps that wrapping paper is oddly expensive in Japan. And that people love to reuse paper bags. This year, I used old paper shopping bags I've accumulated as wrapping paper and tried to make them look nicer with recycled gift ribbons (gifts are beautifully wrapped as a matter of custom, so I've accumulated a good number of ribbons too). When my kids finished unwrapping their gifts this morning, I collected the ribbons again for my collection. I'm sure everyone in my family would have preferred nicer wrapping, but hey, I was in charge of gift wrapping and the North Pole needs to conserve its resources to survive. 

It seems like a crazy thing only a carless person would say, but I miss the snow and ice. Christmas doesn't feel the same without it. That, and the fact that Christmas doesn't carry the same gravity in Japan as it does in most western countries. After all, only about 1% of the Japanese population identifies as Christian. Christmas is more like a fun holiday here while New Year is the holiday that people observe more seriously. 

The most festive Christmas activity in Japan is the viewing of Christmas lights. In Tokyo, there are a few boulevards and shopping centers that boast the most elaborate illuminations. For reasons not entirely clear to me, the illuminations are considered romantic and are especially popular as date spots. This year, we went to the Midtown shopping complex to see their lights. It did not disappoint. My daughter, who likes things that are shiny, bright, and twinkly these days, was mesmerized by the color-changing snow globe.

What do you eat for Christmas dinner? In Japan, the custom is to eat strawberry shortcake and fried chicken. Specifically, KFC fried chicken. I have no idea how this custom took root. My guess is that it stemmed from a very successful marketing campaign. We actually ate neither fried chicken nor strawberry shortcake. My mother in law made a delicious raspberry chocolate mousse cake. We also enjoyed a cozy lunch at Cafe Breizh, our neighborhood creperie that also has restaurants throughout France. 

Very tempted to buy a few bottles.

We also celebrated by attending a Nutcracker ballet. We attended a performance meant to be for children as young as babies. It turned out to be a standard two hour performance, albeit with more flourishes and a narrator. Although it was a longer performance than expected, it was a charming one, with exquisite stage designs. My kids also impressed me by watching the entire show without any problems. 

Wherever you are, happy holidays. Wishing you all a healthier, happier, and better 2022. 

Running in Tokyo: Training for a Half-Marathon

I have been training for my first half-marathon race. The longest race I've completed until now is a 15K, or 9.3 miles. A half marathon is 21 kilometers, just over 13 miles. Training for a distance like this has been an incredibly interesting experience. I never thought that this would be an experience I would undertake. 

I am an avid runner, though neither a competitive nor ambitious one. I started running when I stopped ballet and started college. I started doing Thanksgiving day morning races (the "Turkey Trot" or the "Drumstick Dash") as a way to optimize my appetite for that night's feast. Running was a good way to feel balanced and an easy way to accomplish a measurable goal. I have never regretted a run. Whenever I felt down, running has always made me feel better. It is a form of meditation. 

Nothing in particular spurred us to sign up for a half marathon. My husband, who is very much into sports and races, got the idea first. I then joined him, thinking it would good to have a goal to work towards right now. In Chicago, I would usually run on the 606 trail or go farther out on Lakeshore Drive. In Tokyo now, I have a few running paths near my home. There is the Meiji-Gaien Garden path, about one mile around. Akasaka Palace, where until recently Princess Mako lived, is about two miles around. The path around the Imperial Palace, where the emperor lives, is three miles around. Having these new scenic paths to explore motivates me to run in Tokyo. 

The 3 mile route that goes around the Imperial Palace.

If you run, how do you like to run? Do you run for results? Do you run to feel good? I like getting faster, but I run more for running itself. I like the feeling of getting lost in my thoughts. I like listening to music. I like turning inwards and letting my body takeover. Although my running watch has these functions, I don't like checking my heart rate and analyzing my pace and cadence during runs. After runs, I check my pace, measure it against my effort, and adjust the next run to reach my goal. It's mostly about how I feel. Running is less a sport and more a personal ritual. 

My husband is totally different. His running is intentional and analytical. He runs to optimize his results. As a former competitive swimmer, this mentality comes naturally to him. We approach running with totally different mindsets. I enjoy doing many things with him, but I have to say that running is not one of them! 

Running in Tokyo vs. Running in Chicago

The biggest difference between running in Tokyo and running in Chicago is the topography. Tokyo is hilly in a totally unpredictable way. You might be running flat for a couple of miles, turn a corner, and suddenly encounter a steep incline ahead. Or you might find yourself running on an uphill that lasts for a mile. Running downhill, while easier on your breathing, is harder on your body, especially your joints. When we first moved here, my pace got slower as I had to adjust to the hills. 

Most of the running routes here have at least one or two inclines. Mercifully, our race route runs along a river and will be flat. I am hoping all the uphill and downhill running will make the race feel that much easier. 

The Transition to Running Long Distances

Our race is in early January. We signed up for the race in late September. When I first began, I researched different training plans and chose a 14 week plan for first time half marathoners. Most plans have you run 4-5 times a week, but under this one, it was 3 times a week. I wasn't sure I would have time to run more than 3 times a week. I am also injury prone and wanted time to cross train with stretching and strength exercises. Each week, I was suppose to complete an easy run, a speed work run, and a long endurance run. The endurance run distance is suppose to increase a mile a week. Since I started training early, I reduced this to half a mile on weeks I was feeling tired. 

I was able to stick more or less to the schedule. Some weeks were harder than others. None of the runs are suppose to leave you feeling depleted, but there were definitely runs that left me feeling that way, though it was surprisingly rare. What I found was that my body is more adaptable than I expected. The weeks when I ran 8-9 miles were hard. I started dreading the week of mile 10. Yet running 10 miles didn't feel so bad. My body had begun to adapt to these longer distances. The same thing happened during the week of mile 11, which was a difficult run. I found that each tough run really did make me better. As long as I got past that hump, I felt a noticeable difference in my endurance. It's almost been like a science experiment. Knowing my abilities and limitations, physically and mentally, I am surprised by how far my training has taken me. 

This past week, I reached thirteen miles during my long run. I've reached the peak and will soon taper my runs so that they become shorter. Meanwhile, my husband and I have been motivating ourselves by reading a slew of running books. Our favorites are The Incomplete Book of Running by Peter Sagal and What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. 

This is the final stretch. Here is one more photo of the scenic Imperial Palace route from my run today:

Attending a Japanese Daycare (Hoikuen)

While E is enrolled in an English-speaking preschool, M attends hoikuen, Japanese daycare. Hoikuen enroll children from just a few months old to five years old, though it depends on the particular daycare center. Ours accepts children aged 0-3. It would take an entire post to explain the various tiers and nuances of the Japanese hoikuen system. Basically, they can be wholly private, privately managed but authorized by the government, and publicly run by the government. 

Daycares are usually managed, authorized, or funded on the municipal government level. In Tokyo, municipalities, or Kus, are massive and function as independent cities. We live in Shibuya-Ku (Shibuya refers both to Shibuya-Ku, a municipality inside Tokyo, as well as Shibuya city, a neighborhood within Shibuya-Ku famed for its Shibuya Scramble intersection). It is the local government's budget and policies that determine the access and quality of daycares within its area. 

Despite Japan's population decline and Tokyo's particularly low birth rate, daycare spots are hard to come by in this city. This is especially true for government-funded daycare centers because the tuition is low. M's hoikuen is subsidized, and her tuition is less than half of what we were paying in Chicago. The hoikuen has a sliding scale tuition system: each family's tuition is based on their income. Some families pay more, and some pay less. I think this is a great system. 

What do I love about M's hoikuen? First, the quality of care they provide. The teachers are patient, caring, and attentive. It helps that the student to teacher ratio is low. M has two teachers for the five kids in her class. During the time she wore diapers, she never once returned home with a diaper rash. She also never  returned home with bites - a common occurrence among young toddlers. Maybe there are just no biters in her class, or maybe the teachers intervene quickly enough to prevent it from happening.  

M's day at hoikuen looks somethings like this. After everyone arrives in the morning, they go on a long walk. Sometimes they walk around the neighborhood, and sometimes they go to one of the many nearby parks. The daycare encourages all the toddlers to walk. To make this happen, the kids are divided into small groups so that the teachers can closely supervise everyone. These walks are as long as an hour when the weather is nice. After some playtime, it's lunchtime. Food is prepared on site by a cook. At the beginning of each month, we receive the lunch menu for that month. A typical meal is fish with rice, veggies on the side, miso soup, and fruits. Then it is nap time, followed by an afternoon walk and an afternoon snack, like rice cakes. Before pick up, the kids might work on crafts projects or have free play. 

Although I like M's hoikuen very much, there are some unexpected rules that I had to get used to. Here they are: 

• Sewing my daughter's name onto her blanket (as opposed to writing it or using a name sticker). I can barely sew a button onto a shirt, let alone a name. 

• Packing an extra outfit every day. This is because they change her after lunch, when her morning outfit would ostensibly get dirty. I don't think this is necessary to do everyday since she keeps two extra sets of clothes at daycare anyways. 

• No dresses, buttons, hair accessories, or hoods. Basically, nothing that can get "caught" or pulled by other kids. I thought this was excessively cautious. 

• Not allowing mittens in the winter on the basis that M would not be able to use all ten fingers to break a potential fall. Also no gloves because her classmates might get jealous of cute gloves, and then everybody would want gloves...in the winter. 

• This one was a big hurdle for us because it dealt with toilet training. It seems norms have changed in the last few decades in Japan. Or perhaps our daycare's kids are outliers. Either way, I was under the impression that Japanese kids became toilet trained significantly earlier than their American peers. It seems I was wrong. M no longer wears a diaper at home, with the exception of sleeping at night. However, the hoikuen said, due to staffing reasons, M could only go without a diaper for what amounts to an hour and a half during the day. While we explained that M rarely has accidents and is already trained, they responded that toddlers become potty trained in the three year old class. M was way too early. This confused me, because they had been encouraging M to sit on the toilet since she was a year and a half old. It also shocked me that the age they cited was three years old. 

Despite this, I think hoikuen has been an excellent experience for M. It is structured and nurturing. I know she will be happy, engaged, and well cared for when I drop her off in the mornings. And when we pick her up, she sometimes doesn't want to leave. They have also taught her skills that I don't think I would have been able to teach as effectively - group learning is amazing. Here is another post I wrote about Japanese kids and some differences in how they are raised compared to American kids. M will eventually join her sister at an English speaking primary school. However, having now experienced a Japanese Hoikuen, there is nowhere else I would rather M be at this age. 

Our First Thanksgiving in Japan

With the weather sunny and still reasonably warm (50-60s Fahrenheit) and without the Thanksgiving/Black Friday marketing, it didn't feel like late November. It was easy to forget about Thanksgiving. Unlike Halloween and Christmas, Thanksgiving is unknown in Japan. People have probably heard about it, but most don't quite know what it is. I did see one poster advertising "Black Friday Sale: 10% off!" I found this quaint and understated. I also saw four frozen turkeys sitting by themselves in a freezer at a local supermarket that sells a lot of international foods. E asked me if they were real turkeys. I responded, yes, they are real but frozen. She asked permission to touch them, as if at a petting zoo. That was the extent of our Thanksgiving. 

When I was growing up, my parents bought and cooked a turkey every Thanksgiving. We never had any other family members around to celebrate, so it was just three of us eating an obligatory turkey. There was nothing else to do when we were all home and there were turkeys sold everywhere. Every year, my dad brought home the annual turkey recipe circulating at work. One year, it called for injecting, as well as basking, the turkey with honey, seasoning and butter. Honestly, it all tasted the same. After I left for college, my parents stopped making turkey because they were now down to two people and realized that they didn't even like it very much. This started a Thanksgiving tradition, for them and for me, of eating other things, things that we would rather eat. In the last few years, our family has had roast chickens, duck l'orange, and rib roast. Still, once ever few years, someone will wonder if we should once again try our hand at turkey, and we will eat turkey. 

Another tradition my husband and I began was running a race - The Drumstick Dash! The Turkey Trot! - on Thanksgiving morning. I loved this, working up an appetite, enjoying the autumn foliage outdoors, and the running in the cold. No race this year, but we are both training for a half marathon to take place in January, so there was still a lot of running. In Tokyo right now, the temperatures are brisk but not cold (not by upper Midwest standards), and the autumn foliage is peaking. The views along my running route:

Gingko trees. This one was taken a few weeks ago, when the leaves were just beginning to turn.

Along with this Thanksgiving update is a toilet training update. M is now toilet trained with the exception of nights - she still wears a diaper overnight. We still have to watch her carefully and take her to the toilet at regular intervals. She can go without the toilet as long as an hour and a half, and our accident average is now one every few days. Things are not bad. Our only setback, surprisingly, has been daycare. I plan to write a post about daycare, so I will talk more about it there. 

Lastly, if you are interested in comparing different health care systems and service, you can read about it in my husband's blog. He saw how much fun I was having writing my blog and decided to start his own. His blog focuses on the systemic, operational, and cultural differences between Japanese and American medical care from a physician's perspective. As a Japanese person educated and trained in the U.S., he has found working for a Japanese hospital a novel and interesting experience. 

With that, I leave you with this autumn sunset as seen from our balcony.