Convenience Stores

In contrast to the US "convenience stores," the Japanese konbini is a marvel of convenience.

You can buy tasty candy like Pocky and Crunky.

You can ship your luggage to the Tokyo Hilton in preparation for your return trip home. 

You can pay your electric and gas bills.  And health insurance premiums.  

You can purchase tickets to the Grampus football matches and the latest J-Pop band.

You can plaster cheap lipstick and blush on your face.

You can buy socks and unmentionables.

You can get a really good latte.  No, really.  It's good.

And you can also stock up on a dizzying array of junk food, including salted squid.

You can stock up on sake, $3 white wine, Bombay Sapphire gin, and a dizzying array of whiskey.  Also Maximum Strength Advil for after.

You can buy "beer" but not IPAs.  So not really.

Asparagus shaped chocolate crackers?  Oh yes.

You can buy good sushi!  As a bonus, it wasn't made last week.

You can chat up the store clerk and practice your Japanese phrases like fukuro wa irimasen!  

Raining outside and your daughter packed three pairs of jeans but no jacket or umbrella?  Konbini's got you covered!

The only thing you can't do at a Japanese konbini ... is buy gasoline.

The Zoo

In our travels, we have often visited the local zoo, more out of desperation to keep our kids occupied than any inherent interest in the animals.  I mean, when you have twin six year olds, you have all the feral viciousness you need.  In Adelaide, we were surprised that our children ignored the animals, as they were immediately fixated on the crappy playground equipment jammed next to the cafe that sold danishes in the shape of most zoo animals.  By the age of thirteen, our children have already seen all the animals a zoo could provide (as well as most danish shapes).  Or so we thought.  

But the Nagoya Zoo held a dark secret.

You can enter the zoo via the Nagoya Botanical Gardens so (because Amy) that's what we did.  After a thoughtful hour of gazing at shrubbery, we wended our way to the zoo proper and that's when we saw a forbidding black enclosure that loomed over the zoo.  The kind of enclosure that can only hold the most terrifying and dangerous creatures.

Was it the apex predator?

No ... it was the penultimate apex predator.

The fools have squirrels!

Now, I know what you're thinking.  This is just another example of my loose relationship with truth in blogging.  There is no way the Japanese have the hubris to think they could harness the unbridled destructive potential of the Sciuridae, a little known branch of the Illuminati.  But in this instance I am blameless.  They have squirrels.

It was immediately apparent to me that the Japanese failed to appreciate the risks they now face.  As those of us in the US northeast understand, squirrels are the equivalent of a biological nuclear weapon, a "cute" pathogen that can replicate at a terrifying speed and will terrorize your dog and eat your birdseed and tear apart your pumpkins at Halloween just because they can.  It's a numbers game.  Once they outnumber you (and they will), it's a matter of time until they escape.  And then it's game over.

When I reached the entry door, there were signs that the Japanese had come to realize their folly too late.  And when I mean signs, I mean actual signs (not just the armed guards dressed in hasmat suits).

Prevent the squirrel from escaping.  That's all you need to read.  Because that's exactly what they're going to do.

And you think closing a door is going to stop them?

Now, I'm no expert in animal containment, but I have watched Jurassic Park about five times so I think I know a thing or two about keeping vicious animals at bay. If your best idea at squirrel containment is an overtired parent wielding a stroller ... well, you actually might have something there.

But it was this phrase that gave me a chill. Two doors for prevention of "desertion." That has a militaristic feel to it. Could the Japanese be secretly cultivating a platoon of rodents trained in black ops or guerrilla warfare? Given what their little hands can do to Amy's pumpkins, just imagine what they could do to a person. Look at the facial expression of the squirrel on top.  If the CIA gets wind of this, squirrelboarding can't be far behind.

Proving my point, the squirrel detention facility was closed every time I tried to visit. What are they trying to hide, I kept asking myself and my family. Nevertheless, my persistence (and daily visits) paid off handsomely, as I was able to get evidence of the squirrel infestation.

"I got you, you bastard," I remember thinking. Or maybe shouting. It's possible I shouted, because Tessa stopped talking to me for a week after taking this pic.

Dogs in Japan

Dogs occupy a strange place in Japanese culture.  Although the cat is clearly revered and idolized and fetishized, dogs stand somewhere between fringe fashion model and neglected arm candy.  Think I'm kidding?  We have seen dogs in wagons, strollers, backpacks, and cradled like a baby while a toddler stands weeping on the sidewalk.  Dogs in strollers are often swaddled in blankets and at least one had a stuffy to keep it company.  I've been unable to document the mind blowing range of dog accoutrements because some Japanese appear to consider it bad form to take pictures of their dogs.  Oddly, they do not seem mollified when I point out that my blog could be their dog's big break.  After all, not every blog has 13 followers.

Here are my impressions of the Japanese canine fashion scene.

Although you are first struck by the clean lines of the trendy sweater, closer inspection will reveal that the outfit triumphs because of the subtle echo of the owner's accessory.

This is known as the 'fierce Santa' or 'festive lion.'

An embarrassing but common fashion showdown that involved a lot of yipping and hurt feelings.

The aging rocker look.  Spandex pants along with a bomber jacket.

The disgruntled trucker look.  Totally willing to blockade a highway for a noble cause.  Or a treat.

This is a good example of downward dog social comparison.  This pooch is totally aware of how ridiculous they look and really unable to do anything about it.

The well-dressed chap in black was not sure how to handle an elephant puppet dressed like a monstrous clown.  At one point, the man wielding the puppet spun it around and lifted its tail suggestively.  The chap in black took it upon himself to have a few sniffs but was clearly befuddled and possibly frightened by the absence of any scent.  When the dog backed away, the sociopathic puppeteer limped the elephant after him with the lumbering intensity of a zombie.  Fun times at the market!

Apologies for the poor camera work, but (from the side) the fellow on the ground looked to be wearing a saddle.

Sometimes, simplicity.

Saku-rah

I can see why people rave about sakura season.  The Japanese have a name for picnicking under the sakura tree (hanami).  From what I can discern, hanami consists of calling out sick,  grabbing a blanket and some take out, and laying in a park and staring at the sakura blossoms.  It is eerily similar to the Lewiston tradition (grillin and chillin with a Pabst Blue Ribbin) except that the sakura trees haven't been mangled by CMP and most people have their shirts on.  

We went to Heiwa park to enjoy the sakura.  I was just getting ready to really unplug when Tessa caused a disturbance.

"Dad!"  Tessa shrieked.  "Put your shirt back on NOW."

What they say is true.  When you're a father, you can never relax.

Rather than muddy the rest of the blog with a lot of "clever writing" (scarequotes by Lily), I'll just end with a few pics of sakura.

I know what you're asking

Where the hell have you been?  Where is the blogging?  What else am I supposed to read during my morning "constitutional?"

It's definitely my bad.  I was distracted by my other writing project, which is now "done."

My plan now with the blog is what psychologists calling 'flooding.'  Essentially, this will consist of producing so many blog posts that it will be hard for most of you to realize that the quality has plummeted, that I'm recycling content, that I've resorted to product placements in lieu of a retirement plan, or that most of the content was produced by a primitive AI.  

That being said, while reading it, why not crack open a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon (the real breakfast of champions)?

The Politeness Paradox

At first glance, Japan seems to be one of the most polite places on Earth.  There are twenty ways to modify your speech to make it more polite (of course, there are forty ways to be offended, so it sort of balances out).  You can pretty much throw a 'gozaimasu' into any conversation to make it more polite, and you can always be one upped if someone throws a 'domo' in there.  I've exchanged twenty arigato gozaimasu's with our local convenie clerk just trying to get out the damn door.  At some point, you forget who is doing the thanking and why.

In stark contrast, there is election time.  As I write this, there is a car cruising through our neighborhood at a low rate of speed blasting messages at a very high volume through massive speakers mounted on top of the car.  The message is in Japanese so I can only assume they are saying 'give up all hope because we will continue to broadcast until despair settles into your bones like soy sauce on a fatty tuna roll.'  I've been working on sushi similes and metaphors.  

This broadcast is so deafening that you cannot have a conversation on the street without shouting at each other.  

AMY:  WHAT SHOULD WE COOK FOR DINNER?  

ME:  THE EXPANSE?

AMY: TOFU AGAIN?

ME:  I ALREADY WATCHED THAT.

I've begun to think that the car intentionally slows down as it passes the older gaijin couple shouting at each other.  At the end of the message, the person says 'arigato gozaimas' to take the sting out of the auditory barrage.

The oddest thing is that no one seems to mind.  I want to run screaming into the street and throttle the driver, but every Japanese person takes it in stride and sometimes waves back at the car as if to say 'keep up the good work' or 'maybe even turn it up a notch' or 'could you say that again?  These gaijin don't seem to be leaving.'  

Another facet of the politeness paradox are the maps in Japan.  I don't think I'm going out on a limb when I say that most people regard maps as helpful if not inherently polite.  I thought so too, until I encountered the Nagoya Parks and Rec Department, which randomly changes the orientation of the maps in the parks.  

Sometimes north is up.  Sometimes it's down.  

For example ... this lovely hike we took.

When we started out, North was to the right.  Not exactly what I'm used to, but I can adapt.  We struck off in a northwesterly direction confident in the universal belief that a map is designed to be helpful.

Twenty minutes later, we came upon this sign, which indicated that we were in an entirely different park.  This freaked us out a bit, especially with the 'no humans' sign on the left.

However, closer inspection revealed that the sign designers changed the orientation of the map.  North is now up.

In reflecting on this experience, I've come to think this is how Amy experiences the world in general.  In the best of circumstances with the best of maps and a seeing eye dog, Amy has the potential to get lost walking out of a familiar store.  Years ago when we were living in London, Amy and I were walking into Harrods and we passed a Gap.  After wandering around the first floor (and realizing how expensive everything was), we left by the nearby side exit, upon which Amy exclaimed "There's another Gap!  They're everywhere."  As I'm sure you've guessed, it was the same Gap.  

This continued to happen over the years, but Amy learned to bluff.  If you are planning any road trips with her in the near future, bring some paper maps and make sure north is always up.

Inuyama castle

And ... I'm back.

With another castle blog post.  I'm aware that the people most excited about these are probably my male tween readers and the male middle aged who have fond memories of being male tweens when Friday nights were consumed by marathon Dungeon and Dragons sessions with several 2 liters of Mountain Dew and Dominos pizzas.  Or at least that's what I've heard.

Inuyama castle is on the outskirts of Nagoya, about an hour north of us by train.  

Before you reach the castle, you are forced to march through a warren of restaurants and shops designed to sap your energy and yen.  This strategy dates back to the 1600s, when invading armies were forced to approach the castle the same way, and probably explains why Inuyama was never successfully conquered.

Lily getting to experience how things were when I was 13.  "How do you text with this thing?!"

You know you have a teenage daughter when her quip is ... hey look, it's a pothead.

Looking at the somnolent pose, who could argue with her?

Finally, tired and several thousand yen poorer, we reached the castle.  Inuyama castle is one of the five remaining original Japanese castles, the others having been destroyed by fire, war, or fire and war. 

Inuyama was established in 1537.  It started the way all Japanese castles seem to start.  A shogun shows up and plants a hut on top of a hill.  Then a bigger shogun comes along, kicks that shogun out, and builds an addition on the hut.  And so on ...

When I visit castles, I always imagine twin two year-olds running down the hallways with their diapers held high above their heads, chased by an overtired shogun.

The armory, where the Shogun probably spent a lot of time (especially when the twins were awake).

On the castle balcony.  Lily spent most of our time staring at the rickety wooden railing and repeating "this was built exactly when, again?" and "when they say 'original' do they mean this railing?"

I spent my time repeating "don't tell mom what we did" and "it'll be fine" while pressing my back to the wall.

Safe on the ground.  Ready for sugar.

Lily and I then walked to the Urakuen Garden, where the aptly named cherry blossom trees were just blossoming.

Lily discovered a water feature (Amy is always clamoring for a water feature in our garden at home).  I am always hoping that pictures of water features will suffice.

For Lois.

For Kathy.

"You cannot start a paragraph with my name," Lily said at one point, anticipating that any such paragraph would include details that might be embarrassing to the teen set.  As I've said all along, I'm willing to accommodate certain requests in the most literal way possible.  Unbeknownst to me (been wanting to get unbeknownst into a post), Lily's true intent in accompanying me was to conduct a field experiment on the correlation between sugar intake and STU (sudden total unconsciousness).

As you can see, the experiment was an unqualified success.

I was later asked by Amy whether I managed to get her to eat anything healthy.

There's dairy in whipped cream right?  Dairy is healthy, right?

The next day, Lily said that she wanted to replicate her findings with hot chocolate and a chocolate muffin.  

I sometimes wonder about the long term health effects of repeated sugar comas.

However, I reassure myself by thinking that it is more likely that Lily has experienced a years-long sugar coma punctuated by brief periods of consciousness.

I can't explain why this is reassuring.

Nagoya castle

We've now been to Nagoya castle twice; once by ourselves and once dragging reluctant progeny with us.

Walking through the ancient stone walkways of the castle, it just kind of makes you wonder how things were in days past.  How did the shogun cope when his daughters rolled their eyes when he asked them to tour the outlying province or if not that then for the love of God to hang up their damned kimonos rather than leaving them dumped on the tatami mat?  Honestly.  He probably paid good yen for those (or at least had to put the squeeze on a local tailor - little known fact, 'put the squeeze' did not originate in Italy or low budget mafia movies but, rather, in 12th century Japan - it was a common threat thought to have been associated with the meaty hamhocks of the sumo wrestlers). 

On the cusp of spring (sorry to everyone in Maine, which is also on the cusp of spring but still experiencing 12" snowfall and subzero temps).

This series of buildings served as a reception center, where the shogun would entertain various dignitaries and lesser noblemen.  I suspect other shoguns would be entertained in the castle itself (unless they showed up with an army).

The interior of the reception area was a maze of rooms that represented various waiting areas.  If you had business with the shogun, you started under the peacocks and graduated room by room until you were staring at a bunch of tigers on the wall while hoping the shogun was in a good mood.

If the shogun had business with you, I'm pretty sure there was a dungeon area under the castle.

Someone you never want to see in a dark alley.

Two people you never want to see in a dark alley (though for different reasons).

Hattori seemed pretty impressed at how quickly I was able to master the ninja salutation and the master ninja facial expression (you can't tell, but our facial expressions are identical).  I chalked that up to my extensive martial arts training in high school and college in addition to watching Bloodsport recently.

You know it's been a long day with the family when this hut looks inviting.  I kept edging towards it thinking 'I could just slip away and go in there and lie down and take a vow of silence and not have anyone tell me how bored they are or how tired they are or how much more fun it would be to watch Seinfeld or Gilmore Girls or even My Little Pony.  Even maybe static.  They'd be willing to watch a little static when it came right down to it.'

Everyone is smiling because we've run out of things to see at the castle and it's time to go home.