Kyoto Part I

 Kyoto.  The city in Japan you are most likely to have heard of besides Tokyo.  Although this is not the official slogan, I think it's pretty good and sums up our experience of the place.

In an effort to find food that Amy and Lily would appreciate, I discovered Awomb, a restaurant serving vegetarian sushi that had great reviews on our vegetarian restaurant finder, Happy Cow (also known as Supersad Soybean).  We asked our hotel to make a reservation for us, and learned that either a) it could only be done online or b) our hotel staff were deeply offended by the idea that they could be used to make reservations.  So I went up to our room and, after an agonizing hour of attempting to force Google Translate to translate Japanese websites, I made a reservation for the next day (though also possibly for several years in the future).

The restaurant had a very cool hobbit vibe, with a gate and a round lantern and a stone path ringed by trees that led to a half size door.  There were, unfortunately, no unusually attractive elves.

Upon reaching the door, I mustered by best Gandalf voice and said "Bilbo Baggins!"  

My next thought was that no one gets me and that no one wants to.

The hobbit door.  The average person's head is well above the lightbulb.

We removed our shoes and were asked to wear
sandals, which Lily found revolting.  Shared footwear is not something she or Amy can appreciate (in their minds, 'you could learn a lot from walking in someone else's shoes' translates to athletes foot).  Lily gagged as she thought about all the feet that had been in the sandals over the last month, and it probably didn't help when I remarked that some people probably don't wear socks when it's hot.  I risked a glance around the restaurant to make sure Lily's gagging didn't offend anyone.  "Keep it down," I whispered.  "You're ruining our first impression."  

She pointed out that my Gandalf impression already accomplished that.  

At that moment, the hostess handed me a large clipboard that held a laminated piece of paper on which a dissertation in Japanese had been written.  Depending on the accuracy of Google Translate, it was either suggested etiquette for customers or the top fifteen things that would get you banned from the restaurant.  After scanning the list, I realized there was a good chance my children were going to hit at least ten of the fifteen and Amy had another three covered.  As I was trying to think of a polite way to run out of the restaurant, Lily backed into the wall and bumped into a wooden decoration and sent it banging to the floor.  It was the kind of banging that kept on going, you know, bang bang bang BANG .... bang.  Bang.  Everyone in the restaurant turned to glare at Lily.  A few 'gaijins' were thrown her way, and I'm willing to admit that I was the one saying them.  (Because honestly.  How hard is it to enter a restaurant and avoid sending the nearby Ming dynasty vase to the tile floor in a million pieces?  As a Douglass?  Apparently impossible.)  Our hostess glared at me.  I cooly returned her gaze and tapped the clipboard and said 'not on the list.'  Or something pretty close to that.   She gave me the type of look you get from your garbage men when you tell them that you ran out of garbage bags and just spent a week throwing food scraps and dirty diapers in the garbage can.  Revolted and resigned.  Although they tried to be exhaustive, you just really can't anticipate the Douglasses. 

Then we started upstairs.  I took the lead, followed by Amy, Lily, and Tessa taking up the rear.  As I approached the top, I heard Lily mutter "oops," and turned around just in time to see one of her slippers tumble down the stairs, hitting every single stair with a loud bump.

After Lily retrieved her slipper, we were seated in a space as far away from other paying customers as possible.  I assume they considered seating us at another restaurant.

Our meal.  The intended process is that you take a piece of seaweed (upper right), roll it into a cone, stuff some rice into it (lower right), select one of the fillings, and then an optional topping (lower left).  Then you wash it down with mushroom soup (center right).

Although most of the food was excellent, one of the fillings was absolutely inedible and caused a group gagging (except for Lily, who essentially refused to eat anything).  Kudos to whoever figures out the offending filling.  Though again, those aren't the kudos you want.  But they've gotta be better than eating that thing on the upper right.  Blech.

After the meal, the girls engaged in a relentless campaign of commenting on a) how cold it was, b) how far they'd walked, and c) how difficult the transition to Japan had been for them.  This was all in service of being allowed to return to the hotel and lay in bed and watch Gilmore Girls or (insert other show) on their phones while eating junk food.  I'll only say that it was a very effective campaign.  I later learned that Tessa was unable to find another good show and defaulted to watching a 24 hour sumoathon.

Amy and I took the high road.  At least that's what I think it was called.  My Japanese is good not.  We took the metro to the Kyoto Botanical Gardens, where we were able to appreciate the 'dormant phase.'  I'm told this is a worthwhile expenditure of an afternoon by botanists and marital therapists.

Some pretty aggressive sculpture

Even more aggressive avian features.  The 'kite' seems to be a distant relative of the Australian magpie, which as you all know is the deadly psychopath that routinely ravages the Adelaide countryside and strikes fear into the hearts of umbrella carriers.  The kites are worse, as they are approximately the size of Rainbow Dash and have the temperament of Nightmare Rarity.  Those My Little Pony episodes dig deep into your psyche.  We should all hope the American crow doesn't learn from their cousins in the east.

As I stared at this sign, I kept returning to the idea of what kind of business this might be and what the owner might have requested from the graphic designer.  You could make an argument for fish massage, but the guy in the hat seems pretty happy.  I'm not great on fish facial expressions, but the fish not so much.

On the way back to the hotel, Amy and I wandered through the Nishiki Market, approximately four blocks of food stalls, tiny restaurants, and shops.  It was packed in the winter, so I can only imagine what it must be like at the height of the tourist season.

This was a matcha flavored rice paste snack.  I bought a ten pack.  It was voted everyone's least favorite snack.

That night, we found the best Mexican food I've ever had in the basement of an office complex.  Now most of you are probably turning to your partner or child or stranger sitting next to you saying 'he lives in freaking Lewiston, Maine.  What does he know about Mexican cuisine?'  

Well, I'll have you know that I've also had really good Mexican food when we lived in Australia.  

But this was better.

I obviously took this picture most of the way through the meal after realizing that a picture of the nacho tower might convince skeptics out there.

 

Two hoodlums lurking at the back.  I told Amy we should steer clear of them.  

Amy pointed out they were our children and I said 'exactly.'