Lost the sun, found a pumpkin

Spring Vacation Text Message Update
Katy and I spent two days wandering around Naoshima checking out
modern art (the beach pumkin is a classic photo opp), and we are now
preparing to go tuck into our surprisingly unadorable mountainside
hostel in Oboke and get ready for the long train ride home.

Chasing the sun

Spring Vacation Text Message Update:
Hello all, Katy and I wish you sunshine and wine, both of which have
made our vacation Japantabulous.
Katy and Maggie
*Photo taken at the top of Kotohira Shrine, Kagawa, Shikoku.

McCarrons in Japan: photo album #1

Check out some photos from our first couple days in Japan, December 24th to the 26th.  These photos were taken in Tokyo, Kamakura, and at the Tsukiji Fish Market (Tokyo).

click the link to see the photo album: Giants in Japan

More photos and stories to come later!  I'm headed to Nagano this weekend for my first (and only???) ski vacation!  The black diamonds are the slopes I should be avoiding, right?

My Dream Vacation

Today's dream vacations are brought you by the letter B and the 1nensei (7th grade) students of Nuka JHS. 

Hey look, Japan!  They are practicing "going to" and being creative!
(click the images to enlarge)

And a few more of my favorites:

Dear Aki,

        How are you doing?  I am enjoying my vacation in Belgium.  I'm going to eat chocolate very good.  I'm going to beautiful city.  I'm going to eat dinner.  I'm going to go everyon my home. We're going to party.

today very much.

                                                                                                                                Love,

                                                                                                                                Sayo

Dear Kiura,

       How are you doing?

I'm enjoying my vacation in Billy joel home.  Bille and me is going to sing to the accompaniment of
a piano. You are come on.  Let's singing to together.

                                                                                                                                 Katsuhisa

Dear ________,

       How are you doing?  I am enjoying my vacation in Australia.  I'm going to visit my friend Iku next Tuesday.  I'm going to stay for five days.  We're going to zoo.  We're going to touch koala.  It's going to be very cute.  I'm going to be exciting.  See you soon.

                                                                                                                                Nanami

Dear family,

       How are you doing?  I am enjoying my vacation in Venezuela.  I'm going to have coffee breakfast.  I'm going to

                                                                                                                                Hiroshi Maeda

Now that is a vacation after my own heart... who cares what else you are doing when you are having coffee breakfast in Venezuela?

McCarrons in Japan: The Reunion

This entry is a few months late in coming, but I hope you will forgive me.  To quote a recent facebook post of my brother's (thank you Newsfeed for doing my stalking for me), "Sometimes there are too many stories... happening to take the time to write some."  Better late than never though, so here goes the beginning of The McCarrons in Japan.

It all started with a Christmas cookie filled reunion at Narita Airport outside Tokyo on Decemeber 23rd.  My father had managed to carry a plate (the original Christmas themed Dixie) of Tracey's Christmas cookies all the way from Minnesota to Tokyo.  Tracey, resident Christmas Cookie Queen, makes a plate of Christmas cookies every year.  And every year, I wait with anticipation for the moment that I can snatch a handful.  The lemon bars (pictured) are my favorites.  Needless to say, I was delighted by the surprise and happily consumed all but the smallest crumbs as we waited for my lovely mother to arrive.


We waited in one of the ubiquitous Starbucks.  My eyes, still trained by Kanazawa to pick out a foreigner a mile away, were having a hard time keeping up with the deluge.  As I watched the crowds pass though, one man in particular stuck out.  He looked familiar.  As I stared at him with inappropriate intensity, I realized how I knew him.  We had taken a couple of Educational Studies courses together at Macalester, of course.  I went over to say hello.  We helpfully reminded each other of our names (Chris, I knew it was something Scandinavian), and it turns out he was here visiting family for the winter vacation.  Sometimes it is a small small world.


Mom and I managed to keep the reunion tears to a minimum, and soon we headed off to the Rogers's house where we would stay for the next five days.

Photos from December 24th, spent wandering around the greater Shinjuku area.

Keio Plaza Hotel - home of the JET Orientation for 20 years running

Tokyo City Hall aka Gotham City

He found the waterfall. : )

a different view of Tokyo, just behind City Hall

 

nice dragon faucet at a temple tucked behind the shanty town tucked behind City Hall... this is Tokyo

Notice the woman in full on traditional bridal wear in the back.  We were too sheepish to go ask her for a photo. 

That's a lot of balls.

Your Daily Moment of Zen

Your daily moment of Zen is brought to you today by a 3nensei (9th grader) at Nuke Junior High School...

I was impressed with the evening sun.

 It was the most beautiful of all things. 

The sky was dyed by the sun.

I was tired, but I became fine.

(Olivos, Portugal / Summer 2009)

Turns out he did have clothes...

Okay, after recently publishing a facebook album in just under 36 hours from the time stamp of the last photo, I have renewed motivation to be more timely in my internet endeavors. So here goes the second half of my Emperor saga:



The Imperial Palace is long and low and sleek like a 1960's rambler that Frank Lloyd Wright might have designed. I snagged a spot near the front and immediately felt bad for the people stuck staring at my shoulder blades. Almost as immediately I decided that I didn't care. Consider it karmic revenge for all those brain cells I have lost on short doorways. (on a side note: As I was standing, spine pressed to the back railing at a concert and enjoying my uninterrupted view of the stage, a tall friend of mine leaned down and whispered, "JET - my years standing at the back of rooms.")

When the Emperor finally appeared, Empress and Imperial Family in tow, I strained to get a better view of Princess Masako, the Harvard educated diplomat who is the subject of severe public censure as a result of her inability to produce a male heir. Yes, this is the modern world... though I do wonder. On the other hand, Michelle Obama would likely get a serious tongue lashing were she to show a hint of upper arm fat.

Princess Masako is on the far right next to her husband, Crown Prince Naruhito of the flowy hair.



Anyway, the fam came, they waved, we all stood as his royal highness gave a birthday speech. Then the real fun started as the entire crowd launched into the customary shouts of "banzai!" and frantically waved their flags.

I wonder how many times his highness gives that speech per birthday and if he changes it up just to keep himself from dying of boredom.

Probs not... might disturb the wa (和).










We were filed out post speech at which point I suggested to my new found companion that we head to the station Starbucks and camp out for some quality people watching. It was just a half second before he rearranged his face into the look that we have all acquired for dealing with particularly confusing, frustrating, and just outright obnoxious JTE's. The "oh, okay, that's what you want to do? hmmm, well, *deep breath* alright, I guess we can work with that" look.

He was obviously horrified.

I should have realized that he was the kind of guy who was genuinely excited that he got to stand in line at the crack of dawn in the freezing cold to go watch an old, short Japanese man give a 4 minute speech that he couldn't understand. Don't get me wrong, I am just tickled that I got to see an emperor, or I should say, since he is currently the only one in the world, and I have been trying to explain to my students the difference between "a" (one of many, nonspecific) and "the" (unique, specific), I got to see the emperor. How ridiculous is that? I saw the only emperor in the entire world. Well, obviously there is only one because it is such an absurdly fairy-tale-esque title. Like saying you went to see the local hobgoblin or the sorceress next door. Ridiculous.

If there is one truly amazing thing about Japan, it is the ability of Japanese people to take the most seemingly phantasmagorical things with the utmost seriousness and ceremony.

My friend, coworker, and fellow tall gaijin often jokes that he feels like a giant, stomping through this island country with an Arnold Schwartzenegger like slowness to his speech, destroying doorways and centuries of tradition with even the slightest sudden movement.

We are elephants learning to walk on eggshells.

The Emperor Has No Clothes

The word "emperor" is mentioned, and I just can't help but think of a vain old man parading naked in front of the unwashed masses. Maybe that is just me though. I'm sure that that was not the thought process of the thousands of Japanese people queuing to see "His Imperial Majesty the Emperor" on December 23rd when the big guy turned 76.

After an 8 hr night bus ride, I arrived in Tokyo at 6:00 a.m. on December 23rd. Seeings as it was the current emperor's birthday and one of the two days per year that he and The Imperial Family come out to greet said masses, I wandered my unwashed self on over to the Palace to check out the shindig for myself.

All I could see were layers upon layers of barricades and traffic cones. There didn't appear to be anyone around. Was it possible that I, Maggie McCarron, gaijin extraordinaire, was the most patriotic person in all of Japan?

Inconceivable.






the 12 most patriotic people in Japan








Then, across the stillness of the morning, I heard a hearty chuckle that could only belong to the second most patriotic gaijin in Japan. He was at a corner across the street from me, chatting to several older Japanese folk who alternated between looks of terror and looks of absolute befuddlement. Turns out that Sandy and I tied for 13th most patriotic. He, a JET from some village north of Tokyo, had also arrived on a night bus with time to kill before his afternoon flight. So we killed some time.

We killed a lot of time.
















The line grew, people queuing down the block like ants behind a particularly insurmountable twig. A man passed out paper Japanese flags. I snacked on my box of combini chocolates. My toes went numb. The sun crept across the intersection toward us, carefully warming inch after slow inch of asphalt.

Finally, we moved. It was after ten in the morning. I had waited almost 3 hours to see a guy whose name I still don't know.















After a quick security check, we were on the lawn. We waited. The sun warmed my back. I saw people trying to inch out of my shadow's reach. Sometimes it is good to be tall.

I ate more chocolate.

















And then all of a sudden it was here, the moment for which we had spent all morning waiting. We were crossing the bridge into the Imperial Palace, Tokyo sprawling in every direction from this ancient grassy knoll.

As the crowd swelled across the bridge and flowed up the curving driveway though yet another set of gates, I wondered if this was what the Russian peasants felt like when they stormed the Winter Palace.


Yeah, it was probs a little different for them.

30 cm and still falling

I had meant for my next post to be a chronicle of the McCarron Family Vacation: Japan, but something has come up. Or rather come down. 30 cm of it. And it is still falling. Beautiful, white, and fluffy, the heavy blanket of snow covering Kanazawa has had me humming "walking in a winter wonderland" for the past 6 hours. I didn't believe it when I heard that 30 cm (that's 11.8 inches) had fallen since I left school at 4pm. Impossible, I thought.


















1 - my bus stop 2 - the combini next to my bus stop

After getting off at my bus stop and wading through drifts that skimmed the very tops of my size 12 rainboots, I can say that, with every fiber of my being, I am a believer. And it is still coming down! 80 cm more predicted for tonight, and the forecast is nothing but snow for the next two days. Despite the horrified looks of my friends and coworkers and the fact that the temperature in my apartment has reached a new low (2 C / 36 F), I am delighted! I'm not sure what is it about the gigantic layer of crystallized water outside that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, but who am I to question warmth, imagined or otherwise?


















3 - across the street 4 - cars on the walk home

My internal glow combined with the miraculous disappearance of all moisture and condensation (take that, mold!) from my apartment makes for one happy camper. That said, I have now retreated, kerosene heater in tow, to my bedroom, leaving my living room and kitchen to battle the elements to the best of their meager abilities. I'll check on them again when spring rolls around. The fact that they remain within 2 degrees of the temperature outside does have it's up-sides, namely that I could open my living room window to photograph the snow without noticing any significant heat loss or temperature change. :D


















5 and 6 - the view from my living room window

In all likelihood, by the start of next week Kanazawa will have returned to it's damp and slushy self, but in the mean time... in the lane, snow is glistening....



The photos were all taken this evening on my iPhone.

Baking an Apple Pie in a Moven

Movens are Japan's solution for the oven shortage. Personally, I would think that in a cold and damp country that does not believe in insulation OR central heating, having ovens come standard in the kitchen would be a no-brainer. You can bake delicious things AND be warm. But no, instead, we have movens. What is a moven you ask? A moven is like the confused love-child of a microwave and a convection oven. Is it a microwave? Yes. Is it an oven? Yes. And there you have it, the beauty of the moven.

We decided to put my friend Katy's moven to the test last weekend and bake a pie to bring to the Thanksgiving potluck in the Noto Pennisula. As we put the foil pie pan in to pre-bake the crust, I think my heart may have stopped for a moment. I mean, FOIL?! In a microwave?! You have got to be kidding, right?! Nope, the crust came out just barely browned and delicious. No sparks, no fires, no explosions. Just one awesome moven.

After my nerves were calmed, we went at the pie baking with enthusiasm that can only be explained by 4 months sans oven. I piled the filling as high as physics would allow, and we crossed our fingers as we set the timer on the moven. About 30 minutes later, we opened the door. It smelled like apple pie. In fact, it smelled like really GOOD apple pie. The top was slightly singed, but considering that we had just baked a pie in a tin foil pan in a microwave, I would say that it was a glorious success.
I need a moven.

Karen and Katy














a very multicultural Thanksgiving around the kotatsu (heated coffee table)














eating chili and mashed pumpkin with chopsticks (Katy, Rachel, Sarah, Karen, and Chris - the host)


















the cutest Japanese blur I have ever met

It was not the most traditional Thanksgiving that I have ever had. After all, the closest thing we came to poultry was some incredible fried chicken, and eating chili with chopsticks just doesn't scream "Thanksgiving!". But at the same time, (forgive me as I get a smidge philosophical here) maybe it was more traditional than any turkey and cranberries Thanksgiving can ever be. What is Thanksgiving really? It is a day to gather together, to share food, and to be thankful. And that is exactly what we did.

I did miss the fake cranberry sauce though. :)

Sweet Shrimp and Moonlit Baths

Happy Thanksgiving to one and all!

I spent this year's festival of gluttony at a conference for Ishikawa ALTs (Assistant Language Teachers) in Hakui, a small city about an hour north of Kanazawa. The conference ran from Thursday to Friday, so Thursday night (Thanksgiving night) found me on the floor, contorted into the most uncomfortable position, trying to squeeze my legs under an individual sized floor table. (Note to 6' women every where: pencil skirts are not made for dining on the floor if you have any desire to retain a semblance of grace and/or dignity.) As the blood flow trickled to a bare minimum and my right foot began to look positively vampiric, I eyeballed the dinner they had prepared for us.

It eyeballed me back.

Nestled cozily amongst other slices of raw fish flesh was a whole raw shrimp, in all of it's raw translucent glory. It's eyeballs were an eerie bluish gray. And they were looking at me. In the spirit of adventure, I had previously eaten one of said Japanese delicacies (called "amai ebi", literally "sweet shrimp" a winter delicacy in Ishikawa, lucky me) and found it palatable. However, I am not particularly interested in shrimp even when it is breaded and fried, so raw and leggy is not on my list of favorites. I traded it for a clementine and enjoyed the rest of my meal... well, except for the fishy custard.

Later that night I had my first onsen experience. (Click on the word "onsen" for an excellent Wikipedia article detailing the history, etiquette, etc. of onsens.) Though there was a little akwardness as we attempted to maintain normal conversation all the while getting naked under fluorescent lights, once we entered the steamy shower room and were presented with the prospect of relaxing in an outdoor bath under the moonlight, the awkwardness drifted away with the steam. It was lovely.

More later on baking apple pie in a microwave and trying to approximate Thanksgiving in Japan. For now, check out my latest Facebook album: Senmaida Wedding

The sweet smell of kerosene in the morning...

And here you thought that kerosene was just one of those things from "the days of old". Nope, kerosene is alive, well, and available from self-service pumps at every gas station in the great nation of Japan. I remember thinking this summer when we were oriented on our many heating options for the coming winter that I was beyond kerosene heaters, too evolved to heat my apartment by burning oil. After all, kerosene was once used in lamps as a slightly more dangerous alternative to WHALE BLUBBER. Heat my apartment with something that replaced whale blubber and is now one of the main components of jet fuel? I think I'll pass, thanks.

That was before.
That was before I realized that air-conditioners-cum-heaters are expensive.
That was before I realized that space heaters don't actually heat very much space.
That was before I realized that a kotatsu (heated coffee table) was not designed with Norwegian genetics in mind.
That was before I had to sleep on my heated rug because my bed just wouldn't warm up.
That was before I woke up yesterday morning to my indoor thermometer reading forty-six degrees Fahrenheit.

That was before.

I am now the proud owner of my very own, song playing, timer functioning, child-proofing, oxygen level checking kerosene heater. And maybe it is just the congestion, but all I can smell is heat, delicious, toe-warming heat. I hadn't realized how debilitating the cold was until my apartment crept back up to 62 F, and I suddenly wanted to do dishes, tidy things, and generally go places in my apartment that weren't within arm's reach of my heated rug. I was warm.

And I will be warm again tomorrow morning when I wake up...

Whale blubber, schmale blubber.

Update 01/12: My kerosene heater is kind enough to give me two warnings when it is getting low on fuel. First, it plays "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and flashes a green light. The second warning flashes a red light to the tune of "Mary Had a Little Lamb". Who knew that burning oil could be so cute?

What's up?

I am starting a revolution... one wannabe punk-ass junior high school student at a time. Somewhere along the line it was decided amongst the English teachers in Japan that there is only one appropriate greeting. It goes as follows:

A-san: Hello.
B-san: Hello.
A-san: How are you?
B-san: I'm fine, thank you. And you?
A-san: I'm fine, thank you.

Three months in and 1,700 students later... I am starting a revolution, the "What's up?" Revolution, because there are only so many times you can hear "I'mfinesankyouandyou!" before the crazy hits the fan. I'm starting slowly. Just a few of the pierced eared, fashion mulleted, disenfranchised Michael Jackson dancing 15 yr. old boys first. I try to convert 3 new ones a week.

Last week I had particular success with Nonsense Shouter-san. He was one who not only slept in class, but he even managed to ignore my perfectly calibrated hallway salutations (2 parts obnoxiously genki, 3 parts "Oh yes, it's true. I am WAAAY cooler than you are.", and 1 part Minnesota Nice). I couldn't even get past a "How are you?" before he would start yelling nonsense and quickly retreat to the safety of his fellow hoodlums.

Then, one regular afternoon as I passed him and two of my revolutionaries on the staircase, I saw my chance. I ignored him, turning to his friends instead, because there is no better motivator than feeling like you are out of the loop. "What's up?", I said and gave them my best gangsta shrug. They were paralyzed by fear for a moment before realizing that they knew the answer and that the answer was COOL. "Not much!" they shouted (they always shout) before making valiant attempts at gangsta shrugs while their hair danced in the breeze 5 inches above their heads. Nonsense-san looked confused, desperate. He looked at his friends. He looked at me, his head cocked at the universal "What???" angle.

I had him.

I explained, using my best gangsta shoulder shrug again, that "How are you?" is, well, ma-ma (so-so). But "What's up?".... cooool. "Ahhhh," he nodded, "Not much!"

...several hours later...

I accost Nonsense-san in the hallway, and as he begins to shout nonsense, I give him a LOOK and repeat myself. "What's up?" *gangsta shrug* He pauses for a half second, thinking. And in that half second I remembered that these moments are the reason people teach. He was interested. He was interested in speaking English. I could see the neurons connecting as he searched for the answer he knew he had... "ehhhh tohhhh.... NOT MUCH!!" And he gave me a smile like he had just discovered The Secret, which, I guess, he had.

I caught him explaining "What's up?" "Not much." to a friend the other day, complete with gangsta shrug. If I teach him nothing else, it is enough.

Washing Machine Wars and Wajima Photos

I haven't got anything particularly interesting to share except the fact that, three months in, I still open my washing machine and have to pause in absolute disbelief at what lies within. The intricacy of the knots that my washing machine manages to tie in my jeans, tank tops, towels, and socks is really a testament to the Japanese attention to detail. It honestly takes me 4 minutes just to untangle the first article of clothing from the mess to start hanging them up. Now I start with the towels after discovering early on the particular affinity my washer has for jeans. They are not so easily extricated.

After hearing horror stories of laundry bags being ripped to shreds I got smart and began putting as much of my laundry as possible into my zippered pillow cases. Though it is an effective way to preserve some of my clothing, I always end up feeling bad for the clothes that don't make the cut. They come out of the washing machine with their appendages stretched and twisted in the most unnatural directions, and though no one has been torn limb from limb yet, I'm just not sure how long our luck can last. This may be one battle that Japan was always going to win.

Some photos...


Photos from the last night of the Wajima Tai Sai, the children's night! This should not suggest that there was no carrying of heavy things and no burning of big stuff, or even that there was no carrying of the big burning stuff, there were just more kids around.

one of the dueling teenage kiriko teams




baby taiko drummers



Senmaida - 1,000 rice paddies. The smallest one has just 6 bunches of rice.



In Japan, even the road work signs can't help but bow.



Photos of Monzen Temple, home of the most delicious green tea/vanilla swirl cones in the Noto.

Wajima Tai Sai

I had intended to tell you the story of my very first Japanese festival tonight, but alas, it is late, and I still need to make a worksheet about My Dream Day for the 7th graders. So in the mean time, you will have to settle for a facebook album. I am going to do my best to go chronologically through all of the crazy of the last few months, starting with the Wajima Tai Sai in which large lantern floats (don't let the word lantern fool you, those things are HEAVY, particularly when running barefoot across a bridge carrying one) are carried by drunken hordes through the sleepy city of Wajima from gigantic torch to gigantic torch. Enjoy the photos, amusing anecdotes and tall tales to come soon...

Wajima Tai Sai Album: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2035828&id=19402168&l=b7fafc6fd0

28/10/09 - update

What follows is a partial description of the madness that was my first festival, or what I thought was madness until I remembered that I am living in Japan now. This isn't madness, it's life.

Wajima Tai Sai - August 22nd to the 26th

One very hot and sticky week in Kanazawa, I decided to get out of my unairconditioned apartment and head on up to Wajima to experience my very first Japanese festival, the Wajima Tai Sai, which basically means Wajima's Big Festival. It goes on for four days and although I am sure there is some cultural significance, it seems to follow a pattern that is becoming very familiar: eat lots of food, drink even more alcohol, carry gigantic heavy things, drink more alcohol, make gigantic fire, run around said fire carrying said heavy things, repeat for next three days and countless generations. It was fantastic. In the age of globalization, my only question is this: why haven't we globalized this?

The first night that I was there a couple of other JETs managed to get themselves involved with one of the teams of kiriko carriers (each neighborhood gets together a team to carry their lantern float on the parade through town, you get bonus points if your team can run full speed and/or spin whilst carrying said kiriko). About half way in to the seven hour ordeal I think they may have been reconsidering their decisions, but that's where the women rolling the cooler of beer and the old men with two liter bottles of sake come into play. They did receive a bit of respite when the parade stopped twice to regroup a light a several story torch on fire, think Olympic games style, but with a tug if war for burning bamboo poles once the entire thing inevitably comes crashing to the ground. The first one actually came crashing down on some poor man's head, but after someone died at this festival a couple of years ago, they always have paramedics on hand. Safety is obviously a huge priority at these events.

I'm Back!

After a three month separation, the internet and I are once again cohabitating, and it could not have been a more joyous reunion. I bopped around my apartment singing several variations of the "I have the internet!" song for a good 30 minutes straight. Some day in the future I will tell the story of why my internet took 3 months to return to me, but I'm just not sure that I have enough emotional distance yet...

I would love to give you all a beautiful post complete with photos and video, but I have to run to dinner with the friend of an acquaintance. I am hoping to have stocked up enough friends by winter to fend of the damp darkness, so far, so good.

More later!

Grocery Store Fun

Okay, so I decided today that she can ignore me all she likes, but ain't no Internet fairy that can keep me from sharing the wonders of recycle shopping and Japanese grocery stores. I have a few photos to share, but please look for more post-Internets.

Going to the grocery store in Japan is, at best, an adventure with potential catastrophes lurking down every aisle. How, for example, does one choose soy sauce when there are (I counted) 56 options? I went for the Kikkoman with the red label, but I have no idea how that might be different from the Kikkoman with the green label, the blue label, the gold label (too expensive), or the silver label. I fully understand the importance of brand marketing now that I am reduced to buying the things in the most attractive packing. Do I get the rice with the cute flowers on it or the rice with the funny looking bunny using a mortal and pestle? Obviously the bunny.

Which brings me to Peter Rabbit. Yes, Peter Rabbit. We all know the importance of Hello Kitty to the Japanese school girl and salary man alike, but even in my farthest imaginings, I never would have guessed the popularity of Peter Rabbit. I mean, he's a pretty damn dapper bunny (or he was until he lost his coat in Mr. McGregor's garden, good thing his cousin helped him get it back later), but really? Peter Rabbit?

On my first venture into the school's mercifully air conditioned library I thought it was probably a fluke that they happened to have every single Beatrix Potter story ever written all bound into adorable mini books. Then I got to the English Preparation Room, discovered more English books and among them was, you guessed it, The Complete Works of Beatrix Potter - now with never before seen drawings! But okay, this has got to just be the work of my predecessor who simply failed to mention her Peter Rabbit fetish, right?

Wrong! A couple of weeks ago, a coworker took me on a recycle shop (think Goodwill/Salvation Army, but not as cheap) tour and what did I see? A Hello Kitty toaster, complete with speech bubble of adorable pink and silver salutations. Did you know that Hello Kitty's birthday is on Novemeber 1st? Or that she weighs as much as an apple? Well, consider yourself enlightened... by a toaster. If I had had the $20 to spend on a toaster, I might have gotten it then and there. But that would have been a mistake.

Just last weekend I returned, determined this time to get the toaster. What could be better than a coffee maker that says, "Do you love me? I love you!" (no joke, "aishiteru? aishiteru!") and a Hello Kitty toaster? The answer should be obvious by now.... a Peter Rabbit TOASTER. That's right folks. Every morning when I wake up, I turn on my coffee maker, take my time in the shower to decide if I really do love it back (I always do), get out, kindly ask Peter if he will toast my bread (he always does), and have myself a spectacular breakfast. Well, as spectacular as I ever feel at 7:20 a.m. Oh yeah, did I mention that my predecessor gave me a couple of coffee mugs my first day here? Of course, one of them features my new favorite bunny, Peter Rabbit.




Photo 1: a campaign poster for my new favorite political party. Not sure what their precise policies are, but how can you go wrong with the "Happiness Realization Party"?

Photo 2: yes, that is correct. Your eyes are not deceiving you. This is Peter Rabbit mayonaise. No joke.





Photo 3: when the culture shock gets too bad: Asian Therapy