Year: 2011

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Aftershock

It has been 2 days since the earthquake struck Japan.

Tokyo is somber.  Things here are mostly fine — there was little damage and much of city life has resumed.  Around Azabu Juban trains are running, restaurants and shops are open, and people are walking about.  Twitter reports from around the city reveal similar scenes.

Dan and I have been out walking, but haven’t strayed far from home.  The aftershocks continue, and though the tremors aren’t as big as they were yesterday, I still don’t have any desire to get on a train.

We stopped at the grocery store mostly because we felt we should, but I didn’t know what to buy.  Yesterday eggs and bananas were out, today our nearest grocer was lacking toilet paper, milk, and leafy greens.  I bought a few onigiri from a nearby conbini and felt satisfied in my preparedness.

The grocery stores were bustling but restaurants were not.  We went out for Chinese food and had the restaurant to ourselves.  I half-joked that we should eat out while we can, and save the veggies at home for the coming days.  The truth is, I’m not sure what to expect this week.  Authorities say Tokyo will intermittently be without power and are asking everyone to conserve electricity.  Prime Minister Kan said in a televised press conference that this is the worst disaster to hit Japan since WWII.  Dan and I shut off our heat and are snuggling around a shared lamp.  They’re asking us to prepare for scheduled power outages, but I’m not certain what that means.  We’re making some rice to stash in the fridge, we’ve got food and water.  Being without a television for a while will probably do me some good.

In the past 48 hours I’ve become a total news junkie.  In addition to my Twitter feed, which is in constant refresh on my phone, I’ve had email and Facebook, online news channels, and NHK TV at my fingertips.  Though, the images of devastation and the anxiety of another tremor are starting to wear me out.  (Mom, look away…)  The Japan Meteorological Agency said there is a 70 percent chance of another earthquake greater than magnitude 7 occurring within the next three days, and then 50 percent chance in the 3 days after that.  I feel safe in my apartment and with Tokyo’s resources at the ready, but anticipation of a tremor rattles my nerves.  You know that feeling you get when you step off a treadmill?  Or, when you are sitting in a restaurant and the subway rumbles beneath you?  Or when you stand up too fast and feel a little light-headed?  That’s how the aftershocks feel, and they’ve been pretty constant since Friday.  I’ve been calling it The Weeble-Wobbles.  Not dangerous, just… weird.

The news crack has provided some unbelievable images.  Like this one, where you can view before and after photos of some of the areas affected by tsunami.  Or this crazy video.  (Mom, stop worrying — that’s not where I am.)

Japan is in the midst of a major crisis, and I’m in the midst of Japan.  Though Tokyo is pretty much back on its feet, my heart aches for Northern Japan and the devastation they face.  It is difficult to know what to do or how to help.  It is easy to sit at home, watch the news, wait for more sways.

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Shaky

That describes my legs, mostly.  I was at home when Japan experienced an 8.8 9.0 magnitude earthquake.  It hit off the Northeast coast, caused a massive tsunami and aftershocks which continued into the night.  We felt it in Tokyo, where my solid apartment building shook for what seemed like forever.

I had time to register that the floor was throbbing, notice my laundry swaying on the drying rack.  I had time to tell myself to calm down, look out the window, and realize I shouldn’t be by the window.  I told myself to wait it out.  I had time to walk to the hallway, realize the tremor was getting stronger, find my keys and phone, slip on shoes and dart outside.  I didn’t lock the door.  Thankfully for my legs, which were barely holding me up at this point, it is a short half-flight of stairs before I’m out the back door, where I stood in the street with neighbors as we looked at our respective buildings in shock and amazement.  A taxi drove by and at first I thought he was laughing at my over-reaction, then realized it was a nervous giggle.

The Japan Times reports this earthquake was one of the strongest to have ever hit Japan, bigger even than the 1923 Great Kanto earthquake, which registers every time I read about a “historic” temple or shrine that was rebuilt after it crumbled the city.

I took a walk around the block to calm down and met many of my neighbors.  Usually we pass with barely a glimpse, but today everyone was meeting my eye, and more nervous giggles.  Maybe they were amused by my scene — speed walking, without a coat but wearing the new hat my Dad sent me.  Announcements came from loud speakers I didn’t even know were there, presumably telling me to speed-walk myself home.

After awhile, it became hard to tell if the Earth was moving or if it was just my heart pounding.  I spent the afternoon with one eye on my laundry, my personal barometer of earth-sway.

I wasn’t prepared at all, which I am a bit ashamed to admit.  But also, I didn’t feel panic or even much worry about not being prepared.  When living in the US, I knew exactly what to do in the case of tornadoes (Minnesota) and hurricanes (Washington, DC).  Radio, flashlights and candles, cribbage board, snacks, beer, toilet paper.  Then wait it out.  I had no idea what to expect in the case of an earthquake, and I couldn’t understand what the radio was saying had I procured one.

My new emergency lifeline of choice?  Twitter.  I was alone in my apartment, but I wasn’t really alone.  Phones were down, I couldn’t call Dan.  My email was working, but the connection was too slow for my liking.  Twitter kept me afloat.  I got news in real-time.  I had people sending me notes, checking on me, asking if I was OK.  I asked them what to do, they told me.  Another aftershock, blerg! We commiserated.  It was a huge network of people, hanging in there together.

So what did they recommend I do?  Fill the bathtub with water, in case of a water main break.  I also learned that if you forget you are filling the tub, it will stop automatically and it will play a cheery little song to tell you it’s done.  I pulled out warm clothes, filled water bottles, and put cookies into a bag.  I watched the news.  But what else?  The worst was over for me, but I felt like I was missing something.  Watching flood waters overtake Sendai was devastating.  What else could I do?

I took a walk, which was the best thing I did all day.  After my initial lap (or, 3) around the block, I’d only been to the window to watch the nearby workmen watch their new building.  So I went to the grocery store and picked up some things for dinner and the next few days.  And I saw everyone else going on with their business — the grocery store was busy, but not harried.  Some people carried hardhats with them, many were waiting for buses (trains were shut down).  The neighborhood was bustling but calm, which was reassuring.  I knew I was doing the right thing.  I tried to pick up some candles, but they didn’t seem to carry them.  Batteries and cellphone chargers, on the other hand, were sold out.  So I bought beer and went home.

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Don’t hate me because it’s beautiful.

Dan and I just returned from a 2 week vacation in Indonesia.  I know that no one actually wants to hear about a happy couple honeymooning at the beach, so I’ll spare you the details.

Though, I can’t help but share a few lessons learned —

1. Outdoor bathrooms seem like a good idea, until it is pouring rain and you are suffering from food poisoning because you were an idiot and had local ice in your your beach-side sunset cocktail.

2. When a guidebook says a city is “hard to love,” believe it.  Travel writers are adventurous, capable folks, so when they say Jakarta is a tough place to really like, you probably won’t be able to prove them wrong with 24 magical hours.  Especially when you decide to stay at a hotel where bomb-sniffing dogs check your handbag before you enter the lobby and your taxi-driver gets a pat-down.

3. Don’t sit next to small children when taking a boat across open water. It is not going to end well for them, and thus, you.

All said, it was a great trip and the parts of Indonesia we saw were absolutely beautiful.  We flew into Bali where we spent a few days in Ubud amidst rice paddies, then went north to the mountains where we stayed in Munduk and, after the power went out, watched the most amazing thunderstorm from our hut’s balcony.   We took a boat to the neighboring island of Gili Trawangan where we had the beach to ourselves.  We spent a few nights on the southern coast of Lombok, where we saw amazing coastal scenery and because of a room snafu, had a private swimming pool.  It was an accident, but it was awesome.  There may have been canon balls and underwater handstands.  On our way home we stopped in Jakarta for a night, experienced the great wonder that is Jakarta’s traffic (though a 2 hour taxi ride only cost us $12), and hopped a red-eye back to Tokyo.

In all honestly, I would love to share photos but we took more than I can safely download to my computer without it crashing (1000+).  Though, OK, I did manage to snap a few with my point-and-shoot.  Maybe just one beach photo…

I ain’t foolin — we really had the beach to ourselves, which I guess isn’t such a big deal when you’re on an island and there is so much of it to go around.  This beach in particular is slated for development, so it won’t look like this in another 10 years.

Vacationland, I miss you already.

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Tokyo Craft Guide

You may have noticed it, up there.  Look a little higher… a little higher…

There it is, my Tokyo Craft Guide — an ever growing list of the fabric shops, paper shops, yarn shops, and cream puff counters in Tokyo.  I know that is a pretty huge endeavor, but give me time, people.

While out and about, hunting and haunting every craft-related shop in this fair city, I started keeping a list and eventually, a Google map.  Then I thought, “Wow, six-months-ago-me would have totally loved me for this!”  Cue light bulb.

Dear future-you, I hope you enjoy this guide, inspired by six-months-ago-me and updated by the here-and-now-me, for your craft-shopping pleasure!

You can find the full Tokyo Craft Guide here, and a map here.  Questions or comments?  Leave me a note, I’d love to hear from you!

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Murder Pie

One of the reasons I love blueberry pie — it always looks like something went terribly wrong…

Blueberry Murder might make a good name for my pie shop.

These are from Pie Night at Chef Miri’s.  That one hiding in the back?  Chocolate Banana Cream.  It sort of has a deep-dish thing going on, which is a very good idea.

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Valentine Sweets

In Japan, it is a Valentine’s Day custom for women to give men chocolates. I don’t even love chocolate that much, and I feel cheated.

You are supposed to give your Valentine handmade chocolates and reserve the store-bought stuff for friends and coworkers, but I saw these and couldn’t resist:

Highball-filled chocolates. Dan called them whiskey Gushers. Eeew. Or, ooooh?

I’m looking forward to White Day, the holiday on March 14th when men reciprocate. According to trusty Wikipedia, I can expect jewelry, white chocolate, or marshmallows.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Update – I just found this.  Totally eeew.

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I Really Need to Stab Something

It has been a tough week, so when my calendar buzzed to remind me about sashiko class this afternoon, I had mixed feelings. Though I knew it would be good for me to be around other humans, going to class takes so much effort. I know I’m whining, but listening is hard work.

I decided to buck up and go, and as always, I am glad I did. It turned out I really just needed to stab something.

In case you are new here, a quick debriefing: my craft-time pastime of choice is sashiko, a style of embroidery, which in Japanese means “little stabs.”  And I love to overwork the pun.  As can be evidenced here, here and here.  And here.

The concentrated craft time made me feel better.

A new kit was waiting for me when I got to class, a pouch for holding my sashiko goods.  The kit comes with everything you’ll need — thread, fabric, pattern.  The design includes an image of Japanese scissors, which according to Dan look like Pac Man.  I have scissors more like this, which all the ladies get a kick out of.  (For those observant few — yep, that is a sashiko coaster.  More on that to come…)

Class-time chatter was mostly about shopping.  I think I picked up on this mostly because I’ve become familiar with the various department stores (mmmm, food halls), though I’ve also learned a few more verbs (yay for action words!).  The ladies were cheerful, and they watched me stitch and nodded their approval.  My sensei even sent me home with her pouch, so I can have a model to look at while I work between classes.  Look at the size of her stitches on the left, compared to mine on the right.  So teeeny.  I’ve got some practicing to do.

Here is the reverse, what my pouch will look like someday.  The red felt is for holding pins and needles, and the pouch will hold all my threads and tools.  I’m so excited.  The only thing I love as much as crafting is organizing my crafts.

My favorite part of every class is show-and-tell.  I love watching as everyone pulls out the projects they’ve completed since we last met, and the whole table echos with sugoi! With this group of crafty old ladies it comes from the gut, and the table sounds like a chorus of beer-chuggin’ dudes.  I love it.

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An Afternoon Stroll

On Saturday Dan and I took a stroll to Nippori in search of Yanaka Ginza.  We recently purchased a new camera and thought the quaint shopping street would be perfect for some practice shots.

But first, no afternoon stroll through Tokyo can begin without ramen:

We didn’t even make it to the train station before this stop, since this ramen-ya is in our neighborhood.  Dangerous, I know.  B1F, 1-7-9 Azabu Juban, Minato-ku  博多チムそば 麻布十番店、〒106-0045 東京都港区麻布十番１丁目７−９

On to Yanaka Ginza.  Well, almost.  To reach Yanaka Ginza we had to take the train to the JR Nippori station, which is also the home of Fabric Town:

Does anyone remember Cheapo in Minneapolis?  Oh, the hours I spent trying to look interested in used CDs while Dan click-clicked his way through new arrivals.  Apparently it’s payback time.  (You can find more info on Textile Heaven here.)  Only one hour was lost, and then it was back to our mission…

We got a little turned around, and eventually found our way across the train tracks via tunnel.  I sort of love/hate it when I’m in one of these tunnels and the train passes overhead.  Popping out the other side, we noticed people were gathering:

We’d stumbled upon Fujimizaka (meaning Fuji view slope), and joined just in time to watch the sun set over the city.  Everyone was gathered along a road that climbed up a steep hill (apparently some with better cameras than us).  If you are like me and need a little help, Fuji-san was just about here:

Finally, on with our quest.  We were looking for Yanaka Ginza, a small shopping street in northeastern Tokyo that is famous for maintaining the feel of Shitamachi, the traditional and lower class part of Edo which housed merchants and artisans in the marshy (read: humid and stinky) low part of the city.  Most of Shitamachi is gone, due to fires and wars over the years, but a few areas of Tokyo still do it right.  After some iPhone-led zig-zagging through neighborhoods, we finally arrived… and forgot to take photos.

Believe me though, it’s great.  We bought sencha 煎茶, stood in line for grilled meats, and wandered from shop window to cafe menu.  On our way home, we passed a small shrine tucked along the road:

A nice end to a lovely winter day.

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Feeling Toasty

I’d like to take you along on a little journey… to buy a toaster.  In Japan, purchasing an electronic appliance is no small feat:

And this was just the toaster side of the aisle.  Ovens, ranges, and fish broilers had their own sections.  Dan and I had initially planed to purchase an oven — after my stories of pie-woe, we were urged by many to stop whining go out and get one for ourselves.  But it quickly became clear that our apartment didn’t have space for the huge “counter top” oven/steamer/grill/microwave robot contraptions that were out there. (If you need a reminder, you can see photos of our tiny apartment here.)  And so, back to the toasters.

I was amused by all of the options.  They had single-slice mini toasters, double-decker toasters, toasters shaped especially for pizzas, toasters in colors to match your teapot, high- or low-tech.

This one is advertising a touch screen computer panel, but I was more interested in the panda cake it claims it can make.

This toaster would have been perfect for one of my old roommates… you know who you are, Carb King.  “What’s for dinner tonight?  Toast? Pizza? Baked cheese? Toast?”

We settled on this beauty simply because it was big (4 slices!) and had easy-to-interpret controls.  Maybe it’s not quite right for an overstuffed apple pie, but it could probably manage a few tarte aux pommes.

Or an open-faced avocado and cheese sandwich.  Since bringing this new friend home, I’ve been eating toast for approximately 2.8 meals a day.  Don’t judge.

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Stab to the Heart

Don’t worry, this is not a sad story.

Those little old ladies did it again: my third sashiko class left me with a completed project (finally!), a handful of snacks, and a full heart.

I need to keep up with my sashiko classes perhaps only to continue seeing my new old lady friends.  You may remember my first class — a whirlwind of mysterious chit-chat where I picked up my teacup pattern and learned through miming.  Conducted entirely in Japanese, my guess is I picked up about 3% of what was said.  My second class was an equal amount of confusion, but with a few more parts warm & fuzzy.  I may have upped my comprehension level to, let’s say 5%.   For class #3, I was up to a solid 14%.  And that’s after you calculate out the show-and-tell oohs-and-ahs and the many giggles.

Part of my success was due to the fact I was with a new group of ladies, so the usual niceties, “My name is Angie” and “I’m American” were easy home runs.  Then one woman asked if I was a high school student.  Understandable, considering I have no idea if they were 60 or 90.  When I told them “I’m a housewife,” out came a fresh round of giggles.  After class, they sent me on my way with a few handfuls of rice crackers and a bounty of bows.  It was a lovely time.

I’ve decided I need to continue going to these classes so that I can get to know some other women and try to socialize in Japanese.  Otherwise, my only interaction with other shufu 主婦 is at the grocery store, where I get elbowed and banged into and harassed about whether I want chopsticks with my bento lunch.  I need help to remember they are just as shy as I am, and just as curious about my sunglasses and camouflage hipster hat as I am about the tiny dogs in their purses.

Finally, I need to talk about this amazing pastry.  I admit I had no idea what I was buying, and picked it because I wanted something impressive for my little show-off photo shoot.  I went to my favorite neighborhood pastry shop, pointage, knowing they wouldn’t let me down.  And wow, was this one good.  There was a chestnut in there, and a fig steeped in Earl Grey, and some cheesey custard, and lots of buttery flakes.  I don’t claim to be a know-it-all about pastries, but I do eat a lot of them.  And this one wins.  Thanks, pointage.  Is it a blessing or a curse that this place is a 5 minute walk from my apartment?  I can’t decide.

Psst… Hey you, visiting Tokyo?  Check out pointage boulangerie in Azabu juban.  Here is a map.  Just don’t make it crowded so I can’t get my sweet chestnut buns.

Also, interested in the sashiko class?  They’re held monthly at Blue & White, 2-9-2 Azabu juban, Minato-ku, tel. 03 3451 0537.  Come join me!