Tokyo

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Sashiko! Sashiko! Rah rah rah!

It’s true, I was a cheerleader in high school. I’m pretty sure I was pegged as the grumpy cheerleader (bookish introverts probably shouldn’t be allowed on the squad), and I would have worn motorcycle boots with my uniform if they had let me.  But I digress.

I can’t help but cheer because my sashiko kits are finally up in my web shop, and I’m really excited.  I’ve been working on these kits for the past few months, and I’m happy to finally share them.  I designed the patterns and created illustrated instructions detailing the techniques I learned from my snappy old-lady friends in sashiko class.  Let’s take a peek:

I tried to marry traditional Japanese aesthetic with modern design and materials, which is probably how you could describe my taste at the moment.  Every dish and towel in my kitchen is indigo and white, and everything else in our apartment is either white, wood, or Muji-tan.  I find it simple and refreshing.

These coasters are also great because they provide almost-instant gratification for the busy crafter.  They take hardly any time to make, and class-up tea cups tenfold.  A few of the kits are geared for beginners and a few for more experienced needleworkers, but I’m happy to answer questions and do some virtual hand-holding for anyone wanting to learn sashiko and jump in head needle first.

I’m now moving on to a second batch of designs (on top of my Action Craft quilt project, which is still a sizable heap of scraps), so if you have pattern requests, let me know.  S – A – S – H – I – K – O!

Maybe that one needs some work.

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Flee-ting Thoughts

Last week I drafted an ornery blog post, but then hit delete. It was on the topic of fleeing Japan. As I sat in my hotel room in Beijing, the stories popping up in the news about foreigners fleeing in the wake of the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear crisis made me increasingly agitated. I sheepishly admit, I took offense.

When I hear the word “flee,” I envision people running. You flee from a fire, or Godzilla. People had to flee the tsunami, as in, they had to run so the gigantic black wave didn’t swallow them up. I did not flee from anything. I took a train, and calmly stood in line, and then I sat around in the airport for a couple hours. I played solitaire on my phone. I packed smartly for a week-long sightseeing trip. I’m not abandoning anything or anyone. I’m not fearful.

But the headlines about foreigners fleeing Japan got to me. I feel silly for admitting it, since there are more important issues at hand. Last week I vigorously typed my retort, but decided not to post it because, really, I don’t need to justify my actions to anyone, nor do I need to pick a fight with the internet. I tried to let the issue go and instead focus on something productive.

Then today I came across this article in TimeOut Tokyo. It conveys many of the same feelings I’ve been having — though in a more concise, less ornery manner (and props to my friend Sandra, who is quoted). So rather than retype the sentiments, I’ll just encourage you to follow the link and then add a “Yeah, what he said” to the end.

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What I’m Watching

I thought I’d throw a quick post out to share some of the resources I’ve been watching for news.  It’s been my feeling that for information on Japan, it is best to ask Japan.

First, I’ve been keeping an eye on Twitter where folks are translating NHK news in real-time, particularly televised press conferences given by Japanese government officials Prime Minister Kan and Chief Cabinet Secretary Edano.

My favorite tweeters have been TimeOut Tokyo and SandraJapandra.  They are passing along good, reliable information.

NHK World has also been streaming a translated news broadcasts online.  Very useful.

The Japan Times now has a website up with a growing list of resources.  Every once in a while I peek at the Japan Meteorological Agency for a visual of aftershocks.

I’ve also kept my eye on the US Embassy’s website, and follow Ambassador Roos’ Twitter feed.

I have not been watching any foreign news, and actually hadn’t seen any until I turned on the BBC in my hotel room this morning.  I was astonished and horrified by the images of body bags and the focus on death.  That is not something we were seeing on NHK in Japan, nor did we need to.

Right now the focus is on rescue and recovery.  Most sources are recommending that those in non-affected areas donate cash rather than goods, and to keep out of the way for the time being.  (For ways to donate try here, scroll down a bit.)  Edano has called for everyone in Japan to conserve electricity, an effort most were taking seriously in Tokyo.  All available resources are being directed north.

Many people are asking me what I’m doing.  Right now… not much.  I feel very helpless.  Dan and I are in China temporarily, where he has some work to do.  I have discovered that many of the tremors I was feeling weren’t actually the ground shaking but my imagination, since the feeling has followed me.  I’ll hopefully learn more in the future about what I can do, or build, or donate.  But for now, we wait.

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Tough Decisions

At a time when many in Japan are suffering — without basic necessities, missing loved ones, under constant threat of more disaster — it seems silly to talk about my worries.  I fear that talking about them will somehow trivialize the tragedy that has occurred.

At the moment, Tokyo is not in any danger.  That being said, Dan and I have a difficult decision ahead, one many ex-pats currently face: do we stay or do we leave?

Right now, my heart belongs to Japan.  Tokyo has finally started to feel like my home.  We have been here for 9 months, and though I’m a somewhat transient lady, this is where I prefer to hang my hat.

I know I am incredibly lucky — I am an American and have confidence that my embassy would help if there was an emergency.  I have friends in many countries, and Dan has a solid job with a company with resources. I do not feel I would ever be stranded or forgotten. I know how extremely lucky I am because I had the resources to move to Japan in the first place.

But, we have the opportunity to take a little break from Japan for a while.  Do we stay or do we go?  As the situation at the power plant becomes more threatening it becomes easier to make the argument to leave.  But at this point Tokyo is not in danger.  And Tokyo is my home.

Some foreigners have been criticized for leaving, criticized for inducing panic or abandoning Japan in her time of need.  What can I do to contribute if I were to stay?  I can donate money, but otherwise I must sit and wait.

Leaving Japan is a personal decision and no one should be judged for doing so.  Whether for the safety of your kids or the sanity of your nerves, taking a break from the drama shouldn’t be viewed negatively.  Alternatively, no one should be criticized or harassed for wanting to stay.  News coverage in the United States has been more sensationalized than here in Japan, and frantic calls from abroad help no one.  We are aware of the severity of the situation, thankyouverymuch.  I’m a smart lady with smart resources, and can make the right decision.  Most importantly, it is the right decision because it is my own decision.

So then why is it so hard to choose, and why do I feel so bad?

It might be guilt, or adrenaline withdrawal, after being so close to a disaster and narrowly missing its wrath.  It might be the solidarity I feel with my new friends in Tokyo and the life I have here, a solidarity I feel I’d be abandoning.

And so, we’ve decided to leave.  It is sad to go, but it is a short trip and it feels like the right thing to do at the moment.  Hopefully my absence from Tokyo can help conserve energy, resources… anxiety.  There are difficult times ahead for Japan, and I’m in it for the long-haul.  Even if I’m not for the short.

You can see my other reactions to the Tohoku Earthquake here and here.

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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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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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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!