Dutch Tulips & Japanese Porcelain

(As always, click on the images for larger versions.) MM and I headed out on Friday, March 23 to Huis Ten Bosch (click to visit their website), a huge, local amusemsent park. Unlike American amusement parks, there are no roller coasters, no "rides" (except a single, gorgeous merry-go-round), no midway games. Instead, Huis Ten Bosch is a huge Dutch village set incongruously on the coast of Japan, surrounded by typical Japanese mountains. I'd say it's a model of a city, but the owners are selling "canal-side housing" and hope to make it a viable community of 10,000 eventually (as well as an admission-charging place of entertainment).

There are museums, several shows, hundreds of thousands of tulips, windmills, restaurants, canals and shops. There are boat rides along the canals and out into the harbor, photo opportunities with costumed characters (think "Hello Kitty" as a giant cartoon tulip), and a huge fireworks and laser show every night. From what I understand, Huis Ten Bosch also has wine tastings and cheese festivals. (Click here for a .pdf brochure detailing current events at Huis Ten Bosch.) It really isn't a place I thought I'd visit, as I'm here to see Japan, not a reproduction of The Netherlands...but I was very pleasantly surprised.

Our first stop was the Teddy Bear Museum (see the giant floral teddy bear topiary beside MM's head!) I figured it would be cheesy and cutesy, but it was fascinating, with teddy bears and toys from all over the world, from the 1800s to the present, from simple children's toys to artistic concepts never meant to be played with. The first stairway was lined with bear-themed antique postcards, and the hallways between the various exhibits held framed photographs of the teddies of famous people. Though MM and I often enjoy some of the same things, we also often have very different ideas about what is "interesting"...and we each found much to hold our interest.

The flowers that day were really spectacular -- huge blocks of astonishing color, the banks of tulips much as I'd always imagined them to look like in The Netherlands (though of course on a smaller scale!) MM and I wandered slowly, stopping for a "cheese shake" (a tangy blend of fruit and some sort of cream cheese...rich but not cloying). MM explored the first big windmill we came to, as it's been outfitted as a windmill museum (he explored several spots without me, as my knee was really giving me fits that day).

I didn't realize M.C. Escher was Dutch, but he was...and there was a fascinating building filled with Escher-esqe paintings, mirrors and architecture. Pretty mind-bending! We stopped in to watch a short Escher movie, which was very interesting. It was written and produced by a Japanese film studio, and was a very Japanese story called "The Legend of the Waterfall." The story seemed to revolve around a little Dutch girl with blonde braids overcoming all sorts of Escher-type obstacles to find her dog and find her way home. I'm not really positive, as the whole thing was in Japanese. Oh, and it was a 3-D movie, complete with 3-D glasses, so the Escher-type creatures flew at the viewer, and water flowed into our laps, and a glowing sphere of water began and ended the movie. (???) For example, one of Escher's black and white woodcuts (?) is a series of black and white blocks that "morph" into different shapes. At one point in this piece of art, the black shapes are demon/bat creatures and the white shapes are angels. So...in the movie, there is a black and white tile floor that begins to morph into the different Escher creatures...and the demon bat creatures fly out to attack the child. Her ingenuity somehow helps her fend them off, and the glowing angel creatures come to help her and bestow blessings upon her. The angels are complete with wings and halos, yet are somehow "spirit creatures" rather than Christian angels, even though they look like the angels on a Christmas tree...after all, Japan is not a Christian country. At the end, the child makes it to the magical city in the clouds, with Escher's impossible waterfalls flowing all around it. She gets her dog back, and flies home to live happily ever after. It was a very bizarre movie, very confusing...and lots of fun!! The whole experience was very Japanese...when the movie ended, everyone got up and politely and quietly filed out the doors at the bottom of the theatre, carefully depositing their 3-D glasses in recycling bins beside bowing attendants.

MM and I continued to explore, walking around the stables to look at the HUGE black draft horses, posing with the fluffy giant tulip mascot, pausing for a panini lunch (panini, in a Dutch amusement park, in Japan...talk about a cultural mix!), peering through a big freestanding, empty gilded frame that looked out over the flower gardens spread out in a riot of color -- seems one can take a photo of the frame and flower gardens, so it looks like a framed painting of the flowers. We stopped at the carillon museum, which was astonishing, with an absolutely amazing holographic video of little bell-crafting gnomes explaining the history of carillon bells (in Japanese). There were carillon bells from around the world, including several from the 12th century! They were not behind glass, and were within inches of us...we were simply admonished not to touch by discreet signs in several languages, and trusted to obey. It was a struggle, but I managed to keep my fingers off the bells! There was a huge working replica of a giant carillon there in the museum, standing two stories high, along with various "keyboards" like an organ, with each key and pedal connected by a cable to a bell. It was incredibly intricate, and incredibly interesting! MM enjoyed the music box "Fantasia" museum and show, which he said was fascinating. I skipped it due to lots of steps and the knee issue again, but next time, I'll have to check it out.

We enjoyed a porcelain museum, displaying some of the most highly-respected Japanese porcelain work and discussing the history of the Dutch influence and Dutch trade. The glass museum was an almost overwhelming display of mirrors and chandeliers and cut glass pieces, complete with a small, dimly lit "wedding chapel" on the top floor, with really amazing individual pieces glittering and glowing in the darkness from their solitary displays around the circumference of the room. We stopped in a gift shop that seemed to have half dedicated to Escher memorabilia, souvenirs and toys, and the other half dedicated to a men's clothing shop. I stumbled upon some really wonderful t-shirts celebrating the anniversary of Commodore Perry's visit to Japan, complete with a sketch of Perry's unsmiling face, and a cartoon speech balloon emanating from his mouth, printed with a cheery "Hello!" It made me laugh, imagining the imposing Black Ships steaming into Tokyo harbor, a somber Perry coming out onto the deck...and suddenly waving and shouting out a high pitched "Hello! Hello! Hello!" the way the Japanese schoolchildren shout it at me when they see me. With MM's urging, I shamefacedly explained to the saleswoman through charades and a few words of English that I was a direct descendant of Perry. She got so excited she was practically in tears, and insisted on taking several photographs of me with her cell phone!

MM and I enjoyed a wonderful Japanese meal in one of Huis Ten Bosch's many restaurants -- we each had a beautiful lacquerware compartmentalized box filled with beautifully presented eel, sashimi, pickle, egg custard, squid, tempura and spring vegetables. I'm so sorry my camera battery died early in the day, as the presentation was really lovely. After enjoying our leisurely meal, we strolled a little longer, ending up at the docks in the dark admiring the strings of tiny twinkling lights on the rigging of the reproduction sailing ships. I ended up not being able to resist temptation, and bought some mouth-blown, locally-made glass sake cups while MM perused the glassware, porcelain and many bottles of shochu on display. We'd hoped to stay for the nightly fireworks display, but the cool air and our aching feet dictated we head back to the car. Neither of us realized how far we'd walked from the entrance, and making our way back through the rapidly emptying streets became a real test! I was worried that we were headed for a "closed" entrance, as towards the end, we were the ONLY people visible...but MM's optimism kept us going, and we finally made our way out. Just before we reached the car, the fireworks began, and we were able to see a little bit of them through the trees before retrieving my car and heading home.

The next morning, after an omelette breakfast, we headed to the NEX on the base to get some good walking shoes for MM before pointing the car towards the Arita porcelain area. We paused for a lunch of deliciously garlicky ramen and another (failed) attempt to teach MM to overcome his American good manners and slurp his noodles properly. I can slurp them now with gusto, but still haven't mastered how to slurp without flicking the tip of my nose with the end of the drippy noodles!

We spent a lovely afternoon in Arita. We stopped at the Gen-emon kiln and showroom, which has been running for over 400 years, owned by the same family for all that time. We drove through the twisty main street of old Arita itself. I parked the car, and despite the rain, MM donned his rain suit and went out into the wet, looking like a skinny Michelin Man (no, that's not what MM stands for!), with a gleam in his eye to explore, finding the various shrines and temples built by the porcelain artists and potters and poking his head into various shops while I caught up on some paperwork in the car. (I know, I'm boring! But more about Arita later, as I have photos from my trip there with Mom and Bro!)

After MM returned from exploring in the rain, we headed back to Sasebo. Even though it was rainy, the long shopping arcade is roofed, so I knew we could walk around without dealing with the wet. We walked for a while, glancing into several shops and pausing at my favorite fruit vendor's stall for some fresh loquats, fragrant strawberries, and an odd, small, oval, yellow melon with a floral fragrance (it turned out to be sweet like a honeydew, but rather bland...not as delicately perfumed inside as it seemed from the outside).

Dinner was at my favorite tempura place, which is a tiny little room up steep wooden stairs, containing a horseshoe-shaped wooden bar surrounding the cook's station, and not much else. It's run by an elegant, silver-haired gentleman, a pretty middle-aged woman, and a young woman who runs out with rice, miso soup, pickles and drinks. I think the three of them are a family, but I'm not sure. We enjoyed various pieces of tempura made right there on the spot in front of us -- shrimp, squid, various vegetables -- incredibly light and delicious, dipped in lemon salt, green tea (matcha) salt, or a light sweet/salty tempura sauce. My favorite is the lemon salt...it's amazing! MM decided he wanted to try the potato shochu. We were both surprised when he was brought a very large pottery tumbler full of ice and potent shochu! I had a small sip, and it tasted to me like a mellow, slightly less strong version of vodka, but with that same metallic/organic aftertaste that sake always seems to have on my palate. That night, MM wanted to watch "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" but after the first thirty minutes, I think our adventures caught up with him, and he decided he was too tired to watch it all (it's a pretty involved movie, and you have to pay close attention!) so he headed to bed. I headed to sleep myself not too long after he did!

The next day after breakfast, I took MM to the train station so he could head to Nagasaki for an overnight on his own. He'll have to write his own adventure about his time there! Monday evening, I picked him up from the station, and took him to tonkatsu dinner (I've written before about tonkatsu, which is the breaded, fried pork cutlet that one dips in a sauce one makes from ground sesame seeds and a fruity sauce similiar to A-1). Tuesday we were off again, early for me (ha!) to head to Hirado Island and Ikitsuki Island.

Our adventures of Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday (3/27 - 3/29) to come in the next day or two...Hirado Island, Ikitsuki Island, Senryu Falls, the amazing Unzen, Shimabara Castle...and more!

Cocooned Buildings & Yakiniku

There's so much to write about, and so little time! I can't believe we've been in Japan for over a year now. The time is just flying! Here's a mish-mash of observations and interesting (to me at least!) little things...sort of a collage of a post. (As always, click on the images for slightly larger versions.)

Spring is trembling on the cusp of exploding here. The cherry blossoms are about to burst into bloom, and the days are alternating between sunny warmth and grey chill. Kyushu is an incredibly green island, which I tend to forget while driving around in the grey and tan city. Last spring, Miyuki and two other friends and I took a drive up into the mountains for a "hydrangea viewing". Certain roads are lined on both sides with unbroken walls of hydrangea, and they're covered in heavy, nodding flower bundles in pink and lavendar and blue. I'm hoping to go again this year, with my camera fully charged. Last time was astonishing, and I was heartbroken that my camera battery died after only a couple of shots. Here is a rather poor image of smiling H, where you can see the hydrangea peering in the car windows. Here is the view from the spa where we stopped for lunch, and where I hope to return. The mountains and rice paddies look so lush and beautiful! Even during the winter, flowers have surprised me here. They spill from alleyways, fill terracotta pots jumbled around the front doors of houses, and cascade down grey stone walls. The colors are all the more striking for being surrounded by so much grey and beige and rust.

Nature in general is very highly regarded here, of course. One funny example of this is the "Engritch" slogans on the wheelcovers of the little jeep-like 4WD cars here. I can't always snap a shot of them, but I'm going to try to collect more. The Rasheen wheel cover says "Listen to the murmuring of a stream. Run after wild birds. Rest in the bosom of the woods." I guess one does all of this AFTER one has driven crashing into the forest? Another wheelcover shows a diver cavorting in silhouette with a dolphin, superimposed on the planet Earth. The slogan: "Save our nature!" Guess they mean to save it from stuff other than car exhaust?

I'm also amused by the branding of cars here. The little blue one in the photo is a model named "Carol" with the slogan "Me Lady" painted on the side. I LOVED that car, but somehow, Fearless Husband wasn't as into it as I was. Go figure! Cars here have odd names to American ears, such as the "Move", the "Today", the "Cube", the "Life" and (most surprising to me) "La Puta". That last one means "the prostitute" in Spanish, Tagalog and Portugese!!!

Then, just as we have celebrity-branded vehicles (such as the Eddie Bauer edition Ford Explorer), so do the Japanese -- the "Hello Kitty" edition Daihatsu Move. No, I'm not kidding! The Japanese tend to dress in dark or neutral colors...navy, black, brown, rust, olive green, cream, tan, etc. But they seem to enjoy more vivid colors in other areas. There are plenty of cars in pink, purple, lavendar and apple green. My car is a pretty vivid teal. And heavy construction machinery is in a rainbow of colors, unlike the American "caution yellow". Here, you will find teal cranes, purple bulldozers, turquoise and green backhoes...they almost look as if Fisher Price built them!

When construction is being done anywhere, a scaffolding is erected around whatever is being worked on (house, high-rise, street sign, support column for the new highway) and fabric is draped all over the scaffolding very neatly, like a big package. I've been told part of that is safety, so pieces of the construction process and/or paint droplets are contained away from passing cars and people. The fabric (which is a loose enough weave to be very slightly translucent in some situations) might also help protect whatever is being built or renovated from the weather. But it looks like a cocoon to me, from which the new sign/bridge pillar/apartment building emerges, clean and finished and pretty, like a butterfly. In this land of jumbled houses, rust-streaked sheds and dilapidated roofs, it's almost as if it's perfectly fine to look at the young and beautiful or the old and dilapidated, but never appropriate to see any building unfinished or in the midst of refurbishment...as if it's in a state of undress. Here is a photo of the big torii gate in front of the base draped in green cheesecloth-like stuff when it was being repainted, with the shadowy figures of workers barely seen inside the tent-like folds. I'll have to see if I can get a shot of a similarly-draped high-rise. Yes, it's raining. Yes, the workers are still working. Construction workers seem to work in all weather, at all hours. It's common to see much road construction happening late at night, when traffic is light, and even on the worst rainy days I pass construction in action.

Can't think of a good transition, so imagine your own here. Many of the restaurants in Japan involve the diner in the meal more than just as a consumer of food. At the tonkatsu place, for example, each diner is given a little bowl with unglazed ridges gouged into the bottom, and a round-ended wooden stick. One is expected to ladle out a spoonful of sesame seeds into the bowl, and then grind however much or little one wants. Then tonkatsu sauce is added (one is spicy and one is sweet, supposedly, but I don't taste much difference) and one stirs it up to make a paste or sauce as thin or thick as one wishes. The pouring sauce is fruit-based, and tastes a little like our A-1 sauce...but the fragrance of the crushed sesame seeds is really wonderful, and the two flavors go together really beautifully. Then one dips the insanely tender slices of panko-crusted pork cutlet into the sauce...delicious!

Another favorite restaurant is the yakiniku place. Yaki means "cook" and niku means "meat". Pretty self-explanatory! Diners are shown to a table (low and Japanese style or American-style booth) with a grill embedded in the center of the table. The yakiniku I went to in Okinawa was heated with cylinders of charcoal, but the one I frequent in Sasebo has a gas flame heating a crysanthemum-shaped metal burner beneath the grill grid. One orders a platter of meat, sometimes sauced, sometimes not. Some platters have a variety of different beef cuts, some have beef, chicken and seafood. Each platter comes with several leaves of cabbage, a thick slice of carrot, some thick rings of onion, a slab of bell pepper, and a slab of eggplant. Sometimes, Japanese pumpkin (winter squash) is included. Everything arrives raw, even the meat, and each diner then cooks his or her own meats and vegetables to a preferred doneness. A segmented dish is provided for various dipping things -- pureed garlic, some sort of sweet pepper puree, soy sauce (of course), a mix of coarsely-ground salt and black pepper -- and each piece of meat or vegetable can be dipped in one or a succession of condiments, "bounced" on one's bowl of rice, and then eaten. The rice is seasoned with meat juices, garlic, salt, etc. from this "bouncing", and is eaten bit by bit throughout the meal, so each layer of the bowl of rice is seasoned. Meat is very expensive in Japan, and the meat at a yakiniku is usually of a VERY high quality (I've had Kobe beef, as well as several other kinds, named for the area from which each comes). The diner is not given a ton of meat, compared to an American steak dinner, and the meal is not cheap...but it's exactly enough. By the time one has cooked, seasoned and eaten, the belly is full and a good, long, pleasant time has passed in conversation and the action of cooking. Pauses have to be taken as various bits are being cooked, so there's time for conversation. I love the yakiniku place!

Last fall, I went to the Navy Ball with my friend L. The ball itself was fun, but nothing special...people dressed up, there was plenty to eat and drink, the music was loud. However, I met some interesting people and that was fun. One woman named Michiko was dressed in her formal kimono, in elegant juxtaposition to all the red sheaths and sequins and black gowns with plunging necklines. I got an interesting photo of her having a cigarette outside and watching the dancing through the glass doors. With the cigarette and the kimono, she made me think of something out of a late 1940s movie. Afterwards, a group of us "sea widows" went out to a karaoke bar, which I hadn't done before. It was fascinating! The bar was called The Westerner, and it was the smallest bar I think I've ever been in. There was a single low table to one side, and a U-shaped bar with perhaps 12 barstools. Other than a shelf of liquor bottles, two karaoke tv screens and the chaotic jumble of "Western memorabilia" on the walls (including an all-but-topless 1960s painting of a redhead in a cowboy hat leaning on a saddle), that was it. Both the "barmaids" were Japanese women in their late 50s, with heavy makeup, cowboy hats, leather mini-skirts, and their American nicknames burned into the leather of their belts. "Kay" happily served us drinks, and offered the karaoke menu. One could sing songs in English, Japanese, Chinese and Korean, for 200 yen (about $1.80) per song. The drinks were small, and VERY expensive -- but a very skinny and very tipsy Japanese man insisted on buying drinks for all of us, as long as we'd sing "Country Roads" and "Grandma's Feather Bed" with him...loudly. (Turned out he was a cardiologist on vacation in Sasebo and this was his idea of a fantastic night, singing American songs with American Navy wives. His own wife watched and smiled tolerantly as she sipped her cocktail.) This gentleman crooning with overdressed American women was highly amusing to a couple at the end of the bar, near the painting of the redhead. For some reason, the barmaids drew mustaches on several patrons using eyebrow pencil. I'm not sure quite why, but it went along with the loan of a battered straw cowboy hat, so maybe the Dick Dastardly mustache was part of being an American cowboy? Later in the evening, the woman pictured here had a mustache drawn on, too! She's flashing the peace sign in the photo, which seems to be The Thing to Do when having your photo taken in Japan.

I've attached two more photos, just because I like them. One is a a silly picture I took of the little bitty clams I used in miso soup. Miyuki and her mother helped me pick out good miso and dried wakame for the soup, and insisted that it would be best to have these little shellfish. The shellfish were delicious in the soup, but I enjoyed the discarded shells even more. I love the color variation on them -- some look like miniature landscapes! The other shot I took out of the car window, of some washcloths drying in the sun. I just liked the yellow of the cloths, the dingy turquoise of the awning, the coral of the haidresser's cape, and the terracotta of the wall.

There you have it...a little disjointed, but still, things I wanted to share. I love it here...more soon!

Birthday Izakaya & Bits of News

I'm so sorry for the long delay between posting adventures. I've been having them, and am so behind in writing them all down, but it's just been hard to actually sit down and do it! So...you may get several adventures in a row, out of chronological order. My apologies, but when motivation strikes, and opportunity presents itself, I have to get to writing! Current happenings below, catch-up stuff shortly. No, really, I promise!

It's been a chaotic few weeks. We got home from our 13 days in the US (three of them spent simply traveling!) in mid-January, and began gearing up to get Fearless Husband packed and ready for heading out to sea. Then, on January 20, FH's maternal grandfather, who lived with FH's grandmother and parents, died unexpectedly. So, instead of getting on the ship on January 24, FH headed home to help and support his family. We couldn't afford for me to go too, and it was a good thing, as it freed him up to be a support and a comfort to his grandmother, mom and sister, and not worry about me. Then, on February 4th, my step-grandmother died. It was not unexpected, as she'd gone severely downhill for the past couple of months and it was a relief in so many ways...but it is still sad,and I will miss her. She was a truly great lady.

But...enough of the sad news. Life is good here. I have my husband home briefly, at least until they fly him out to meet the ship next week. The big news is that the base has decided to hire me as a part-time contractor for the next 6 months! Basically, I'll continue to do what I've been volunteering to do at the base newspaper, but I'll also redesign the online newspaper, the base website, and the "welcome aboard" CD that newcomers are given. The contract is task-driven, with a list of projects, and suggested deadlines. The money will certainly come in handy, and it feels really good to have this validation of the value of my work for the base.

I have found a small group of women with whom I like to do things. We've decided to get together every Friday night, alternating adventurous meals in Japanese restaurants with making dinner in our own homes for the rest of the group, taking turns. We're a diverse group, ranging in age from 22 to 41, and coming from Kentucky, Pennsylvania, North Carolina and Illinois (so far!). We enjoy one another's company, and have fun talking and playing various card and board games and exploring Japan. It's great to have a group of intelligent, interesting women with whom to interact...and they understand when I need to be by myself and don't want to join them for an adventure. We had our first Supper Club gathering (three of us) at a tonkatsu (basically a fried pork cutlet, but with a whole "ritual presentation" deal..more on this later!) restaurant last Friday, and four of us gathered at K's house this evening for a wonderful meal of homemade rotisserie chicken breasts with herbes de Provence and a caramelized onion cream sauce, and a dish of julienned peppers and eggplant with herbs and olive oil. Yum! We got to enjoy a slightly abbreviated version of the nightly fireworks from Huis Ten Bosch from K's balcony, and then we played a great card game I'd never played before called "Phase 10" and simply enjoyed laughter and camaraderie. Next week, there should be at least five of us, and when B comes back from visiting the US, she'll be our sixth.

My birthday was quiet, but fun. FH wasn't able to be here, but we talked on his birthday and again on mine, and that was good. On the sixth, I worked during the day, then met Miyuki and her friend Yuri, a concert pianist who's married to a doctor and has two children. Miyuki gave me a packet of ebi wasabi rice chips that her mother picked out especially for me, as she knows I LOVE both ebi (shrimp) and wasabi (very hot green horseradish). She also gave me a stoneware bottle of shochu (a liquor made from rice, wheat or potatoes that is similar to vodka and WAAAAY stronger than sake). She said it was 200 years old, but I can't figure out if she means the actual beverage, or just the company. Regardless, I won't be opening it until a special occasion...and the grey stoneware bottle, with its painted blue kanji, is so very cool!

Yuri is really pretty and delicate, and speaks very little English. She really wants to learn more of the language, and is eager to learn to cook American dishes. We made a deal...she'd help me with my Japanese language and cooking, and I'd help her with English language and American cooking! She wants to get together to do something together quite often, which makes Miyuki a little nervous...Yuri can afford to do FAR more than Miyuki and I (she wants to go to a place that serves lunch for about $100 a person, for example!!) She also has a son who is one of Miyuki's students, and that gives her a certain power over Miyuki...on one hand, Miyuki can't gracefully (or politically) refuse Yuri's requests, but she also can't afford financially to go out so often, nor can she afford for Yuri to think she is not a dedicated teacher. The other teachers already think Miyuki is a slacker because she only works 7am to 6pm (though sometimes until 10pm!) six days a week, and there are some teachers who work 7am to 10pm seven days a week! I have to walk a tightrope, as I am eager to do things with Yuri, but don't want Miyuki put in a difficult position -- and Yuri wants Miyuki to go with us every time to translate. It is VERY hard for a Japanese person to say no, especially to a percieved superior.

(I actually met Yuri the night of the Bean Throwing Festival on the previous Saturday, and we went to an izakaya near the train station...more about that, including the fish head soup, complete with giant fish head staring at me, and the fried fish-bone "crackers" soon, honestly! I even have photos! But for now, this is the more recent adventure.)

For my birthday, we went to a local izakaya (sort of a Japanese tapas bar -- small, local and relatively traditional) and it was really fantastic. We walked in the (sliding, of course) front door, pushing through head-sized flaps of dark blue cotton fabric at the doorway. To the right was a very cramped bar stretching the length of the equally cramped, but impeccably clean, kitchen. The bar had maybe seven seats, specifically for single men. We turned sharply to the left, kicked off our shoes in a 24" x 24" square of tile, then stepped up into a narrow tatami room with three very low, relatively small tables. Other than a kerosene heater, that was it for furniture! The walls were hung with painted, dusty paper kites, an odd print of a fish, and some dusty wooden shelves holding various vases, knick-knacks, and a clock. It didn't feel like a restaurant or bar to me at all!

There were a couple of laminated menus on the tables, entirely in Japanese, with no photos, and no rubber food in evidence anywhere. Luckily, the menu was pretty simple, as most izakayas specialize in one or two types of food. I was able to slowly spell out a little of what was on the menu, which thrilled me to pieces! I felt like a little kid, so proud of myself for stumbling through "Yaaaaaa... maaaaaaaaa... eeeee... mohh..., yama imo! Sweet potato! Suu.... tehhh... ki.... Steak! Sweet potato steak?? What the...?" Turns out they were well known for their sweet potato steak, which ended up coming in a small, rounded, rectangular cast iron dish. It was soft, and a little glutinous, and yellow...it looked like a plate of melted cheese, but it was mountain potato (sweet potato) mashed and cooked into a flat serving. It was the furthest thing from a "steak" that I've ever seen, as I could've eaten it with a spoon (and had trouble with chopsticks!) but it was really delicious--savory, very slightly sweet, with all the pasty chalkiness of the starch cooked away. It was topped with pieces of lettuce, and slivers of nori. I know, it doesn't sound delicious, but it was! In the picture, the sweet potato steak is in the foreground, and Miyuki's nori-wrapped onigiri (rice balls) and her tofu with egg is in the background.

I also had a circle of burdock root that had a chicken sausage spread on one side before the whole thing was skewered and grilled...a charming cast iron pot of a sort of rice porridge, made with thin slivers of green onion and plump, insanely fresh whole oysters, the ubiquitous homemade Japanese pickles, and the best squid tempura I've ever eaten in my life. We three sat at one table, talking and laughing, while three Japanese women and an absolutely adorable moon-faced toddler with handlebar ponytails ate at one of the other two tables. The bar in the other half of the tiny restaurant catered to a very slow, but very steady stream of single male (mostly older) customers the whole time we were there.

The izakaya served hot tea, water and sodas, of course, but was primarily for customers craving food accompanied by one of three alcoholic beverages. The first and foremost was, of course, sake. There were many brands available, most to be served warm, but a few designed to be served cold. The customer can always choose to have just about any sake hot or cold. I prefered it cold when I first came to Japan, but have found I'm developing a taste for it served quite warm. In this case, a little glass sort of like an old-fashioned juice glass was brought to me, literally brimming over. The hot glass was set inside a little square cup made of very small, relatively thick pieces of wood dovetailed together to make it watertight. The wooden cup is a traditional sake cup, but it's very odd to drink out of a thick-sided wooden box! You can pour the sake from the glass into the wooden cup, but the glass really is hot, so it's best to carefully lift the overfilled glass to your mouth using the wooden box. After you've drunk about half of the sake from the glass, you can pour the rest into the wooden cup box (to join what's already spilled over when it was brought out to you!) and sip it until it's gone.

Sake is made with pure, clear water, cooked rice, and yeast. That's it. It's similar in strength to beer or wine, but is not really either one. Shochu, as I already described, is more like vodka, and can be made with rice, wheat (Miyuki kept saying "made with flour" and I kept thinking "but which flower?" until I realized she meant wheat!) or potatoes. It's clear, just like sake, but exponentially stronger. Shochu is used to make chu-hi. These are like a cross between American cocktails and a not-very-sweet wine spritzer. Shochu is mixed with soda water and a flavoring -- sometimes slightly sweet, sometimes a little tart -- and with the alcohol content of a wine cooler or spritzer, not a highball. Chu-his come in cans in various convenience stores, like sodas, and in flavors like lemon, grapefruit, lime and ume (Japanese plum or apricot, rather tart) and occasionally seasonal flavors, like the current strawberry flavor. It's traditional to bring a salty snack with sake, like crunchy rice-cracker-paste-coated peanuts in flavors like bonito and wasabi, but in this case, they didn't bring anything to accompany my single sake, as we had ordered lots of food.

Afterwards, we hiked back up a considerable hill to Miyuki's car, with the still-quite-full moon hanging in the sky, the air uncharacteristically warm for February. I marveled at the difference in my life and my experiences, even just since last year, as I talked with Miyuki and Yuri, using my few words of Japanese, able to understand a few more as they talked, and realizing I could actually read several of the signs in katakana, hiragana and kanji around us. I was replete with good food and great companionship. The only thing that would have made the evening any more perfect would have been having Fearless Husband with me to share the adventure.

More soon!