Mashiko: Taking the Show on the Road

As my year of ushering, shooing, and cajoling the Oakleaf Explorers draws to an end, I'm concentrating less on exposing newcomers to the various splendors of our host nation and spending more time helping the veterans squeeze in one or two more adventures before they move back to the United States later this spring.

Jen O wanted to visit Mashiko, the pottery town about two and a half hours north of Tokyo. My car's tires are too bald to support such an ambitious undertaking so I reserved a van through the base car rental agency while Jen engaged in the sort of complicated childcare arrangements that can only be comprehended by a mother of three with a husband at sea. We put the date and location on the Explorers' calendar and about three hours later I trudged back to the car rental agency to reserve a second van and started lining up additional drivers for what was fast becoming a major production.

And so this is how I found myself behind the wheel of a 7-passenger van on a highway skirting Tokyo on the morning, and then again in the afternoon, of the last day of March. Mike has always handled the driving to and from Narita Airport so this was my maiden voyage in Tokyo traffic. Fortunately, I was so busy laughing that I forgot to be nervous.

What was so funny? Well, my two navigators were quibbling over directions before we even exited the base. They finally settled on a route that sounded an awful lot like a game of Bingo to me: Yoko-Yoko tollroad to Shuto B to C-2 to S-1 to Tohoku Expressway. Gosh, I'm glad we got that settled. Just tell me when to turn.

Then a serious case of map envy set in. Jen O had brought along a map that every other woman in the van was absolutely, positively, dead certain possession thereof would contribute to a vastly improved quality of life. It was reminiscent of a slumber party in late December 1962 when Susie showed up clutching her new Barbie. In this case, the accommodating - more accommodating than Susie by a long shot - Jen O indulged their fantasies by trolling for "chizu Tokyo" at every toll booth within a 100-mile radius of Tokyo. (I stopped looking in my rearview mirror after the first toll booth when I spotted the guy two cars back flexing his hands and trying to remember which finger means "Stop holding up traffic!" in English sign language.)

Most of you have been to Mashiko with me twice already so I won't bore you with the shopping details. One thing that bears mention, however, was our visit to Daisei Gama studio, the only remaining studio that exclusively fires their pottery in a traditional wood burning kiln. Jane had arranged for us to see the Noborigama (climbing kiln) behind the studio and I was pleasantly surprised upon our arrival to find myself at the studio where I had made my first pottery purchase in the fall of 2006. It's a tiny little vase, all I could afford then and still.

Because we were on a tight schedule, we limited our potty breaks to one in each direction. "Do not under any circumstances enter any door other than the one leading to the restroom!" With handy signs like the one above to guide the bladder-challenged and/or pregnant passengers, there was no excuse for wandering into a convenience store or gift shop.

But my favorite sign by far is the one hanging inside many truckstop restrooms, letting customers know at a glance which cubicles are occupied and which are available. This is the first time I've seen a symbol for ostomates.

In the Pink on Girls Day

Matt bounded out of bed this morning and survived a long day of classes, track practice, and play rehearsal. Overcome with relief, his mother made dinner for the second night in a row. Feel free to place a bet on how long this dinner streak will last. Cooking is not nearly as addictive as knitting socks.

Speaking of which, those madcap Knitwits deluged me with a round of applause at Starbucks this morning. Either I'm making incredible progress on this sock or they really, really liked the raisin butts I brought for Girls Day. No doubt the latter, but my mentors insist I'll be ready to knit my first heel and something called a gusset after just a few more spins around those skewers.

With that applause ringing in my ears, I skipped off to Yokohama to chat with Dr. T. Enroute I retrieved my umbrella and Mimi's brewery souvenirs from Aoki bakery. A first grader can pantomime "umbrella" but I don't think the same can be said for "bag of Kirin brewery stuff" so I felt quite victorious when one of the clerks climbed up on a chair and pulled the bag off the top of a cabinet. I settled for a half dozen raisin butts in lieu of an Oscar.

Dr. T presented me with Girls Day gifts on behalf of his wife. Those are rice crackers on the left and pastel candies shaped like chocolate chips in the rear. No telling what's in the cute box, but I'll open it tomorrow for the Oakleaf knitters and Reiko.

Dr. T was in teaching mode and did most of the talking today, although I know you might find that hard to swallow. He says the best sake is produced in Niigata and Akita prefectures where superior rice is grown. I've filed that little tidbit away for future reference.

He also mentioned that the green tea he serves me every week is called Sen-cha Gyokuro and is quite famous. Dr. T drinks about a gallon of green tea every day. He prefers his tea at room temperature but pours my portion over ice. Although the FDA remains unconvinced the last I checked, people on this side of the world believe green tea has tremendous medicinal value in guarding against diseases of the heart and brain. Medical researchers are developing a taste for the stuff so maybe the rest of us ought to give it a try.

When I mentioned the Explorers will be heading to Mashiko at the end of the month, Dr. T raced over to one of his three computers and printed out directions. I am hoping this will satisfy Jen O who seemed less than impressed with my advance preparations for the Machida Shrine Sale trip the other day. ("It's somewhere after Zama but before Yokota, Jen. I'm pretty sure we'll see a sign.")

If boredom sets in on the trip to Mashiko, Jen can just turn the map over and skim my copious notes on Japan's eight major pottery towns. Those notes were carefully numbered under Dr. T's watchful eye to coincide with the other map he prepared for us.

He even pulled out a pink highlighter to indicate major bridges. I'm not quite sure what I'll do with this map but it's definitely a keeper.

I felt really guilty accepting his money today -- remind me to pick up a little something for him in Mashiko, okay? -- but I put some of it to excellent use on my way back to Yokosuka. Poking my head in a convenience store, as is my habit, I spotted a new flavor of our favorite cookie.

I am showing remarkable restraint and keeping this box sealed until the Oakleaf knitters arrive tomorrow morning. Is that a mound of brown sugar in the picture? I'll be sure to let you know. In the meantime, you might want to start placing bets on the home-cooked dinner streak. If you get my drift.

Mashiko Revisited

I am a bit wound up tonight after a whirlwind trip to Mashiko, the pottery town where I met my first tanuki three years ago.


Distracted as I was by the tanuki in the fall of 2006, I failed to realize Mashiko translates to "crucify her." That's what half my busmates were muttering when I reached our rendezvous place ten minutes after the appointed time. When I made my final purchase of the day 15 minutes before the bus was scheduled to depart Mashiko, how was I supposed to know the clerks would insist on creating a custom packing crate for each pot?

"Psst! Mimi! Are they going to give me some sort of prize for bringing the most guests?"

"Well, Tanuki-girl, that was the original plan but they revoked your prize at five minutes past the hour."

"But I showed them those kilns that have belonged to the same family for seven generations!"

"That is true, Tanuki-girl."

"And they were all ecstatic when I pushed them into the indigo dyeing workshop and they got to watch that craftsman tending a dozen bubbling vats."

"Yes, Tanuki-girl, that was truly memorable. The grass growing on the thatched roof was an especially nice touch."

"At least YOU are still speaking to me. Do you want to take pictures of ourselves in the bathroom mirror at the next truck stop?"

"Sure thing. And be sure to post them on Facebook. I just love it when you do that."