Scratch Your Head While I Scratch Mine

My computer developed a mind of its own while the Ancient Mariner and I were exploring Osaka. Before we left Yokosuka I expended a lot of time and a bit of mental effort in catching up on posts that were supposed to appear as if by magic while we were away. Alas, that did not happen and some of those thoughts are now floating around in the ether, perhaps for eternity. So much for my resolve to post daily in May.

While I try to figure out what went wrong and try to get caught up on what's been going on in the past week, you can look at some of the more arresting sights of Osaka.

The Statue of Liberty sans flame outside a Namba pachinko parlor greeted us whenever we left our hotel. What does the absence of the flame signify I wondered.

Although you can't see the dozens of customers lined up patiently outside the Krispy Kreme shop, the picture above will give you an idea of the sheer volume of people out shopping on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

This made me think I really need to update my wardrobe

Apple products are as popular here as they are back home

Hanging with the Paparazzi at Osaka Castle

We couldn't have asked for better weather during our trip to Osaka. Indeed, the weather was so darn fine that the Ancient Mariner agreed to stroll from Namba to Osaka Castle rather than ride the subway. We popped into the first bakery we passed to fortify ourselves for the five-kilometer hike.

The Tokugawa clan torched the original castle back in the 1600s to eliminate their competition but the city erected a replica watch tower on the vast castle grounds in the 1930s.  There's no charge to enter the grounds but we forked over 200 yen each to access a walled garden area.  This being the fallow period between azaleas and irises, the garden was a bit disappointing until we turned a corner and found ourselves surrounded by dozens of photographers.

The Ancient Mariner enters the ranks of the Japanese paparazzi

"What's on the other side of those hedges?" I asked.

"An old wooden building."

"Oooh. Maybe the Prime Minister is meeting secretly with the Chinese ambassador. Or, better yet, maybe Ken Watanabe is filming a new movie. Try to get closer to the building."

"Careful! You almost knocked over that baby in the hammock."

"That might be a hammock but it's not a baby. It's the biggest camera lens I've ever seen. It's at least five times bigger than my biggest lens."

"Don't even think about it. I've already picked out your Father's Day present."

After chuckling at our antics for a few minutes, a kind gentleman approached us, turned on his camera, and showed us a picture of what the paparazzi were tracking: a colorful Australian bird. Sheesh.

We never did catch a glimpse of that bird but the Ancient Mariner befriended several of its tiny cousins by tossing a few bread crumbs their way.

I seriously doubt we'll be taking up birdwatching in retirement. Stalking Ken Watanabe, however, is still on the list of potential hobbies.

Deja Vu Times Two in Osaka

The Ancient Mariner and I are leaning against a bike rack on a busy Osaka street corner, digesting okonomiyaki and seared scallops respectively, when the first wave of nostalgia hits.

"What is it about Osaka that makes me miss my children so much? My head is filled with images of Kate and James rolling down an incline in Jackson while my mother looks on happily from a nearby bench.  She's holding Pip and teaching him rhythm by tapping her feet and swaying in time to a Sousa tune."

"No idea," he belches.

"Now I'm envisioning twice as many children rolling down the incline, the music sounds tinny, and my father has replaced my mother on the bench. I think I smell popcorn."

He turns his head from left to right, inhaling lavish amounts of the night air. "I don't smell popcorn but there's a faint trace of melted butter coming from the east. How about a crepe?"

A crepe is tempting but my feet have grown roots. "No thanks.  I'm happy right here.  It might be caramel corn I'm smelling."

He twiddles his thumbs for a few minutes, counts the bikes in the rack to amuse himself, then tries again. "How about a parfait? Or maybe a cream puff?"

He's broken the spell. She pulls her gaze from the building across the street and turns her feet toward Namba.

The next day they are entering the grounds of Osaka Castle when she informs him, "I don't know why I was feeling so homesick last night but I am over it now." Just then a group of Japanese schoolchildren cross their path. "Forget what I just said. Now I'm entertaining fond memories of knee-length navy blue jumpers."

Osaka is All About Food ...

...and Chibo in Namba is the place to go for okonomiyaki, a cross between an omelet and a pancake. Depending on the regional variation, sometimes you'll find noodles inside and/or a salad on top.

For starters, I'd recommend seared scallops with an icy mug of beer.

We capped off our meal with an order of yakisoba (stir-fried noodles) that the chef dumped on the counter in front of us.

It's not all soy sauce in Osaka. The desserts are pretty tasty too. Next time I plan to save room for this:

Soft serve garnished with mushroom-shaped cookies

The Ancient Mariner ordered a cream parfait in a little coffee shop between our hotel and Namba station. We also sipped Viennese coffee there. We have become quite the fans of Viennese coffee so expect us to look like chubby retirees when we waddle off the plane a year from now.

Liberty Buddies in Osaka

In nearly twenty years as a Navy spouse, I never met the Ancient Mariner's ship in a foreign port until this past weekend when the USS Blue Ridge visited Osaka. (Actually I only managed to meet his ship in a domestic port once, and that's because my mom and dad were in town to herd me and the kids to the pier in Norfolk on time to watch the USS George Washington return from a six-month deployment.)

There is something about Osaka that makes me feel homesick.  But don't get me wrong:  I am not complaining.  Nostalgia and sentimentality are two of my favorite emotions.

We listened to Buddy Holly and the Temptations in my hometown coffee ship.

Look what I found at a thrift shop!

At first glance, I thought this sign was advertising "Amy Burgers". It turned out the joint was called Any Burger but by then I was missing my goddaughter and decided to share this sign with you in her honor.

Searching for a Needle in a Rice Paddy

Nara's 1300th anniversary was not the only reason I faced down my large mammal phobia. About a year ago, shortly after I took up knitting, Geraldine posted a comment here that's haunted me ever since. She recommended investing in circular needles manufactured by a Japanese company headquartered near Nara, Kinki Amibari, and kindly provided the company's address. When it comes to knitting, Geraldine is one of the two most knowledgeable people I know so I have been anxious to get to Nara ever since she posted that comment.

The knitting gods seemed to be smiling benevolently when Mr. Keeper and I hopped on the Kintetsu Nara train line in Osaka on Saturday morning. Kinki Amibari is located at 4368 Takayama-cho in Ikoma. "There's an Ikoma station about midway between Osaka and Nara!" I chortled gleefully. "We can just hop off the train, buy a set of needles, and then hop back on the train to Nara."

I showed the address to a middle-aged lady outside the train turnstile in Ikoma. She pointed to the east exit and rattled off what I'm sure was very valuable information. We thanked her and marched off in the direction she indicated.

"Did you hear her say busso? We're supposed to take a bus," said Mr. Keeper, a linguistic marvel if there ever was one.

"When people say bus, I hear taxi.  It doesn't matter what language they are using."  Mr. Keeper and I were in total accord and slid into the first taxi in the queue.  We handed the address to the driver.  He called his supervisor, talked at length, and eventually entered the traffic stream.

Twenty minutes later, after three or four more exchanges between the taxi driver and his supervisor, we had left all signs of civilization behind.  "I feel like I'm on one of your Explorer outings," sighed Mr. Keeper.  "Isn't your motto "Getting lost is half the fun'?"  The man has a wonderful attitude, doesn't he?

The taxi driver spotted a ramshackle motorcycle repair shop on the side of the road.  He stopped the taxi and hailed the motorcycle repairman.  The repairman pointed to a nearby hill.  On the top of the hill stood a yellow three-story building with two large letters painted on the wall of the third story.  KA.  Voila!

But, it being Saturday and all, the Kinki Amibari Manufacturing Company was sealed up tighter than a drum. I rattled that door to no avail. The knitting gods might have been smiling at us, but their smiles were the sarcastic, gotcha sort of smiles all my siblings mastered by the age of three.

Sheepishly, we asked the driver to take us back to the train station.

We admired the lovely countryside on our way back to the train station and then forked over 7700 yen to the nice driver. The exchange rate being what it is these days, that was roughly $90.

There is no tipping in Japan. The tipping gods are nicer than the knitting gods.

Our Kind of Town, Osaka Is

Japanese history teachers have it rough compared to their American counterparts. Just think: three years ago the Commonwealth of Virginia celebrated the 400th anniversary of the Jamestown Settlement while 2010 marks 1,300 years since Nara was established as Japan's first permanent capital. One thousand three hundred years. That boggles my mind.

Although most U.S. military families stationed here visit Nara during their first 6-9 months in Japan, usually as a sidetrip from Kyoto, that was not one of our travel priorities.  Reports from friends and acquaintances, you see, always included an amusing anecdote or two about Nara's aggressive deer population. On the outside I chuckled empathetically but on the inside I whipped out a black magic marker and crossed Nara off my "must see" list.

Little did we know that we'd back in Japan in time to celebrate Nara's 1300th anniversary, the rare sort of event bound to pit the the historian me against the large mammal phobic me.  Chalk up one round for the historian.  When the Ancient Mariner asked how I wanted to celebrate our wedding anniversary, I voted for Nara and he said "Whatever you want." The man's a keeper.

(Note: the author defines a large mammal as any creature possessing teeth and legs, weighing more than 18 pounds, and not called Mel.)

All the hotels and inns in Nara were fully booked the first weekend in December (see 1300th anniversary, above) but Nara is less than an hour by train from both Kyoto and Osaka, both of which offer plentiful lodging options.  We'd been to Kyoto - twice in my case - but not to Osaka, the third largest city in Japan after Tokyo and Yokohama, and the tenth most populous metropolitan area in the world according to the United Nations .  My student, Dr. T, tipped the scale by touting Osaka's reputation as Tenka no Daidokoro, the country's kitchen.  He encouraged us to seek lodging in the vicinity of Namba station where we'd have our pick of hundreds of restaurants within a few yards of the Kintetsu train line that would transport us to Nara in under an hour.  Teaching is such a rewarding profession. 

A bit giddy at the prospect of not spending another Friday in what passes for an office on a crowded barge while the USS Blue Ridge is under repair in dry dock, the Ancient Mariner was up for an adventure.  For the first time, we did not purchase our Shinkansen (bullet train) tickets in advance.  We simply rode a mid-afternoon train to Shinagawa and bought our tickets at a kiosk outside the Shinkansen entrance.  We had our choice of reserved and non-reserved seats on dozens of trains departing at 15-minute intervals.  This was so simple that I'm a little embarrassed we haven't tried it sooner.

Two and a half hours after settling into our assigned seats in Tokyo we arrived at Shin-Osaka station and followed the signs to the subway where we squeezed ourselves and one small rolling suitcase into a car crammed with rush hour commuters.  Just fourteen minutes later we debarked at Namba station and strolled through an underground shopping arcade, Namba Walk, in the general direction of the hotel according to the map Mr. Keeper had the foresight to print from the Hotel Orientale's website before we left Yokosuka.

When we eventually poked our heads above ground, it looked like we had somehow journeyed through the center of the earth and emerged in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip: flashing neon, pachinko parlors as far as the eye could see in every direction, and girls wearing sandwich boards promoting restaurants and karaoke bars.  An elderly policeman pointed us toward the Hotel Orientale but we walked right past the tasteful entrance because we were so busy gawking at the people partying in the street (me) and restaurant menus (Mr. Keeper).  Thanks to a cute sandwich-board girl at the second intersection, we only had to retrace our steps for half a block to enter the hotel, a surprisingly quiet and genteel establishment.

Stuffed animal Christmas tree in Namba Walk

"Your relatives would love Osaka," opined the Ancient Mariner as he relaxed with a Kirin after knotting the tie on the yukata he found in the bottom drawer.

"Some more than others, but I see your point.  Let's skip Osaka Castle this time so we'll have a good excuse to come back, with or without relatives.  I could easily spend a week just exploring the shops in Namba Walk, assuming I survive the Nara deer tomorrow."

"Don't worry.  I'll protect you." 

As I said, the man's a keeper.