Intestinal Fortitude in Minatomirai

The Yokohama Mafia

The Japanese Navy (Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force) has four medical admirals. During most of our time in Japan, Admiral Otsuka and Admiral Hatada have held the top two doctor-admiral positions.  Last night we went to a fancy floating restaurant in Yokohama, Pier 21, to celebrate their recent retirements.


What began as collegial relationships have blossomed into true friendships over the course of four years.  We have twice enjoyed Kabuki in Tokyo with Otsuka-sama, experiences we will never forget and which we hope to repay with some Broadway shows when they visit the United States.  Hatada-san and his youngest son were the honored guests at one of my very first dinner parties where I served second helpings of creme brulee for dessert to help them forget whatever unfortunate entree was on the menu that night.

The two formative decades I spent engaging in snappy suppertime repartee with four brothers comes in handy when I'm sharing a five-course meal with five doctors and a dentist.  Any conversational topic is fair game when doctors are eating, much like back on Burr Street when Mom was out of the room, and I couldn't imagine finding a better panel of experts to answer a question that's been pressing the back of my brain since the book club went to Nagano in late August.

"Is it true," I wondered, "that Japanese intestines are approximately one meter longer than Caucasian intestines?"  There was a long pause while six of the nine participants translated the question into Japanese, formulated a response, and translated that response into English.  Yanagida-san, the newest Japanese admiral present, was the quickest.  "Yes!"

Otsuka-sama, in his best sensei fashion, compared the evolution of my intestine with his.  The people on these islands were originally grass or grain eaters and their digestive tracts evolved to accommodate their diet.  I, however, am descended from a long line of meat eaters.

So now you know.  Kanpai! 

Observation of a Designated Driver

Preparing tortilla soup, a winter salad with homemade lemon poppyseed dressing, and cheesecakes (peppermint and white chocolate raspberry) for thirty Shonan ladies and transporting all that food and kitchen paraphernalia across base last Friday morning left me almost too pooped to participate in our semi-annual dinner outing with the Japanese Navy medical admirals in Yokohama that night. But we had expanded our guest list to include the new U.S. Naval Hospital Commanding Officer and his wife, a genuinely nice couple, so I took a ten-minute nap and ran a brush through my bob while the Ancient Mariner raced to the Navy Exchange in search of gift bags to be filled with odds and ends from our closets, cupboards, and liquor cabinet.

I'm glad I rallied. We spent a lovely evening with our old and new friends at a Chinese restaurant on the 28th floor of Yokohama's Sky Building and then squeezed into a train car crammed with Japanese party animals for the return trip to Yokosuka. The train was so crowded that people who might normally be characterized as falling down drunk could not possibly fall down. I think I was the only member of our party who noticed this . . .

Cherry Blossom Viewing Party #1

Someone had a bit too much sake at Tadodai House last night. It wasn't this man in the WWII aviator hat. He was drinking beer when he wasn't pouring it on my shoe.


The Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force Cherry Blossom Viewing Party is an annual event. Mike and I were unable to attend either year during his commanding officer tour so I was not keen on missing another one just because Mike's deployed. I don't know how we rated an invitation this year but I only scratched my head for about five seconds before saying yes.




Being the only representative of Navy Medicine in attendance was a crushing responsibility but I did my best to exude dignity, grace, and serenity throughout the evening.

Valerie was there with her husband, John, the commanding officer of the weather station (it's called something else but I'm too lazy to check references tonight).

Robyn and Curt live next to us and gave me a lift to and from the party bus. Curt is the commanding officer of ATG which stands for something or other and has something to do with Seabees.

Nonie and Keiko were looking particularly fetching I thought.

This is the piece de resistance. I am indebted to Yoriko Kosano for the introduction and the photo. The first person (not you, Ancient Mariner) to correctly guess the name of this young man's father will receive some carmelized almond mushroom-shaped cookies. Hint: the father held a high political office just a few years ago.

On the Incredible Generosity of Friends

Our friends here are extraordinarily generous. In the past week alone I've been overwhelmed at least three times.

When Matt answered the doorbell on New Year's Eve, Robin handed him a flat red Milky bag. "For your mother," she explained, "from Kazumi." Inside the bag we spotted Peko-chan's sweet face peering through a seriously thick layer of plastic shrink wrap. She exploded into this three-foot tall pillow when I cut her free of the plastic. Wow! Kazumi has spent the past three months sitting in a hospital at the bedside of her teenage daughter. How did she find time to track down this pillow?



A few days later Mike and I met Admiral Hirata at Yokohama station and were escorted to a private room in a fancy restaurant on the 29th floor of the nearby Sky Building. As we admired the exceptional view (below), the other top medical admirals from the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force and a few of their wives arrived from Kurihama, Tokyo, and Yokohama to welcome Mike-san back to Japan.



Admiral Otsuka handled the beer toast then the waiter brought champagne and it was Mike's turn to make a toast. My memory is a bit fuzzy on who made the next two toasts, with white and red wine respectively, because the crab appetizer (below) distracted me. The white suds tasted like the milk foam on a Starbucks' latte.



A fish entree was followed by a dessert decorated with Japanese letters on a white chocolate disk. To my utter amazement, Mike slowly sounded out the syllables: O-ka-eh-ri Na-sa-ee. Okaeri nasai! Welcome back!



The admirals sent us home with bags of gifts, kabuki sake cups from Osaka for Mike and the special Peko-chan New Year's assortment for me.

Two days later I was overwhelmed yet again when Jen F appeared at our door with a mysterious box wrapped in festive holiday paper.



Oh my goodness, it's Anpanman and his friend, Melonpanna, whimsically dressed like Imperial dolls (hina-ningyo). How totally adorable! When March 3 rolls around, the third day of the third month, I'll be celebrating Girls' Day in style. I will be sorely tempted to display my hina-ningyo year-round but Reiko tells me that would be tempting fate. There is a belief that a daughter's marriage will be delayed if one leaves the display up too long . . .